When

11-18-2014

THE NEXT TWO DAYS WERE TERRIBLE. The local news media had run a story that Stubby had been arrested for Payton's murder, and there were unconfirmed reports of a female accomplice. I knew that everyone at school would know that the reporter was referring to me. When I got to school on Monday morning the rumors were flying, and I started to notice that more and more kids were looking at me with real fear in their eyes.

   I couldn't believe my life was starting to spin so out of control. And the teachers weren't immune to the affects of all those swirling rumors, either. By fourth period I was asked to sit at the back of the class, well away from the other kids, because I was "causing a disturbance." If by that, Mrs. Napier (5-23-2036) meant that I'd come into class, slunk down in my seat, and hid behind my textbook while all the kids in class whispered, then yeah, I was causing a huge disturbance.

   Things got worse the next day. Tuesday morning I tried to go to Principal Harris for help when I found my locker had been filled with shaving cream, but he wouldn't even come out of his office. I overheard one of the secretaries say that if I wanted the principal's help, next time maybe I shouldn't have my uncle call and threaten to sue him.

   That shocked me. I hadn't realized Donny had called Principal Harris, but he had been furious when he found out that Harris had let the feds talk to me in his office.

   Later on, I was even given detention by Mr. Chavez for walking into his class right as the bell sounded. Never mind that Stephanie Corbin (11-4-2080) walked in behind me and didn't get in trouble.

   At three thirty when I came out of detention, I found that all the spokes on both wheels of my bike had been cut and the frame and the seat were covered in ketchup, mustard, and toilet paper.

   It was all a little much for me, so I left the bike and walked home. Once I got there I found Ma upstairs, sprawled out on the bathroom tile. I felt that familiar jolt of alarm like I did every time I found her facedown on the floor, but when I bent to roll her on her side, I saw that she was breathing normally.

   It took a while, but eventually I managed to move her over to the bed and cover her with the blanket. On the nightstand were two empty bottles of vodka, and a third, half full. I took it to the sink and poured the clear liquid down the drain, knowing full well that it wouldn't change anything.

   Still irritated, I headed downstairs and found Mrs. Duncan's casserole dish soaking in the sink. I scrubbed it until it gleamed, and by the time I finished, I was a little less angry. As I was drying the dish, my thoughts drifted to Stubby. I felt so guilty for getting him involved, and I wanted to help him so bad, but how?

   Lost in thought, I moved to the kitchen table and sat down, thinking and thinking about any way I might be able to help him. I sat there for a very long time, wondering how I could convince the feds that I was telling the truth. Finally, the thread of an idea floated up in my mind, and I wondered if it was worth a try. Pulling out my new cell I called Donny, but as usual it went straight to voice mail.

   After leaving him a message to call me, I grabbed my coat and the casserole dish and headed over to Mrs. Duncan's.

   It was starting to get dark, and when I reached the part in the driveway where I could cut over I heard a low rumble that reverberated somewhere down the street.

   I squinted into the darkness—I could faintly see the outline of a large pickup truck, parked at the side of the road in the cul-de-sac at the end of the street. The truck's engine was running, but the lights were off. My breath caught, and I held perfectly still. I wasn't sure if the driver could see me in the dark because I was well out of the glow of the streetlight, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I was being watched.