by Lin Oliver
“What are you talking about?” I snapped. “You didn’t do anything to save Mrs. Ivanov’s house.”
“That’s not true,” Brooke said. “I personally walked over there and carried one of her potted geraniums to safety. And I might add, that little act of heroism ruined my new suede flats. They got all soaked from that gross fire-hose water.”
There’s only one word for her. Hopeless.
“What about you guys?” I asked, turning to Sean, Jared, and the General. “You could have done it. Where were you when the bonfire was started?”
“I was with Brooke,” the General said.
“And looking cute as always,” she said.
“And you two?” I said, turning to Jared and Sean.
I didn’t have proof that they were guilty, but I felt in my bones they were. Besides, I had seen them out on the beach right near that spot earlier.
“What are you, a cop?” Sean said. “Where we were is none of your business.”
“Why don’t you just do the right thing and confess?” I said, getting right up in their faces.
“There’s nothing to confess to,” Jared snarled. “You saw the matches in Oscar’s backpack. He did it. Just because you have a crush on him and you don’t think he can do anything wrong, you go around accusing us.”
“Eeuuwww,” Jillian said. “You have a crush on him?” Then she burst out laughing. “Honestly, Sammie, you are such a loser.”
Lily had been very quiet during this conversation, just sitting there and taking it all in. But when Jillian laughed at the thought that anyone could have a crush on Oscar, she rose to her feet.
“Jillian, did anyone ever tell you that you have a very mean streak in you?” she said, picking up her purse and throwing it over her shoulder.
“Huh?” Jillian answered. “Lil, what’s got into you?”
“All of us have been so quick to judge people based on nothing but how they look,” Lily fumed. “That police officer did it, and we’re guilty, too. I include myself in that. I mean, I went after Eddie because he’s handsome. That was the first and most important thing I noticed. Appearances don’t tell you the whole story about a person, though. It wasn’t until I spent some real time with him tonight that I learned he’s as good on the inside as he is on the outside. But none of us ever gave Oscar a chance.”
“Don’t go all mental on us, Lily,” Jared said. “We’re the same people we’ve always been.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she said. “Sammie was the only one who saw that Oscar is really cool in his own way. The rest of us behaved like snobs. Personally, I’m done with that.”
I was totally surprised to hear her say that. The SF2s are known for sticking together, for being loyal to each other no matter what. This was the first time I had seen one of them break with the group and take a stand.
“Okay, listen up, guys,” Jared said. “It’s really late and we’ve been through a lot. Let’s break up this little party before we all join Lily and freak out and say things we’ll regret later.”
“Fine, I’m happy to leave,” Lily said. “But I don’t regret saying what I did. And I won’t later, either.”
That for sure ended the conversation. The girls found Chip Wadsworth, who was inside helping my dad fill out police reports. The boys each found their own parents, who were straightening up the kitchen since GoGo wasn’t there to do it. Mr. Ballard and Spencer finished counting the money and announced that in spite of everything, the evening had been a success. We had raised over sixteen thousand dollars to donate to the arts programs in our schools. Given what had happened to Oscar, raising that money felt weird to me. How could something so wonderful and so awful happen at the very same time?
All the SF2s and their parents gathered their things and headed for the parking lot. Ryan and I watched as the parade of shiny black cars pulled out onto Pacific Coast Highway and headed to Santa Monica. There must be an unwritten rule that to be a member of the Sporty Forty, you have to drive a shiny black car. I have yet to see even one measly cream-colored car in the parking lot. And red is totally out of the question.
The Wadsworths were the last to leave. Charlie hung out with Lauren, Jillian, and Brooke, leaning on the side of their car and whispering until the very last minute when Chip Wadsworth climbed into the front seat and turned on the headlights. He’s president of the Sporty Forty, and I guess he felt like it was his duty to double check that everything was safe and locked up. He takes his presidential responsibilities very seriously. I hope you never have to see how furious he gets when someone has the nerve to leave a towel draped over the back of one of the beach chairs.
“I’m going to pick up GoGo at the hospital,” our dad said when the Wadsworth’s car was finally out of sight. “She called to say that Mrs. Ivanov is okay, but they’re going to keep her overnight for observation. Hopefully, she can leave tomorrow.”
“Where will she go?” I asked.
“Apparently she has a sister in San Diego. She’s going to live with her until her house is repaired.”
“Are they going to be able to fix it?” Charlie wondered.
“Walter McCain says yes.”
“Jared’s father?” Charlie asked. That seemed to catch her interest.
“He owns a construction company,” my dad replied, nodding. “He told me that front room is pretty badly damaged, and the deck is shot. He thinks the damages might run into the tens of thousands of dollars. But it’s a historic house, so it’s worth repairing.”
“I feel so bad,” Charlie said, tearing up. “Mrs. Ivanov lost all her pictures. That stuff can’t ever be replaced.”
Suddenly, she burst into tears, which I thought was very strange. Charlie and I, being identical twins, often share many of the same feelings. We cry at the same movies, get choked up when we see moms and babies together, and even get all emotional if we see someone kill a spider. But thinking about Mrs. Ivanov’s loss didn’t make me want to cry at all. It made me mad, fuming mad.
