Then Hunter had come slowly up the steep drive to the Building. With one arm, he was pushing a grocery cart full of beer up the hill.
“Look at that!” Tony had said.
Hunter was a giant—even taller than Tony. He could probably break me with a snap. “One, two, three, four, five.” I’d counted the two-fours in the cart. “What I would do for a few of those!”
Tony had glanced sideways at me and grinned with his eyes sparkling. “Maybe there’s a way. Everybody knows that Hunter doesn’t lock his door.”
“With arms like those he doesn’t need to.”
Tony had talked me into it somehow. It wasn’t stealing, he’d said, it was taking advantage of an opportunity. Two hours later, here I was sneaking around Hunter’s apartment.
I found Hunter asleep on the couch. He was sitting upright, not even snoring, and he reeked of beer. Old beer. Beer from nights of drinking.
Weird guy, I thought. Who sleeps sitting up?
The fridge filled the kitchen with light when I opened the door. Empty! Then I saw the cases piled beside the stove. He didn’t even keep them cold? I loaded my coat pockets with bottles, trying not to clink them together. Easy work. Hunter slept on the couch the whole time. I could fit two beers into each of my deep side pockets.
Three for me and one for Tony, I thought. That was fair since he wasn’t doing the dirty work, right?
Maybe I could have carried a few more with me, but I didn’t want to stick around any longer. Besides, my apartment was on the same floor. No telling who I might run into on the way out.
I TOOK THE STAIRS DOWN. The side door to the Building groaned shut behind me. In the dark, I tiptoed in my sock feet over the concrete slab toward the abandoned playground. Rocks prickled my feet and the ground sent spikes of cold through my toes. An empty Doritos bag blew up in my face, trapped by a whirlwind that spun in useless circles. I slapped the bag away, skirted a puddle, and hunkered down on the bench next to Tony.
“What’d you get?” Tony slouched against the bench, one arm slung over the back. His legs hung open like slack jaws. My three-day-old Nikes were beside him. Tony had said he would hold them for me. He’d said to take them off so I could tiptoe real quiet.
“Give me my shoes.” My feet were ice-cold and wet. My long brown overcoat hung loose around me. After my cousin Dan had worn it for four years the lining was patchy, but at least I looked like a slick operator in it.
With a huge grin, Tony hugged my shoes to his chest, his big shoulders curved forward like a gorilla’s. We had this friendly rivalry, mostly because we both were after Jennifer, but sometimes Tony went too far.
“What’d you get?” he said again in a teasing voice.
“Give me my shoes and I’ll tell you.”
Tony made to throw one of my shoes into the pool.
“OK. Don’t.”
He grinned wider, lowered the shoes, and sat on them.
I sighed, imagining my Nikes crushed by his butt. Why did Tony get everything he wanted? First Jennifer, now my shoes. Well, he wasn’t going to get any beer then. He didn’t deserve it. Right?
The eyes of the Building winked at me as people snapped their lights off and yanked the curtains shut. I chose my words carefully. “Hunter was asleep. God, he’s massive.” That part was true. “There was none in the fridge. I looked everywhere.”
“You didn’t get any?”
“Well, …” I had to think fast. I pulled my legs up under my coat and curled my fingers around my toes to warm them. I moved carefully so that the bottles in my coat pockets didn’t clink together and give me away.
“You didn’t?”
“Like I said he was asleep. He was on the bed and I could see some cases under the bed, but they were jammed in.”
“Didn’t you try to get them out?”
“No way. I tell you they were jammed. If I tried to move him …” I shuddered, just to make the lie better. “That bed hung like a hammock.”
The door to the underground creaked open. An ambulance siren sounded in the distance, coming closer.
“Maybe you should go back and have another look around.”
“I’m not going back. Forget it, Tony.”
“Have it your way.” Tony stood, grabbed one shoe, pulled back, and let it fly.
“No!” I tried to jump for it, but it sailed over my head—a white bullet in the dark.
I punched at Tony’s chest, which was level with my face. The burly stench of him so strong I could taste it. Tony pushed me off.
