Amber Eyes

by Mariana Reuter

  His tone was so caring, I allowed the previous rage to evaporate. I held the cup with both hands and sipped the coffee—it in fact made me feel better as the warm drink flowed downwards to my stomach. “This is your ticket, boy; keep it safe. Here’s your money. Put it away. What’s your name?”

  We’d reached a moment of truth. Edward had mistaken me for a boy since he found me sleeping on the street. Should I tell to him he’d been deceived by my appearance, or should I reinforce the deceit so he wouldn’t learn my true identity? The latter might be best, considering my situation. Also, I was enjoying being mistaken for a boy. Sorta new feeling I wanted to explore a bit more. I was a girl, but how would it feel to be a boy? I wondered whether it would further strengthen my relationship with Jenny. What name should I give myself? Tom? Robert? Obama? I looked to the huge signboards hanging from the station’s ceiling. They read: ‘Meet Justin Pembroke, your congressman. Inman Park, July 4.’

  “Justin… my name’s Justin,” I said.

  “Cool, nice to meet you, Justin.”

  We shook hands. He squeezed mine while I barely tightened my grip around his. He seemed to disapprove because he narrowed his eyes a bit and grimaced. No wonder. My hand was cold and flaccid while his felt warm and firm. Finally, he smiled. “As I told you, I know the address you’re looking for. Does your grandma own a white Toyota or a blue Nissan?”

  “I dunno. Last time I saw her, I was a li’l kid.”

  I said nothing else but kept my gaze fixed on him from behind my sunglasses. I squinted. Why was he helping me? He said because he belonged to the Boy Scouts. Could it be that simple? Did people actually help people just because they are part of a club or a church? At the many schools I’d been through in my life, nobody had helped me and after fifth grade, I’d been more bullied than liked.

  Jenny had been my first real friend in many years. Before her, I’d hidden during recess so I could eat my lunch before it got stolen, and I’d left fast after school so I could reach home without getting my ass kicked. I sipped from the coffee cup again but spilled some on the jacket. I grimaced for being so stupid. Was my plan to ruin it forever? How could I be so callous to seemingly care so little for the most tangible proof of his generosity? “Oh! How clumsy of me.”

  “Never mind, it’s okay.” Boy Scouts seemed to be nice people.

  “I’m a total loser. I can’t do anything right.” My head dropped until my chin touched my chest.

  Edward passed an arm over my shoulders. Surprisingly, I liked the feeling: so reassuringly, as if nothing bad could happen when I was in his embrace.

  “Hey, don’t worry, pal. It’s okay. Like, I’m sure once you’re with your grandma, everything will be fine. Remember, I’m your friend.”

  “Are you my friend? No kiddin’?” I actually wanted Edward to be friends with me. I said to myself I was not acting like the girl behind the counter—falling for the first hot guy purchasing a one way ticket— and yet, with hindsight, I believe I was. I cuddled towards him, leaning on his sturdy body, feeling his warmth. I closed my eyes and breathed in. Edward’s body smell was appealing. Part sweat—it made my skin tingle—part lime cologne. I breathed in again and enjoyed the strong aroma.

  “I told you, I’m your friend. You’ve nothing to worry about if you’re with me.”

  His smell was the exact opposite of Jenny’s flowery perfume, and yet I breathed in for the third time, relishing it. Jennifer… The memory of our wild make out session popped into my mind. What was I doing? I was her girlfriend, not Edward’s. Five minutes ago, I’d just been proud of myself when I’d told Edward my name was Justin, delighted because of my perfect deception. Now I was behaving like a stereotypical cheerleader who dreamed of the football team’s quarterback.

  I sprang away from him, shrugging my shoulders until he took his arm off them. He stared at me with a huge question mark drawn on his face. I felt like crap. Edward was trying to help me and suddenly, I was reacting as if he was infected with smallpox. After all what had happened tonight, it felt good to have another friend besides Jenny. My problem was it felt awful to compare Jenny and Edward in my mind like I had to choose between one of them. I sobbed, covering my face with both hands.

