Straightened

by Alana Terry

  “We better find some place more private to talk.”

  That was it. All Nick could offer. Kennedy wanted to scream and pull out her hair. Or pull out Nick’s hair, maybe. One dread at a time. We better find some place more private to talk? That was the best he could do? Even after he spoke the words, Nick stood there with his arms crossed as if he had all the time in the world. As if Noah’s father hadn’t been murdered. As if his mother hadn’t confessed to the crime. As if Noah weren’t the prime suspect in several other cases of arson and assault committed throughout the night.

  Nick frowned. Had he forgotten how to speak? Had his sad trip down memory lane during the drive here slowed down his brain functioning? Had he forgotten how serious of a situation they were in?

  How deadly?

  “It’s not too chilly out,” Nick finally said, as if Noah had simply stopped by one afternoon to pay a social call. “Let’s all go up to the balcony. We can talk there.”

  Another silent elevator ride, five more floors up. Nick spun his lanyard keychain around his finger one way and then the other. Kennedy felt dizzy. She didn’t bother calculating what meal it would be time for if she were still in Yanji. All she knew was that she was hungry for something. But she wasn’t about to miss getting answers from Noah in order to chase down a vending machine or scour Nick’s apartment for something at least partially edible.

  Once the three of them were seated around a big patio table on the roof, Nick clasped his hands behind his head and stretched his legs onto the chair across from him. “So, what can you tell me about tonight?”

  Kennedy tried not to lean in. Tried not to show how eager she was to hear what Noah would have to say. Tried to act as inconspicuous as possible so the other two wouldn’t realize how unfitting it was for her to be there right now.

  “I made a huge mistake,” Noah began, and Kennedy clenched her jaw shut. Had Drisklay been right, then? Was Noah really the one who had killed his father? Was she about to hear the entire confession?

  “That’s the amazing thing about grace,” Nick answered. “There’s nothing we can do to make God love us any less. Nothing we can do to make him take away the forgiveness Jesus bought with his own blood.”

  Kennedy bit her lip so she wouldn’t start screaming. Didn’t he realize he was talking to a murder suspect?

  Noah’s fingers fidgeted with the tops of his pants legs. “I’m not talking about cheating on a test or sneaking out and going partying. I’m talking about the really bad stuff. The stuff that gets you sent to jail.”

  See? Kennedy wanted to yell. He doesn’t need church platitudes. What he needed was a good lawyer.

  Nick looked just as relaxed as if he were watching half a dozen youth group kids playing X-box and trashing his living room. “First of all, God doesn’t dump sins into categories. There’s no such thing as a big sin and a tiny sin. All sin is equally horrendous in his sight. Whether you tell a little white lie or set off a bomb that kills a hundred people, neither one of those is too small for God to overlook or too horrendous for him to forgive. Second of all ...” He reached above his head and let out a noisy yawn. “Sorry. I guess we’re all pretty tired here. Second of all,” he repeated, “I’m really touched that you came to me. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough that you ...”

  “I got in a fight.” Noah looked like a caged lion about to attack the bars that confined him.

  Nick shut his mouth. A confused, questioning look darkened his face. The same kind of confusion that was sloshing around in Kennedy’s gut.

  “You got in a fight?” Nick repeated. “Like a yelling fight or a fistfight?”

  “A fistfight. A pretty bad one. I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Noah glanced over both shoulders as if he expected a helicopter to shine its blinding searchlights on him at any moment. “I think they’re after me. I just can’t bring myself to go home and tell my parents what happened. They’d be so ...”

  Noah stopped. He stared at Nick.

  “What?” The lilt in his voice matched the sinking feeling in Kennedy’s stomach. “What?” Noah repeated. “What’s going on?” He looked to Kennedy.

  Nick sighed. “Listen, brother. I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to promise to give me a truthful answer. No matter what. Got that?”

  Noah swallowed. Fear and uncertainty were etched into his features. He gave a small nod.

