by Matt Fazio
“What? I don’t – I don’t hate him,” said Drew.
“Yeah, you definitely do. It’s like you hated him ever since we went to The Shack. But that wasn’t even his fault. Besides, I stayed with you.”
“I know,” said Drew. He was surprised Tommy still realized how important it was that he had stuck with him and Zobby in the woods. He wondered if Tommy would do the same kind of thing now.
“And when that window got broke, we all ran ‘cept you, so you can’t blame him for that either,” Tommy went on. “Even Jeff ran!”
Jeff’s eyes quickly turned to random items on the shelves.
“I guess,” said Drew.
It’s not that I hate him, he thought. I just don’t trust him. Caleb acted impulsively and without regard for those around him. That was what bothered Drew the most – other people had to face the consequences of Caleb’s rash actions, yet Caleb didn’t seem to care one bit. The Shack never would have been ruined if it weren’t for Caleb. Mr. Kaminsky’s window never would have been broken if Caleb hadn’t taunted Jeff. And Drew, Jeff, and Tommy might even have won the “If I Were Principal” contest if Tommy hadn’t convinced Jeff to open Abigail’s fake binder. Well, that one wasn’t Caleb’s fault, Drew thought, but it still felt like a Caleb decision more than one Tommy would make … at least the old Tommy … the Tommy before he started hanging out with Caleb so much.
The boys reached the end of the first aisle. Drew peeked through the opened door into the back room to see if Mrs. Melia was there. The room was empty. That meant that today, like so many other days, Mr. Melia was by himself.
By the time the boys started up the second aisle, Tommy had moved on to a new topic.
“I can’t believe we got another science quiz tomorrow,” he said. “I hate Mrs. Steinbeck. School’s practically over. Do we really gotta have another stupid quiz?”
“At least she doesn’t give us homework on weekends,” said Drew, remembering his talk with Alexus Ballentine.
“Come on, the quizzes are the worst. Caleb’s right. He says she’s definitely the meanest teacher ever.”
“Anyway, I gotta study tonight,” said Jeff, subtly changing the subject.
While the boys pretended to inspect the labels of the household cleaning products in aisle two, a pair of girls approached the register. Drew recognized them as sixth-graders but didn’t know their names. Mr. Melia had just finished packaging his orders, so he washed his hands and made his way to the front of the store. The old man had a slow, methodical gait, which one is bound to acquire after so many years of working on his feet. Drew was always amazed that, although it was clearly difficult for Mr. Melia to move around on his feet all day, he never complained.
“Did you girls find what you need?” Mr. Melia asked, now standing at the register behind the counter.
“Yeah, just this, please,” said one of the girls, setting a bottle of pineapple-flavored water on the counter.
“All right then,” said Mr. Melia. “And did you need anything today?” he asked the other girl.
“Oh, I don’t have any money on me. I didn’t know we were stopping.”
“Well,” said Mr. Melia, “if you’d like a drink, too, go ahead and get one. You can pay for it the next time you’re in.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It’s a hot one today. You’ve got to stay hydrated.”
The girl smiled and picked out a beverage. Both girls thanked Mr. Melia and headed out the door. This was not an uncommon scene in Melia’s Market. Mr. Melia always allowed kids to run a small tab if they didn’t have any money on them. He would simply write himself a note in his little green notepad, and the kids could pay him back.
The boys moved on to aisle three. They continued to pull items from the shelf, scan the labels with feigned interest, and then put the items back. They appreciated that Mr. Melia gave them their space and let them take their time. The freedom he allowed them was the reason the old shop had become a rite of passage for so many kids in Emerson. They felt a sense of pride walking around the store without their parents. Though they were ultimately there to buy candy, they finally felt like they weren’t viewed as little kids anymore. Melia’s Market was a true bridge between adult privilege and youthful exuberance.
The boys were soon in the fourth and final aisle. Aisle three was the “boring” aisle. Its shelves were filled with things like vacuum cleaner bags, dust brushes, and other items no kid would ever be interested in.
“How much do you guys have today?” Jeff asked.
“Two bucks,” said Tommy.
