The Broken Date

£11£: Part 2

Jack’s POV:

Dear Jack,

It wasn’t me in the jewelry store yesterday afternoon. It must have been someone else. I hope you like the gadges. 

I don’t want you to worry about anything. I will be back as soon as we know how my dad is doing, and then everything will go back to the way it was before.

I am sorry for the rough time you’ve been through. But it’s all a big misunderstanding. Please believe me when I say that everything will be fine.

Love,

Mark

That’s what I imagined the note would say. That’s what I prayed the note would say.

I tossed the swim bag over my shoulder and began to run toward the bus stop. I held the envelope tightly, staring at it, repeating in my mind what I wanted it to say. The bright sun made the white envelope glow. It felt hot in my palm.

I have to read it---now---before it burns a hole in my hand, I thought.

I scolded myself for such crazy thoughts.

Once again, I ran over in my mind what I wanted it to say.

Out of breath, I stopped in front of the red brick ranch house on the corner. There didn’t seem to be anyone home. I dropped to the grass. I started to tear open the envelope.

Before I could get it opened, something jumped on me, yapping, scratching, hopping onto my lap. It was the little brown-and-white fox terrier from across the street.

“Down, Rudy! Get down!” I cried.

Rudy yipped playfully and tried to pull the envelope from my hand with his teeth.

“No! Bad dog! Bad dog! Rudy, go home!”

I jerked the envelope away and tried to climb to my feet. But the little dog was fast, and determined. Rudy pulled the envelope out of my hand and started to run back across the street with it.

“No!” I screamed. I dived after the little dog, missed, scrambling to my feet and dived again.

Keeping the envelope tightly in it’s jaws, the dog dodged away from me. Its stub from of a tail was vibrating with excitement. It was obviously enjoying this game a great deal.

I don’t believe this, I thought. This stupid dog is running away with the most important note of my life!

I moved slowly, stealthily toward the animal. “Rudy, drop. Drop. good dog.”

The dog backed away, out of my reach.

I’m smarter than this dog, I thought. I’ve got to think of a way to outsmart it.

I looked for a stick to throw. Perhaps the dog would drop the envelope to go after the stick. But there were no sticks. The people who lived in the red-brick ranch house kept their lawn spotless. There wasn’t even a leaf on it.

“Rudy, drop.”

The stupid dog didn’t understand English! (rude!)

Then I had an idea. Quickly I pulled my bag off my shoulder and unzipped it. “Here, Rudy, look. Look inside!” I dropped the bag to the ground and held it open.

It worked.

The curious dog dropped the envelope and ran to sick its snout into the open bag.

I snatched the envelope off the grass. The dog was busy pulling my wet swimsuit out of the bag, but I ignored it. I tore open the envelope, which was wet and sticky from Rudy’s mouth, and pulled out the note.

I unfolded it, my hands shaking. At my feet, the dog growled and snapped, flinging the wet bathing suit around. Then it went back to the bag to pull out my bath towel.

The note had been scrawled in pencil, obviously written in great haste, for Mark usually had very neat and precise handwriting. It was shorter than the one I had imagined, and a lot less satisfying.

Dear Jack---

I guess we all act crazy sometimes. I’ll try to call you.

Love,

Mark

The dog growled and snapped the wet towel at my ankles.

“Ouch! Dumb dog! Go home!”

What did the note mean?

We all act crazy?

Was Mark admitting that he acted crazy by holding up the jewelry store and killing the owner.

Or was the note referring to how crazy I had acted at the dance the night before?

I read the note again and again with the words all became meaningless.

We all act crazy?

The dog slapped against me again with the wet towel. But when I continued to ignore him, he got bored with the game. He poked around in my bag, saw that it was empty now, and quickly trotted back across the street, carrying my towel in his teeth.

I sat down in the grass. I felt more bewildered then before. I had only one question now. No answers. No clues.

What did Mark’s note mean? Was it an apology, or an accusation?

If Mark was upstate, who had chased me this morning?

And who had chased me after the dance last night?

Was it possible that I imagined being chased by some mysterious pursuer?

And then I thought of the most horrifying questions of all: What if I also imagined the hold up? What if I only imagined that Mark was in the jewelry store? What if I really was cracking up?

Word count: 887. Woo! Chapter 11 done, I might put out Chapter 12 depending on if I have enough time.