The Big Splash (9 page)

“Yeah, I know.”

Steven's brother Jeff was scum. There was no way to sugarcoat it. He was one of those bullies who had a hard time believing Vinny could put him out of business. Vinny let him know that he could. Jeff pushed; Vinny and Nikki pushed back harder.

“He had it coming,” Steve said. “He was no good.”

“I know that, too.”

“He used to beat on me. A lot. He even had a nickname for me: Sissy Boy. He called me that all the time, even at school.” A single tear rolled down his cheek. “Do you know what it's like, to be humiliated every day and not be able to do anything about it?” he asked. I didn't answer. I had no idea.

“At first, after Nikki took him out, I wanted to thank her, give her a hug, not that I could get close to her. She had done to Jeff what I had always dreamed of doing.”

I nodded. This had been on his mind for a long time.

“Jeff was like a different person afterward: quiet, watchful, nervous. He wouldn't speak unless spoken to. He jumped at every little sound. It was like living with a
frightened animal. As much as I didn't like him before, I liked him even less after. And things didn't change when he got to high school. If anything, they got worse.”

“If you're withholding info in service to your brother,” I said, “just realize he would never do the same for you. He doesn't deserve your pity.”

“You think I don't know that?” he cried out. “But you don't see him every day, the way he looks … the way he acts.” He shuddered. “I don't know if I can tell you what I know and look at my brother every day … knowing that I helped get justice for Nikki after what she did to him.”

The bell rang. He tried to look at me, but closed his eyes instead. He knew he'd be ashamed of either decision he made.

“I heard a voice,” he said. “Small, high-pitched, and weasely.”

“Female?”

“No, male. Definitely. I could've imitated it for you last year, but my voice changed.”

“What did he say?”

“‘Yeah … That got her … yeah …'”

“Is that all you heard?”

“No. There was something after it.”

“What?”

He tried to hold back, but the answer leaked out of him. “It was a giggle … a high-pitched giggle.”

I didn't say a word, just carefully exhaled. Steven looked at me, disappointed. “You know who it is.”

“Not really,” I tried to lie. “No.”

“I was kind of hoping it wouldn't be useful.”

“It wasn't.”

“I'll tell that to the face in the mirror every morning,” he said, “but I don't think he'll believe it, either.”

spent the rest of the day looking for Joey “the Hyena” Renoni, but he was harder to find than a hot dog in a health food store. As far as I knew, nobody else had the information I had, but I knew it wouldn't be long before word got around. News traveled fast, especially to kids like Vinny and Kevin. Finding Joey was priority one; checking in with my clients was the furthest thing from my mind. Unfortunately, Jenny had other plans. At the end of sixth period, she was standing at my locker, that same horsey notebook in her hands.

“Hi, Matt.”

I looked past her. Her friend Mel was a couple of steps away, her hall monitor's sash glowing an unnatural orange. She was watching us with the same disapproving look that she wore the first time I saw her. “Jenny,” I said, “you should get to class.”

“Have you found anything out yet?”

“Nothing I'm prepared to talk about right now.”

“Why not?”

“I'm just not, Jenny. Look, you're paying me to do my job, my way.”

“I know,” she said, a big pout on her face. “I just … I can't concentrate in class. I can't …” She sniffled and covered her eyes, then took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. She clutched her notebook again. She was trying to keep it together. “I can't think about anything else.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. But I'll tell you things when I'm ready to tell them. If you don't like it, you can hire someone else.”

“No. Please, I'm sorry. Don't be like that, Matt.” She touched my arm, more as a reflex than anything else, but once her hand was there, it felt right. She let it linger for a moment, then slowly pulled it away.

“Listen,” I said, “take it easy. All I have right now are shadows. As soon as I have something of substance, you'll be the first to know.”

“Okay. I'll see you later?” she said while walking backward away from me.

“Maybe. I've seen you twice today, and neither time went very well.”

“Maybe the third time's the charm,” she said, then turned deftly on her heel and glided down the hall toward her waiting friend. Her ponytail flipped playfully behind her. It was an impressive and fluid motion, one that made you want to hang around with her just so you'd have a chance to see it again. I allowed myself a moment to commit it to memory, then continued my search for Joey.

I finally caught up to him about a half hour later. He was outside behind the building, pitching pennies out of sight of the recess-sanctioned game of kickball. He was taking money from a couple of suckers when I came up behind him.

“I need to talk to you,” I said.

“Oh yeah? Hehehe.” His hand moved toward the squirt gun in his pocket. I bull-rushed him, pinned his arms to his chest, and pressed him against the wall.

“Leggo a me! Hehe!”

“I'm doing you a favor,” I replied through gritted teeth, “and I'm not going to get popped because of it.”

“Whatta you want, a kiss—oww!” I moved his arms at an uncomfortable angle.

“Shut up and listen. I'm taking you to the principal.”

“On what charge? Taking these kids' money? They wanted to play. Just ask them. Hehehe.”

I didn't ask them. Instead, I told them to beat it.

“How'd it feel, taking Nikki out?” I asked Joey when the kids were gone.

“What? Hehehe.”

“You heard me.”

“The only thing I took out was your mom. Hehehe—owww!” I twisted his arms.

“I've got a witness. Says your giggle was fleeing the scene.”

“You were fed a bum line, jerk. I wasn't there. Hehehe.”

“Tell it to the principal.”