“Same,” said Drew. “You?”
“Three bucks,” said Jeff.
“Are you even gonna spend all yours, Drew?” Tommy asked.
“I dunno, we’ll see.”
Tommy and Jeff always spent every last dime given to them for candy. Drew, however, would often save a dollar here, a quarter there. He’d save money for weeks at a time and then trade all his change with his dad for the highest bill possible. He had been given money before (he always received a 50-dollar bill on his birthday from his Gran and Grandy), but he never felt like he earned it. After all, everyone has a birthday. And even though the money for Melia’s came from his parents, he was proud of himself for having the restraint to stash some of it away.
After the boys finished examining the bread and frozen foods in aisle four, a woman with a baby in her arms burst through the door. She went directly to the frozen foods section along the wall, grabbed a family-sized bag of mixed vegetables, spun around, and set it on the counter.
“Ah, it’s been one of those days. Can you tell?” she said, pointing with her free hand at her frazzled hair.
“Hectic days can get the best of us all, but you’re hanging in there, Jenny,” said Mr. Melia. “Need anything else?”
“No, that’s it for today. I have chicken thawing out for dinner, but I realized I had no side dish, and my freezer is empty. Just about every edible thing in my house is baby food.”
Mr. Melia chuckled. “Well, little Sophia’s hair sure is getting dark. She looks more like her big sister every time I see her.”
“When is this lady gonna get outta here?” Tommy whispered. “It’s like we’re never gonna get our candy.”
“We’ve been walking around for like ten minutes,” Drew whispered back. “If we were in a rush, we should’ve gone to the counter when we first got here. What does another couple minutes matter?”
“Whatever,” said Tommy. He motioned with his head. “She’s leaving anyways.”
“So how was school today?” Mr. Melia asked as the boys came to the counter.
“Good.”
“Good, good. How’s baseball going?” he asked with the friendliest voice imaginable.
“It’s going awesome,” said Tommy. “We’re five and one so far.”
“Wonderful, wonderful. I’d really like to get down to the field for a game. Let me know if you have any games on Sundays, when the store is closed.”
Drew could tell that Mr. Melia was sincere. Even the world’s biggest skeptic would believe that when Mr. Melia said something, he meant it. Every word out of his mouth was so genuine that he could sell a broken down car to a used car dealer, but, luckily for the rest of the world, he was just too nice to lie.
“You still the ace of the staff, Tommy?”
“Definitely. I throw harder than any other pitcher in the league.”
Mr. Melia nodded. “Jeff, how’s the breakout season going?”
“Pretty good,” said Jeff.
“You’ve been playing first base, right?”
“Well, yeah, but our coach puts me in the outfield a lot, too. Mostly right field.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” said Mr. Melia. “Maybe you’re the next Roberto Clemente.”
Jeff blushed and shrugged.
Mr. Melia turned his eyes to Drew. “And how about you, Drew? You still have that Gold Glove-type fielding?”
“I’m definitel
y trying. I practice a lot, throwing a tennis ball off the garage. And I’ve been playing catcher in our last couple games. I like it.”
“Ah, the catcher, the other half of the battery. You’ve got to be tough to be a catcher.”
Noticing that Tommy was tiring of the conversation and his eyes were eagerly fixated on the candy, Mr. Melia then said, “Well, enough small talk. Let’s get down to business. Are we going with the usual today?”
“Oh yeah,” said Tommy immediately.
Drew and Jeff nodded along. The usual was for Mr. Melia to take the boxes of candy from the shelf behind the register, set them on the counter, and let the kids sort through and choose what they wanted for the day.
Mr. Melia nodded and placed seven boxes of candy on the counter, one by one. The boys leaned in to take a closer look, then began picking up different items, trying to figure out in their heads exactly what they could afford. Jeff and Tommy rummaged through the boxes quickly, but Drew patiently examined the candy. As Mr. Melia brought out round two, seven more boxes of candy, the phone rang.
“Woops, I left the phone in the back. Go ahead and pick out what you need, and we’ll settle up in just a minute.”
