Double-Crossed

by Lin Oliver

  “Oscar,” Governor Corday said. “I know this is very intimidating. But we need to hear what you have to say. Will you talk to me? I’m not here to hurt you. I want to help.”

  Her voice was soft and soothing. For the first time, Oscar looked up from the ground. He glanced over at me.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered to him. “She’s a good person.”

  He nodded.

  “Good,” the governor said. “That’s a start. Now Oscar, tell me honestly. Did you make that bonfire on the beach?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you wearing that sweatshirt that says ‘The Human Torch’?” Officer Porter butted in. “Just for grins and giggles?”

  “He’s my favorite superhero,” Oscar muttered. His voice was shaking.

  “Oh, really? The Human Torch? What’s he do?” Officer Porter’s voice was harsh and accusing. “Set fire to old ladies’ houses?”

  “Officer Porter,” the governor said. “Try to control yourself. You’re frightening this young man.”

  Oscar looked back down at the ground. I could see him pulling back into his protective shell of silence.

  I hate bullies. Every kind of bully. Grown-up bullies and kid bullies. Bullies in long basketball shorts or bullies in uniforms. As far as I’m concerned, they’re just people who like to pick on others who can’t defend themselves. I opened my mouth to confront Big Bully Porter, but Spencer beat me to it, and in a much more polite tone of voice than I was about to use.

  “Officer Porter,” he said in a calm and surprisingly mature voice. “The Human Torch is one of the Fantastic Four, like the Thing and Invisible Girl. They make the world better through scientific discovery. The Torch can control fire by sheer force of will. Right, Oscar?”

  Oscar nodded and even gave the slightest grin of recognition. I could have kissed that Spencer Ballard.

  “Poppycock comic book crud,” Porter said.

  “Maybe to you,” Spencer said. “But kids like it, and that doesn’t make us criminals.”

  “Thank you,” the governor said to him. “Well said.” Then turning to Oscar, she went on with her questioning. “Tell me, Oscar, where were you when the fire broke out?”

  “In the Batmobile.”

  “Oh swell, now we have to listen to more comic book nonsense,” Porter scoffed. “Why don’t you let me ask a few questions, ma’am? I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “Please let Oscar speak.” The governor frowned at Office Porter. He tried to hide his annoyance, but I could see him tapping his foot impatiently. She went on. “Tell me, Oscar, what is the Batmobile?”

  “It’s a Ferrari 458 Spider convertible—Tyler’s car.”

  “Tyler Frank is the photographer,” I explained. “He said it was okay for Oscar to take a look inside his car. If you don’t believe me, ask him.”

  I looked around to see if Tyler was there to put in a good word, but he was already gone.

  “Where’d he go?” I asked.

  “He left a few minutes ago,” the governor’s aide answered. “Said something about having to get the photos in before the deadline.”

  Great. He’s no help.

  “Oscar, did anyone see you in the car when the fire started?” Officer Beswick asked. He didn’t seem like he was trying to blame Oscar; it was more like he wanted to help.

  “No, sir. I was by myself.”

  “Where was Eddie?” Alicia asked. “Didn’t he go with you?”

  “He went for a walk on the beach. With Lily.”

  “So we have no eyewitnesses to verify that he was in the car at the time the bonfire was started,” Officer Porter stated flatly. “All we have is his word, for what that’s worth.”

  I could see all of the adults at the table exchanging glances. I didn’t like where this was going. I looked over at Charlie, who was sitting at the table with her friends. They were all listening intently, except for a couple of the SF2 boys who had left their table. She was sitting with Lauren on one side and Jillian on the other. I wanted her to come sit next to me, to tell these people that Oscar was a good guy, that he would never harm anyone or anything. But when my eyes met Charlie’s, she looked away. I thought I saw her scoot over closer to Lauren.

  Someone had to defend Oscar, and it looked like it was up to me.

  “You guys are not being fair,” I said. “Just because no one saw Oscar in the car doesn’t mean he started the bonfire.”

