by M. M. Cox
“How will you communicate with us?” Frank finally challenges.
“Actually, I might be able to help with that,” Alvarez replies. “My daughter goes to Newcastle High.”
“Evie?” I ask, finally connecting the last name to Portia’s friend.
“Yes,” Alvarez answers. “You know her, then?” he asks, with fatherly suspicion.
“She’s a friend of a friend,” I say. “She seems really nice.”
Alvarez smiles. “I’m glad to hear that. She could get messages from you to me.”
“No,” Frank states emphatically. “It’s too dangerous. It’s not right to put a kid in this situation!”
“I’m not exactly a kid,” I snap.
Frank scowls at me. “Yes, you are!”
“I think we should let him stay with the Vigliottis,” Alvarez cuts in. Frank turns to his colleague angrily. “Why are you so ready to put him in danger?
You’re talking about his life!”
“Because it may be more dangerous to move him out of the situation. You said you were the only one who saw him, right?”
“I think so,” Frank answers. “But I don’t know for sure.”
“No one else saw me,” I say. “Something would have been said. I can do this,” I tell Frank, feeling the desperation so strongly inside me to convince this agent to let me stay where I am.
“Okay,” Frank finally relents. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing with this. But if anything happens that makes me think you’re in danger, I’m taking you out of there. Deal?”
“Deal,” I agree.
“All right, I’m going to go make sure the hallway is clear. Follow me in about two minutes.” Frank strides out of the office, obviously bothered by my new role as a spy in the Vigliotti house.
Once he leaves, I turn to Alvarez one more time. “I need you to understand, there’s not much chance I’m going to give you anything that will directly implicate Gino,” I say. “Not unless he does something really terrible.”
To my surprise, Alvarez simply smiles. “I understand, Danny. I think you’re brave, but I also believe you are very loyal. Just do the right thing.” Alvarez takes out a business card and scribbles a number on the back. “Keep this hidden, okay? The number on the card is a direct line to me.”
I nod and take the card. The front has the name “Pete Alvarez” printed in black ink, and the number written on the back is the only other piece of information. This card won’t get me in trouble if it is found—that is, until someone dials the number and reaches Detective Alvarez. I take out my own small leather bi-fold wallet and stick the card behind my student ID.
“Thanks,” I say, and then I shut the office door and navigate the maze of cubicles to find Frank, all the while thinking that I may have just made the biggest mistake of my life.
* * * *
I return to school in time to attend my final class, which is, unfortunately, algebra with Mr. Doonesby. While I wait for Evie to come to class, I wonder what I will say to her once she sits down. I want to let her know that I met her dad, but I have to be careful not to let anyone overhear. Perhaps I should wait for her dad to tell her about this. Then again, do I really think I’ll learn any more about the Newcastle Mob if I don’t return to the diner?
Unfortunately, Evie rushes in just as class is starting, so we don’t have time to chat. The class is painfully slow—algebra is a terrible subject on which to concentrate when my emotions are running wild. I can’t believe what I have become involved with in just the last four days. Now, not only do I know I’m living with a real-life mobster, but I am spying for the FBI! If my movie watching with Vince has been any indication, spies (more commonly known as “rats” if they are part of the Mafia family) do not fare well if their deception is discovered. I have asked to stay in an extremely dangerous position, just so I can live in the house of the man on whom I will be spying.
I think about Vince’s partiality for Mafia movies, and I have a sudden feeling in my gut that Gino’s teenage son might suspect something about his father’s late night activities. Then again, maybe Vince just likes the violence—but I can’t shake the thought that the connection might be more than coincidental. I observe Evie out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly I wonder whether she has any idea that the Vigliottis are connected to the Mafia. Her interest in me as a member of the Vigliotti household certainly makes her suspect. At any rate, she is bound to find something out, at least from her father, if I pass her any messages. Algebra eventually draws to an end. Mr. Doonesby has avoided any eye contact with me again, which is a definite relief. Perhaps Mr. Doonesby has come to terms with the fact that I might not want to be exactly honest about my background. Somehow, he must also realize that any connection between him and me might lead to some uncomfortable questions. Better to leave things as they are, I suppose.