  Nick leaned forward in his chair. “I need to know exactly where you’ve been all night.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Noah stared into his lap. Was he trying to conjure up some sort of lie? He couldn’t meet Nick’s gaze, but his eyes settled somewhere around his shoulder. “I was at the Lucky Star.”

  Kennedy had never heard of the place but could tell how painful it was for Noah to admit. She tried to gauge Nick’s reaction.

  “I wasn’t going there to get picked up or anything,” Noah added hastily. “I was looking for somebody, and I ...” He cut himself off. “Maybe I should start from the beginning.”

  Kennedy wished he would.

  Nick remained silent.

  Noah took a deep breath. “Ok, so earlier tonight, I got a text from my friend, Dayton. He was at the Lucky Star and someone was making him uncomfortable, and he asked me to go get him.”

  Kennedy remembered Noah’s reaction when he got a text in the Lindgrens’ kitchen. Was it this Dayton guy he’d been talking to?

  “So I headed to the Lucky Star, and I didn’t see Dayton where he said he’d meet me outside, so I had to park and go in. I hadn’t ever been there before, I swear it.” He stared at Nick with earnest eyes. “And I went in, and ...” He swallowed loudly. Kennedy thought back to how good Nick had been comforting Jodie earlier and wished there was a sink up here so she could offer Noah a glass of water.

  “So I went in,” he began again, “and Dayton was backed into this corner getting harassed by this guy. That’s why I don’t go to those places, you know? And I thought they must have bouncers or security guards or something to take care of things like that, but nobody was doing anything. I mean, this punk was all over him, and everyone was just dancing and drinking like it didn’t matter.

  “And so I went up and tried to act natural and just told Dayton something like, ‘Hey, we need to get going, it’s late,’ but at first the guy wouldn’t let him go. Said something about how Dayton owed him a favor since he’d risked getting in trouble buying drinks for someone underage, you know? And he was really pushing it, so finally I kind of flagged down this bartender guy. I’d seen him watching us. I think he was catching on that something wasn’t right, so I made eye contact and sort of gave him this get us out of here signal, so he came over and said something to Dayton like, ‘All right, now, you’ve had too much to drink already, and if you don’t want me to take a closer look at that fake ID you came in with, I’d get out of here if I were you.’ So he was kind of pretending to kick Dayton and me out of the club, but the whole time he was sizing up this other dude, so that’s how we finally got out of there.”

  Kennedy had heard her roommate Willow complain from time to time about jerks who harassed her when she went clubbing with her theater friends. Kennedy’s dad drilled her about the dangers of date rape at least twice a month. She’d never thought of a boy like Noah having to worry about predators as well.

  “Anyway, so Dayton and I finally get out of the club, and all I’m thinking is my dad’s gonna kill me if I don’t get the car home by midnight, and we’re making our way to where I parked when this skinhead-looking dude just jumps us. I mean, no warning, nothing. Starts whaling on Dayton, calling him a flaming fag and a homo, and we’re far enough from the Lucky Star now that there’s no way the bartender or anyone else’s gonna be able to hear us over the music and stuff.

  “So he’s beating on Dayton, and Dayton’s too startled I think to fight back, but I get this skinhead off my friend and then I don’t know what happened.” Noah stared at his hands. “I really don’t. I sort of blacked out. I remem
ber throwing him off Dayton, and he landed on the sidewalk on his back, and I was leaning over him, and I seriously don’t know what happened. Next thing I know, Dayton’s pulling me off him shouting about cops, and the guy’s lying there bleeding, and I ...”

  Noah clutched his stomach. Kennedy worried he was about to throw up all over the patio furniture.

  “I don’t know what came over me. Dayton started running, so I started running, and I honestly don’t even know if the guy’s ok. What if I ... I mean, I might have ...”

  He leaned down. Kennedy had just enough time to move her shoes out of the way.

  An offensively rancid moment later, he straightened up, never raising his eyes past the level of the patio table. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s ok.” Nick stood. “I’ll just run and grab some paper towels. It’s not a problem. Really.” He seemed a little too eager to go. “I’ll be right back,” he called, already halfway to the stairwell.

