by Deany Ray
The students all beamed back at her. One man, who seemed even frailer than the others, grabbed hold of a tree to catch himself from falling. Out of breath or ill, he held a hand up to his chest.
My own heart seemed to stop. Thoughts of death still lingered in my mind; the gruesome images from the dreams were still stuck in my head.
My mother walked up calmly to him and put her arm through his. Then she whispered something to him that made him blush and smile. Thank goodness. He seemed absolutely fine; in fact, he seemed elated.
My mom made her students happy. Good for her, I thought (again, easy for me to say at that point, because I was out of there). I yawned as I took in the scene, feeling more awake. The loud music and bright colors of the outfits were enough to get the wake-up process going before a single sip of coffee.
Coffee. At the very thought, I pulled on my robe and headed down the stairs. My mother made great coffee with just a touch of cinnamon, and she made the best breakfasts too. Although it was my dad who served up food at Springston’s favorite diner, it was my mother who most often filled our tummies up at home. Even before her stupidly early classes, she’d fix bacon and eggs or pancakes and leave them out for us. Cinnamon rolls, perhaps? Sometimes even cookies. It’s never too early in the day for a good snickerdoodle; that’s what I always say.
I walked slowly down the stairs, my muscles still protesting my activities from the day before. By then, I could usually smell pancakes, bacon…something. Curiously, no good smells drifted up the stairs.
I could feel it right away; something felt very off in my mother’s kitchen. The coffee pot was empty and there was no coffee in the cabinets, no coffee on the counter. How could we be out of coffee? Coffee was like breathing in and out or putting on your shoes before you left the house. It just had to be.
Except right then it wasn’t. There was no coffee anywhere. There was nothing warming on the stove, just a box of cereal sitting at my place along with a banana. I didn’t like bananas. What was up with that?
While I was wondering, my mother breezed into the kitchen. “Oh sweetheart, you’re up early,” she said as she kissed my cheek. “Good morning to my girl!”
“Good morning, mom,” I answered. “Where did you hide the coffee?”
She rushed to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher. “How would you like some fresh-squeezed orange juice? Can I make you a nice smoothie? Did you know my favorite smoothie has apricots and pumpkin seeds?”
Was she serious? That sounded terrible. I stared at her. “Who exactly are you, and where did you put my mother? Coffee! I need coffee. And I’d love to have some eggs.” Not that I couldn’t fry my own eggs at the age of twenty-nine, but my mother loves to pamper me, and who was I to argue? It was just the way things were.
She handed me a glass of juice. “I’ve started something new,” she said. “We’re eating healthy for a month. According to the latest issue of Your Life Can Be Fabulous, it only takes a month for our bodies to get used to healthy choices. Then after that, we’ll crave the things that make us feel our best.”
Shoot me now, I thought. It was the perfect time to move out, although I wouldn’t tell my mother yet – not until I had a date set for moving. Barbara Cooper loved nothing more than having all her family right there beneath her roof. My oldest brother, Sam, had long been on his own, but my other brother, Brad, wasn’t likely to go anywhere and give up his rent-free room. Then he’d have to get a job and keep it. Brad had a real dislike for things like setting an alarm clock and going into work every single day. Bosses didn’t like it when you didn’t do those things.
I fixed myself a bowl of cereal. “So, what kinds of things will we be eating?” I asked my mother as I sat down with my sad breakfast.
“All kinds of yummy things,” she said with enthusiasm. “They say that tofu is delicious, and we’ll have lots of nuts and fruits. We’ll be eating soybeans, and we’ll have yogurt…lots of healthy salads. I do love a good salad.”
I felt my heart sink.
“No cookies, I suppose?”
“I’ll slice up some nice, green apples. That’ll do.”
“Mother! It’s not even close to being the same thing,” I said as my brother slowly made his way into the room.
“Brad!” my mother called out brightly. “Let me make you some nice tea.”
