JW01. Under Locker and Key

by Allison K. Hymas

  Becca walked past all the cubbies large enough to hold me. Twice. And then a third time. She stopped by the one with Mark’s stash. Reaching in, she moved something. I watched as she took out her camera and snapped a couple of pictures.

  She closed the door on the stash and looked around the locker room again. “I know you’re here. We have things to talk about.” When I (obviously) didn’t answer, she sighed, shook her head, and left the locker room, closing the door behind her.

  I didn’t move. Becca was tricky.

  She hadn’t left. The door opened and Becca walked back in. She scanned the cubbies again, and then her eyes crept up, up, up . . . to the cracked ceiling tile. She grinned in a way that made my skin burn as if the pipe had been hot. Her hand gripped a cubby like a rung.

  “Becca! Becca Mills!” Becca turned.

  “What is it?” She sounded angry and kept glancing up at the ceiling.

  Multiple voices, talking over each other. They echoed in the room and were muffled by the ceiling. “I need your help. Now.”

  “The Flash has gone missing.”

  “Ms. Finnegan is really upset. We told her you’d be able to help.

  “Come on! Please. It’s your job.”

  Becca sighed. She cast one last look in my general direction and left. A minute passed and I breathed easier. I slid the tile back and dropped out of the ceiling. After a short descent I was back on terra firma and wondering what had just happened.

  The Flash is the life sciences room’s turtle. It likes to hide under the sawdust in its terrarium. I doubted Ms. Finnegan was really upset. What had happened? Weird that the call for help had come just in time to save me.

  I’d have to think about it later when I wasn’t in the middle of a job. Time to work. The cubby Mark had favored held a trumpet case (strange, for such a large space) and the jacket of a band uniform. I checked for booby traps, dismantled one that involved a green paint balloon, then set the trumpet case on the floor and removed the jacket.

  There it was. The stash. Case’s forged hall passes tied in a bundle, Hack’s mom’s tablet, my books and pens, as well as a bunch of other stolen goods. Not a moment to lose. As fast as I could, I swept the entire stash into my backpack. When the locker was empty, I threw in the crumpled note with the winky face Mark had left in my locker. I grinned as I set the jacket down on top of it and replaced the trumpet case.

  My backpack bounced on my back, heavy and bulky, as I hurried back to gym class. I’d like to tell you my heart was the opposite, as light and airy as Silly String, but it wasn’t. The stash, as big as it was, was only a small part of Mark’s take. Who knew where the rest was?

  On top of that, Becca knew I had been in there. I knew she did; she was too good a detective not to know. She also had to know that I had pulled the fire alarm to get into Mark’s stuff. As I hid my backpack in the ceiling of the boys’ locker room for added security, I wondered what she’d do the next time I saw her.

  Probably kill me.

  I HAD TRACK PRACTICE AFTER school, and since we had a meet scheduled for the next day, the coach pushed us extra hard. I literally didn’t have time to breathe as he made us sprinters practice our dashes over and over.

  Finally Coach Cread yelled, “Okay, sprinters, that’s enough. Run one more mile and stretch.” Yes, I know. Another mile to end practice. He likes all his runners to have some long-distance endurance. Also he’s a sadist.

  As we began our last four laps around the track, I made eye contact with one of my teammates and rolled my eyes in my best Becca Mills impression. He snorted, since laughing took too much air. Then his grin became a frown. This teammate had come to me complaining of a locker theft. A stolen pair of sneakers, if I remembered right. He passed me, leaving me to remember that my clients doubted me, even wondered if I was the thief. The sooner Becca and I took down Mark, the better.

  As I rounded my second lap, I saw Becca herself practicing with the shot put. Speak of the devil.

  I really, really didn’t want to talk to her. But I had to face her sooner or later. And, if I acted now, I could more easily convince her I was innocent. Then again, I didn’t think she’d believe me. She knew I had pulled the alarm and had been sneaking around in the band room. She probably wanted to get all bad cop and no good cop, preferably in a small room with one bright light shining right in my eyes. More so than usual.