  Noah blinked. Kennedy strummed her fingers on her knee. That stupid chorus from the Babylon Eunuchs was stuck in her head.

  Peace washes over me. Peace washes over me.

  Who could expect peace at a time like this? When had the world turned so violent? Why did everyone hate each other so much?

  Peace washes over me. Peace washes over me.

  Had she ever felt that peace? That rush of comfort from the Holy Spirit that Christians were always talking about? What about Noah? Where was that peace when he and his friend were being harassed in that bar? Where was that peace when some skinhead jumped them without any provocation? She could see how upset Noah was about what he’d done, but he’d been defending his friend. Wasn’t that a valid reason to ...

  She frowned. “What happened to Dayton? Is he ok?”

  Noah gave a little start. Had he forgotten she was there?

  “Was he hurt?” she asked.

  He squirmed in his chair. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought it up. Maybe it was all too distressing.

  He shook his head. “No, he was all right. We umm, well, I dropped him off at his home. He got a black eye and some bruises, but he’ll be ok.”

  Kennedy wished Nick would hurry up. Even if she read every single book he owned on youth ministry, she knew she’d feel just as awkward and unprepared as she did right now.

  She wasn’t about to make matters worse by trying to say anything else. She’d just wait for Nick to get back. Wait and pray. It was obvious now that Noah was innocent regarding his father. The bar they were at could vouch for him. The bartender who kicked him and Dayton out to rescue them from the aggressive predator would remember their faces. Give Noah an alibi. Besides, a boy that distraught over a fistfight in the street could never lift his hand to actually murder anybody.

  Noah lowered his head. “I really screwed up. I shouldn’t have gone to get Dayton in the first place.”

  “You were trying to help a friend,” Kennedy offered. She was still trying to figure out who Dayton was and exactly how his relationship with Noah worked. Were they friends? Boyfriends? Was it really any of her business?

  “I’d told my parents we didn’t hang out anymore. I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere with him.” Noah groaned. “My dad’s gonna kill me when he finds out.”

  Kennedy’s heart lodged itself halfway up her throat. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say?

  Noah was staring at her now. Apparently her attempt to keep her expression neutral had failed.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Kennedy glanced around. Where was Nick? It would be the perfect time for a director to yell cut so the actors could review their script again and get back into the right story.

  “What’s going on?” Fear laced his words.

  Kennedy stared at the patio umbrella just behind him. Nick was on his way. He would be here any minute. There was a reason he was the youth pastor and she was just the college sophomore. She couldn’t handle something like this. Not alone. Not even if she had ten years to prepare.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? What happened?”

  The door to the stairwell opened. Kennedy let out her breath. Nick was back. He would know how to handle Noah’s questions. He would know what to say. How to say it. Kennedy didn’t realize she’d been gripping the armrests of her patio chair until one of her finger muscles cramped.

  The door banged shut. Kennedy turned around expectantly.

  Gratefully.

  It was Nick, but he wasn’t alone. In front of him, Detective Drisklay held out a pair of handcuffs.

  “Noah, I need you to come with me, son.”

  Noah jumped up from his seat. Glanced behind him as if he might find a magic escape route off the rooftop. “Wait, I didn’t do it on purpose. I thought he was ...”

  “I wouldn’t say anything else if I were you.” Drisklay’s voice was even. Void of any emotion. Kennedy had the impression he could get his arm sawed off and wouldn’t change his expression.

  “Wait, am I under arrest?” Noah glanced from Nick to Kennedy and back to the detective. His eyes were pleading. Fearful. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, I swear. I just wanted to find out ...”

  Nick came over to his side and put his arm on Noah’s back. “This isn’t about that,” Kennedy heard him whisper.

  Noah’s face clouded over with confusion. She wished she could shut her ears. Look away so she didn’t have to witness this next scene, the part in the drama where any doubts whether it’s a tragedy or a comedy are put to rest.

  For good.

  Noah didn’t resist as Drisklay cuffed his hands behind his back.