  “Hey, hey! You don’t have to cry,” Edward said. “Boys don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong, pal. We’ll figure it out together.”

  I couldn’t tell him what was wrong. I couldn’t share with him I was in love with another girl, and that at the same time I found him hot.

  Suddenly, the station’s sliding doors opened and a redheaded woman in a brand-new cop uniform—a girl bearing an FBI-smartass air—stood with her arms akimbo. “Alexandra Zimmerman, are you here? Alexandra Zimmerman?”

  # # #

  I was doomed. The cops had found me. My stomach sunk. In an instant, my palms turned sweaty and I could feel my face stone cold.

  I hated myself for being so foolish. I shouldn’t have told Mrs. Olsen I was heading to the Greyhound station. I could imagine her telling the cops what I had told her when they questioned her about Yago’s dead body. All my life and hopes vanished in a second. The redheaded cop would arrest me and when she did so, my girlfriend Jenny, my new friend Edward, and the short liberty I’d experienced since two hours ago would vaporized.

  Anxiety filled me like the day when Clara Benson and her gang had cornered me in the restroom. They said I needed some lipstick to look more girly, so they smeared bright red lipstick all over my face. I lay curled on the floor for hours. Today, I wanted to curl up too so the redheaded cop wouldn’t spot me. I couldn’t allow her to arrest me, at least not until Jenny could stand by my side and protect me. Then I could endure court, jail and even the death penalty, if that’s what I got.

  I jumped to my feet like somebody had lit a fire under my buttocks and glanced in every direction. The restrooms, where the hell were this station’s damned restrooms? Outside. They had to be outside. I bolted to the back door and exited to the empty, dark parking lot. The air smelled like wet earth, which meant rain was about to start dropping. I discovered the restrooms to my right, two metallic doors labeled “Gents” and “Lad es”—the ‘i’ was missing.

  I pulled open the Ladies restroom door but froze. No. I was a boy, wasn’t I? So, for the sake of the lie, I had to enter the Gents restroom instead. I released the door and moved in front of the Gents’. My skin tingled. It was the first time ever I’d dared enter a boy’s restroom. What would happen if some guy was inside? Hoping not, I gulped. With my hand still on the knob, I hesitated.

  Okay, I said to myself, I’m a boy, and I’ll be one until all this is over. I mustn’t fear. This is my gender’s restroom.

  I wished I actually was a boy. It would have solved all my problems. For sure, the cop would describe a girl to the station’s staff and ask them whether they’d seen me. If I behaved like a boy, she’d never realize the pigeon had fled right from under her nose. I flung the Gents’ door open and step inside stamping my foot. I had to pinch my nostrils right away. Bet nobody had flushed the toilets in centuries. One more step and my sneakers—Edward’s really—splashed on the waterlogged floor. Never mind. I made it to the first stall and locked myself inside. Then I gave it a second thought. They always search the first one in the movies. So I moved to the second one. There were only three of them, anyway, but I decided the last one was as conspicuous as the first one, like trying to conceal myself in the last possible hole.

  Two or three minutes later somebody came into the restroom. How stupid of me! I should have turned the lights off if I wanted the cop to believe the place was empty. Then I thought lights in public restroom are always on, so it’d been better I hadn’t turned them off.

  I had to stop making the wrong decisions. Even considering them,

  “God, what a stench!” It was Edward’s voice. I exhaled in relief. “Justin, are you in here?”

  My heart beat a thousand miles per hour while I decided if I should answer. I couldn’t make up my mind, so
I stood silently, squeezing my hands with each other.

  Edward knocked on my cubicle’s door. “Justin, is everything okay?”

  I was terrified and not sure whether Edward had added two plus two and was about to hand me over to the cops. I bit my lip. A sweat droplet trickled down my forehead. The stench made me feel sick. I glanced at the toilet behind me. Indeed, nobody had flushed it and nauseating things floated in beige water. Edward wouldn’t hand me to the police, would he? He was a boy scout after all, whatever that meant.

  “Justin, I know you’re there. I can see my sneakers. Are you okay? You vanished.” He sounded pissed. “I’m supposed to take you to your grandma’s. How can I if you run without telling me where you’re going?”