He grabbed a banana, then sat across from me dejectedly. “I guess you heard the news,” he said.
I nodded.
He took a bite of the banana.
“Tonight, we’re having jackfruit, and I’m just so excited,” my mother said as she sat down to join us at the table with a bowl of fruit and yogurt.
“Can we have mashed potatoes with it?” my brother asked.
My mother touched his hand. “Broccoli and fresh pears.”
“Jackfruit?” I asked between bites of cereal. I was almost afraid to ask.
“Oh, it’s the latest thing,” my mother said. “They love it in Bangladesh! Jackfruit is all the rage.”
“Trends are for purses,” I told her. “You don’t need a trendy fruit.”
Brad didn’t look impressed. “Have they tried mashed potatoes there in Bangladesh? If they did, and if they used lots of gravy, they wouldn’t be hyped up about some fruit.”
My mother just kept on. “And the good news is that jackfruit tastes a lot like chicken. So it’s a healthy substitute! Lots of vitamins, potassium. Some nutritionists have been calling it a miracle.”
“A miracle? For real? Some nutritionists need to get a life,” I said. Tonight I would be eating pears and broccoli and jackfruit. This was really bad.
“And this is interesting,” my mother said. “I’ve learned that just one jackfruit can weigh as much as eighty pounds.”
Was she even kidding? That meant that if she’d only bought one of the cursed things, it would be around meal after meal after meal.
“Eighty pounds?” I asked.
“Well, that’s just what I’ve heard,” she said. “I haven’t seen one yet that big, but oh, don’t you two worry. I’ve bought us some nice ones.”
I wondered if Marge and Celeste and I needed to meet at the diner that night to talk over the thing with Lucas and to throw some ideas back and forth for finding a new case.
It was like my mother read my mind. “And even if you’re eating out, there’s no reason why you can’t still stick to the plan. Remember! One month of healthy eating means a brand new you.” She picked her bowl up from the table and made her way over to the sink. “Even at a restaurant, there are lots of healthy choices,” she said, giving me a wink. “And you never know. If you eat some fries at Jack’s, your dad might just come home and tell.”
Maybe and maybe not, I thought. I might work out a deal. My father loved the meatloaf sandwich that they served at Jack’s, and maybe if he kept his mouth shut, I wouldn’t tell on him.
At the same time, another part of me knew that in actuality, my mom was kind of right. I did need to get in shape. Perhaps this wasn’t all bad. It always startled me to realize that my mother’s wild ideas could contain a grain of sense.
I could do this, I decided. “I love strawberries,” I said. “Let’s get them, and we can make a big fruit salad.” I liked blueberries and green beans and asparagus. I would make a list.
Then my culinary musings were interrupted by a text. I looked down and saw that it was from Celeste.
Meet us ASAP, it said. Shooting at the college.
My heart pounded in my chest. I hoped everyone was okay. West Springston University was just about the most serene place that I knew. Sometimes I’d go there for plays and lectures and would be almost jealous of the students. They all seemed so carefree, hanging out in groups and laughing, so full of plans and big ideas. I said a silent prayer. Let the kids be safe. Let no one be injured badly.
West Springston. Who’d have thought? The campus, too, was lovely with old trees and neat brick paths and stately white-columned buildings. It was the last
place you’d expect violence to break out.
I grabbed my phone and texted back. Terrible! Then I paused. Why do we need to meet? Perhaps Celeste had a hunch that Bert would put us on the case.
Then I remembered: Lucas.
I pressed the “voice call” symbol. She answered right away. “Are you free right now?” she asked.
“Lucas!” I said. “Tell me he’s okay.”
I could hear panic in her voice, which wasn’t like Celeste. “My nephew’s fine,” she said. “But Perry…he’s been shot.”
Chapter Four
I told my mom I had to run.
“Emergency at work!” I said as I quickly dumped my cereal and rinsed out the dish. Celeste wanted Marge and me to meet her at the office as soon as we could come. Perry was alive, but he wasn’t doing well. She’d fill us in on all the rest.