  “That’s true, Sammie,” Governor Corday answered. “However, it does mean that we can’t account for his whereabouts when the fire started.”

  “Which means we can’t eliminate him as a suspect,” Officer Porter chimed in.

  “But you don’t have any proof,” I protested.

  “The girl has a point,” Officer Beswick said. “We don’t have any evidence.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Jared approaching us. He was carrying a backpack, a bright red one that I immediately recognized as Oscar’s.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Jared said to Officer Porter. “My name is Jared McCain, and I’m a member here. I found this backpack out on the beach that I think belongs to the suspect. Maybe there’s something in there that would help you figure this out.”

  “Thanks for keeping your eyes open, son,” Officer Porter said. He took the backpack and unzipped it, taking out its contents and laying each object on the table one by one. A half-empty bottle of water, a beat-up copy of Car and Driver magazine, a Fantastic Four comic book, a pack of colored pencils, and a folded-up drawing of the Human Torch rescuing that same blond girl from a burning skyscraper. It wasn’t finished, but this time the girl looked more like me. At the very bottom of the backpack, there was a clean pair of white socks, and … could it be? … a pack of matches from Frankie’s Clam Shack.

  “Well, what do we have here?” Officer Porter said, holding up the matches for everyone to see. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

  Oscar couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “Those aren’t mine!” he said.

  “Oh, really?” Officer Porter snapped. “What did they do, walk into your backpack all by themselves?”

  We all waited for Oscar to offer some explanation, but he didn’t say a word.

  “It’s not against the law to carry matches,” I said. “Just because he has them, doesn’t mean he used them to start a fire. He’s here from El Salvador. I’m sure he just took them as a souvenir. Didn’t you, Oscar?”

  “I already told you, they aren’t mine,” Oscar said. “Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

  “All right, folks, I have a suggestion,” the fire chief said, rising to his feet. “Everyone sit tight here for a minute. I’m going to check something out. I’ll be right back.”

  We sat there waiting in silence, watching him walk across the deck and out onto the sand. In the darkness, we couldn’t see what he was doing, but we followed his flashlight until it stopped at a place on the beach right in front of Mrs. Ivanov’s house. I was so focused on watching him, I nearly jumped out of my skin when my dad slid onto the bench next to me.

  “Been on the phone for twenty minutes,” he said. “Finally, it’s all arranged.”

  “What is, Dad?”

  “Your match tomorrow,” he said. “The Sand and Surf Club didn’t know if they’d have to cancel the tournament because of the fire, but everything’s a go. You girls play your first match at eleven.”

  He had to be kidding! With all that was going on, with Oscar in such terrible trouble, he expected me to play in some tennis tournament?

  Is it possible that someone can have mashed potatoes for brains? Talk about a one-track mind!

  I was just about to let him know that tennis was not on my next day’s agenda, when the fire chief came tromping back across the sand to our table. His face looked stern. Troubled. He gave Oscar an unsympathetic look.

  “I found these in the sand next to the bonfire pit,” he said. And reaching into the pocket of his yellow jacket, he pulled out a charred pac
k of matches and tossed them on the table. Everyone leaned in to look at them. The cardboard cover was black around the edges and covered with ashes, but when you brushed away the soot, you could clearly read the words—Frankie’s Clam Shack.

  I gasped. Alicia gasped. Oscar gasped.

  Governor Corday reached out and took my hand. “I’m so sorry, Sammie,” she said. “It’s terrible to be disappointed by a friend.” Then she turned to the others. “Gentlemen, you can take it from here.”

  I watched her leave and climb into the black limousine that had been waiting for her all this time. When she was gone, I turned to check on Oscar. I looked into his beautiful dark eyes. They were filled with sorrow and shame.

  This is as bad as it gets.

  Little did I know, the worst was yet to come.