  Self-preservation won out: I’d avoid her for as long as I could. I finished my run and stretched, just like Coach ordered, all the while keeping my untrustworthy partner in my sight.

  Becca didn’t look my way at all during practice. Then, when I got up to get water and stretch by the fence, she was somehow right behind me. “Hello, Wilderson.” Her voice could cause frostbite.

  I took a deep breath, prepared a sunny smile, and turned around. “Hey, partner. Phase two down, one phase to go. I think it’s going well.”

  “What makes you think that?” Becca was deadly calm.

  “This part of the job’s over, I’m still here, and you’re still here. No one’s in detention or flattened in the parking lot. In my line of work that means a job well done.”

  “Yeah, about that. Don’t you think we got a little too lucky today?”

  “Define ‘too lucky.’ Not something I normally encounter.” I policed my every movement, pretending nothing was wrong. The accusation was coming. I could feel Becca winding up, getting ready to take the shot and knock me out.

  “During the fire drill, I saw Mark coming out without his backpack. I also saw a bunch of fire trucks. They don’t come for drills, because the school warns them ahead of time that it’s all fake, so that was weird. You know what I didn’t see? You.”

  “What are you saying?” I was sick of her playing games. Just accuse me already and get it over with!

  Becca stepped closer to me. “This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to, very honestly, assure me that you had nothing to do with today’s pulled alarm. That you were surprised but that you used it to your advantage. That you did not break the law after promising me you wouldn’t.”

  “Maybe no one pulled the alarm. Maybe there was a real fire in the cafeteria.”

  Becca pushed me. “Stop it. Do you think I’m an idiot? Tell me the truth, Wilderson.”

  “There’re lots of truths in the world. Which one do you want?”

  “Stop it now!” Becca was shaking. “I trusted you, you know that? And then you go and pull the alarm. Don’t tell me you didn’t. The alarm was pulled; the teachers know. They saw that it had been pulled down. And right after I left you? Didn’t you think I’d put it together?”

  The game was over. “We needed an opening. We weren’t going to get one unless I made it myself. So I did.”

  “What was all that about getting to Mark’s backpack during his class?”

  “A lie. Me, search a bag in front of Mark and the rest of his class? Without getting anybody suspicious? Are you kidding?”

  “So you lie to me, and then you pull the fire alarm. You can’t stop, can you? You can’t be honest for one day. You’re addicted to lawbreaking and deceit. And don’t even get me started on the whole band-room thing.”

  “What band-room thing?”

  “Don’t. Just don’t. Remind me, Wilderson, what were the terms of my agreeing to work with you on this?”

  “While we work together, I don’t retrieve at all, and I tell you everything. If I break our agreement, you’ll turn me in. Am I missing anything?”

  “So you’ll understand, then, when I turn you in Monday morning for everything you did?”

  I thought of Case and Hack and their distrust in me, which got my blood running as hot as the blacktop on a summer’s day. I turned that anger like a fire hose on the detective. “Turn me in? I have done nothing but help you stop Mark. I thought that was the important thing right now.”

  Becca slammed me against the chain-link fence, her lip curled. “There’s a right and wrong way to do things. I’m hav
ing a hard time even looking at you because of the fire alarm. I can believe you think you did it for the right reasons, but then you go and betray my trust even more by stealing. I know you were in the band room today. Why else would your two crooked friends send me on a wild turtle chase when I was seconds away from catching you?”

  Case and Hack did what now? So it was them I’d heard earlier.

  “I’m not speaking to them,” I said, tamping down my confusion and other, more complicated emotions. Why would they help me when they’d made it clear they thought I didn’t trust them enough to rely on them? Case had flat-out said he wouldn’t help me if I ran into trouble.

  “Well, maybe they’ll be on better terms with you after you do time for faking a fire.” Becca pulled on my shirt, ready to make a citizen’s arrest.

  I peeled Becca’s hands off my collar. “Not doing the time.”

