Worth a Thousand Words

by Brigit Young

Tillie began to snap picture after picture, ignoring the questions of the woman behind her, asking her what she was doing and where her parents were.

  “What was it, huh?” Jake shouted. “Did you think we had money? Well, we don’t, so let my dad go!”

  “This is ridiculous!” Cubicle Man seethed.

  “Did he catch you doing something? Huh?” Jake followed the man as he tried to escape.

  The bartender made his way toward Jake.

  “You were the guy stealing office supplies, weren’t you? Did you steal something else? Are you a thief? I know about you! I know all about you!”

  Tillie recognized that Jake was out of control. She nearly hurled herself across the room to get to him, her adrenaline masking the warning of the pain sure to come.

  “You need to stop!” Cubicle Man fumed.

  The bartender reached Jake and pulled him up by the back of the shirt. “Get out of here,” he said.

  As Tillie neared Jake, Cubicle Man caught her eye. She was still several feet away from Jake and couldn’t avoid walking past Cubicle Man to get to him. She felt her whole body tighten as she moved forward.

  “Jake! I’m coming!”

  And then she felt someone grab her by the arm. She snapped her head around.

  “Stop asking questions you don’t really want to know the answer to,” Cubicle Man said to her in a raspy whisper. “Trust me.”

  He did have a scar above his eye, stark white, cutting slightly into his eyebrow. Tillie jerked her arm away and made it to Jake. He was fighting with the bartender at the door.

  “Don’t come back, Destiny’s Child, or I’m calling the cops,” the bartender said as he shoved Jake out the door and motioned for Tillie to follow.

  Jake tried to run back toward the entrance, but Tillie did what the bartender had done, and dragged Jake away by his shirt.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe that creep was there,” Jake moaned. “I can’t believe he was there, and I didn’t get anything out of him.”

  He rubbed his temples over and over as if he wanted to reach inside his head and strangle his own mind.

  Tillie had led Jake, ranting and raving, back to the bus stop, breathing so heavily that she could hear his inhales over the traffic.

  The bus ride home was so long. Her mom would be worried. If the bus came soon, she could maybe make it home on time. Or at least be only a little late. Tillie texted her mom that she’d be home really soon, that Art Club had run over again, that everything was fine. And then she turned back to Jake.

  “Tillie, that was him, wasn’t it? That was him!”

  She nodded. She had studied his face a million times in nights spent poring over her pictures. The man at Pins and Whistles had the same sloped, bald head, the same small glasses, the faint scar. And he’d been furious at the sight of Jake. When she’d taken this man’s photo, and seen the finger against his lips, she’d told Jake she believed him that something was going on, and she had. But it was only now, after Cubicle Man grabbed her arm to silence her, too, that she was entirely certain that Jake was right. His dad wasn’t in Canada. He wasn’t on a trip. Jake’s dad was lost. Taken?

  “And he was at the same place my dad called from! The day after he called!” Jake lamented. “Tillie, he did something to him. I know it.”

  “Yeah, he’s definitely involved. You’re right.” Tillie pictured his dark eyes as he growled at her.

  Stop asking questions …

  “Yeah, and he got away,” Jake whimpered. “He got away…”

  The sun would set soon, and Tillie pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. Her leg and hip throbbed. She reached in her bag for some camphor, which her mom always packed, and slipped off her sock and sneaker, accidentally pulling out her heel lift with it. She pushed the shoe insert back in and began to rub away the muscular strain in her heel. The balm would make her colder, but it would take away some of the effects of the painful fall off that stupid karaoke stage. When she reached up under the leg of her jeans to put some on her calf, she glanced at Jake, self-conscious that he would witness all this, and saw that he was shaking.

  Jake held his face in his hands. His shoulders trembled like earthquake aftershocks, one huge heave of breath followed by small rippling tremors. His backpack had started to fall off his shoulders and it pulled on his arms.

  Tillie had never seen a boy cry before. Maybe when she was a little kid, or back when her dad visited her in the hospital, but that was different.

  Jake said something unintelligible.

  “What?” Tillie asked softly.