  The Worst News Ever

  Chapter 13

  “We’re going to send you home with your uncle tonight,” Officer Beswick said to Oscar. “There’s not much we can do in the dark. Tomorrow we’ll continue the investigation.”

  Alicia had finally gotten in touch with Candido, who came barreling over in his truck in record time. When Oscar saw him, he fell into his arms and sobbed. They spoke in Spanish, and although I couldn’t understand the words, I could see that Candido was trying to calm him down and reassure him. By that time, Eddie and Lily had returned from their walk. They had strolled all the way down to the Santa Monica Pier and even gone for a ride on the Ferris wheel. When Ryan brought Eddie up to speed on what had happened, he got really upset that he hadn’t seen the fire or been there to protect and defend Oscar. Lily put her hand on his arm.

  “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding,” she said to Eddie.

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” Officer Porter said. “These kids aren’t like you and your friends. Chances are, they don’t even know right from wrong.”

  “You have no reason to say that,” Lily said. “It’s unfair to judge people before you know anything about them.”

  “No offense, honey,” Officer Porter said, “but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lily bit her lip to keep from saying more. Instead, she turned to Eddie and whispered, “I’m sorry you have to hear this. The rest of us don’t feel that way. At least, I don’t.”

  Officer Beswick wrote down an address and handed the piece of paper to Candido.

  “I want you at the police station at ten o’clock tomorrow,” he said to Candido and Oscar. “By that time, our investigators will have gathered up any other evidence and we can see where we are with this.”

  “Do you think we can trust you to be there?” Officer Porter asked Candido.

  I had never seen Candido get angry before. He always has the sweetest smile on his face, and is so nice to everyone at the club, especially the kids. When their beach balls go into the water or the sand is too hot on their little feet, he stops to help them, no matter what else he’s doing. But there was no doubt that Officer Porter had made him really angry, and I didn’t blame him one bit.

  “We will be there,” Candido said, his tone of voice sharp and abrupt. “You believe my nephew is guilty, but I believe he is innocent.”

  “You’re entitled to your opinion, mister,” Officer Porter said with a shrug. “But you can’t argue with evidence.”

  “We will be there,” Candido said. “You have my word.”

  Rising to his full height, he put on his straw cowboy hat and turned to leave. Eddie and Alicia followed him. Oscar got up to go, too. I ran after him, and when I reached him, I put my body in front of his so he couldn’t leave without talking to me.

  “Oscar, look at me. I know you didn’t cause that fire.”

  “But I have caused all this trouble for you, Sammie. I should never have come to America.”

  “Don’t say that. You came here to get your leg fixed. We’ll show them that you’re innocent.”

  “How?”

  That was a good question.

  “I don’t know, Oscar. I just know that I believe in you.”

  He looked so sad, so hurt. Before I could even think about what I was doing, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He put his hand up to his face and touched the spot gently. I took his hand in mine, but he pulled it away from me.

  “No, Sammie. I am too ashamed.”

  Then he stepped around me and followed the others to the truck. As I watched him go, it seemed that he was limping more than usual. I understood. He was weighed down with a lot of worry.

  Alicia and Eddie were already in the backseat of the truck and Candido was behind the wheel with the engine running, waiting for Oscar to climb into the front so they could go home.

  “Candido! Wait up a second!” a voice called. “We have to talk.”

  I turned around to see Dr. Mandel hurrying out of the club and over to the truck. I followed him, and when he reached the passenger side door, Oscar rolled down the window. Dr. Mandel was a little out of breath and seemed … I don’t know … frazzled.

  “I hate to be the one to bring you this news, I really do,” he said.

  Everything inside of me wanted to cover my ears and shout, so that I wouldn’t have to hear what he was about to say. When Charlie and I were little and it was bedtime, we’d cover our ears and yell “peas and carrots” over and over again so we wouldn’t have to hear my mom tell us it was bedtime. If only I could have shouted “peas and carrots” right into Dr. Mandel’s worried face.

  “I’m afraid we have to postpone the surgery,” he said.

