by Wenner, Jody
I don't know how to respond to that because I'm not sure that I really miss my dad. I mostly hate him, but for the sake of compassion I say, "I understand. I miss my dad sometimes..."
She pulls back and looks at me. "Your dad? No, I'm talking about Zander!"
"Zander? I don't..."
"Oh. This is embarrassing. I thought you knew..."
"Knew what?"
"Zander and I..."
Ah. It all makes sense now. How could I have been so stupid. "You and my brother were together."
She starts to cry again, then between fits, she says, "I feel so stupid. I just wanted to feel close to him again, but you aren't him, as much as I want you to be."
I move closer to her and put my arm around her. "I didn't realize..."
"I thought Devin would have mentioned it."
I shake my head.
"And Zander didn't tell you about me?" She sniffles.
"He wasn't one to tell me personal things. He usually lectured in a way only big brothers can." I laugh a little to try to lighten the mood. "But, it makes sense. The last few times I saw him, I could tell something was different about him. He was definitely lighter, happier. He even tried to crack a few jokes, which was not Zander at all. But, he didn't tell me very much about what was going on in his life ever. I'm starting to think I didn't know the real him at all."
"He talked about you so much, I feel like I know you already."
"He did?"
"Yeah. Like the story of the time when he was showing you how to ride a bike and you flew over the handlebars because you didn't understand the brakes."
I laugh at the memory. "That was his fault! He was supposed to be teaching me."
"He said you hated taking instruction from him."
"I did. He was right about that,” I pause, trying not to start crying myself.
"I’m sorry. I just really miss him, you know?" she says.
"I do know. I miss him a lot too."
"It just makes me so angry. I thought talking to you would help. I'm sorry if I'm bringing up sad stuff."
"It's good. I haven't talk about him for a long time. I usually only talked about him with my ma and Bekka."
"Your girlfriend. Zander told me all about her, too."
"She was just a friend, but not anymore."
"No? He said you two were inseparable. He often told me he was jealous of what you guys had, before he met me. I'm sorry. I just thought we could get together and mourn. You know, like a date, except not at all like a date."
I sniff a little,"You know, I thought that's what this was and even though I did feel this weird draw to come, I didn't want to think of you like that. Maybe subconsciously I knew you were connected to Zander."
"Or maybe you aren't over the girl yet?"
"Maybe…"
"She's a runner, right? Zander told me she was obsessed with it."
I didn't really feel like talking about her anymore, so I just said, "Yeah. That's her."
Chapter 24
Bekka
There is a huge solid fence hiding something big on this lot, which sits right in a busy part of the city, amongst shops and apartments. By the name--The Watering Hole--I was expecting another snack joint, like Chuggers, but the fence, though rickety, is not revealing any secrets. I speculate further, from the street corner, while I wait for Frankie, who is late. I sit down on the curb and watch as two teenaged boys head toward the backside of the fence. There must be a door there.
I start to wonder if I was suppose to meet Frankie somewhere inside of that strange and mysterious compound. I contemplate following the boys when I see Frankie barrelling toward me from one of the side streets.
"Hey!" she says. "Sorry I'm so late."
"Hi. No problem."
"Let's go."
I get a glimpse of her as she turns and heads toward the fence. Her eyes look sort of red and puffy and she looks like she hasn't slept in days.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Sure. I'm fine."
I follow her toward the back and we reach not a door, but a set of concrete steps going down. Our downward stomping creates booming echoes and mixes with other odd noises bouncing around that I can't identify.
"What is this place?" I ask.
"You'll see."
We come out of the stairway and are standing on a ledge that looks down on a huge
pool, except it's not empty, it's filled with tons of kids, skateboarding inside of it. Their boards are making them float and fly everywhere within the big, concrete basin which has been painted blue on the inside.
