Everyone echoed his amen, and as the food came around, JJ forgot about Dennis’s comment—until dessert.
Lucas was passing the pumpkin pie to Maggie, who was laughing hysterically over something he had said, when the corner of the cast above the thumb caught on the pie dish. If JJ hadn’t been so attuned to people’s right hands, he probably wouldn’t even have noticed. But as Lucas hurried to unhook the pie plate from his cast and grimaced like he was in pain, JJ knew exactly what he saw: a splash of color.
Of course, he didn’t see a tattoo. It could have been anything: dirt, a shadow. It was the placement that caused JJ’s eyes to narrow. The spot was exactly where the beginning of the arsonist’s paintbrush would be.
JJ stared at Lucas’s hand as Maggie laughed and cut pie. He took his piece, listened to Penny beg for the whipped cream, and tried to decide what to do. Finally, he spoke.
“Lucas, how did you hurt your hand?” He hoped his voice wasn’t shaking.
Lucas glanced down at the cast. “Oh, it was silly. I was helping a friend move some furniture. I slipped and broke it. I have to keep the cast for a few more weeks.”
Maggie looked up from her pie. “That must be ruining your career plans right now.”
Lucas nodded. “At least it’s been a good excuse to hang out in Vermont for a while and work on getting some new shows up here. Still, I’ll be glad to lose the cast and get back to work.”
“Bummer,” JJ mumbled. “So, where have you been all these years, anyway?” he asked more loudly. “Denny said some of the family hadn’t been around during grace.”
Suddenly Patrick, from six seats away, was paying attention. “What does it matter to you, JJ?” he snarled.
JJ feigned innocence. “I was just curious. Wondered if he was doing any cool stuff for the art world.” Patrick glared but went back to his pie, and Lucas answered.
“Nothing that interesting, JJ. Just traveling… here and there. The fire upset me greatly, you know. I considered your mother a great friend. I spent several years recovering from the horror of that night, just going from state to state looking for ways to make money painting.”
Now JJ was annoyed. What did this guy know about it? He thought he had spent several years recovering from that night? Who did he think he was?
And then it made sense, like a light suddenly flipped on in a darkened room. Lucas had something on his hand in the right place, and he had spent “years recovering from the horror of that night.”
It also made no sense. What could Lucas’s motive possibly have been? But JJ thought for sure he had a suspect: Lucas, Darryl’s younger brother and one of his mother’s friends, was possibly the arsonist behind the Bijou Street Movie Theater Fire.
And he was eating pie two seats away from JJ.
Chapter 10
“I DID it… I did it,” the man whispered. “I finally did it.”
JJ moved to the sinks, more eager than ever to return to the comforting gaze of his mother. But the noise of his sneakers against the tile alerted the strange man to JJ’s presence, and now the stranger was turning around to face him.
First JJ saw the blue jeans, the red long-sleeve shirt, and of course, the tattoo. But as JJ’s gaze traveled upward, something strange happened: he also saw the man’s face.
Emblazoned in JJ’s mind, laughing at him with horribly crazed eyes, was Lucas.
JJ sat bolt upright in bed, that last image from the dream stamped firmly in his mind. He jumped off the bed and ran for the bathroom. Halfway through losing most of his Thanksgiving dinner, he was sorry he’d gone for the extra helping of mashed potatoes.
Back in his room a few minutes later, JJ checked the clock: 5:00 a.m. Too late to try and go back to sleep. Plenty of time to lie in bed and wonder if he should say something to Maggie about the possibility that Lucas was Tattoo Man.
He’d spent most of the ride home from dinner last night with his fists clenched in his lap while Maggie went on about how successful Lucas was, and how wonderful it was to see him again. He couldn’t figure out how to say something without sounding like a crazy person. After all, how did you accuse someone of mass murder on the evidence that they had a cast?