My mother watched me with concern. “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t get so worked up about your clients’ problems. As long as they have their health and the people that they love, that’s all that matters, right? They shouldn’t be all gloom and doom about some nonsense with computers.”
Oh, yeah. I always seemed to forget that I had a part to play, someone opposite of me: a computer-tech guru. We really had to think of a better cover.
“That’s not exactly right,” Brad said. “They can lose their contacts, all their files…sometimes their whole life is stored inside those things. I would go nuts if my computer broke and I lost my latest gaming score.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
“That just seems sad,” my mom said. “A whole life in a machine? People need to look up from those things and stop and smell the flowers. You can count on flowers. No malfunctions there. Maybe a computer blowup is a good thing now and then. People might put down their gadgets and walk out in the sunshine.”
I exchanged a look with Brad.
My mom got up to hand me a glass of juice in a tumbler with a top. “Take this with you at least and you’ll get some vitamins.” She lightly touched my cheek. “And, for goodness’ sake, I hope you’ll calm down about work. Take a few deep breaths! From the way you spoke to Celeste, you’d think someone had been shot.”
***
When I got to CMC, Marge and Celeste were already there, huddled around Lucas. They were sitting in three chairs in a back corner of the office.
“You okay?” I asked him.
His black hair stood up in tiny peaks as if he’d spent the morning pulling at his hair. In his eyes I saw exhaustion, but mainly I saw fear.
“He’s safe for now,” Celeste said, her arms around his shoulder. “But it sounds like he was targeted, too.”
“Oh my gosh,” I said, sinking into a chair.
Celeste told the story. “They were heading out to breakfast before class. And out of nowhere comes this car.”
At the mention of the car, the boy bent down, his face in his hands.
Celeste massaged his shoulders and used a hushed voice to continue with the story. “All of a sudden, the car got close and Lucas saw two guns pointed out the window. Pointed at them.” She looked down at Lucas. “Thankfully, this one ducked. It you’re an Ortiz, you learn early how to duck.”
“But Perry didn’t…Man. I can’t believe this shit,” Lucas said into his hands.
“Language,” Celeste told him in a firm voice.
“Sorry, Aunt Celeste.”
It hit me then that we were lucky to have Lucas sitting there. With apologies to my partner, It was some shit, I thought.
“Will Perry be okay?” I asked.
“They don’t know. It’s bad.” Celeste closed her eyes to either pray or buck up her strength. “They had to induce a coma. They have strict instructions to call me if something changes. Bert’s made sure of that.”
“This is crazy. Do we have any clues at all?” I asked. “Who do the police think it was who did this? And do they have any idea why?”
Already taking notes, Marge flipped through a little notebook with a sparkly purple cat on its leather cover. “There were some witnesses,” she said. “We have a description of the car, but they’d taken off the license plate.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. Things were always easier when the bad guys were screwups and didn’t think ahead.
Celeste stood up and paced the room. “It wasn’t like those cases where they shoot at everyone,” she said. “These boys were the target.”
“I don’t understand,” Lucas cried, running one hand through his hair. “Everyone loves Perry, man. And I always mind my business. I don’t bother anyone.”
Well, attempted robbery might count as a bother, but no need to interject.
Celeste wheeled around to face him. “Well, someone has a beef with you, and we need to find out who. You can’t tell me that you’re not mixed up in shady stuff. Armed robbery? What’s up with that? Be straight with me, Lucas. What else is going on?”
He held both hands in the air. “That’s everything! I swear. I know that it was stupid. Perry knew it too. Except for that bonehead move, we were model students. We maybe snuck in a club or two and used some fake IDs, but we stayed way away from trouble. When kids stole lunch trays just last week to slide down that great big hill to the frat-house party? Me and Perry said no way.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. “Please, man, let Perry be okay. Perry is a stand-up dude.”