“You’re overtired, Charlie,” my dad said. “That’s why you’re so emotional. You girls get right to bed. You have to be rested for your tournament tomorrow. We’ll leave at ten, but I want you warming up at nine.”
“We can’t go, Dad,” I announced matter-of-factly.
“Of course you can. Why can’t you go?”
“Because I have to be at the police station tomorrow at ten. I have to be there to support Oscar.”
He sighed deeply.
“Sammie, Oscar has made his own bed. He has to lie in it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that he has to accept the consequences for whatever he’s done. And while you can feel bad for him, those consequences are his and cannot affect your life in a negative way.”
“Wait, wait, Dad. Are you saying you believe he’s guilty?”
“I’m saying they found matches in his backpack, Sammie. I think there are reasonable assumptions that follow from that.”
I flopped down on the living room couch and watched him grab his car keys and leave. For the first time that night, I began to question myself. Was I the only one who believed Oscar was innocent? Why was I holding on to that? I mean, I hadn’t actually seen Jared and Sean set the fire. And they truly did find those matches in Oscar’s backpack. But Oscar had said they weren’t his. He looked me right in the eye and said they weren’t his. He was a Truth Teller. I felt that deep in my heart.
Charlie was still very teary as we got ready for bed. She stayed in the bathroom a long time, blowing her nose every thirty seconds. When she came out, her eyes and nostrils were all red.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
She shrugged, then climbed into her bed and rolled over with her back to me. I could see her rubbing little circles on her face with the satin edge of her blanket, something she’s done to soothe herself to sleep since she was a baby.
“I feel bad for Oscar,” she said as I turned out the light. “It’s
so sad.”
“It’s not sad, Charlie. It’s tragic. Flat-out tragic.”
She was silent. After a long while, she asked, “Do you really think they’re not going to do the operation?”
“They won’t if they think he set that fire. Even if Dr. Mandel would do it, the hospital people won’t allow it.”
“But it was an accident. I’m sure nobody meant for Mrs. Ivanov’s house to catch on fire.”
In the dark, I could hear that Charlie was crying again. I sat up and turned on the lights.
“Charlie, look at me.”
“What?” she said, her back still to me.
“Is there something you know? About the … um … accident? Something that would help Oscar?”
“Don’t make me do this, Sammie. Please.”
“Charlie. If there is something you know that you’re not saying, something that would help prove Oscar’s innocence, then you have to say it. This is no small thing we’re talking about. This is something that will affect him every day for his whole life. Do you want that on your conscience?”
Charlie turned to face me and started to cry again.
“I just don’t know what to do,” she said, weeping.
“What is the problem here, Charles?”
Her lip was quivering as she spoke. “They told me I couldn’t double-cross them.”
“Double-cross who, Charlie? I don’t understand.”
“Lauren and the girls. They said that I couldn’t tell anyone. Out by the car … they made me promise. They said that SF2s don’t double-cross each other. That we stick together. And that if I told, I couldn’t be one of them anymore.”
She held her head in her hands and cried so hard her shoulders were shaking. “I don’t want Oscar to be crippled his whole life. But I don’t want to be a double-crosser, either.”
I got out of bed and sat on the edge of hers. I tried to look her in the eyes, but she dodged my look.
“Charlie,” I said softly. “This isn’t about Oscar or me or the SF2s. It’s about doing the right thing. You know what that is. We both do.”
“But what if they won’t be my friends anymore? What if Spencer hates me, too?”
“Spencer seems like a decent guy,” I said. “I bet he’ll stand by you. And as for the others, true friends help you do the right thing. If they can’t do that, then they’re not really your friends.”
She sat up on her bed and gradually stopped crying. I didn’t say another word, just silently hoped and prayed that this was the sister I knew, the sister I loved, had always loved ever since I could remember.
“It was Jared and Sean,” she said in a voice so full of emotion that it cracked when she spoke. “They started the fire. Then Jared found Oscar’s backpack and put the matches in there so he’d get blamed.”
“He planted those matches?”
“Yes.”
How could he? Her words filled me with rage, an anger so wild I thought it would blow up in my chest.
“What kind of person does a thing like that?” I exploded.
“I don’t know, Sammie.”
“Well I know one thing, Charlie. I know what kind of person does what you just did. A brave person. A strong person. A good person.”
“So you don’t think I’m a bad friend? That I double-crossed them?”
I reached out and hugged her hard.
“You didn’t double-cross anyone,” I whispered to her. “You saved a life. And that’s not just a great thing to do. It’s pretty darn double great.”
The Police Station
Chapter 15
“You girls don’t look like you’re dressed for a tennis tournament,” my dad said, glancing up from his toast and orange juice. Although Charlie and I never dress alike except for our tennis matches, for some reason we both appeared at breakfast the next morning wearing jeans and red tops. They say that red is the color of power. Maybe we were both feeling powerful. I know I was, anyway.
“We’re not going,” I said, giving GoGo a hello kiss.
“How’s Mrs. Ivanov?” Charlie asked.