As the bell rings, I heave my backpack onto my shoulders and glance at Evie. Maybe I should wait for her dad to talk to her, but I have an overwhelming desire to let her know I may be passing some messages her way. “Can I talk to you a moment?”
She smiles. “Of course, Danny,” she replies pleasantly, standing next to her desk and gazing up at me with expressive dark brown eyes. She seems excited—what if she thinks I’m asking her out? Will she be disappointed? Looking in her eyes, I almost want to ask her out, but then I think of another pair of brown eyes, and the feeling passes.
“Um, maybe we could talk in the hall?” I say, wanting to escape the watchful eyes of Mr. Doonesby and have my conversation lost in the loud hum of voices outside the door.
“Okay.” She collects her books and heads for the door as I follow behind her. As I pass through the doorway, I start to tell her to just meet me at my locker, but I’m stopped by a large hand wrapping itself around my neck and shoving me up against the wall.
“You haven’t done what I asked!” Tommy growls at me. “Get ready to be humiliated!”
Chapter 12
I bring my hands up and move Tommy’s thumbs away from my windpipe before wriggling free of his hold. “Get off me!” I shout angrily, drawing the curious stares and ears of nearby classmates.
Evie is glaring at Tommy. “Get away from him, Gallo,” she says, her voice heavy with threat. Surprisingly, Tommy steps back from me, scowling at Evie with clear hatred.
“Just because Daddy’s the long arm of the law doesn’t give you any right to order me around!” Tommy snaps, but he makes no move toward her. He whips his head back to me.
“What’s it going to be, gutter-rat? You either do as I say, or I’ll do what I told you I would do.”
I study Tommy’s face and almost laugh. Here I am, playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse between the FBI and Newcastle Mafia, and I’m worried about what kids will think about my hometown? I’m brave enough to put my life in danger, yet I’m scared of what a bully might tell people about me? I don’t need to be ashamed of my town. Ridley might be the rat hole of New Jersey, but I guess I’m proud that I’m just as smart and athletic as these Newcastle snobs. How can I allow Tommy to force me to do something dishonest for such a small price?
Yet, Tommy will win whatever my choice, and I hate to see the kid triumph, especially now that I know Tommy’s dad is as much a scumbag as his son. And in that moment, I smile, because I have a plan.
Tommy takes two steps toward me. “What’s that? You’re smiling? I wouldn’t be smiling if I were you, gutter-rat. I’m about to ruin your life!”
I frown, trying to look more intimidated. “Fine, Tommy. I will take care of everything by tomorrow.”
Tommy grins. “Good. I knew you’d come around.” He nods toward Doonesby’s classroom door. “You gonna take care of it now?”
I shake my head and begin to walk away. “In my own way, in my own time.”
* * * *
I sit at the kitchen table making an attempt at my homework. The small, overly ornate desk in my bedroom just isn’t working for me. Even though Ronnie is busy with di
nner, I find I’m much less distracted in the kitchen. I always worked on my homework at the kitchen table in my old home, and it’s one habit I can’t break.
Besides, I have another reason to be in the kitchen. I want to be near the phone because Portia is supposed to call me within the hour. She is going to visit Tony and his family at the hospital where Mr. Chen is receiving care, and she has invited Evie and me to join her. I feel guilty about visiting a man I watched get beaten by the men Gino works with, but I want to offer Portia emotional support and also see with my own eyes that Mr. Chen is okay. In any case, this gives me an opportunity to speak with Evie. In fact, by this time, she may already know that I may be using her to deliver any messages I have for Detective Alvarez. I tap my pencil on a complicated algebra problem.
Ronnie glances over at me. “Do you need any help, Danny? I was a whiz at math in high school.”
