The Quick Fix (17 page)

“Well, I saved you from the Outs. Then you and I hung out in a janitor's closet. So I'd say that worked out pretty well.”

She blushed, and for a moment I saw something in her face that looked like sorrow, but it was gone so fast that I might have imagined it.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Liz …”

“What, Matt? What do you want me to tell you? That since last night I've had a change of heart? That I'm ready now to be your girlfriend?” For a moment, she sounded like she was actually saying it was so, instead of trying to prove a point. “I'm not, and I didn't. I was almost in the Outs.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “I was there.”

“It changed the way I look at … well … everything.”

“Since when? I mean, the past couple of weeks, you haven't even mentioned it.”

“I thought I could forget about it and live a normal life,” she said, “but I can't. I can't go back to being the same girl I was before.”

“Who's asking you to?” I yelled. “I'm not. So why are you pushing me away?”

“Because I see what you do. You think you're fighting the system, but you're just feeding into it.”

“You're kidding, right? Last night it was about other girls, and now it's about fighting the system? What are you talking about?”

“Maybe that's the problem.”

“Maybe what's the problem?”

“The fact that you don't know what I'm talking about,”
she said. “Haven't you ever considered using your ‘great detective skills' for something other than just making a quick buck or two … hiring yourself out to the highest bidder, no matter how awful they are?”

“You mean Vinny.”

“How'd you guess?”

“Jeez,” I said. “Wake up on the judgmental side of the bed this morning?”

“I heard you're working for him again. Didn't learn your lesson the last time? Or do you just not care?”

“Care about what?” I asked. The volume of my voice went up a few more decibels.

“About anything other than money.”

“Is that what yesterday was
really
about?” I asked. “You broke up with me because all you think I care about is money?”

“All right … then tell me you're not working for Vinny.”

“Listen, princess,” I said, “I'm trying to make a little extra money so I can pay for things that my mom can't. I'm sorry if you have no idea what that's like, but that's your problem, not mine.”

“Matt—”

“No. You know what? You fight your good little fight, whatever the hell it is. And then you go on back to your
big
house and your
big
restaurant that your
mommy
owns—you know, the one where your
daddy
works his employees to death and pays them as little as he legally can—and you think about all the beautiful ideals you're fighting for … all us lowly commoners who are too poor in either money or morals to fight your ‘good fight.' Fight our battles for us, princess, because we're too stupid or corrupt to help ourselves.”

Tears started to form in her eyes, but her jaw tightened in a defiant way. “You know I'm right.”

“No, the only thing I know is that you shouldn't talk about things you don't have a damn clue about. Good luck with your crusade, whatever the hell it might be.”

I was shaking as I walked away. The bell rang. Kids started filtering out of their classrooms and into the hall. I could hear Liz crying behind me, but I didn't turn around. “Matt,” she said. “Matt, wait!”

“Yes, Matt,” came a mocking voice from behind her. “Wait!”

It was Tina Thompson.

I whipped around.

Tina was holding Liz in a headlock from behind. Liz didn't look nervous—she looked pissed. Tim was standing next to her, holding a huge soaker cocked and ready. Kids in the hallway were taking notice, but they were keeping their distance.

“Careful, Matty-boy,” Tina said. “You don't want to put your little girlfriend in the Outs, do you?”

Liz sighed. “Your timing really stinks.”

“She's right,” I said. “I was actually trying to decide if I should put her there myself.”

“Shut up!” Tim yelled.

“You'd be saving me a lot of trouble,” I said.

“I said, shut UP!”

“Here's how it's going to work,” Tina said. “You're going to give me what you got out of that box you found, and we're going to let you go. We'll even give you back your duffel bag full of goodies. How does that sound?” She licked her lips, as if she loved the taste of her own lies.

I smiled. “Tell me what you think was in the box.”

“You know what was in it,” she said.

“Fine. So tell me.”

She looked at me, her expression changing from cruel and triumphant to unsure and confused. “You
don't
know, do you?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I do, maybe I don't.”

“Damn it!” she yelled.

“What?” Tim said, his attention now divided between me and his sister.

“They tricked us!” she yelled.

“The same person who left you that note about Melissa?” I asked. “Did they write you another note?”

Tina threw Liz on the floor and started walking away. “Do them both,” she said.

As Tim pumped his soaker, a relaxed, creepy smile spread across his face. “Who's first?”

Liz backed away from him, sliding across the floor on her butt. I tensed and got ready to spring out of the way, figuring that he'd go for me first. I was still on my feet, and that made me the bigger threat.

The crowd started getting closer, but not too close. They wanted to put someone in the Outs, not become members themselves.

Tim pointed the soaker at me, then at Liz, then back at me. He looked like a kid on his birthday who couldn't decide which present to rip open first.

The soaker settled on me and lingered. His smile got a little wider. His finger closed around the trigger. My heart beat in triple time.

“Hey, Tina!” came a yell from down the hall.

All of us turned to look.

A water balloon came flying from the same direction as the voice, and it smacked Tina right in the front of her pants.

WHAP!

“AAAAAA!”
Tina screamed and fell to the floor. She was about fifteen feet away from me, and my shoes still got a little wet from the blast.

