Thin Line

by Anthony Whyte

  Today I didn’t, I wanted to attend because of Lolo. School was probably a refuge for her. Too bad she couldn’t live there. She would probably still be alive today.

  “Buckle your seatbelt, please.”

  My mother’s words brought me back to the bright light of reality. The sun shone and I saw birds flying around in the early morning dew. Life had moved on. The car was traveling and I really did not want to go, but I was going anyway. I miss you Lolo, I whispered as we drove by where she had spent the last seconds of her life.

  My anger spread with each breath. I sat in the back listening to the radio and staring at nothing. The world has suffered a loss, I thought as we turned on to the main street. A traffic accident slowed traffic down.

  Mother tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and while my stepfather stared straight ahead. Watching him squirming around in his seat, I noticed his trembling fingers and how he kept fixing his collar. Seeing him that nervous was the best part of the day and I almost laughed out loud. I yawned disturbing the silence, then the next I knew, I awoke to find my mother’s eyes glued on me.

  “Did you get any sleep whatsoever, Shareef? I don’t think you did,” mother said, monitoring me from the rearview.

  I tried to stay awake, but that was not happening. The comfortable leather of the car along with snug fit of my headset made it easy for me to set off on my own voyage. I was walking side by side with Lolo again. She was talking about solving world hunger. I was trying not to hear her until she began to float away like a cloud. She was above me warning me to take her a little more seriously.

  “Shareef, Shareef, you better get moving…”

  “Yes, I don’t know where to start, Lolo…”

  “Shareef honey, are you sleeping? You were dreaming.”

  I stared wide-eyed at my mother and made every effort to get out of the fog out my brain. I shook my head and wiped my eyes waiting for the confusion to clear. Lolo seemed so real but it was all a dream. My mother waited on me while my stepfather watched uninterested, still wearing a frown.

  “Are we there yet, mom?” I asked, and her nod seemed restrained. It was as if she was not trying to let me go inside the school.

  “Do you feel better, Shareef?” mother asked.

  The question lingered for a while. I was busy trying to decide if I wanted to lie so I would not have to go to school. I remembered seeing Lolo’s face and hearing her voice.

  “Maybe the whole thing is overwhelming to Shareef. Look at his face, he seems to be confused,” Stanley said.

  “You could be right, Stanley. I think I’ll go tell his teacher,” mother said before getting out the car.

  “I feel alright. I was just dreaming that’s all,” I answered.

  I wanted to go to school because I wanted to check out Lolo’s locker. There might be some more clues as to who killed her and her family. She used to keep a photo journal of all of the diplomats and important dudes who came around. I got out of the car, kissed my mother and waved at Stanley. Before she returned to the car my mother asked again.

  “Shareef, are you sure?” she said.

  “I’ll be alright, mom. I’ll see you later,” I smiled and walked away with bravery written on my face.

  “Remember, Lenny will come by later and get you here. Do not give him any problems, please. Shareef, give mommy a hug and I’ll see you later,” she said as we embraced again and again. My mother seemed a little on the edge the way she was hugging me. We both smiled, she waved and I walked away.

  I felt her eyes following me as I set off across the schoolyard feeling a little stupid. Today I was given the ultimate test. Maybe she wanted to see if I would not want to attend. But I wanted to be in school mostly because I knew that was the way Lolo would have wanted it. Because of my fallen friend I found the strength to go past the excuses and go to school. My determination to get to the bottom of what happened to Lolo and how my mom and Stanley may have been involved was overwhelming. I turned and waved at my mother still watching me, then walked through the doors.

  Before the morning break, I was able to slip down the hall to Lolo’s locker. She gave me the combo in case I forgot one of my textbooks at home. When I opened it, I could not help but notice that everything looked neat and untouched. Her locker, much like her room, was a well-oiled machine of efficiency. I swiped a picture book, which had images of the United Nations, the White House, and the Washington Monument on its cover. If only she knew what her father was up to. She had to know. Lolo was way too smart not to have figured it out. I noticed a photo that she and I had taken together when we went to the museum. She had drawn a heart around us and written ‘Lolo and Shareef’. I could feel a tear gathering at my pupil. I carefully tucked the photograph away in a secret compartment in my backpack where it could not be crushed. I sped to homeroom so that no one would notice my detour.

  Once I got there, the wicked witch of the sixth grade was waiting. Miss Brown rode her broom to the front of the room.

  “Some of us may already know of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the death of one of ours,” Miss Brown started.

  She seemed to stab at her cracking, caked makeup. I felt like crying too but I knew the others were watching and waiting for me to break down. After what happened in the lunchroom yesterday, I did not want to give them that satisfaction. I pursed my lips and listened. I could hear the rumblings of those who had not been watching their television.

  “Who’s she talking about?” a classmate wondered aloud.

  “Must be one of the teachers, I hope it’s mine.”

  “You must not have done your homework again.”

  “Maybe we’ll get a cute teacher…”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you just shut up and listen. I’m trying to hear what is being said,” I said louder than I intended. I never realized that I had disturbed everyone until I saw that all eyes were on me. My apparent outburst gave the witch a chance to swoop down on me.