“No,” I say quickly and bend my head over my paper. I never had anyone help me with my homework before, and I wonder if must-have-been-popular Ronnie had really applied herself at math. Maybe I would learn more quickly if I had help, but I have a certain amount of pride in being able to figure things out for myself. In the past, that’s the only option I had. Then again, I’ve never encountered the challenging high school homework like that at Newcastle High.
I really do try to focus, but I’m distracted by something else I need to do, something I’m dreading. I must speak to Julia, but I know she’s going to be furious with what I will say, so I’ve avoided her so far this evening. But because I might get back from the hospital late, I should talk to her before I leave. For a few minutes, I watch Ronnie mix cake batter energetically (she told me she’s making Gino’s favorite—chocolate cake). I’m still curious as to whether Ronnie knows anything about the mob. Would Gino be able to hide that from her all these years? She does know that Ray is someone to fear, at least. I finally coax myself out of the chair and up toward Julia’s bedroom. I climb the stairs slowly and pass Vince’s door, fighting the urge to go in and play video games with him. Somehow, I doubt that Vince is getting much homework accomplished, with the heavy metal music pulsing through the closed door. I pause in front of Julia’s door and hear her chatting on the phone. Then I knock on her door, wondering if she will hear me.
“Who is it?” Julia shouts, her annoyance already obvious.
I open the door and find Julia stretched out on her bed, her cell phone nestled up under her hair next to her ear. Her wavy tresses fan across the bedspread much like they had when she distracted me from my homework just a few nights ago, and she is wearing her usual tight jeans and an extremely low-cut top. Baxter flies across the room with friendly yips and puts his two front paws on my leg. I scoop him up and pet his shaking, excited body. Julia points to the phone and mouths, “I am on the phone.”
“Duh,” I reply, and start to back out of the room, but Julia shakes her head violently.
“Honey, I’ve got to go. Our exchange student is bothering me again!” she says sweetly.
“I’ll call you if everything works out tonight. You had better not be late!” She slaps her cell phone shut and throws it on the bed, and then she stares expectantly at me.
“Exchange student?” I ask.
“My boyfriend is collegiate. I think he’s starting to get bored with me. Just trying to make life more exciting, maybe make him a little jealous,” she replies, smiling coyly. “What do you want?”
I know I have no easy way to deliver the news, so I plunge ahead. “Tomorrow, everyone will know that I’m from Ridley, not Boston.”
Julia’s eyes widen. “How?”
“I’m telling them.”
Her face twists in anger. “Whatever for? Do you want to ruin my journalistic reputation?”
“Maybe you should have thought about your ‘journalistic reputation’ before you lied in your article,” I shoot back.
Her cheeks turn bright red. “I did it for you! Everyone will hate you if they know you’re from Ridley!”
“I don’t have a choice, Julia. If I don’t tell everyone, Tommy Gallo will.”
Her eyes narrow. “How does that creep know about you?”
I shake my head. “Beats me. But he threatened to expose me unless I do what he says. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before someone Googles me and finds out I wrestled at Ridley Middle School.”
“What does Tommy want you to do?” she asks, her anger momentarily distracted by the mention of something juicy like blackmail.
“Well, that’s actually why I came to talk to you. I think we may be able to salvage your reputation and trap Tommy at the same time.”
She scoots to the edge of her bed and studies me for a moment. “I’m interested,” she says. “What do you want me to do?”
“First, I need you to write a retraction and tell people where I’m really from, but it can’t be released until noon tomorrow. I need a chance to talk to my friends. Then meet me in the gym before third period. All you need to do is watch and listen. I think you’ll be getting the scoop of the year.”
Her eyes light up in excitement, but then she quickly wipes the eagerness from her face.
“Fine. But I want a favor in return.”
“The scoop of the year isn’t enough?”
Julia crosses her arms. “I need to ride to the hospital with you.”
“Why?” I ask, thinking that Julia could not have any reason to visit Tony’s dad. Julia shrugs. “A friend’s mom is there. I want to visit her.”