The shoe fell short. Inches from the edge of the pool. I eyed Tony, who grinned at me again. The best pitcher I knew. Kicked out of the Junior A’s for fighting, but he could hit the nose of a dog with a spitball when he wanted to.
“God, Tony. Did you have to?”
I pulled a brown bottle out of my coat pocket.
Tony took the beer and tossed me the other shoe, still with that twisted grin on his face. “I knew you were holding out. Could smell it on you. How many did you have in there?” He twisted the cap off and began to chug it back.
I shouldn’t have downed that beer in the stairwell. With a sigh, I shoved my foot into the shoe and ran lopsided for the other. As I jumped the chain-link fence around the pool, the last two bottles in my coat clanked. I swore once, then again, when I examined the long scuffmark on my other shoe. I jammed my foot in and dashed back to Tony.
“Hey, don’t drink it all. I only got one,” I said.
I watched Tony’s Adam’s apple bob up and down.
Tony stopped, burped, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The bottle was empty.
“Yeah, right.”
He grabbed my coat and shook until it clanked.
“All right. Let go.”
I pulled the two beers out and passed one to Tony.
“Cheers.” He grinned and clinked bottles with me. “To Hunter.”
* * *
AFTER THE BEER THERE WAS NOTHING TO DO, so we headed in for the night. I dragged into my apartment in my long coat and scuffed shoes. Mom was asleep in the dark in her precious La-Z-Boy chair. A book of crosswords on her lap. Her jaw open to a whistle snore. Her purse beside her on the floor. Another opportunity.
I tiptoed to her purse. Red lights flashed onto the ceiling, probably from an ambulance or a cop car down in the circle. I kneeled down beside her and began to rifle through her purse. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. This was easy. I could get away with anything.
On the way to her wallet, I found a fully stocked makeup case, tweezers, cough drops, a stack of coupons clipped together, and a silky black ribbon that her grandmother had given her for some reason that I’d forgotten. Then I saw her wallet, the change purse open, and a fiver hanging out like a gift.
I reached for the five then changed my mind and put my hand on the ribbon. When I rubbed my thumb along its silky smoothness, I sank into a Jennifer fantasy. I would wrap the ribbon around her black hair and brush my hands over her powdered white neck. She would twirl around and say how Tony was just a mistake and she really wanted me. Then she would plant a long kiss on me with those painted red lips. I could feel it now. The smear of lipstick, her breath in my mouth, her eyes shut to the moment, her fingers running through my hair.
My mother snuffled, held her breath, then exhaled. One eye was half open.
I grabbed the five for myself and the ribbon for Jennifer. I knew that the ribbon was special to Mom—she’d been holding on to it ever since her grandmother had died—but I needed it more than she did. Right?
My mother opened her other eye. I acted cool.
“Whozat?” she mumbled.
“Just me, Mom.” I kept my voice chipper as I stuffed the bill and the ribbon into my coat pocket.
“Flynn?”
“Come on, Mom. Time for bed.” I let her slouch over my shoulder all the way to her room.
“You’re such a good son.” She rubbed a hand over my short hair.
“Sure I am.” A
thrill ran through me as I spoke. I could get away with this. Opportunities were everywhere.
I pulled back the covers for her. She tucked herself in beside Dad.
In my room, I stripped to my underwear and climbed under the covers. The red lights were still flashing, and I wondered what weird thing had happened in the Building this time. Like in the summer, when Petra had ridden away in the back of a truck, never to return. She sure took a game of hide and seek seriously. In the next room, I could hear Dad flopping over in bed then snoring again. I punched the pillow down over my ears and tried to sleep, even though my toes were still ice cubes. Tomorrow, I’d give the ribbon to Jennifer.
* * *
I COULD NEVER FIGURE OUT WHY JENNIFER didn’t go for me. She’d been with a lot of different guys, so why not me? Yet with the ribbon tucked into my coat pocket that morning, I was going to win her. She and Tony were just casual. I knew I had a chance.