He hurried to the back as quickly as his old knees would allow. Mr. Melia would sometimes deliver groceries to people who were unable to get out of their homes to do their own shopping, and Drew figured it might be one of those people calling in an order.
Drew took out his cousin’s old wallet. Though his mom had given him two dollars, he was only going to spend one because he knew he was having his favorite dinner, Sloppy Joes, that night. He set aside two packs of Boston Baked Beans and stepped back, satisfied with his decision. Jeff stacked candy in piles equal to one dollar to ensure his math was correct. Tommy, like always, had two dollars but set aside about four dollars’ worth of candy. He would always choose what he wanted most that day and put back the rest. But this time was different. He looked to the back of the store. Mr. Melia was still on the phone, his back turned, taking down an order in his little green notepad. Then, unlike any other day before, Tommy quickly tossed about two dollars’ worth of candy into his book bag. The looks on the faces of Drew and Jeff were identical. Both boys were astonished by their friend’s actions, but neither could say nor do anything. They were motionless. Even breathing seemed impossible.
As Mr. Melia made his way back to the counter, Jeff kept his head down, but Drew stared at Tommy. Drew barely recognized the boy standing next to him as his good friend Tommy. It felt more like he was looking at Caleb.
****
“Sorry to keep you boys waiting. Do you have the math figured out for today?” Mr. Melia asked as he assumed his position behind the counter.
Drew and Jeff remained silent, both feeling ashamed for something they didn’t even do.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Tommy said with a casual confidence that chilled Drew’s spine. “I got two bucks’ worth, Jeff has three, and Drew just a buck.” He extended his steady hand holding the two dollars toward Mr. Melia.
“Thank you, Tommy,” Mr. Melia said gratefully. He punched the amount into the register and placed the cash in the drawer.
“Sure thing, Mr. Melia,” replied Tommy, and he calmly walked out of the store.
Jeff paid next. He handed Mr. Melia three dollars without looking up at the old man.
“Thank you, Jeff,” said Mr. Melia. Jeff scuttled out the door without replying.
Drew pulled a crisp dollar bill from his wallet and slowly handed it to Mr. Melia.
“And thank you, Drew,” he said with his friendly smile.
Drew tried to smile back but couldn’t. He nodded and walked out of the store. Tommy and Jeff were waiting outside, Tommy with a proud grin on his face, Jeff still staring at the ground.
“Uh, you know what, go ahead without me,” said Drew. “I forgot I wanted to ask Mr. Melia something.”
“What?” Tommy snapped. Then, lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “Come on, dude, we got away with it. Let’s just go. It’s no big deal.”
No big deal? How could he say stealing from Mr. Melia was no big deal? And what did he mean we got away with it? He stole the candy by himself. Drew thought about asking him what he meant by “we,” but it seemed like some sort of a trap. Was Tommy dragging Drew and Jeff into this? It seemed like something Caleb would do. But Drew realized that he couldn’t blame Caleb for this. He couldn’t blame Caleb for anything Tommy did. Caleb wasn’t there – Tommy was. Caleb didn’t steal the candy – Tommy stole the candy.
“I just …” Drew’s voice trailed off.
Tommy took a step toward Drew and, with sudden anger in his voice, said, “You’re gonna tell on me, aren’t you?”
Drew shook his head. “No, seriously, I forgot I needed to get something for my mom. You guys go ahead.”
“So you promise you aren’t gonna tell?” said Tommy.
“Yeah, man, of course.”
“You promised! You can’t tell now.”
“All right, I know. Just go, guys. It’s fine.”
Tommy paused. With his suspicious eyes still locked on Drew, he said, “Come on, Jeff, let’s go.”
Jeff, whose head had jerked back and forth during the confrontation as if he were watching a tennis match, didn’t appear to know what to do. He nodded to Tommy but his feet didn’t move.
“Seriously, Jeff, go ‘head,” said Drew. “It’s fine. I just need to ask Mr. Melia something.”
“Oh, uh … okay.”
Tommy and Jeff headed down the street, and Drew walked back into the store.
Mr. Melia was still near the register. He looked up from his notepad and said, “Yes, Drew? Did you need something else?”