“Leggo a me! I didn't do nothin'! Hehehee!” He squirmed but I held him fast.

“Innocent's not a good fit for you, Joey.”

“If I popped Nikki, why would I lie to you, huh? You ain't no monitor. Hehehe …”

“I don't know. Maybe you just like lying.”

“Yeah, lying with your mom. Hehehe,” he said, then spit in my face.

“All right.” I let go of him. He went for his water gun. “Good luck with Kevin,” I said.

His hand stopped. “Kevin?”

“Yeah. He must've talked to some witnesses by now, and it's not like anyone else giggles like you,” I said, wiping my face. “So I imagine he'll probably want to discuss your role in the Nikki take-down. And by discuss, I mean beat you to a bloody pulp.”

“I didn't do it!” he yelled. “You tell Kevin I didn't do it! Hehehe!”

“You tell him. I have to go wash my face.”

“No! Hee! Look, hehe! Here!” He reached into his pocket. I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. “Owww! Owww! Quit it!”

It wasn't a squirt gun in his hand; it was an envelope. I took it and let go of his arm.

“I found it in my locker two days ago. Hehehe.”

I opened the envelope and pulled out three pieces of paper: half of a picture ripped out of an old school newspaper, a well-forged hall pass, and a note. In the picture, a younger Joey stared up at me with a goofy, love-struck
grin on his face. He was holding hands with a girl, I assumed, but I couldn't tell who. Her hand was in the picture, but the rest of her was in the missing half. The note said: “Remember what we had. Do it or get out of the way. —B.”

“What is this?” I asked.

“A note, from a girl I use ta see. Long time ago … back in fifth … She sent me a different note last week, wanted me to pop Nikki. Hehehe.”

This was a new wrinkle. “Is this just to cover yourself, in case you got caught?”

“I ain't that crafty. It's the truth! I said I'd think about it. I was still thinkin' when Nikki got popped!”

“Who sent it?”

He stopped dead.

“Who, Joey? Who was she?” But Joey wasn't paying attention to me anymore. He was focused on the two burly kids coming up behind me. I turned to face them, just in time to be thrown aside like an old newspaper. They grabbed Joey and lifted him off the ground.

“Kevin needs to talk to you about something.”

“No … hehehe … guys …
noo!
Hehehe! I didn't do nothin'! Guys! Hehehehe!”

They dragged him off. He screamed and giggled the
whole time. Not one of his screams was the name of the girl who sent him the note.

I picked myself up off the ground and ran after them, but it was too late. By the time I turned the corner, they had dragged him into the equipment shed on the other side of the playground, out of sight of the teachers and other students. A couple of moments later, Kevin came out of the shed. He looked pleased with himself, as if he had just removed a painful splinter.

“Hey, Matt. How's it hangin'?”

“Stop, Kev! You're taking out the wrong kid! Joey didn't do it!”

“Didn't do what?”

“Joey didn't take Nikki out!”

“Oh, he took her out, all right. Joey's always had a thing for Nikki. Talked about her all the time. He thought he was fast enough to take her, and you know what? He was right. He was fast enough. He just wasn't prepared for the consequences.”

“No, Kev, you got the wrong story. Joey was set up!”

“Forget it, Matt. I talked to five different kids. They all heard the same thing: Joey whispering ‘That got her,' then that freaky giggle of his.”

“Yeah, I heard the same story.”

“Great. So we agree.”

“No, we agree on what those kids heard, not who said

it.”

“Listen, Matt, I know you like to make things difficult, just so you can feel needed, but this is open-and-shut. Just admit it … you're upset because I solved your case.”

“No, idiot. You didn't solve a damn thing! Now call them off!”

“Little too late for that.” Kevin said. I looked over his shoulder and saw the end of Joey “the Hyena” Renoni.

The expression on his face was of pure horror, not that anyone was looking at his face. All he was wearing was a pair of white socks and an oversized diaper, the back stained a hideous brown. Instantly, the kids in the playground formed a tight circle around him, laughing and pointing, their once-heated kickball game now forgotten.

“Crappy Pants! Crappy Pants! CRAPPY PANTS! CRAPPY PANTS!”

Joey tried a few times to flee the scene, but a couple of big kids kept him where he was. Kevin wanted his money's worth.

“CRAPPY PANTS! CRAPPY PANTS! CRAPPY PANTS! CRAPPY PANTS!”

“Stop!” Joey screamed. As a response, someone hit
him in the face with the kickball … hard. Joey started crying. Someone pegged him with the kickball again, this time on the back of his head. He hit the ground on all fours, his brown, stained butt sticking up in the air. This made the crowd laugh louder, and Joey cry harder. “Please,” he pleaded. The ball struck him in the face again. His head snapped back, then hung down, tears dripping off it onto the ground. He was sobbing now, but the crowd wasn't about to show him any mercy. Instead, someone found another kickball. Now they were pelting him two at a time. Joey curled up, sobbing and whimpering, the hollow sound of the rubber balls echoing through the playground as they ricocheted off his bare back, his sides, the back of his head.

Five minutes doesn't seem like a long time, unless you're on the playground getting hammered with kickballs, wearing only socks and a stained diaper. Then five minutes is an eternity. That's how long it took for a teacher to finally break things up and get Joey inside. Five minutes to destroy a kid's life. Even the teacher who saved Joey had a look of disgust on her face.