  “Yes, you are. You broke our agreement, so you’re going to pay the price. You pulled the alarm, and I know you were stealing today.”

  I looked her in the eyes. “Prove it.”

  Her face turned red. She couldn’t, and she knew it. “I just know,” she said, her voice strained.

  “Why? Because you hate me? That’s a good reason. Do you think Principal McDuff is going to accept that as enough evidence to suspend me?”

  Becca spat on the ground. “Nothing ever sticks to you, Wilderson. Ever.”

  “Maybe it’s karma for trying to do the right thing.”

  “And what is the right thing? According to you?”

  “Stopping Mark. Which means us working in sync. I need you for this, and you need me for phase three. We have to keep moving forward together.”

  Becca looked flustered. I’d gotten to her. I’d reminded her that she didn’t have anything that would stand as evidence incriminating me except her word against mine. Then I’d played the “you need me” card. Mark couldn’t go free, and she needed my help to stop him. We both knew that.

  We stood, silent, awkwardly trying to figure out where to go next. Then Becca spoke. “Why do you do this, Jeremy?”

  It was the first time she’d ever called me by my first name. “Do what?”

  “This. Lie, steal, break the rules.” Becca’s voice was quiet, and her icy gaze had melted to the ground.

  It should have felt great, beating Becca like this, but it didn’t. I should have felt elated. Instead I felt dirty.

  I exhaled loudly, like I’d run an extra mile. “Because sometimes the rules hurt more than they help.”

  Becca shook her head. “That’s not true. What you’re doing . . . it hurts people a lot more than you think it does. The teachers are looking for the person who pulled the fire alarm. If they don’t catch you, they’ll catch someone else. Someone innocent.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. My skin crawled, picturing an innocent person getting blamed for the crime I’d committed.

  “You don’t know that.”

  She sighed. “Actually, I do. They always find someone. But I guess, in the meantime, we have phase two over and done.”

  “Backpack is clean, but I did run into a little trouble. I forgot they’d send the security guards looking for me.”

  “Climbed out a window, though, right?” I nodded, and she gave me a weary smile. “See? There’s the master thief I know and distrust.”

  “Was that almost a compliment?”

  “Almost.” Becca kicked at the grass. She looked at me with a solemn expression. “I should turn you in for the fire alarm, just so no one else gets blamed. I really should. You’d be in so much trouble.”

  “Yeah? How much?”

  “Oh, suspended for sure. Maybe expelled, if they could link the missing key and all those thefts to you.” Becca smiled, her face looking as dreamy and distant as Rick’s when he imagines winning the state championship. It didn’t boost my confidence.

  I turned the conversation back to where I wanted it. “Yeah, and the key would stay missing and Mark would get away with it. Maybe we should wait until the key is on the janitor’s ring before getting back to our game of cops and robbers.”

  “I’m the cop, right?”

  “Of course you’re the cop. Seriously. What else could you be?”

  “Good point. And after this is over, I am going to bring you down. I’ll find evidence. I’m learning a lot about your method and, as impressive as it is, it can’t work forever.”

  “Was that another compliment? Stop before I drop dead.”

  She laughed. “I can admire skill, even if I don’t like how that skill is used. Now get lost, thief, before someone notices we’re talking and it gets back to Mark.”

  “Don’t want him to know the cop and robber are working together?”

  She grinned. “My reputation would be shattered.”

  “Well, you better start sweeping up the pieces, because we’ve been chatting for a while over here. Everyone must have seen by now. Wonder what they’re thinking?” I leaned in close and whispered, “Maybe they think we’re secretly dating.”

  Oh yeah, I was back! Safe, for the moment, and bantering with the girl who was out to get me, just like nothing had happened.

  Still smiling, Becca placed one hand on my shoulder. “Oh, I’m not sweeping up anything, Wilderson,” she said sweetly. “Not when there’s still time for damage control.”

  “Oh yeah? What kind of damage control?” I leaned in closer, raising my eyebrows.

  Without warning she yanked hard on my shoulder, spinning me around. Something hard and blunt—like a foot—hit me in my back, and I went sprawling forward onto the grass.