I went outside to see what was happening. I found Tony, David, and Tanya in our spot behind the thick pine trees, leaning against the big boulders that had been there forever. Jennifer was there too, sprawled across a larger boulder. Her black lace top clung to her breasts.
I winked at her, without Tony seeing, so she would know that I was still interested, but she turned away. No problem, I told myself. She just didn’t see me. I kept my shoulders back and my chest out so she could spot the work I had been doing with the weights.
“Did you hear?” Tanya said as I sat on a rock with graffiti on it. “Hunter’s dead.”
Tony gave me a look that said, talk and you’re dead, but I was too stunned to think straight.
“Hunter’s dead? He can’t be! He was just fine last night.”
“What are you talking about?” Jennifer rolled her eyes.
“Oh, we saw him lugging in a few cases of beer last night.” Tony covered for me.
I could only wonder—was I the last person to see Hunter alive?
“What happened? Was he murdered?” I asked, trying to sound casual. Inside my head I was beginning to flip out. How had Hunter died? He was fine when I was there. Or was he? He hadn’t even snored. Was I going to get in trouble?
“Murdered? Flynn, you are so weird.” Jennifer turned up her pointy nose at me.
Tony gave me a shut-up-about-Hunter-or-die look. His shaggy eyebrows were knotted like two duelling caterpillars.
“Didn’t you hear the noise last night?” Tanya asked. “The ambulance? Three police cars?”
David began to look uncomfortable. He was skinny and small in a leather jacket that was too big for him. I guess he was thinking about his Dad, who had died just a little while ago.
I nodded my head.
“Well,” Tanya began to pace excitedly, then she settled next to Jennifer, who shifted slightly on the rock to give her some room. “Apparently Hunter’s door was open last night and Mag Jennings went in to check it out. She almost fainted right on the spot because there was Hunter dead on the couch! He must have had a heart attack or something. Later, everyone was down in the circle watching Hunter get loaded into the ambulance. It was a real show! Crazy Tate crawled into a police car and turned on the siren. They almost arrested him but he took off.” She laughed. “Anyway, I heard one policewoman say that the cause of death was no mystery, but that they had noticed evidence of tampering. Can you imagine? They were dusting for fingerprints and everything.”
I could hardly move. My jaw hung loose and my arms dangled slack at my sides. What had I done?
“What …” I managed to say.
David interrupted. “I’ve got to go.” He pushed his way through the pine trees, letting them scratch him up.
“Gone to cry it off.” Tanya looked after David, almost forlorn.
“I say good riddance. He gives me the creeps,” Tony said.
“It’s not his fault that his dad got AIDS.” Tanya crossed her arms and glared at Tony.
“Yeah, well, his father was a flamer and he’s probably one, too.” Tony snarled.
“So what if he is? What’s wrong with that?” Jennifer’s face was red. I’d never seen her that mad. Tanya was staring curiously at Jennifer.
Tony backed off. “Cool down, babe.”
“Whatever!”
“What are the police doing now?” I said.
“I don’t know.” Tanya shrugged. “Looking for suspects, I guess.”
Tony lit a smoke and the conversation moved on, but I didn’t.
The police would be looking for me. Did I leave any fingerprints? Would they know they were mine? What would they do to me if they found out that I was in his apartment? I glanced at Tony but he was ignoring me for Jennifer, who must have made up with Tony because she was rubbing against him like a kitten. Did she have to do that in front of me?
I slid off the rock and shoved my hands deep into my coat pockets. With one hand, I felt the ribbon against my fingers. It was supposed to be Jennifer’s, but she was too busy with Tony.
I scrunched the ribbon into a little ball and let it fall to the ground beside me. With my not-so-new Nikes, I squished and crushed it through the pine needles and into the brown earth.
Jennifer wasn’t good enough for the ribbon.
* * *
THREE DAYS LATER, I CAME IN from an evening of watching TV with Asim. Asim had to baby-sit his sisters and brother as usual, but it was better than doing homework.