  “Postpone?” Oscar asked. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we can’t do it this Tuesday, Oscar.”

  “What day will you do it?”

  Dr. Mandel sighed. “We have to wait and see what happens, Oscar. I’ve contacted the hospital board, and given the circumstances, they don’t feel they’re able to grant the money.”

  “But they were able to grant it yesterday,” I said. “What happened?”

  “It’s a fifty thousand-dollar commitment from the hospital,” Dr. Mandel said to me. He was clearly uncomfortable, struggling for the right words. “That’s a lot of money. It has to go to … to a … deserving … individual. They just don’t feel that Oscar would be a good candidate at this moment.”

  “Because of the fire?” Candido asked. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Well, Candido, we don’t know that for sure.” Dr. Mandel could hardly look at Candido. “And until we do, we just have to put the surgery on hold.”

  “But, Dr. Mandel,” Alicia pleaded from the backseat, “Oscar is counting on it. It means everything to him to get his foot fixed. He’s waited for this his whole life.”

  Dr. Mandel nodded. He seemed genuinely choked up.

  “My hands are tied. All I can do is hope everything works out for the best,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry, Oscar.”

  He shook his head and walked away. I couldn’t even bring myself to look into Oscar’s eyes. I knew the pain and disappointment I’d see there would be too much to bear. I searched desperately for some words that would be reassuring, comforting, anything.

  But the sad truth was, there was nothing more to say.

  A Terrible Secret

  Chapter 14

  “I hope you’re happy,” I snapped, marching up to the table on the deck where the SF2 kids were sitting. “Oscar’s surgery has been canceled.”

  They were all there but Spencer, who was helping his dad record the donation checks and put them into envelopes. Ryan had joined them a few minutes before when he noticed that they were finishing off the leftover brownies. Lauren had moved from her seat next to Charlie and was trying to snuggle up on the bench next to Ryan. He was more interested in snuggling up to the platter of brownies.

  “It’s been canceled, or postponed?” Ryan asked, talking, as usual, with his mouth full.

  “Dr. Mandel said postponed, but I think it’s just a nice way of saying canceled.”

  “What a drag,�
� Brooke said. “Now Oscar’s going to be stuck wearing those creepy shoes forever.”

  “Yeah, that sucks,” the General agreed.

  The thing about Brooke Addison and her fake military boyfriend is that way down deep, they’re shallow. I mean, in the end, it’s all about the shoes.

  “Poor Oscar,” Charlie said quietly. “What happened, Sammie?”

  “The hospital won’t pay for the operation. They think he’s not a deserving candidate. And why? Because he’s getting blamed for something he didn’t do.”

  I glared at Jared, trying to look like every tough-talking lawyer I had ever seen on TV. The difference is, when mean lawyers on TV do that, the guilty person breaks down and confesses. In my case, Jared just sneered at me.

  “Whoa there, you,” Sean Patterson said to me, draping a friendly arm over his pal Jared’s shoulder. “The police found the matches in his backpack. The same matches that lit the fire. How do you explain that, Little Miss Hothead?”

  “Speaking of whoa there,” Ryan said, “you might want to ease up on the name calling, Patterson. I am the only one entitled to call Sammie names. It’s off limits for the rest of you tots.”

  I appreciated the support, but I was just getting started.

  “I think everyone here knows that Oscar didn’t start that bonfire,” I said. “You guys have been talking about making a bonfire for the last month. I’ve heard you myself. It’s not exactly a coincidence that a bonfire was started when you were all here.”

  “We couldn’t have done it,” Lauren said. “We were watching you. And getting our picture taken with the governor.”

  “And tomorrow, we’ll have the pictures to prove it,” Jillian said. “Speaking of which, I hope this fire thing doesn’t ruin our chances of getting on magazine covers.”

  “Actually, Jilly, I think it helps,” Lauren whispered. “I can see the headlines now. Attractive teen girls help save old woman’s house.”