Ink and Ashes

by Valynne E. Maetani

  Fortunately Mom had used a lot of pins to keep my hair in place. I pulled the pins and the kanzashi from my hair and set them on the counter for her. She gave me her hair elastics so I could put my hair into pigtails, and I stuck four bobby pins back into my hair, two at each pigtail. I helped stick the kanzashi in her hair, hanging the ornament to the right side of her head.

  We checked each other out when we were finished. All in all, I thought we looked pretty good. She agreed, and we went outside, where the rest of the guys were waiting. Fed’s face bloomed into a big smile when he saw Ashley. She pranced over to him and hugged his waist. Based on his reaction, I was pretty sure I was one of the only girls not related to him who’d given him a hug before. He didn’t hesitate to embrace her back.

  Forrest had changed back into his kimono by the time we exited. He grabbed me, tugging me closer, and gave me a sly smile.

  I shoved him in the chest. “Can you please look at my face and not my boobs?”

  Forrest continued to stare. “They’re so . . . squished.”

  “Perv,” Avery said behind him.

  “Gross,” Parker said, ducking his head into the bowling ball.

  Nicholas shoved Forrest’s back.

  “The dress is a little fitted, that’s all,” I said, twisting and adjusting myself so I didn’t fall out. “Okay, Ashley, you go with Forrest and try to keep your back to my dad when you’re dancing together. If Mr. Tama leaves the gym, you need to text us, Avery.”

  Avery nodded.

  “The things I do for you,” Forrest muttered.

  Fed let go of Ashley, and Forrest led Ashley back into the gym.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Should we synchronize our watches?” Fed asked.

  Nicholas rolled his eyes.

  “Let’s roll,” Parker said, smiling.

  Parker, Fed, and Nicholas kept watch while I sneaked into the teacher’s lounge. I scanned the lockers until I found the one labeled with Mrs. Davenport’s name. Apparently they hadn’t gotten around to changing it yet. The door was secured with a cylinder lock. Some were harder than others to pick, but I wouldn’t know until I started. The only locks I’d picked so far were family locks. My pulse beat furiously, but I knew I could do this. I took a pin from my hair and broke it in half. I bent one half and slid it into the bottom of the lock as the tension wrench, and the other half I slid into the top as the pick.

  If I’d had my pick set, I could use a rake pick and jiggle this thing open, but as soon as I applied tension and moved the pick, I knew I’d have to move each pin individually. I maneuvered the pick, listening for each pin, and was able to open it in what I assumed was under two minutes. I cracked open the locker. Except for bread molding in a plastic baggie, the locker was empty. I grabbed the baggie and slammed it into the garbage can on my way out.

  Parker, Fed, and Nicholas had hopeful faces when I exited, but I shook my head.

  “We’ve gotta go to the classroom,” I said. The longer we were gone, the greater the chance was Dad would notice. I didn’t know if my dad or the teachers scared me more. We needed to hurry.

  Parker and Fed were able to lure the teachers away as planned. Nicholas and I tore down the hall. I unclenched my hand with the bobby-pin tools when we got to the door and slid them inside the lock. Nicholas jerked his head up every few seconds to check for people.

  “Could you be a little less obvious? You’re making me nervous.”

  “Sorry,” he said, jerking his head again.

  I moved my left wrist, applying tension with my right hand and picked the door to the classroom.

  “You are frightening.” Nicholas shuddered.

  “So I’ve been told,” I said. “I’ve done this a few times. Desk drawers, cabinets, dresser drawers, glove compartments. Pretty much any place my parents might hide something.” Come to think of it, it was surprising it had taken me nearly to my seventeenth birthday to stumble upon the picture of my fathers together, given what a snoop I was. But I couldn’t think of either one of them, or my thoughts would be sucked into a downward spiral.

  We slipped inside. I pushed those thoughts out of my head and focused on the desk. The room was dim, but there was enough light to maneuver around.

  “Check bookshelves, behind posters, anywhere you can think of,” I said.

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Anything that would place him in my room or prove motivation to break in to my room in the first place.” I used the same pieces of the bobby pin to open the desk drawer. If nothing was here, I’d have to break in to his house.