I glance at her cell phone and remember the words of her phone conversation—something about tonight. “I’m not helping you sneak out, Julia. I’m not lying for you. I’m trapped in enough lies as it is.”
She glares at me. “I am visiting a friend, okay? That’s all you need to know!”
I shake my head in disgust and reach for her cell phone. Julia tries to grab it first, but she’s not quick enough. “What are you doing? Give it back!” she whines, lunging for it. I hold it away from her and step back. “I just need to borrow it for a minute.”
“No way!” she shrieks.
“Hey, you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”
She looks at me with uncertainty. “What?”
I roll my eyes and turn to the door. “It’s an expression, Julia. Don’t get so excited.”
She is infuriated by my jab. “Oh, shut up, Danny. Only in your dreams would I ever like you!”
I turn to her, smiling. “Only in my nightmares.”
She throws a shoe at me, but misses.
“Nice shirt,” I say, not able to help myself, “but you won’t want to let your dad see you in that.” Then I close the door and head back down the stairs.
* * * *
I take Julia’s cell phone outside and sit on the step. Gino isn’t home yet, so here on the porch I can talk to Reggie and keep a lookout for my godfather. I can’t be certain that Gino’s phones aren’t bugged by the FBI or that Gino doesn’t bug his own phones for any number of reasons. But I think Julia’s cell phone should be a relatively safe way to get into contact with Reggie, who is my only advantage in this dangerous game I’ve decided to play. No one knows that Reggie has been at the diner—not Frank, not the Newcastle Mafia, nobody. Reggie answers the phone on the second ring.
“Reggie, it’s Danny.”
“Finally! I almost had a heart-attack last night!” Reggie says.
“I know. That was a close call.”
“So the plan—it must have worked, right? I mean, you’re okay? I was worried, but my mom mentioned you called, so I figured you were breathing.”
“I’m fine,” I reply. “But I didn’t exactly get out of there undiscovered.”
Reggie sucks in air. “No way! What happened?”
“Someone knows about me,” I continue, “but it’s not the Newcastle Mafia. An undercover FBI agent covered for me.”
“Does this ‘agent’ know about me?”
“No,” I answer. “And I’m going to kee
p it that way. At least for the time being.”
“Okay,” Reggie agrees. “So what happens next?”
“Nothing. We wait and we watch.”
“Shouldn’t we—”
“No,” I interrupt. “We’ll wait.”
* * * *
The ride to the hospital is extremely uncomfortable. Portia had come to the door, and when I answered, she had given me a big hug and thanked me for going to the hospital with her. “Tony needs my support, and I need yours,” she had said. However, she quickly became guarded when she discovered Julia wanted to ride with us. Portia had nodded and smiled weakly when Julia made the request, but I know she is uneasy around Julia. Portia is a kind, sincere person who likes everyone except people who are exactly the opposite of her—fake, selfish people. Julia certainly fits into the second category, but I’m surprised at how both girls try to act pleasant toward each other. I decide that boys are much more straightforward than girls. That’s why women are so frustrating—you never really know where you stand with them.
The car ride is quiet. Joe Saviano is at the wheel of the old Cadillac on which Portia was sunbathing when I first saw her. Portia is silent, although I wonder if this is due to Julia’s uninvited presence and not due to Portia’s lack of things to say. Portia sits up front next to her father, and Evie and Julia are sandwiching me in the middle seat. It’s not a bad place to be, but I’d rather be sitting next to Portia than anyone else. The uncomfortable silence in the Saviano car finally wears on my nerves, which have already taken more abuse than I can stand for one day.
“Portia, did anyone find out what happened to Tony’s dad?” I ask, wondering if Mr. Chen’s mishap had been traced to the Newcastle Mafia yet.
Portia shakes her head. “I guess he told the police he couldn’t identify the men who robbed and attacked him. It’s so awful to think that those men might get away with doing such a terrible thing!”