I expected Mom to ask about my homework, but instead I found all the kitchen cupboards open, her purse emptied on the table, and a trail leading off down the hall. Mom was in my room, rifling through my drawers and flinging my shirts onto my unmade bed.
“Hey! What are you doing?” I stood in the doorway and tried to sound offended, although mostly I was terrified that she would find the condoms that I had hidden so hopefully at the back of my underwear drawer.
Mom looked up at me. Her short hair was messed up like she’d been pulling at it and her eyes were wide with worry.
“Flynn.” She said my name as if she were surprised to see me. Then she looked around my room, distracted.
“You’re taking my room apart!” I planted myself in front of my drawers.
“I’m sorry, Flynn. I didn’t mean to. I’ve lost my black ribbon and I just have to find it.”
My heart began to rattle in my chest.
“Well, I didn’t take it.” I crossed my arms and frowned at her, trying not to betray my lie.
“No, of course you didn’t. I’ve just misplaced it somewhere.” She sounded sincere, but I wasn’t so sure.
“So why are you going through my drawers?”
“Was I?” She rubbed a hand through her messy hair and looked at my ransacked drawers. “I guess I was. I just thought that it might have fallen in with the laundry somehow. Really, Flynn, I am sorry.”
“Oh.” I picked up a T-shirt and tossed it into an open drawer.
“I’ll clean up,” she said.
“No. I’ll do it myself.” I crammed two more T-shirts into the drawer.
“All right. If you see my ribbon, will you let me know?” Her forehead was wrinkled with worry lines.
“All this for that old ribbon?” I pretended not to understand, but I knew that it was important to her. Why had I taken it anyway?
She hung her head and dropped onto my bed. “I guess it does sound a little silly, but … oh, you know the story already.”
I nodded my head. When would she get out of my room?
She sighed. “I always kept it with me. Grandmam gave it to me when she died. What could have happened to it?”
Just then Dad thumped down the hall. He stuck his head in my bedroom doorway and asked, “Did you find it?”
“No.” Mom sighed again, heavily.
“I’m sure you’ll find it, Mom,” I said, planning how I would get the ribbon back.
She squeezed me tight. “I hope so, Flynn.”
The doorbell rang.
Dad answered it. When he called me, I ignored him.
“What? I’m busy.”
“You need to come.” He pronounced each letter in each word so clearly that he pulled me to attention.
I wandered down the hall, expecting maybe Tony or Asim. I never expected the police.
Two large uniforms stuffed with muscles filled the doorway.
“Flynn Sheffield?” said the cop with the red hair. “I’m Constable Jeffries and this is Constable Davidson. We want to ask you a few questions.”
The huge Black cop, Constable Davidson, stared me down.
I blinked and tried to find my voice.
Dad frowned down at me. Mom put a protective hand on my shoulder.
“OK,” I squeaked.
Dad stepped back and, with his back straight, invited them in. I shoved my hands into my jean pockets to stop them from shaking.
Constable Davidson had to duck his head to get through the doorframe. Sitting on the couch, side by side, the two huge cops could have broken through the floor into the apartment below. Wouldn’t the old coot underneath us be surprised when they crashed down on top of him?
Dad brought in a kitchen chair and set it in the middle of the room. “Sit,” he pointed at the chair. I sat.
“What is this about?” Mom asked as she perched on the arm of her La-Z-Boy chair. “Is Flynn in trouble?” Then she added, “He’s a good boy, you know.”
Good old Mom. I stole her money and pulverized her grandmother’s ribbon and she praised my honor. Guilt swamped me. My throat was too clogged for me to speak. Yesterday I’d spent her five dollars on fries and gravy at school. Some good boy.
“Your boy is not in trouble, ma’am, as far as we know.” Constable Davidson’s voice rumbled through my chest. “We just want to talk to him about the death of a Mr. Hunter.”
Why didn’t I feel any better?
My mother’s eyes widened and she gasped. “Kind old Mr. Hunter is dead?”
Hadn’t she heard?
Dad, standing next to her, took her hand and patted it. I slid down lower in my hardback chair and tried to prepare for the assault.
Take the Stairs Page 4