  Once the thought crossed my mind, I realized how far I’d gone—how far I was willing to go. What we were doing wasn’t right, but breaking in to a house seemed to be a whole new level. Had I made the right decision?

  The messenger bag was there. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding, and threw it open, going through everything as carefully as possible and remembering the order in which everything had been stacked. Lecture notes. Ungraded quizzes. In the left front pocket of the bag, I found his wallet.

  “Nothing,” Nicholas whispered. “We should get out of here.”

  Our phones buzzed. The time flashed 10:55. Fed had sent a text.

  Someone is coming.

  Our phones buzzed again.

  Stay there.

  “Underneath the desk,” I said, throwing the bag into the drawer but keeping the wallet in my hands.

  We scrambled under. With the two of us, it was a tight fit. I thought I might pop a seam in Ashley’s dress. I hugged my knees close to my chest and could feel my heart pounding against my legs. I rolled the chair as close to us as I could. The dance would be ending in five minutes. They were probably checking all the doors before they left. If we didn’t get out of here soon, the dance would be over, and Dad would definitely notice we were gone.

  Voices came closer, and the doorknob jiggled.

  “This one’s unlocked,” Mrs. Kenton’s voice said.

  “Probably just forgot,” the other one said. Coach Cesar.

  The door opened. A light turned on. “It’s empty,” Mrs. Kenton said.

  The light turned off. The door clicked closed.

  I let go of the breath I was holding.

  We waited a moment, and then I pushed the chair away. I let my head rest against the desk, and exhaled. I opened Mr. Tama’s wallet.

  Beneath a clear plastic pocket was his driver’s license. My heart stopped. My hands ran cold.

  “Nicholas.” I held the wallet in the light streaming through the window of the door and angled it for him to see.

  Mr. Tama’s picture was on the license issued in Hawaii, but with a different name. Nicholas read it and raised his head slowly. “His name is Lionel Bart?”

  I knew that name from somewhere. From the Internet.

  How could I have missed this? I’d read so many articles about my father and the people who had grudges against him in the last few months, but even the sheer number wasn’t enough to assuage this feeling I should have recognized Mr. Tama from the pictures in the articles about his case. I should have known.

  Behind the license was a piece of paper. Nicholas slid it out and showed me a temporary Utah license issued under the name of Marcus Tama. He stood up and extended his hand to help me off the floor. “Do you think this temporary license is a fake?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe we should take the licenses as proof,” I said.

  He slid both licenses back in the wallet then shoved it in the bag. “Proof we broke in here?”

  We heard Mrs. Kenton say something on the other side of the door.

  I straightened the bag, put everything back in order, and locked the drawer with the pins.

  “Let’s go.” I raced to the door.

  “But the teachers are still out there,” he said.

  “Does it really matter at this point?”

  He shrugged. “Guess not.”

  I opened the door, and we started to run.


  “Mr. Russo. Ms. Takata,” Mrs. Kenton called.

  We stopped and turned around.

  “What are you doing down here?” she asked.

  Nicholas put his arm around me. “Looking for somewhere private.” He winked at her.

  “I suggest the two of you get back in there,” she said.

  We both nodded and resumed running.

  Maybe we should have taken the wallet with us. I couldn’t believe everything had gotten so bad that stealing had become okay.

  Fed and Parker ran into us first, close to the entrance. Parker’s right ankle was taped and shoeless. His costume was deflated and draped over his arm. “Mr. Tama isn’t who he says he is,” I said. “But I don’t know what to do. We can’t tell Dad, can we? We have to call the police.”

  My phone was in my obi, around Ashley’s waist. We passed the faculty lounge, and I ran inside. I picked up the landline phone on a table by the refrigerator and dialed 911.

  “911. What’s your emergency?” the female dispatcher said.

  I told them I was at Franklin High School, and there was a teacher there by the name of Marcus Tama who was a convicted felon, and I was worried he was putting someone’s life in danger. When the person asked my name, I said, “Anonymous.”