  “That kind,” Becca said amid scattered laughter. “And you were right, they were watching.” She leaned down. “That’s for the fire alarm and everything you’re not telling me. I do need you if I’m ever going to bring Mark down. But as soon as we’ve got him, I’m going to turn you in for the fire alarm and anything else I can find. A weekend is long enough to gather the evidence I need.” She straightened up and walked away.

  So, not back to normal.

  I should have been mad. I should have been worried. I should have started to plan how I would protect myself from Becca’s accusations, which I knew would fly right up to Principal McDuff as soon as the key was hanging on its hook in the janitor’s closet once more. But though I’d never admit it, I sat up with a little smile tugging at my lips.

  Hey, I can admire skill, even if I don’t like how that skill is being used, right?

  AFTER TRACK PRACTICE I RETRIEVED my backpack, full of Mark’s stash, from its hiding place in the school. I had kept it inside so Becca couldn’t rifle through it during a water break and find the proof she needed to turn me in.

  My stomach felt crumpled as I carried the backpack home, matched the stolen goods to the list, and packed everything on my bike to return it. The thought of the grateful looks on the poor victims’ faces didn’t raise my spirits. What was this?

  Was Becca right when she said that I hurt people with what I did? That couldn’t be true. I helped. I didn’t steal anything; I retrieved it. I didn’t break anything when I worked. Lots of people needed what I could give them.

  The fire alarm, though. If someone else was blamed for the alarm being pulled? That would be my fault.

  Fire alarms were a big deal. Teachers worked hard to catch any kid who pulled one without good reason. Their punishment would be harsh enough to damage an innocent person for life, or at least until graduation.

  I tried to ignore the weird, guilty squirm in my gut as I returned all the stolen items on my list. When I got to the last two, I took a deep breath. This had to be done.

  I knocked on Hack’s door. His mom worked late on Fridays and thus couldn’t enforce his grounding, so I knew Case would be over, escaping his sisters and playing video games. Probably Madden, until Hack got bored of it and they moved on to racing games. It’s where I would have been if I was still on good terms with them and not working.

  Hack answered the
door. When he saw me, he raised an eyebrow. “Hey, J.”

  “Hey.” I took off my almost-empty backpack and pulled out the tablet.

  Hack’s hand moved faster than the snap of a rubber band, taking the tablet from me. “You got it back.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “J? What are you doing here?” Case appeared behind Hack as I pulled the bundle of hall passes from my bag.

  “A peace offering,” I said. “And a thank-you.”

  “You don’t have to thank us for anything.” Case set the passes down inside the door.

  “Yes, I do. I heard what you did for me. How is the Flash, by the way?”

  “Safe and sound.” Case grinned. “Our local detective is very good. Did you know that Ms. Finnegan’s turtle likes to bury itself in its sawdust?”

  “I most certainly didn’t,” Hack said, eyes wide with mock innocence. “We’re so lucky to have the snitch’s superior deductive skills.”

  I laughed. “Again, thanks.”

  “You’re still our friend,” Hack said. “Even if you don’t let us in on everything.” He looked at the tablet. “Though when we saw you disappear before the fire drill, I have to admit, it looked like you’d gone dirty. Not that we believe that, of course,” he finished.

  “I haven’t gone bad,” I said. “I promise.”

  “Oh, we know,” Hack said. “Didn’t you hear? Tomboy Tate pulled the fire alarm.”

  I felt like my bones were being sucked out of my body. “What?”

  “Tate did it. One of the eighth-grade math teachers saw her loitering in the hall suspiciously. Principal McDuff had her brought down to the office. They called her parents.”

  Uh-oh. Becca had been right. The teachers had found a suspect and blamed her for what I’d done. The worst part was that Tate was probably skulking in the halls because I’d asked her to, trying to get information about Mark’s stash. It was my fault, twice over, that she was in trouble: Not only was Tate in trouble for something I did, but it was also me who made sure she looked guilty enough to blame. I had to make it right.