We're standing on a lofted level above with tons of other kids mulling about, either observing the skaters below or hanging out at a small snack bar situated at the back. Frankie grabs my arm and leads me to a different set of stairs on the other side of the room that takes us down so we are standing on the same level as the pool, where kids are continuously sailing from the lip of it, twisting and grinding. She sits down back against the wall and I follow.
"So, this is where all of the kids hang out?"
"Pretty much," Frankie says.
"It reminds me of a friend who skated, although he just did it as a means of
transportation. Nothing like this," I say, watching a skater directly in front of us as he flips and diving back down the side of the pool.
"Oh, yeah?" Frankie asks. "You are speaking in past tense. A former boyfriend?"
"No."
"Then how come your face looks like it's about to crack in half and your eyes are far away?"
"Just thinking about stuff. You ever have regrets? Like big ones?"
"Sure. Tons," Frankie says quickly.
"Really? Like what?"
"Like having to go to The Food Bar everyday." Then she laughs and nods a hello to
one of the skaters walking past us.
"How long have you worked there?"
"Three very long years," she says.
"And this is what you do for fun?"
"What did you do on the Westside?"
I stumble and think. "Read books."
"So, this at least has cute boys!"
"True. Very true," I say. Another guy wanders over and Frankie exchanges small talk
with him. He is tall and lean and has a freckled face, but other than that, he is somewhat plain looking. No tattoos or piercings and his blond hair is dull and flat, not unlike my own.
"Hey, Tyler," she finally turns to me, "This is Bones."
"Hi," I say, feeling a little flush. It's been a long time since I've met a boy.
"How's it going?" he says with a smile.
"Not bad," I say.
"Well, I gotta go. I'll see ya, Frankie."
When he is gone I say, "Bones?"
She laughs. "Skater name."
"Are you and Bones?"
"No!" she says. "He's cute though, huh?"
I shrug and fake indifference. "He's okay."
"I could play matchmaker if you're interested," she says.
I have no idea why I say no, but I do. "Oh. I don't think so. But, thanks. If you think
he's cute, why don't you date him?"
"I'm in love with someone else," she says, but I'm not convinced she is telling the
truth. She says it with a detachment, like it's something she's said a million times before, maybe a lie. I don't push it any further, even though I want to, and as a spy it's kind of my job to dig, but I remember rule number seven: Gain trust and friendship. I have no reason to believe Frankie can lead me to anything worth knowing, plus I'm starting to really like her. If nothing else, it would be great to have a friend.
We watch the skaters for a little while longer as they glide along the bottom of the pool and do tricks as they come up, launching from the sides. There are about a dozen or so kids ranging in age from maybe twelve to twenty four. I keep my eye on Bones as he makes the rounds, stopping to chat with other kids throughout The Watering Hole. I wonder what his deal is but the thought of a date m
akes me want to be sick.
"Wanna get something to eat?" Frankie says. "They have drinks here too, but you'd probably need to have saved your entire week's paycheck in order to afford it."
"That's so weird!" I say, because I'm used to using a water ticket for drink purchases. Then I realize this concept shouldn't be strange to me and try to recover. "I mean, on the Westside, drinks aren't that much…"
"Yeah, or it probably didn't seem like it, since your parents are rich!"
"Maybe," I say.
"I just always bring my drinks from home," she says.
"Oh, me too!" I say, displaying my water bottle.
"Cool, then let's just split some protein chips or something," she says.
"Sounds good," I say, as we make our way to the snack bar and stand in line waiting.
"Why did you move over here and get a crappy packing job? If my parents were in medical I would have stayed on that end of town, that's for sure!"
Thinking quickly, I say, "Yeah, well. I was sick of living off of them. I wanted to get out and see the world, get some space, you know?"
"Ah, a little rebel, huh?" she smirks.
"They were a little demanding...yes. Plus, I heard all the cute guys hung out at The Watering Hole." Then I laugh and try to make it sound as plausible as possible, but I feel bad about lying to Frankie. She seems like a good person.
"Well, if you ever want me to talk to Bones for you, just say the word."
"Thanks. I'll think about it."