  “Sorry, had to rush. Be with you in a few.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you outside.”

  He left. Just like that. Without any further explanation or request, he exited the restroom. Excitement exploded inside me. He wouldn’t hand me over to the officer. He hadn’t realized the situation. Omigod! I was safe for the time being. Still, I bet the cop would search the station, and her search would include the restrooms. She’d be on to me in no time. I left the cubicle and hid behind the door, able to see everything happening outside through the crack between the door and its frame. If anybody came in the restroom, I could immediately fake I was washing my hands.

  Outside, it started to drizzle. Edward covered himself under the canopy. The redheaded cop, followed four steps behind by the puffing, chubby station guard, came into the yard.

  “If she’s not in the restrooms, then the girl you’re looking for is not here, ma’am,” the guard said as he gasped for air. His double chin shook like Jell-O. “This station’s very small.”

  I shivered. Once they came to search the restroom, I’d need to play an Oscar-worthy boy role. My performance had already convinced Edward I was one. I only hope the officer would find my act as convincing.

  As the two grown-ups approached the restrooms, Edward squatted and opened his backpack. He searched inside it until he produced a red baseball cap. He got to his feet and put it on, bringing it down to his eyebrows. He crossed his arms. Nonchalantly, he leaned one of his shoulders on the wall and started humming a song, a no-troubles-wanted attitude. Meanwhile, the redheaded officer entered the ladies’ restroom.

  “Alexandra, Alexandra!” she boomed.

  The guard pulled open the door to the men’s restroom but backed off, wiping the air in front of his nose. I sprung to the washbasin and opened the faucets.

  “God! Is there a dead skunk inside?” The guard shut the door, staying outside. I peeped again through the crack between the door and its frame. The guard turned to Edward. “Is that your friend in there?”

  Edward turned his head a bit, but not his body, his back still towards the guard. He answered over his shoulder. “Yup.”

  “He’s a guy, right? I mean, he ain’t a girl called Alexandra, is he?”

  “Of course he’s a guy. Who is the Alexandra you’re looking for, anyway?”

  “The lady’s looking for a teenage girl who might be traveling to Abbeville. Lola says you two are heading there, already purchased your tickets. Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

  Edward rolled his eyes. He turned, standing tall with his arms crossed. The chubby guard was as least five inches shorter than he, so the guard had to look up.

  “I live there,” Edward grunted.

  “If so, what were you two doing here in Somerset, eh?” The guard pointed at Edward with a finger and raised his chin.

  “I play soccer, came for the Inter-High Soccer Tournament. We played the final match yesterday. Check with John Adams High if you don’t believe me.”

  The guard kicked Edward’s backpack. “Would I find weed if I search in there?”

  Edward shrugged his shoulders. “No weed, but if you don’t believe me, check it. You’ll find nothing. My old man’s Abbeville’s Sheriff.”

  The redheaded officer came out of the ladies’ and turned to the guard. “There’s nobody in there. Did you check the men’s?”

  I prayed, Please, don’t come in here, don’t come in here. My hands and legs were shaking. I had to hold to the wall.

  “Negative, ma’am. She’s not in the men’s. I’m afraid your girl never came—”

  “Is this one of the teens traveling to Abbeville?” She meant Edward.

  “Yes ma’am. He states he and his friend live in Abbeville. Came here to play a soccer match at Adams High.”

  The chubby guard had to be an idiot. Edward had never said I was on his team—he just assumed. Not that I complained. In the perilous situation I was in, I would take any break I could get—including stupidity. The redheaded cop turned toward Edward with a curt movement. Her bristled hair, so orange and so crisp, looked more like copper wire than hair. Edward stood at attention.

  “You guys participated in yesterday’s match, didn’t you, son? At ease.”

  Edward changed his posture moving his right foot out to his shoulder width and reached both hands behind his back. “Yes, officer. I’m the team’s captain.”

  “Saw you. I was at John Adams High yesterday. You were goalkeeper, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, officer, that’s my position,” Edward had been about to say something else, but the redheaded cop raised her hand and stopped him. Evidently, she didn’t have time to chat about soccer matches. Rather, she produced a walkie-talkie and pushed some keys.