But then JJ’s eyes caught one of the rare photos in his room. It was a framed photo Maggie had put on his dresser years ago. It was of the two of them with Penny, having a picnic in the park on an afternoon Darryl had let them spend together. It was one of the few pictures of JJ where he was actually smiling.
And JJ knew he was going to say something to Maggie. No matter how crazy it sounded.
“BUT WHAT if it is him? He’s got a cast, Maggie!” JJ was ranting, stalking around his living room. Maggie was sitting calmly, trying to figure out what JJ was talking about. It was only nine o’clock in the morning, and she’d barely been out of bed for ten minutes when JJ had started in about Lucas and how dangerous he could be.
“Let me get this straight: you think Lucas burned down the Bijou?”
“I know, it sounds crazy. But I saw something under his cast! Maybe. And it’s in the exact same place as the tattoo is on the guy from my dream! And he was talking about how he hadn’t been able to see his family for years, and he said that he went away for a while after the fire because the night was so hard on him. And the last time I had the dream I saw his face, Maggie!” JJ stopped in the middle of the floor and waited for a response.
“JJ… you realize how absolutely ridiculous this sounds, right?” Maggie asked, still incredulous.
“Who else has a tattoo in that exact same place? Who else? It has to be him!”
“But you didn’t even see a tattoo, JJ. What you saw could be anything. And of course your mind has added him to the dream; you’ve convinced yourself that he did it! Not to mention, JJ, that Lucas cared very much for your mother. Why would he burn down a theater she was in?”
JJ threw up his hands. “I don’t know! Maybe it had nothing to do with her! Maybe he didn’t even know she was there! All I know is that it could have been him.” He sank into a chair next to her. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
Maggie leaned forward and took JJ’s hands. “JJ… I know that ever since this dream appeared on the scene, it’s probably been hard not to see tattoos everywhere. It makes sense. But kiddo, you don’t even know for sure that you saw a tattoo under that cast. And you can’t go around accusing every painter you meet of setting the Bijou on fire.”
JJ gritted his teeth. “You like him, don’t you?”
Maggie blushed. “He’s an attractive man, JJ. Yes, if he asks me out, I’ll probably say yes.”
Now JJ leaned forward so he could clench her hands hard. “Then please, Mags. I have to be sure.” He lowered his voice. “I can’t lose you too.”
Then JJ was being crushed in a hug, and he knew Maggie would help.
That afternoon, Maggie and JJ were ringing Darryl’s doorbell.
“Yes?” She answered the door looking annoyed, wearing an old sweatshirt and spandex pants. JJ had a feeling they had caught her right in the middle of an exercise session.
Maggie’s smile was so wide it looked unnatural. “Do you have a few moments, Darryl? JJ wanted to ask you something, and it seemed to me that it was a little too personal to ask over the phone.”
Darryl glanced at her watch. “I suppose I could spare a few moments… I was about to leave for yoga.” She gestured them into the house with a sweep of her arm and led them to her immaculate beige living room.
JJ sank into the same overstuffed couch he had sat on as a child. A sudden memory of crying into David’s lap on that couch didn’t do much for his confidence.
Maggie nodded at him to start, and he hoped his voice wasn’t going to shake too much. It never stopped amazing him how tense Darryl made him. How his sweet and calming mother had ever been best friends with Darryl was beyond him.
“Well… so, Darryl, I’ve been remembering some things about the fire lately.”
Darryl sighed. “This is about the
fire?”
JJ nodded and hoped that she wouldn’t keep interrupting him. It ruined his momentum. “Yeah—I mean, yes, it is. I’ve been having this dream, only I figured out that it’s probably a memory of the arsonist, of seeing him in the bathroom that day. In my dream, he has a tattoo of a paintbrush on his hand.”
Now what was he supposed to say? This was the part where he was supposed to accuse her brother of mass murder. As rude and blunt as JJ knew he could be, even he had no idea how to say what he needed to say next.