  “I’ll send someone over right now,” she said, and I hung up.

  Fed, Parker, and Nicholas stood behind me.

  “They’re on their way,” I said.

  We jogged at a slower pace to the gym, and I tried to explain as much as I could while sucking large amounts of air.

  What if Officer Schwartz was assigned to this case? As far as I knew, he’d done less than nothing so far. I brushed the thoughts out of my head. I couldn’t think that way. Everything was going to be okay.

  I didn’t stop until I found Forrest waiting for us with Ashley at the entrance. I tried to catch my breath. The gym had emptied except for the clean-up crew, which included my parents and some teachers. Mom and Dad were at the other end of the gym. Mom cleaned up the table with drinks, while Dad helped kids from student government take down decorations.

  Nicholas caught Avery’s attention and motioned for him to come over. I looked at Fed, who had his arms around Ashley, her back facing us, and lowered my eyes in her direction. He closed his eyes and nodded. I knew he felt like a jerk. I felt like a jerk, but she couldn’t be here.

  Mika and Avery’s date pitched in, but I couldn’t see Monet anywhere. Nicholas didn’t seem to care. We’d need to find a way to make things up to them.

  “Hey, Ashley,” I said, struggling to catch my breath. She pulled away from Fed and turned around. “Thank you so much for your help. Really. And I want to explain everything, but I’m hoping it can wait because I’m about to keel over.” That was not a lie. My breaths were almost too ragged to speak. I hadn’t been working out since being off the team this last month, and it showed right now.

  I was about to make something up to get her out of there when Fed said, “I want to go check out the scarecrow before they take it down.” He led her in that direction. “Do you wanna come?”

  They left, and the words started to pour out. Everyone circled around me, Forrest at my back. “It’s him. Mr. Tama’s the one who broke into my room,” I said. “Underneath Mr. Tama’s desk—It’s not his real name.” I bent over and caught my breath. And then I explained what we’d found.

  “Lionel Bart has rants all over the Internet because he believes he was convicted unfairly, and he blames my father,” I said. I’d read so many articles about him. How did I never match the pictures from the trial in the news reports to my nice history teacher? He was at least a decade younger in the pictures online, and he’d definitely gained a few pounds since then, but still . . . I should have made the connection.

  “What about Dad?” I asked.

  Avery’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t say anything until we have more information,” he said across from me.

  So many things didn’t make sense, but Dad made the least sense of all of them. Didn’t he love us? Was he lying to Mom too?

  “Agreed,” Parker said, and placed his hand on Avery’s shoulder.

  To the right of me, Nicholas nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t thrilled about it. “I’ll tell Fed.” He motioned for us to go to the other side of the gym. “We should help clean.”

  Before I pitched in, I found Ashley, we exchanged clothes, and by the time we returned, the police had arrived.

  I sidled next to Forrest and hugged his waist. Even though I was happy we’d found who was behind everything, prickles of fear still ran through me. This wasn’t over yet until we were sure he was behind bars. Forrest put his strong arms around me, holding me up, and kissed the side of my head. Exhaustion started to settle in, but there was still work to be done. Forrest and I added to the efforts by peeling off cardboard pumpkins taped to the walls and piling them into a nice stack so they could be reused.

  We had almost finished taking everything down when I saw the police talking to our principal. She pointed in our direction and motioned for my mom and dad to join them. My parents crossed the gym toward me, Mom’s eyebrows knitted in puzzlement and worry, Dad’s face contorted into something intense but not quite readable. Anger? Fear?

  Two officers I didn’t recognize brought a yellow manila envelope over. On the front was Takata written in black marker. “This was taped underneath Mr. Tama’s desk,” a tall officer with dark features said to my parents. He opened the flap and pulled out pictures. Nicholas and me at the watermelon-eating contest. All of us together at Lake Powell. Forrest and me at the county fair. My family with Grandpa in Hawaii for his birthday. Every photo was one that had originally hung in my locker.

  He showed us a few more, and I bit down on my fist. Since Mr. Tama was a teacher, he would’ve had no problem getting my locker combination. “Those were stolen from me,” I said. “The corners are ripped because someone tore them from my locker.”