  “Shareef, would you mind showing a little reverence? We are very saddened by the death of one your classmates, and you’re over there disrespectfully running your mouth.”

  She was trying to put an evil spell on me. I knew I was not the one who was showing disrespect.

  “Miss Brown…” I started, but before I could defend myself, she started yelling.

  “I will discuss this matter with you after the morning’s assembly,” she barked. It was embarrassing and I was not the cause for the disruption. The witch continued with her incantations. “Any more problems from you and you will be in the principal’s office, young man,” she said, giving me a mean stare.

  I held my head up, returning her stare. I did not want to back down anymore.

  “Lolo Mozi was killed in an unfortunate incident which also took her parents’ lives. We at the school are reaching out to the relatives of Lolo. Please keep her and her family in your prayers. If any of you was close to her, please come and see me at the guidance office.”

  I felt her breathing on me and knew the witch was in my face.

  “Young man, I want to see you in my office, now!” She ordered.

  I was a little peeved, but I followed her directions without protest and moved out.

  CHAPTER 8

  I sat outside Miss Brown’s office waiting for her and wishing that I never attended this school. I imagined Miss Brown riding her broomstick around the hallways harassing stragglers who were late for class. Then miraculously she appeared, walked past me and motioned for me to follow her. I did as requested. I walked into her lair regretting that I came to school today.

  “Shareef, I don’t know what is the matter with you, but you’re asking to be punished. Now, I don’t want to hear another peep out of you for the rest of the day. Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes Miss Brown,” I said obediently. I could not understand why she was so ready to have a fight with me. “I was not trying to disrespect anybody, and especially not Lolo.”

>   “Be on your best behavior because you’re very close to drawing a suspension,” she said and I nodded. “Now go and join your class,” she said, writing a note, and handing it to me. “Give this to the teacher.”

  “Okay,” I said then hastened out her office.

  Stress was holding me captive, and a feeling of discomfort dogged me. As I walked slowly clutching the note in my hand, I could only remember Lolo. I am wasting time in school when I could be investigating.

  My early morning excursion to Lolo’s was somewhat like a dream. Those guys were looking for something. I needed to know what was going on. I realized in that instant that the teacher would not notice I had not returned. The teacher might actually assume that I was going to be out for the day.

  I dodged people’s notice and tucked into the boys’ room. How was I going to pull this off? I had never cut school before. The kids at my old public school used to do it all the time. They told me that the trick was leaving through the cafeteria doors. The only staff down there are in the kitchen and don’t notice a kid or the sound of a door closing. And the one benefit of private school is no hall monitors. All teachers are in their classrooms and anyone else is in the teacher’s lounge or their office. My heart was racing.

  After taking one deep breath, I pushed the doors of the bathroom open. The halls were deserted. I walked slowly down the hall, and ducked low as to not be seen through the glass windows of the classroom doors. Once I made it to the stairway, I was more than half way there. I peeked into the cafeteria. The principal was down there with the maintenance staff. I ducked back quickly. I had to think fast. The chapel.

  The morning mass was always open to the public and the doors would be unlocked. Mass wasn’t scheduled for a couple hours. This was my only chance. I walked quickly to the chapel, and as expected, there was no one in sight. I pushed the doors open and instantly felt the morning air hit my face. Victory. If I get caught, my mom would definitely put me under the jail.

  Once out, I moved quickly catching the first bus to head home. I decided I needed some insurance in case this plan fell apart. Mom was with Stanley, and grandma was at an appointment. The only one left is my dad. Dad told me about all the stunts he used to pull when he was my age. At least if I had him on my side, I could get some mercy. I pulled out my phone to call him.

  “Hello. Shareef? You out of school already?”

  “Hey dad. I left school early. I was feeling really sick,” I said in my most pathetic sounding voice.

  “Your mom told me that you weren’t yourself. Do you still need me to come pick you up?”

  “No. I just need you to call mom and tell her I left early. I tried calling her but she did not answer.”

  “Your mother does not know you left school early? How did you leave?”

  “I just left. I could not stand being there anymore. All I can think about is Lolo,” I said, hoping that he would understand.

  “I can’t believe you! Okay, I am going to call the school and tell them that I came by to get you early since you were feeling sick. But I am coming to get you! You are not going home to just have fun playing video games. You will be here with me, and I will be putting you to work. Right now I am at a new site and can’t leave early. I can’t pick you up until three-o’clock. You had better be at the door and ready to go. Do you hear me young man?”

  “Yes dad,” I said.

  The call ended and I could breathe a sigh of relief. Had this been mom, she would have ordered me to go right back to school. I have until 3’oclock to look around and at least this time, there would be daylight. I just wished I knew what I was looking for.

  The bus was empty at this time of the morning. The ride felt so long. I pulled out the picture that Lolo had kept of us. All this time, I did not notice she had a crush on me. I liked her too. Why did she not say anything? I was too busy thinking about things that don’t really matter, like NBA players and video games.