Luckily Maggie came to his rescue. “Darryl, JJ is suddenly very concerned that Lucas—being a painter and all—might be the arsonist.” She put up her hand as she saw Darryl was opening her mouth. “I know what you are going to say—that the mere idea is crazy. I told JJ the very same thing myself. I told him how close Lucas was to Marilyn, and that we simply can’t go around accusing every painter we meet of arson, and that there was a very good chance you were going to stop allowing Penny to see him again if you got wind of this new obsession of his. Yet he has remained concerned. That said, I’m happy to see JJ showing the initiative to come talk to you about this matter in a mature way. So I suggested we come speak to you directly.”
Darryl seemed winded by this speech. “Ask me what, exactly?” She turned to look at JJ. “Ask me if my brother is a murderer?”
JJ shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Not exactly. Ask you if he has a tattoo of a paintbrush under his cast.”
Darryl seemed to relax considerably. She shook her head in amazement. “JJ, I have never, your entire life, known what to make of you. You were very precocious as a child, did you know that? Always up to something and always ready with an explanation.” JJ thought that was a little harsh—his dad had always said he was curious, not precocious—but he didn’t say anything. “Then, after the fire, you were so very angry… I was certain there was no hope for your emotional recovery. Now here you sit, calmly asking me, with no evidence whatsoever, if my brother is an arsonist.” She stood up and cleared her throat. “Jacob Jasper Jones, I am happy to report to you that my brother does not have, and never has had, any tattoos.”
Maggie stood as well. “Thank you, Darryl. I’m sorry for the intrusion on your time.” She nodded jerkily to JJ, and he pulled himself up from the couch quickly.
“Yeah—I mean, yes.” JJ stood as well. “Thanks, Darryl. I’m sorry if I made you upset.” He paused. “Sorry for being, you know, hard to figure out too, I guess.”
“Well, JJ, it is something you could work on,” Darryl practically barked as she led them down the hallway. On that note, she slammed the door behind them.
Maggie sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I truly hate to say it… but I think that went well.”
JJ didn’t answer.
By the time they got home, the spring had wound so tightly JJ was sure it was going to break.
He sat on his top bunk, rocking himself back and forth, thinking about the party Lewis had invited him to that night. He almost rocked himself clean off the bunk before he finally reached for the pamphlet Dr. Ben had given him.
Inside was a list of twelve things teenagers who had a problem with alcohol did—stuff like “guzzling” what they were drinking or letting their grades slip. Next to almost every item on the list was a picture of a teenager looking either depressed or hopeless.
Well, except one picture of some kids dancing together at a party. JJ couldn’t help but think that it looked like they were having a pretty good time.
The pamphlet said that if even one item on the list applied to you, you might have a problem with alcohol.
And there were only three that didn’t apply to JJ.
A few hours later, JJ was ready to do what he needed to. He reached for his cell phone.
JJ: Come over?
McKinley didn’t answer right away. It was almost ten minutes before JJ’s phone buzzed.
McKinley: Y
It was a legit question, so JJ answered it.
JJ: Need to talk to u.
There were another few long minutes before McKinley answered.
McKinley: b there soon
About half an hour later, JJ heard Maggie answering the door. He was listening to “Separator” by Radiohead—one of his, and McKinley’s, favorite songs. Maggie knocked on JJ’s door.
“McKinley’s here to see you, kid,” she said, poking her head into the room.
Thom York was singing about whether or not something was really over as McKinley walked in and closed the door quietly behind him.
McKinley smiled. “Good song,” he said quietly.
That was all JJ needed to hear. He took a pamphlet off his dresser. “I need to go to this AA meeting,” he said, showing what he was holding to McKinley. “I called them. I guess Moreville’s too small to have meetings just for teenagers, but they said teenagers go to the regular meetings here. That it’s no big deal. And I don’t want to go alone.”
The smooth chords of the guitar filled the room around them, and JJ thought it felt like they were lighting up the space between him and McKinley. Thom York went on about whether or not he was waking up from a dream.