  My stomach turned. Crosshairs had been drawn on all of our faces with a red marker.

  “Do you mind if we ask her some questions?” the other officer asked my parents.

  Dad rested a hand on my shoulder. “Go ahead.”

  The officer nodded and asked, “Does the name Lionel Bart mean anything to you?” He was almost as tall as his partner but had fair skin and pale gray eyes. I told them I recognized Mr. Tama’s real name, and explained the connection to my father.

  “Do you know why he would keep these here?” the officer asked.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Maybe he thought it was the last place someone might look because it was the most obvious place to look.” Mr. Tama hadn’t seemed like he’d be that stupid, but I had misjudged a lot of people lately and the lies they were capable of telling.

  The officer nodded. “Well, thank you for your time,” he said. “We’ll be keeping these for evidence.”

  In the hallway, Mr. Tama argued with a different pair of officers. First he denied everything, but eventually he let them lead him away for questioning at the station.

  The police told Dad they’d be issuing a warrant for Mr. Tama’s home. They’d let us know if there was anything we should know, and said they might need to contact us if they had more questions.

  Forrest pulled away from my side. “I’m so happy, I could do something crazy.” He balled his hands into fists. “Or beat up a shark or something. I’m so happy this is over.”

  I reeled him back to me. I closed my eyes and felt the beat of his heart against my ear, the rise of his chest with each breath. “Can you hold me like this forever?” I asked.

  He kissed my head again. “Only if you promise to trade dresses permanently with Ashley.”

  NORMALLY WE WOULD have all crashed in the family room after the Halloween dance, but we were exhausted, and Forrest and the Russo boys wanted to change out of their wet clothes.

  Forrest promised to call me when he woke up the next day, but I jolted awake at 5:30 A.M. With Mr. Tam
a locked away, I should have felt safer, but I didn’t. And I probably wouldn’t until I had answered all questions about my father.

  I considered the GPS. Should I leave it in Dad’s briefcase? If I did, we would have a better idea where he was. But if he found it, would he be able to trace it back to Fed? I had no idea what my dad did or what resources he had. I could be putting Fed in danger. The best decision seemed to be the one that kept Fed safe. I could always place the GPS on a case-by-case basis if we felt we needed to.

  The house was silent. If I was going to get it out of Dad’s briefcase, there probably wouldn’t be a better time. I crept with light feet down the stairs and into his office. To help me see, I used my phone as a flashlight rather than turning the light on. The briefcase was at the base of his desk, where it always was. Crawling to reach it, I slipped my fingers behind the piece of paper in the luggage tag to slide out the disk. Pulling the disk out was much harder than it had been to slide it inside. I wedged my fingers underneath and wiggled it side to side until it flew out, high in the air, taking the piece of paper with it.

  The disk hit the chair and bounced. I stood and shined my phone’s flashlight to find where they had landed. Both the disk and the paper were closer to the door. I moved to the front of the desk and clipped the disk back on my necklace, but when I picked up the paper, it had the name Nobu Yamasaki. That was not the name I’d seen when I tried to get the GPS. I flipped the paper over. George Takata.

  A big lump rose and fell in my throat. What was going on? Who was Nobu Yamasaki? I sat right there on the office floor and did a search on my phone. Too many links came up. I did a search with the name and added “Los Angeles.” My dad’s picture appeared in two of the images that resulted. I didn’t know if I wanted to click on the link. This was a man I loved. Did I really want to know, or could I pretend none of this had ever happened? I knew what I needed to do.

  I clicked the picture. A man named Tony Akiyama had posted a picture on a social media site of him and my father at what looked like a birthday party held in a bar six months ago. In the background, a woman in a string bikini held a tray of drinks. He’d tagged my dad as Nobu Yamasaki. Tony looked much younger than my father, maybe midtwenties. He had a black leather jacket and sunglasses. Dad was in his suit, also wearing sunglasses. I clicked on the other image and found Tony Akiyama had tagged my dad again as Nobu Yamasaki on the day Dad was supposed to be in Phoenix.