  I felt the tears gather in my eyes, hitting the photo in my hand. I closed my eyes and let the memories hit me. She was my first love. I loved Lolo and now, I would never have the chance to express that. Or, be the guy who changed the world with her. I was not gonna disappoint her. I vowed to make a difference and be the guy who does something to make the world just a little bit better. I had to solve this case and bring to justice all those guys involved in Lolo’s murder.

  The bus finally pulled up to my stop. I tucked the picture away and exited through the rear door. I sprinted to the back of the Mozi house and retrieved the key to the kitchen door. Everything was exactly as it was the night before.

  CHAPTER 9

  I was confronted by the horror of the murder scene in the daylight. All the bloodstains were now dried and became rust in color. It was nothing like the movies I’d seen. There was a thickness in the air that weighed the room down and made me sick to my stomach. I was armed with only a key and a backpack full of puzzle pieces—notebooks, pictures, and a gaudy ring. It was time for me to get to the bottom of all of this, and decided to start in the Mozi bedroom.

  Inside the room was cold. I carefully examined the room, looking for all the least obvious of the hiding places. There had to be things hidden in plain sight, things that most adults would miss. As a kid with a nosey detective for a mother, I learned how to hide my bad grades in the cassette decks of my old radio and between dusty books that no one ever read. Where would Mozi hide his biggest secrets?

  Looking under the bed, I found nothing there. Next, I checked the closet. Nothing. This room was not going to lead me anywhere. I moved on to the study. It was trashed. The guys who were in here with me the night before did not clean up after themselves at all. They checked all the obvious places, like the desk, drawers, and cabinets. What could they have missed? I noticed a picture of Lolo on what appeared to be a stand.

  On approaching it to examine the picture, I noticed that there was a small opening at the top of the stand, covered only by the picture frame. I suddenly discovered that the stand contained a secret compartment.

  I reached into my backpack, pulling out the small pocketknife my father had given me for protection. Then with the knife, I managed to pry open the compartment, and there it was hidden in plain sight. My eyes widened at the sight of stacks of crisp, green hundred-dollar bills. I had never seen this much money all in one place. This must be what a million dollars looks like I thought, blinking rapidly.

  The guys who were here last night passed over this completely. How was I going to get al this money out of here? I decided to leave it exactly were it was and neatly put everything back as it was. Finding the money was good but it would not help me find out who killed Lolo.

  I retraced my steps. Lolo did not know what her father was into, so why the key? I took the key from around my neck and held it in my hand. Why was it only her who wore this key during business meetings? Is it possible that somehow Mozi used her to keep something hidden?

  Darting into Lolo’s room, I began thinking about all the things she kept hidden. Her room was perfect and could probably be the best hiding place. The fact that it was so meticulously kept meant that it would not raise any suspicions.

  Then I saw a trunk. It was white and covered with hearts. I opened it to find dolls and old toys. Digging through the pile, I saw a locked box. The key in my hand was the perfect fit. There it was a tiny silver digital recorder. She told me that her father would often record himself and his business partners at their secret meetings to ensure that there would always be proof of what was said. I put the recorder on my keychain along with the key to the kitchen door were it would blend in with the rest of my trinkets.

  Some time in the night, I thought, I will return for the stash of money. I had to make it home before my dad started to search for me.

  Exiting through the rear door, I carefully locked it behind me. Then I saw the unmarked squad car. It was a standard-issue black impala. The detectives approached me. Saying nothing they grabbed me and started dragging me t
o the car. They threw me up against the car and started.

  “What are you doing at a closed crime scene?”

  “I was just checking things out. I just wanted to see what a real crime scene looked like is all,” I lied, hoping that these would be last words we shared.

  “See son, we have a problem. Not only are you trespassing in an investigation but also you are breaking and entering. Anyone of these charges means jail time.”

  “I’m sorry, officers. I wasn’t thinking. If you just let me off with a warning and let me go home, I will never do it again.”

  I looked directly into their eyes, pleading that I not be brought to the precinct and charged. My mom would kill me. My heart started to palpitate and my palms were sweaty. If I were ever to be arrested, this would get me killed by both my mother and father.

  “Hey Smith, should we let the kid go?” the officer asked, smiling and winking at his partner. They gazed up at the noon sun.

  “I don’t think so, Gatlin. It is still daytime. Shouldn’t this kid be in school?”

  “Well kid, guess you are taking a trip downtown,” he said.

  “Please don’t. My mother is a detective. She would kill me if she knew I was arrested,” I said in my final plea to escape.

  My mom once told me that police officers looked out for their own, and using her name may come in handy if ever stopped by the police.

  “Okay kid. What’s your mother’s name?”

  “Rita Sanchez of the 402.”

  “You mean the one married to Stanley… Our person of interest...?”

  “Yes,” I said, wondering what he had to do with anything. How did they know him? He was just a teacher at some public school.

  The officer’s shot a glance at each other and said, “Well kid, it looks like your lucky day. We will bring you in for questioning, but we won’t formally charge you. We just need some information. After you answer our questions, you will be free to go and no one has to know about our little talk.”