  “Inspector Steel, do you copy? This is Holt,” she said.

  Edward said nothing else but stood respectfully silent. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Edward’s should be the right way to answer to any authority, with efficient and direct statements.

  “Inspector Steel, do you copy?” she insisted.

  A male voice burst out of the walkie-talkie. “Steel speaking. Over.”

  “Inspector, this is Holt at the Greyhound station. The girl’s not here. According to the staff, a teenage girl arrived about half an hour ago, but she was traveling with adults and doesn’t fit the description. Over.”

  Static.

  “To hell with the description Holt, it’s useless. The Olsen woman has described five different outfits the girl was supposed to be wearing. Over.” The radio squawked.

  I’d been right. Mrs. Olsen had spilled everything. I clenched my fists.

  “Uh-huh. So, what are your instructions? Should I check the roads in case she’s trying to hitchhike? Over.” She pursed her lips.

  Yes, go and check the highways. Get the hell out of here.

  “Negative. The witness said the girl was planning to travel by Greyhound and had money. Ask the manager for access to the security video and locate the segments where that girl you’re talking about appears. I’ll drive the witness to the station so she can take a look. Hope she can confirm the identity when she views the tape. Two people were assaulted tonight by a 14 year-old girl and there’s a reason behind it. I have a theory, but I need the girl to be sure. Over.”

  I bit my lip. I’d talked too much. I should have said nothing to Mrs. Olsen.

  “Roger that, Chief. I’ll get that tape. Over.”

  “We’re on our way. Over and out.”

  Holt sheathed her radio with a Wild West gunman’s move. No further comment and she strode back inside, forsaking the chubby station guard on the spot. I finally opened the restroom door and stared at the guard, giving him a fake smile, hoping to hide my anxiety.

  The guard looked at me and shook his head. Then he followed the redheaded officer inside.

  July 2, 2:30 am

  Edward and I stayed in the yard. He bobbed his head signaling towards the interior, but I shook mine—I wouldn’t talk because I was afraid my voice would break like a scared li’l’ kid’s, which maybe I very well was. Besides, my mouth was so dry, I doubted I could talk at all. He shrugged, pulled his red cap down to his eyebrows again, crossed his arms and leaned on the large window, looking into the sitting r
oom.

  The canopy barely covered us from the drizzle, but I didn’t mind. Going back into the sitting room would have been suicide. Through the window behind me, I could see the redheaded cop pacing the room. Now and then, she’d address the tickets girl and the guard and would go in and out of the station several times. Every time she returned into the waiting room, she gave me an empty feeling in the pit of the stomach.

  Deep relief filled me when our bus pulled in the yard some minutes later. Three people exited it. Behind them, the driver beckoned for us to board. Through the large window, I spotted the tickets girl behind her counter. She blew Edward a kiss and signaled him to call her. The very bitch! I hated her flirting with Edward, as if Edward were mine, which of course he wasn’t, but I did anyway. He gave her a thumbs-up. I glared at her and wondered what Jenny would have done, even though I knew quite well. I raised my middle finger and showed it to her.

  Just as the driver was checking our tickets, the redheaded cop came out.

  “Hold it there!” she called.

  Omigod! I shut my eyes and started hyperventilating. This was the end of it. I heard the cop striding across the yard, the click-clack of her boots on the pavement sounding like a drumroll before hanging a criminal.

  Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Move Justin, we’re all set.” Phew!

  I climbed the bus steps as the redheaded officer boasted her badge to the driver. “I’m looking for a missing girl. Where do you come from?”

  “Montgomery.”

  “And your next stop is?”

  “Elizabethtown.”

  “I’ll check inside.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I had to climb down to allow the redheaded cop to get into the bus instead of me. Edward was still standing on the sidewalk and didn’t move. Two minutes later, she came down.

  “Thanks, you’re all set,” she said. She passed so close to me I could actually smell her perfume: a dry, slightly minted aroma similar to the one school teachers used.