McKinley nodded. “Yeah? Where’d this come from?”
JJ hesitated. “I thought I found him. I thought it was Lucas, McKinley. I thought I finally found him. And everyone says I’m wrong, and I had to talk to Darryl. And it isn’t him.” JJ cleared his throat. “It didn’t work, the benefit, and then I thought for sure it was Lucas, but Darryl says he never had a tattoo. I realized I might never know who Tattoo Man is, you know?”
McKinley nodded again.
“I didn’t drink yet, though. I really wanted to. I, uh, still do. I took the pamphlet test instead. And then I texted you.”
McKinley smiled, and the spring began to unwind just a little bit. “Of course I’ll go with you, JJ.”
Thom York begged to be woken up. It really was a great song.
Chapter 11
THERE WAS no doubt in JJ’s mind that he was getting seriously paranoid.
As Lucas picked Maggie up for what would be their third date, and JJ sat in the kitchen listening to them chuckle and giggle at each other, he couldn’t help but admit that Lucas was nothing but a gentleman to his aunt. He held coats, doors, chairs, and everything else a guy had to hold in order to be considered chivalrous. He was witty and told a lot of quick jokes that made Maggie giggle. JJ knew from overhearing Maggie on the phone that she was really into Lucas.
And Darryl had said he’d never had a tattoo on his hand. So why was JJ still convinced he couldn’t trust the guy?
Maggie returned from the hallway to tug her keys off the countertop. “JJ, we’re just grabbing dinner. You can feed yourself, yes?”
JJ nodded and waited numbly while she kissed him on the forehead and swept out of the kitchen.
He watched out the window as Lucas opened the car door for Maggie like the perfect gentleman that he was.
No doubt about it, JJ thought as he grabbed his coat and ski hat and left to meet McKinley. He was getting paranoid.
McKinley led JJ into the room at the hospital where the AA meetings were held. This was only JJ’s second, and JJ hadn’t been very proud of his performance at the first one. He’d managed to get out that his name was JJ and that he drank a lot, but that was about it. Still, McKinley had told JJ he thought JJ had done really well. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, JJ,” he said, as JJ sulked on their ride home. “You went. You said who you were. You admitted to having a problem. That’s, like, awesome.”
And at least it turned out that the “anonymous” part of Alcoholics Anonymous was pretty legit. JJ recognized at least one person from his school there, a senior, and neither of them had even acknowledged each other since the meeting. So that was good.
The person running this meeting did the introductory statement, and together they recited the same weird thing they’d recited last time: “Grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, courage to
change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” At first, JJ had thought it was really strange to start a meeting with group chanting. It made the whole thing feel a little cultlike. But then he thought about what the saying actually meant, and he decided that he kind of liked it. And that it wasn’t a bad way to open a meeting with a bunch of people who were on track to drink themselves to death.
JJ listened as one of the older guys in the group talked about how his wife wanted to leave him, and he didn’t know what to tell her, and how it was hard to know when to give up on something and when not to.
Then another person talked about losing their parents.
Then someone else talked about losing their son.
“Can I say something?”
JJ’s voice was so quiet that he almost couldn’t hear it.
“Of course, JJ.” The person who had led them in the chant smiled encouragingly at him.
“I wrote a poem.” He pulled the paper from his pocket. “Uh, I don’t like talking about this stuff. Or myself. But this is my second meeting, and I haven’t had anything to drink in a while, so I think maybe I’m ready. I like writing poetry lately, so can I share that way?”
“Of course, JJ.”
“Great. It’s called ‘Unbreakable Cycles.’ It’s actually a revised version of a poem I wrote a while ago.” He couldn’t help but glance sideways at McKinley when he said that.
Unbreakable Cycles
Sticks and stones, they told me
Break bones, they told me
Words, they told me
Don’t hurt, they told me
The words have come
Always, with fire behind them
The fire of bad news,
And anger,
Every Inferno Page 13