  “I’m not going to find him,” he said, with so much articulation that it looked like it wore him out, and he couldn’t talk more.

  Tillie tried not to stare.

  She moved her hands to his backpack straps and slipped them off each arm. He let her. His face was wet, his tears reflecting the lights of the cars that went by.

  Tillie took his backpack and set it down near her sore foot.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He nodded. His breath slowed.

  Tillie thought for sure they would never talk again after this moment. That if a boy cried in front of you then that was it, that was the end. It was just too awkward to go on. The investigation would be over, and Cubicle Man and his lackey, Jim, would get away with everything. But she was immediately proven wrong. Jake began to speak.

  “My dad is my best friend,” he said, glazy-eyed, sniffling and wiping his nose with his coat sleeve. “Do you know what I mean?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer.

  And no, she didn’t know.

  He let out a pathetic little laugh. “I found a card the other day that I wrote him. I’ve been looking in Mom and Dad’s room. For, you know, clues. Or anything I can find. And I found a card. It was in his nightstand drawer. It was a card from me, for his birthday. I was nine. It says ‘Happy birthday, Dad! I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ And I didn’t. I mean, it’s because of my dad that I learned to, like … like myself, I guess. Because he liked me so much. And the thing is…” He paused, biting his lip and pushing his hands together to fight more tears. “I’m not nine anymore, and I still don’t know what I’d do without him. But now I am without him. And I’m … nothing.” Jake paused again. “I’m nothing without him.” He shook his head and wiped under his eyes. Then he said, low and to himself, “I just want my dad back. I just want back that one person who tells me everything’s going to be okay, and who means it.”

  Tillie knew the words wouldn’t mean much coming from her, so she just thought them. Everything’s going to be okay, Jake. And then she had to stop thinking about it, or she knew she might cry, too.

  After what felt like an eternity, the bus came, and they headed home.

  That night her dad heated up a pork chop for her for dinner.

  She wanted to hug him, but instead she asked him to pass the salt.

  13

  That Face

  Jake wasn’t at school the next morning, or the day after that.

  The first day, he texted Tillie that he had stayed home to investigate, though Tillie imagined he mostly needed to recover from their awful night. The second day, he didn’t text at all. And Tillie started to worry.

  Abby told Tillie he’d texted her that morning to tell her he was still sick. After stopping Tillie on her way to Ms. Martinez’s room and insisting that she eat lunch with “their group” instead, Abby told Tillie all kinds of things. She told her she’d had a crush on the eighth grader Malik Granger for two years, that it annoyed her that he was probably in love with Diana Farr just like everyone else, that she was looking to start a band and if Tillie played any instruments she should join, and all kinds of theories about the characters on a TV show Tillie had never watched but Abby insisted “she had to.” Abby didn’t even walk ahead of Tillie, she just strolled slowly alongside her, even as her words moved a million miles a minute.

  “Jake was right,” Abby said
as they walked into the cafeteria. “You’re a really good listener.”

  It felt weird to sit at Jake’s table without him, but Abby acted like Tillie was entirely welcome. She talked to Tillie, but also to everyone else.

  “Hey, if my band works out do you think you could take publicity shots for us or something?” Abby asked her at one point, initiating a whole discussion at the table of all the things people needed pictures for. Sean wanted a headshot for a community theater production he planned on auditioning for, and Emma wanted to make sure someone took a good photo of the girls’ basketball team for yearbook because the year before they’d all hated it.

  Tillie, shocking herself, said yes to all of it. She relaxed into her spot at the table without Jake by her side.

  Then, at one point, Abby put her hand to her mouth and said, “Oh, I totally forgot. I should be collecting Jake’s homework for the classes I have with him. He asked me to … Oops.”

  Tillie felt guilty that for a moment, while chatting with Abby, she’d forgotten Jake. She’d forgotten his heaving breaths, and how he’d clenched his hands so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  “Yeah, I hope he’s okay,” Tillie said, meaning something else entirely.

  Tillie wished Jake would just talk to his mom. Was his mom still maintaining that his dad was on a business trip? How long did she expect that obvious lie to work? Tillie could imagine, though, that Jake had convinced her of his blissful ignorance. He was probably all smiles and jokes.