Zane
I decide to head to Fulton's and try to apologize to him. I don't even think about the fact that it's early afternoon and he will still be at work. Sam opens the door, with Charlotte standing behind her legs.
"Zane!" Char yells and pushes Sam out of the way to grab my hand and yank me in. "You came to play with me!!!"
"Hey, Charlotte!" I say, letting her move me deeper into the apartment. "I suppose Devin isn't home?" I say to Sam. "I just realized not everyone works the nightshift."
"He's not. He'll be home in about an hour though. You're welcome to wait."
"Oh, I don't want to put you out."
"It's fine. We aren't doing anything exciting."
"Yay! Play dress up with me, Zane!" Charlotte says.
"Honey, let him sit down for a minute," Sam says.
"Awww." Her little bottom lip quivers.
I bend down to her level and say, "Why don't you dress up and then you can show me the pretty outfits...like a show!"
"Okay!" She rushes off.
"Have a seat," Sam says, sitting in a chair next to the couch.
"Thanks."
"Was it something important?"
"What?" I say.
"That you need to talk with Devin about at two in the afternoon?"
"Oh. I...no. I just had a question. It's nothing important." I start to realize I probably
shouldn't have come here. He's likely going to be pissed when he sees me and we can't even talk about what we need to talk about with his family in the apartment. I spring up. "I just remembered that I gotta be somewhere. Maybe you could just ask him to meet me at The Tap later tonight?"
"Oh. Are you sure?" she says with a disappointed tone. Then she looks toward Char's bedroom.
"Oh...I better wait until after Char…"
Sam smiles, relieved. "Thanks."
"Sure."
We sit uncomfortably, waiting for Charlotte to come out. "Can I ask you something, Zane?" Sam says suddenly.
"Go ahead."
"It's just that, this is kind of awkward but...Devin's been acting kinda weird lately, and he's drinking way too much. I was wondering if you might know anything?"
I look at her and she's wringing her hands together as she sits with tight shoulders. Her eyes are focused on the wall.
"Know anything? I don't..."
"I'll just come right out with it," she says. "Is he having an affair?"
"Oh, I don't….No. No. I really don't think so."
Her shoulders drop a little and her face eases. "Sorry. I feel so stupid. It's just that I've been worried." She sniffles and puts her face in her hands.
"Maybe he’s just stressed about work?" I offer.
Before Sam can respond, Charlotte runs in.
"TAH DAH!!!" She has a mitten on one hand and what looks like one of Fulton's old white t-shirts on as a dress. It has pink and purple flowers drawn on it with markers and the belt looks like one of Sam's robe belts. She's wearing a yellow pillowcase on her head and it drapes down her back like hair of a fairytale princess.
"Wow! You look quite lovely, Princess Pillowcase," I say in my best Prince Charming voice.
"My name is Queen Arabella!" she demands.
I laugh. "I like Princess Pillowcase better."
Sam chuckles and then tries to hide it when Char looks at her with tiny daggers coming out of her pupils.
"ARABELLA!" she yells and stomps her feet.
"Char! That's enough," Samantha says.
"No, no. She's right, Sam. She is the lovely Arabella. I must have been confusing her with a different princess."
Char smiles wide and spins wildly three times, nearly falling into the small side table.
I get up to go, getting nervous about Fulton's return.
"Where are you going, Zane? You promised you'd play with me!" For such a tiny creature, her voice is louder than a thunderstorm.
"I know, Princess Ari…"
"Arabella!"
"Right, but I have to be somewhere right now."
Her tiny face begins to droop and before I can say anything, she has a complete, tiny meltdown.
"Oh boy. I'm sorry," I say, looking at Sam.
Sam takes her by the hand, "It's okay. I think it's someone's nap time anyway."
"I'll show myself out. Could you ask Fulton about tonight? I'll be there around eight."
"Sure."
Chapter 25
Bekka
Walking to work I stay on the opposite side of the street to steer clear of LeRoy. I keep my head down as I trudge past him.