  “Your father’s been murdered, and we have some questions for you. I strongly suggest you don’t say another word until your lawyer shows up.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Kennedy had read about people turning white from surprise but had never witnessed it firsthand until now. The blood drained from Noah’s face as quickly as her stomach fell in her abdominal cavity.

  “Wait a minute.” She jumped up. This was all some sort of mistake. It had to be. “Noah can’t be the murderer. His mom already confessed.”

  “My mom?” Noah looked so frail, Kennedy was afraid he might fall over on top of the detective. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned Vivian after all.

  Detective Drisklay appeared unmoved. “You know as well as I do she only said that to buy her son a little more time. She had her fifteen minutes. Too bad the rest of Boston slept right through it.”

  “So how do you know it wasn’t her?” Kennedy asked. She had never believed Vivian was the murderer either, not until now when the only other alternative was even more unsettling.

  “Want the list?” Drisklay raised a single shoulder toward his ear in a sort of half shrug. “All right. First off, Vivian’s left-handed. Whoever clobbered the senator led with their right. And she obviously hadn’t seen the body. She couldn’t tell us how many times she hit him, what part of his office he’d been in, none of that. Like I said, she got her fifteen minutes, and then we had no choice but to let her go.”

  “My dad’s dead?” Noah asked. Kennedy wished this was something like Woong’s night terrors, a horrific dream he wouldn’t even remember when he woke up in the morning.

  Nick had his hand on Noah’s back. “I’m sorry, brother.”

  “Hold on.” Kennedy wasn’t willing to let the detective get away with this. It was one thing to take in an innocent woman who was confessing a crime she didn’t commit in order to save her son. It was another thing altogether to take a boy who didn’t even know his father was dead and all of a sudden accuse him of the murder. Besides, it couldn’t have been Noah. He’d been out all night.

  “He was at a bar.” The words poured out like water erupting out of a geyser. “He has an alibi. Tell him.” She nodded at Noah. “Tell him where you were.”

  Noah didn’t say anything. Was he in shock? Grieved over the news of his dad?

  Drisklay nudged him toward the el
evator door. He was going to take him away without any proof, without any due process ...

  “He was with his friend. Someone named Dayton.” Kennedy clutched at her own words, trying to sound bold. Why wasn’t Noah responding? “Tell him,” she coaxed. “Tell him that’s where you were all night.”

  Noah shook his head. The movement was so slight, Kennedy could hardly perceive it.

  “Tell him,” she urged again, but her words had lost their forcefulness. Their conviction.

  She was met only by silence.

  Drisklay prodded Noah forward. “He knows his rights. Come on, kid. The sooner I take you in, the sooner I can sleep off all this coffee.”

  So that was it. Drisklay had arrested Noah. Carted him off like a common criminal. And Noah hadn’t said anything. Why not? Was he ashamed to name the Lucky Star as his alibi? Was he afraid his mom would be mad at him for hanging out with that Dayton guy, whoever he was? Was he worried he’d get in trouble for beating up that skinhead? How could that be worse than being arrested unjustly for killing your own dad?

  The sun was already starting to rise over the sleepy apartment complexes. Drisklay had taken Noah away at least a quarter of an hour ago, and neither Kennedy nor Nick had budged.

  “I can’t believe it.” Nick hung his head over his lap until his dreadlocks were just a few inches off the ground.

  “Why didn’t he tell Drisklay the truth?”

  Nick only repeated, “I can’t believe it.”

  So that was it. Next would come the news. The media heyday. The swarms of locusts so ready to glut themselves on the Abernathy scandal. Trash journalists wanting to make a name for themselves. Websites typing out their clickbait headlines in the pre-dawn hours. It was probably all over Channel 2 already.

  Gay teen accused of murdering his homophobic father.

  She thought about emailing Ian, the journalist she’d met last year during her own series of media spotlights. But what would be the point? The one time she’d tried to go on air to tell the public her side of a controversial story, her best friend’s medical history had been exposed and dissected in the course of a three-minute live segment. No, the most she could hope for was to keep herself out of the limelight and hope the winds blew something even more scandalous across the Boston harbors, something that would make everyone forget Noah and the Abernathy ordeal before the weekend.