  Tillie texted him. Hey, when can we discuss Monday night’s evidence?

  She tried not to let it bother her that he’d texted Abby and not her.

  By her next class, he hadn’t texted back. She saw Abby in the halls. Well, really, she put herself near Abby’s locker to make sure she’d run into her.

  “Hey, you heard from Jake?” Tillie asked her.

  “Not since this morning. He’s probably busy playing some role-playing game on the computer or something equally nerdy.” Abby rolled her eyes and smiled.

  “Huh,” Tillie said.

  “Why?”

  Tillie didn’t know what to say.

  After that night, there was no way that Cubicle Man didn’t know Jake was onto him—about whatever it was Cubicle Man had done. And it was obvious that Cubicle Man didn’t just know something about where Jake’s dad was, but he had something to do with his disappearance. Maybe he’d hurt him for some reason. Maybe he was threatening Jake’s mom. And if he knew Jake knew … then was Jake in any kind of danger? Was Cubicle Man that menacing? Was the action movie Jake had imagined actually coming true?

  And why was his mom still lying? Tillie wondered. Was she really just protecting Jake? That part made no sense to her.

  Tillie pictured Jake’s red, tearstained face two nights before. This couldn’t go on. She couldn’t bear for him to feel like that any longer.

  “Hey, Abby, do you know Jake’s address by any chance?”

  “Yeah, totally. Hand me your phone, I’ll put it in. Why?”

  “Thanks,” Tillie mumbled. “Just … stopping by.” Tillie handed Abby the phone. She had to convince Jake to tell his mom what he knew. They needed help with all of this before Cubicle Man had the chance to do any more damage.

  “Hey, if you’re going over there, I’ll come along!” Abby announced. “It’ll be fun! Oooh, let’s get him some soup first or something. A care package! His mom won’t care, she hardly pays attention to what he does, anyway. And his dad will just, like, join in the fun.”

  It hit Tillie in a new way that Jake hadn’t told any of his friends about his dad. Of course, she’d known that all along. That was why he was always whispering with her while laughing loudly about other stuff with them. But she suddenly understood that, for some reason, Jake really trusted her.

  Tillie became aware she was just standing there, staring at Abby, thinking, and she scolded herself inside for being so weird.

  “Um…” Tillie couldn’t let her join. Abby couldn’t get involved in all this, especially considering how frightening it seemed to be getting. “Sorry, I—”

  “Oh. No, no, it’s totally okay. No worries, I get it.” Abby pasted on a smile.

  “Sorry,” Tillie repeated.

  “Hey…” Abby’s smile faded as she lowered her voice. “Something’s obviously going on with Jake. And I’ve seen you guys whispering. You clearly know about it. Look, I get it if you can’t say anything. But…” She paused as if waiting for Tillie to jump in, but Tillie didn’t. She couldn’t. “Just let me know if I can help. Or if you need someone to talk to.” Abby lingered for a second, and then waved and headed off. “Okay, have a good one, Tillie!”

  Abby was so nice, Tillie thought, and she herself was so, so awkward.

  Cursing herself, she texted her mom on her way to her last class.

  Might be running late tonight. I have a group project for Art Club and we’re working in the library after school today.

  Tillie winced. Art Club stuff every day all of a sudden? Not persuasive. Jake was much better at this sort of thing.

  After school, she took the bus to Jake’s house.

  She didn’t want to ambush him, so as she got off the bus she texted again:

  I have some thoughts. Might come by? See you soon …

  He lived by a soccer field where she used to have Rec and Ed soccer games, she realized as she walked from the bus stop to his street. She wondered if Jake ever played. He didn’t seem too sporty …

  The sidewalks were fairly empty, with only a couple of kids returning to their homes after school or running outside to jump on their bikes. A few women walked by with their dogs, spotted Tillie and her legs, and quickly looked the other way. The typical reaction. Tillie kept her eyes on the sidewalk straight ahead.

  As Tillie neared Jake’s house, she halted.