"Hey, Legs!" I hear.
I try to stick to my guns and keep my gaze on the sidewalk, but he keeps talking, "What's wrong?" I turn slightly and look at him. He's hunkered down in his usual spot. He looks old and frail and I don't want to feel pity for him, but he looks so innocent and he's waving at me.
"Uh... hi," I say.
"How come you're avoiding me? I thought we were friends!"
"I don't think so."
"But I wanted to thank you for the water you gave me the other day. Come on."
I hesitate. He does seem to be more alert and with it today. I cross the street and head toward him but stop at a cautious distance.
"What's up?" I ask.
He turns and digs through his stuff a bit and then says, "I found this. Wanted to return it." He is holding a notebook. I assume it's mine, the one I really dropped. I step closer and reach out for it. He releases it to me.
"Thanks," I say. "Gotta get to work now," I say, looking at my watch as I tuck the notebook under my arm.
"Come see me later. I'd love to chat."
"Maybe," I say, but I think about it the rest of the work day. What does he mean by "chat" exactly? I can only ascertain that he's read the contents of my notebook, which makes me wonder what he knows. Has he figured out I'm a spy? Does it even matter? I need to find out. I'm not sure how I got myself messed up in this but I feel a pull to resolve it once and for all and move on. I'll be happy to be done with the whole thing, with him. I should be focusing my efforts on other things. What those things are, I'm not super sure, but even still...
So, after another very long and dull day packing food, I walk toward LeRoy.
"Hey ya, Legs," he says. "You wanna join me?" He's eying the empty spot along the wall next to him.
"I'm good standing," I say.
"Can I ask you something?" he says, looking up at me with wide eyes.
"I guess." I stay cool, but my min
d is awhirl with what he's going to say. I attempt to prepare myself for any questions he might throw at me, contemplate how best to answer it. My mind flips through my spy manual as I try to recall all of the rules about confrontation and what to say when someone seems suspicious of you.
And, as all of these things churn through my head, Leroy says in a somber tone, looking at me squarely, "Have you ever been to the other side?"
"Um, I don't know what you mean," I answer, which is a pathetic attempt. I've gone blank. My heart's racing because clearly he's figured it all out. He knows. He must have dissected my notes. Instead of try to cover it up, argue with LeRoy, all I can think about is that I'm going to have to tell Jameson this. What will he do to me? I wish I'd have taken LeRoy up on his offer to sit now because my knees feel wobbly and weak. I look at LeRoy and that's when I feel a pang of worry for what could happen to him.
I clear my head some and begin again. "Listen," I say, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. "You have it wrong..."
But he interrupts me. His own booms out over mine, yet is still calm and sort of sad, like when Zane would tell me stories about his father, memories from when he was little. "When I was a boy I used to swim there. The other side."
I let out the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. This isn't about me, or what I am. Relief hits me. This guy is still just talking crazy nonsense. "Oh, yeah?" I say, as if I'm talking to a small child.
"Yeah. It was a magnificent blue. Not like any color you've ever seen here."
"Sounds nice," I say, happy to be released from all of the tension I'd been holding in all day.
"It was. Not like this dingy place." He closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the brick wall behind him. He sort of moans and I wonder if he's going to fall asleep.
He looks fragile in this position, his frame small under his layers, and I consider backing away and leaving him to rest, but instead I hear myself ask, "Have you eaten anything today?"
"I can't remember," he says, his eyes still closed. "Sometimes I have a hard time remembering."
I unzip my backpack and take out a protein bar. I can't stand looking at these stupid things anymore anyway. The taste, the smell, the association to them with work; they have lost all their appeal to me, if I ever had any to begin with. He opens his eyes and watches me without speaking. I toss it to him but he doesn't move or flinch a muscle. It lands next to his hand and I begin to worry I've offended him with the gesture. But then he slowly covers his hand over it and pulls it under his thigh, looking around as he does it. He smiles at me.