“Oh, no. I, um, just wanted to see if you needed help putting the boxes back on the shelf. I know exactly where they all go.”
Mr. Melia smiled, and dozens more wrinkles spread across his face.
“Sure,” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to straighten up yet. I always appreciate a little bit of help.”
Drew stepped behind the counter and neatly placed each box in its proper place, periodically glancing at Mr. Melia, who had gone over to the second aisle to straighten up some boxes of tissues. Drew appreciated that Mr. Melia trusted him enough to walk away, rather than stand there watching over him to make sure he didn’t make any mistakes.
“Okay, Mr. Melia, all finished. Have a good day.”
“You too, Drew. Thanks so much for your help.”
Drew walked out the front door then ducked over to the corner of the building, where he could look through the storefront window without Mr. Melia seeing him.
Moments later Mr. Melia returned to the counter and jotted something down in his notepad. Then he examined the boxes of candy. Drew wasn’t offended – Mr. Melia often double-checked his own wife’s work, too.
Continuing to peer through the glass, Drew watched as Mr. Melia removed the Cow Tails and Airheads from their homes. He sorted through the boxes casually at first, but soon his hands rummaged more frantically and his expression became more perplexed. He counted the candy, then recounted it, then recounted it again. Drew remembered what Mr. Melia had said when the boys walked into the store: “I just restocked this morning.” That meant Mr. Melia knew how many pieces of candy should be in each box. Drew also knew that Mr. Melia was well-aware that Cow Tails and Airheads were Tommy’s two favorites. He thought for sure that he would finally see Mr. Melia become angry. Instead, the man who was always smiling simply looked tired. In an instant, he seemed to age a decade. He pulled his glasses from his face and, with his head down, he began to weep.
Drew wanted to run into the store and console the old man, but he had made a promise. He watched through the window in helpless desperation.
Mr. Melia put the candy back in its place and wiped the tears from his face. As soon as he reapplied his glasses, something caught his eye. One of the boxes of Boston Baked Beans wasn’t quite sitting flush with the other
s. Mr. Melia examined it further and found a ten-dollar bill underneath it.
Although Mr. Melia didn’t know Drew was watching, the two shared a smile.
The Big Picture
Drew lay in bed staring at the ceiling. His alarm wouldn’t ring for 18 minutes, but he was wide awake.
How could Tommy steal from Mr. Melia? he kept asking himself.
He hadn’t been able to shake the images out of his head all weekend. Tommy deftly sliding the candy from the counter into his book bag. The cocky smile on his face while Mr. Melia rang him up. The threatening glare in his eyes when he warned Drew not to tell on him.
When Drew went back into Melia’s, he hadn’t been sure what he would do. And he still wasn’t sure if leaving the money was right, or if he should’ve told Mr. Melia what happened. Was telling on a friend okay after promising not to? Either way, he thought, maybe Tommy isn’t who I thought he was.
He rolled over and turned off his alarm before it rang. He went to his desk, where his science book lay open to page 139. After flipping to the front cover and reviewing the names, he opened his desk drawer, grabbed his wallet, and removed his handwritten list. He studied both lists, side by side, to see if somehow he had missed something.
He never imagined that playing detective would be so hard. He was nearly nine months into his search, and time was running out. There was only one week of school left, and it would be much harder to find the Mystery Artist once summer break began. I will figure this out, he said to himself. I have to.
Three names were crossed off: Jason Porter, Alexus Ballentine, and Skylar Jansen. Two names remained: Stacey Janofsky and Mike “Huddy” Hudock. Which of these two was the more preferable candidate? Huddy, the meanest and scariest kid Drew had ever met, or Stacey, the girl who had disappeared?
Part of Drew hoped it was Stacey. At least then he could hold on to the hope that the Mystery Artist was a nice kid who actually cared about what she drew in that book. It was a long shot, though. From what Alexus had told him, Stacey was similar to Abigail – the best student in her grade. Drew couldn’t see someone like that drawing instead of paying attention during class (especially Mrs. Steinbeck’s class).