  Three houses down from where she’d frozen, she saw a bald man in a suit, wearing glasses, knocking fiercely on Jake’s door.

  It couldn’t be …

  He put his hands on his hips, looked up in the air, shook his head in great annoyance, and knocked again. It was Cubicle Man.

  What if he saw her?

  Tillie dipped into the front yard she was closest to and headed for one of the bushes. Praying that no one in the house noticed, Tillie used one hand to move a branch out of the way and the other to hold her camera, but her arm began to shake, so she gave up. She couldn’t get a shot. But spying on her parents had been great practice, and Tillie found her own peephole through the bush branches.

  The door opened.

  Jake’s mom came out onto the porch holding a large duffel bag with a Cubs logo on it. She set it down in front of Cubicle Man. The bag was stuffed to the brim and something started to fall out of it—a baseball cap, maybe, Tillie couldn’t be sure—and Jake’s mom leaned down quickly to push it back in.

  Jake’s mom appeared to have no fear at all. She edged herself closer to Cubicle Man. Her arms gesticulated wildly. The two of them stood nearly nose to nose. Cubicle Man hunched over for a moment, like a caught child getting into trouble, but then he sprang up, shouting. Jake’s mom stepped back. Tillie could hear Cubicle Man yelling, but the only words she could make out were “Fine, fine,” and then she thought she might have heard him say, “What’s done is done.”

  And then Tillie, who trusted her eyes so profoundly, couldn’t believe what she saw: Cubicle Man and Jake’s mom hugged. It only lasted a brief moment, but it happened.

  Afterward, Cubicle Man took the duffel bag and walked away with it. He disappeared around the corner. Jake’s mom watched him go for a moment, and then went back inside the house.

  Could Tillie follow him? Maybe … No, she couldn’t walk that fast.

  She had more questions than ever. What was in the bag? Was it money? Was this what the bank statements had been about after all, paying a large sum? But why would there be a baseball cap on top of money? And why would they have hugged if Jake’s mom didn’t want to give hi
m her money, or whatever was in the bag? Was Jake’s mom involved in all this? Was she on Cubicle Man’s side?

  Tillie’s body seemed to know what to do before she did. She found herself walking toward the house.

  She walked up the steps of Jake’s house to his door and knocked.

  Within seconds Jake’s mom opened the door.

  His mom had a stern face. She had olive skin, but it clearly hadn’t seen much sun lately. Her collarbone jutted out like a mannequin’s. There was no pink to her cheeks. Her hair, wisps of faded brown dye, clung to her forehead, and navy-blue circles nestled under her eyes. She looked as if all the tears had been twisted out of her like a dried-out dishrag. This was not the woman Tillie had imagined. Jake had said she seemed fine.

  “Can I help you?” his mom said without a trace of the warmth that Jake always had.

  “Oh, um,” Tillie said. “Yes?” she asked as a question. “I’m Jake’s friend?” A question again. The word “friend” came out of her mouth as if she were looking it up in a foreign-language dictionary and trying to see if the native speaker understood it.

  “He’s not here.”

  Tillie paused. “He’s—” She didn’t want to say she had been told he was sick because maybe he’d lied to his mom as well. Maybe he was doing something else. She couldn’t let his mom know. “Oh, I didn’t bump into him at school today. And … we have a project together. I thought we could work on it now?”

  “He’s at Art Club,” his mom said. “He was sick, but started to feel better around last period.”

  “Oh, yeah, okay. Art Club. Yeah, he’s a great artist.” Tillie hid a snicker.

  “Okay,” his mom said as she began to close the door. “I can tell him you stopped by.”

  But she hadn’t even asked for Tillie’s name.

  As Tillie left Jake’s doorstep, she texted him.

  Jake, where are you???

  She didn’t want to give him any of this information in a text. She had to talk to him. She had to explain what she’d seen. But she didn’t even know what she had seen.

  She couldn’t go home. What would she do, go home and wait and see if Cubicle Man happened to hurt Jake? Wait and see if his mom was behind all of this somehow? None of these questions could wait another day. But she had nowhere to go.