Everyone in the hallway scrambled, ducking for cover. I dropped to the floor, then turned toward the direction the balloon had come from. The kid who had thrown it was already gone.

“No!” Tim's scream filled the hallway. His sister lay on the floor, the wet spot on her pants still spreading. “Nooo! Tina!”

The kids in the hallway started to come out of their hiding spots.

“Tina peed herself!” came the cry. The crowd advanced.

I didn't even try to stop them this time.

“PEE-PEE PANTS! PEE-PEE PANTS!” they chanted.

Tina was sprawled out on the floor, babbling softly to herself. Tim cradled her head in his lap. “Back! Get back!”

“PEE-PEE PANTS! PEE-PEE PANTS!” Louder and louder. Over and over again.

“Pay! You'll all pay!” he screamed, but the kids moved in anyway, laughing, pointing, and yelling.

“PEE-PEE PANTS! PEE-PEE PANTS!”

Tim waved his squirt gun around the hallway. “PAY!” The crowd took a step back but kept its shape. It didn't matter how close they stood; they didn't need to be close to send Tina to the Outs.

“PEE-PEE PANTS! PEE-PEE PANTS!”

Tim looked at his sister, wet and babbling. He looked at the squirt gun in his hand. He looked at the crowd. He smiled a weird little smile, as if a new thought had just occurred to him, a thought that suddenly put his whole life into focus. “Sister,” he said. Then he turned the squirt gun toward the front of his own pants and pulled the trigger. His crotch was instantly soaked. He dropped the squirt gun, then fell to the floor next to Tina, grabbed her hand, and closed his eyes.

The crowd erupted, closing in for blood. Tim had scared them for a moment, and they were going to make him pay for it.

“FREAKS! FREAKS!”

Gerry Tinsdale must have heard the commotion because he came running around the corner like a cat hearing a can opener.

“I need backup! Now! Corridor C!” he shouted into his walkie-talkie. Then he turned on the crowd. “Hey! HEY! We're clearing this area. NOW! Suspensions to all who don't comply!”

The kids didn't move. They didn't seem to hear him over their own shouts. “FREAKS! FREAKS!”

Four more hall monitors suddenly appeared. Now everyone scattered. A couple of kids tripped over the Thompsons, who were still lying motionless on the floor.

I blended into the chaos and bolted. I looked around for Liz, to see if she was okay, but she was already gone.

wandered home in a daze. My mom's car was in the driveway. Our talk wasn't until tomorrow night, but it appeared she had tonight off as well. If there was a conclusion to be drawn from this, I was in no condition to draw it.

I walked inside.

“Matt? Is everything okay?” my mom asked when she saw my face.

“Yeah. Everything's fine.”

She studied me. I didn't look back at her, so as not to give anything away. I should've known it wouldn't matter.
Anyone who doesn't believe that people can read minds never really got to know their mothers.

“Come on,” she said. “Put your coat back on. We're going out to eat.”

“I can't. I have—” I stopped. My anger and frustration was short-circuiting my ability to conjure up a decent lie.

“Homework?” she said after a credibility-killing pause.

“Yeah.”

“Well, we'll just have to get home early, then. Let's go. Chop-chop.”

I opened my mouth to further my lame protest, but by that point Mom was already pushing me out the door. I sighed, then went limp and allowed myself to get caught up in her current.

A few minutes later, we were at Lucy's, our favorite sandwich shop downtown. The rest of the stores and restaurants along the river had gone upscale as the town's income bracket climbed, but Lucy's was the same hole-in-the-wall it had always been. Great food, and a lot of it, for not a lot of money.

Paulie, the tough, old ex-Navy guy behind the counter, gave us the once-over when we came in. At some point in time, everyone had decided that Paulie's general bad
attitude was part of his charm. However, that just pissed him off even more. The only person in town who he didn't spit venom at was my mom.

“Hey, Kathy,” he said. “What's cookin', good-lookin'?”

“Same old, same old, Paulie.”

“Ain't that the truth. What'll you have?”

“Hmm.” My mom always does that. She takes her time trying to decide what she's going to order, and then she always orders the same exact thing.

I was a little restless, so I blurted out, “She'll have a cheesesteak with onions and mushrooms, and I'll have the chicken Parm.”

Paulie looked at me like he wasn't quite ready to acknowledge my existence, let alone take my order. Finally, he said, “I wasn't talkin' to you, kid.”

“He's right, though,” my mom said. “That's what I want.”

Paulie nodded at her. “No problem.” Then he turned to me and gave me a dirty look. “Whatsa matter, kid, huh? You in a rush? You got someplace better to be?”

Before I could answer, he turned away and started cooking. In Paulie's eyes, if you're not ordering too slowly, you're ordering too quickly.

My mom sat down at a table. I tried to sit next to her, but I was way too wound up. My foot started tapping a rhythm that any thrash metal drummer would have envied. I stood up to look out the window and started rocking back and forth on my heels.

“Is there some invisible dance contest going on that I don't know about?” my mom asked.

“Huh?”

She gave me a funny look but didn't say anything else.