“Shaken,” GoGo answered, “but fortunately, her sister will take good care of her.”
“Excuse me, ladies,” Dad said, “but we’re off topic here. I believe the topic is today’s tennis tournament at the Sand and Surf Club.”
“That topic is closed, Dad,” I said. “We’re not going. Tell him, Charlie.”
“Um … Sammie thinks I need to come with her.”
“Charlie,” I said. “We discussed this. We agreed.”
“Right.” She nodded. Then clearing her throat to try to sound more sure of herself, she said, “Sammie and I have someplace we have to go.”
“Hmmm, this will be an interesting breakfast,” GoGo commented, giving us both a wink as she poured us two glasses of orange juice.
“I thought we discussed this yesterday,” my dad said. “And I believe I came to the conclusion that your future tennis career takes precedence over other matters.”
“That was yesterday,” I said. “Yesterday was a whole different day, wasn’t it, Charlie?”
“I guess so,” she said quietly.
“Suppose we stop talking in riddles and you girls tell me what’s going on.”
“There is new evidence in the case of Oscar Bermudez,” I explained. “Evidence that only Charlie and I can provide. Which means we have to be at the police station at ten.”
“Sammie says it’s a matter of life and death,” Charlie added.
“Sammie, must you always be so overdramatic?” my dad said, sighing and putting down his newspaper.
“Dad, listen. They’ve canceled Oscar’s surgery because they think he started the fire. We have to prove he’s innocent. So you see, it is life and death. At least, the next closest thing.”
GoGo picked up the telephone and handed it to my dad.
“Excuse me, Rick. I think you have a match to cancel,” she said.
“So you’re on their side, too?” He wasn’t happy with her.
“I am always on the side of life,” she answered. “And deep down, Rick, I know you are, too.”
“I suppose you want me to drive you there, too,” he grumbled, taking the phone from GoGo and dialing the number.
“Yes, please,” I said.
As we gathered our purses and got ready to go, Charlie seemed worried.
“I hope they don’t all hate me for ratting them out,” she said.
“You’re not ratting them out, Charlie. You’re helping Oscar.”
“But what if I can’t say the words? Can’t actually spit them out? I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Look at Oscar when you’re talking. Look at Eddie. Look at Alicia and Candido. Look at their whole family and see how you’re helping them.”
“Okay, okay,” she said. “I get the picture. Let’s get on with this before I change my mind or pass out.”
The Santa Monica police station takes up the first floor of City Hall. I had been there once on a second-grade field trip when we got to look inside a real police car and see the 911 operators in action. It’s not at all scary like the dingy, dangerous police stations you see on TV crime shows. In fact, it’s very light and airy, with a mural of the ocean and palm trees painted all along the lobby wall. As we sat there waiting for Candido to arrive, I told Charlie to concentrate on the mural and imagine that she was floating in a warm ocean wave. She was a bundle of nerves and needed to relax.
Candido arrived at exactly ten o’clock. He was wearing a gray suit and tie. Oscar and Eddie were wearing their dress-up clothes, too—the same ones they wore to the Truth Tellers dress rehearsal. Their hair was slicked back. Alicia was wearing a pleated skirt and a navy jacket I had never seen before, and her hair was held neatly back with a matching blue headband. If it weren’t for the sad and worried look on each of their faces, you would have thought the whole Bermudez family was going to church.
Officers Porter and Beswick came out
to greet us. Officer Beswick politely escorted us from the lobby into a glassed-in conference room with a long table and chairs. Officer Porter followed behind. Sitting at the head of the table was a uniformed officer with gray hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head.
“This is Sergeant Turrisi,” Officer Beswick said. “She’s overseeing the investigation of the fire.”
Sergeant Turrisi stood up and shook each of our hands.
“This is an unfortunate thing we’re dealing with,” she said, “but we’re here to get to the bottom of the matter. Is everyone present who needs to be?”
“Actually,” I said, “I think we should have two more people present.”
Sergeant Turrisi looked surprised.
“And who might they be?” she asked.
“Jared McCain and Sean Patterson,” I said. “I brought their home phone numbers with me.”
I walked over and handed her the piece of paper. As I passed Charlie, I could see that she was slumped down in her chair, holding her stomach like she had a terrible stomachache.
“And why do you think these two gentlemen need to be here?” Sergeant Turrisi asked.
I waited for Charlie to answer, but she didn’t say a word. Her face looked positively gray.
“Um, would it be okay if we talk to you in private?” I asked Sergeant Turrisi.
Without a word, she got up from the table and headed into a glassed-in office that was right off the conference room. We followed her and went inside while she closed the door and leaned on her desk, her arms folded.
“Now what is it you have to say?” she asked.
“My sister and I have evidence that the two boys whose names are on that paper started the fire,” I said.
Sergeant Turrisi turned to Charlie.
“Is this true?” she asked her.
Charlie made a sound that wasn’t a definite yes or no. It was kind of a cross between a groan and a grunt.
“Excuse me, Ms. Diamond?”
Charlie looked up at me and I could see panic in her eyes.
“You can’t back down now,” I said to her.