“I guess it’s possible,” I said, “that they thought the boys were someone else.”
Celeste sighed. “I’d like to think that was the case. But for now, we take precautions, assume someone’s after Lucas.”
“Interesting,” Marge said. “Most people around Springston don’t mess with the Ortizes.”
“Somebody did,” Celeste said, putting her hands on her hips. “We need to make sure there’s not a repeat.” She turned to her nephew. “The family, by the way, has gotten wind of everything that’s up. They always have their sources.”
With that, the kid’s eyes grew big.
“But don’t you worry,” Celeste told him. “For now, you’ll just deal with me. I’m thinking you’ll come stay at my place. You can’t go back to school for now.”
“Uh, Celeste?” Marge said. “Isn’t that like hiding him in the first place that they’ll look?”
“She’s got a point,” I said. “Most people know you’re family.”
Celeste leaned against the desk. “You’re right; it’s far from perfect. But we’ve got to put him somewhere.” She turned to her nephew. “Just remember not to go outside. If someone knocks or if the phone rings, let them think that no one’s home.” She thought about it a little more, then pointed a finger at him. “And don’t go near the windows. They might be out there watching – whoever they might be.”
“There’s got to be a better way, somewhere they won’t look.” Marge gazed worriedly at Lucas.
“I wish there was,” Celeste said. “All suggestions welcome.”
We sat in silence while we thought.
“He could live in my spare room,” Marge said. “It comes with its own bath. He’ll have to deal with lots of pink, which is probably not his style, but at least no one would find him. Of course, the cats love the bed in there, but I’ll just tell the cats to vamoose. The couch is good for catnaps too.”
“Cats?” The boy’s head shot up at the word. “I am so allergic.” Then he quickly added, “But thank you for the offer, ma’am. Thank you so, so much.”
“I’m too young to be a ma’am, and you’re very welcome,” Marge said. “Then we have to come up with plan B.”
We sat, and then we sat some more. Plan B wasn’t popping into anybody’s mind.
Then I had a thought that kind of stabbed me in the gut, but I had to offer. We had to keep him safe, and I had just the place. “He can stay in Clarkston Heights,” I said, “until this all blows over.”
Marge and Celeste turned their heads to me and blinked.
“Are you serious?” Celeste asked.
“Sure, why not? Nobody’s gonna look for him there,” I said.
“Charlie, that’s so nice,” Marge said. “I know how anxious you’ve been to get out of your parents’ place.”
“You’re a good friend, Charlie,” Celeste said. “This really means a lot to us.”
“There’s not much furniture,” I said, “but there is the couch. It won’t be bad to sleep on.” He was, after all, a kid. On overnight trips in college, I’d slept on floors and chairs.
“This is so great!” Marge said with a smile. Then she leaned forward and whispered to Lucas, “I hope you’re not afraid of ghosts.”
“Ghosts?” Lucas eyes grew big again.
Celeste waved it off. “There aren’t any ghosts there.” She turned to Marge. “Why do you have to scare the poor kid?”
“Sorry, my mistake,” Marge squeaked. “I was uhm…thinking of another house.”
“The place is great. I think you’ll like it,” I said to Lucas, trying to sound reassuring. He still looked absolutely white. I thought of the quiet balcony, all of those freshly painted rooms I was supposed to have all to myself – no old folks’ music and no jackfruit. But that’s just going to have to wait. This was more important than my desire to escape my parent’s house.
“I don’t even know how to thank you,” Lucas said.
I smiled at him. It was good knowing I did the right thing.
“Who wants some coffee?” I asked the others. With the way the morning went, I realized I hadn’t had anything other than some cereal.
Marge and Celeste answered in unison.
“That’ll be great.”
“Extra strong, please.”
I got up and opened the can and smelled the rich aroma of the grounds before I spooned some in. I put some creamer in the yellow mug that I kept at the office. Then I stood by until enough coffee had dripped down into the pot that I could fill three mugs.
