But he isn’t alone and I just want to get out of here.
Two officers pass me as I walk to my locker with my head down. It takes only minutes to punch in the combination and empty out my space. I snag a school hoodie from a hook, shove my extra pair of sneakers into my bag, and fish out a sequined hat my father gave me for my birthday (and I pretended to have lost). I slam the locker shut and head for the closest exit, all too aware of the tattered paper in my bag. I’d love to throw it into the trash, but I’m scared someone will notice me doing it and realize I am the one who tripped the alarm.
Despite the warm sunshine, I am shivering when I step outside. The buses have already left. Two police cars with their lights flashing are parked in the rounded school driveway in their place.
“There you are!”
I spin and spot Rose strolling down the sidewalk in my direction.
“I thought you’d blown me off.” I must look confused because she says, “I sent a message to your phone and your tablet—asking you to meet me. You didn’t get it?”
I shake my head as several police officers come out of the main doors. One is on his phone. Another is squinting into the sunshine as if she is looking for someone.
Rose follows my gaze and frowns. “I wonder what the police are doing here.”
“I think it’s . . . because of me,” I whisper.
Rose snaps her head back toward me. “What are you talking about?”
One of the cops looks in our direction. I grab Rose’s arm and pull her toward the parking lot. I need to tell someone what’s happening. If anyone can make me feel less freaked by all of this, it’s Rose. That’s when I spot a gray-haired woman in a black hoodie standing across the street. She’s next to the shrub where I saw the man arrested two days ago. The man who had a piece of paper.
My steps slow as Rose asks, “Meri, where are we going?”
The older woman meets my eyes with dark ones of her own and nods.
And I know I’m not imagining it. She isn’t standing there by coincidence. The way she meets my eyes tells me the woman is waiting for me.
Five
The woman in the black sweatshirt lifts her right arm. Then she turns. I see the flutter of a paper in her hand as she walks toward the corner of the tan stone apartment building and disappears out of view.
“Meri, what is going on? Are you feeling okay? You look really pale.”
I pull my eyes from the spot where I last saw the woman. Rose says my name again and tugs her arm out of my grasp.
“Sorry,” I say. Rose is looking at me as if I have lost my mind, and maybe I have. I glance back across the street. The woman has not reappeared. I shake my head, take a deep breath, and say, “Something happened today during last period. I think I might be in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
The policewoman starts in our direction. She isn’t looking at us, but . . .
“Can we talk somewhere that isn’t here?”
Rose glances back. A bright red car pulls up behind the police cruisers. “Sure,” she says, falling in step beside me.
“How did your finals go?” I ask as we cross the asphalt of the student parking lot, which by now is mostly empty of vehicles. I look for Isaac’s car. It’s not there.
Rose sighs. “My finals went fine, I guess. You know about geometry already. I think my essay for Comp was really good. There were two questions on the history final that I wasn’t positive about, but there’s no point in worrying about it now, right? How about you?”
“My essays were good, thanks to you, and gym was mostly painless.” I glance behind me as we turn down the block. The police cars are still parked in front of the school. No one is close enough to hear us talking. So I swallow hard and admit, “Things got strange after I turned in my art final. I got a pass for the nurse even though I wasn’t really feeling sick. . . .”
Rose says nothing as I tell her the story of going to the Technology and Research Center and doing a search for the string of letters. I leave out the part about where I got the paper. It all sounds weird enough without admitting to taking something from a stranger I encountered on an artistic scavenger hunt that my dead mother left behind.
Instead, I say that I found the folded, rain-soaked paper after my father dropped me off in front of the school. But once I get through that, I am honest about every detail of what happened from when I sat in front of the computer until now.
“I can’t imagine why anyone would call the police just because you did a computer search,” Rose says. “It has to be a coincidence, but . . .”
“But what?”
“But you’re right about it all being really strange. Do you still have the paper?”
“No.” I pull my backpack close to my side and turn down my street. “I tore it into a bunch of pieces and threw it in the trash on my way to the nurse’s office. It was falling apart after being in the rain and with the alarm going off—I don’t know. It just seemed like a good idea to get rid of it.”
Rose stops walking. “Are you crazy? First of all, you know we have a duty to recycle. Second, the word on that paper may have alerted the police. How could you just throw something like that away? It could be important!”
I look down at the line in the sidewalk as guilt burrows deep in my chest.
“Sorry,” Rose says before I can come up with some kind of explanation. “I get it. I do. You’re freaked out. I would’ve done the same thing. Still, I wish you had hung on to the paper long enough to take it to a recycling center. Then I could have read the writing for myself.” She starts walking again and I fall in step beside her. After a few seconds, she asks, “What did you say the letters were again? The version that set off the error message?”
“V-E-R-I-F-Y.”
Rose scrunches up her nose. “Ver-i-fee? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it before. What do you think it is?”
“If I knew that I wouldn’t have done the computer search.”
We walk in silence for the next few minutes. The glow of the sun against the red and orange flowers makes them appear as if they are on fire. There are almost no clouds in the sky. It’s a sea of perfect blue that would be hard to replicate on my screen. It’s bright, but it has depth.
My mother could have captured it. I wish she were still here to tell me what to do next. Because even though I don’t know why I’m in trouble, I know that I am.
They will check the list of students who weren’t in class.
They’re going to figure out I was the one who did the search and set off the alarm.
“What should I do?” I ask the question of Rose instead.
“Okay.” She purses her lips. “Well, you shouldn’t have taken a detour to the Technology Center, but other than that, you didn’t really do anything wrong. The best policy is to tell someone what you did so they don’t think you are trying to hide anything.”
“Okay.” I press a hand to my stomach to still the churning and stop walking. “Then I should go back to the school and confess everything to Mr. Velshi.”
“I don’t think that’ll work,” Rose answers. “This isn’t just a school matter.”
This is why I need Rose. She can ruthlessly assess almost any situation.
“So I just keep quiet and hope for the best?” I ask, shifting my weight from foot to foot.
Rose unzips the front pocket of her bag and pulls out her phone. “I’m calling my father. You’ll tell him what you told me and he’ll clear this up.”
Before I can voice an objection, Rose hits her dad’s number on speed dial. Her father must answer on the first ring because she almost immediately starts talking while pacing up and down the sidewalk. Her voice is low so I can’t hear everything she tells him. When she pulls the phone away from her ear, she gives me a thumbs-up and says, “He’ll meet us at your house in fifteen minutes.”
It is almost fifteen minutes exactly when I watch a dark sedan pull up to the curb. Mr. Webster climbs out from the bac
k seat, says something to whoever else is in the car, and then starts toward the house. He’s about the same height as his son, has the same rich skin as his daughter and the identical wide smile that can light up a room. But there’s no smile now. Mr. Webster has no interest in lighting up anything at present.
While his children are lean like their mom, Mr. Webster is built like a football player, with big, broad shoulders and a chest like a barrel. In his dark blue suit and crisp white shirt he looks stern and unapproachable. He gives his daughter a hug and asks how her finals went. Then he turns to me. I swallow hard as I lead him into the living room and take a seat on the couch.
Mr. Webster removes his glasses, deliberately folds them, and slides them into his front jacket breast pocket. Then he focuses his sharp brown eyes on me. “Rose said there was some trouble at the school today that you wanted to talk with me about. I made a few phone calls on my way here to learn more. Would you like to tell me your thoughts on what happened?”
If he called the school, he already knows about the computer search, the resulting error message, and the police. He probably knows more than I do about whatever they think I did wrong—and the punishment they want me to face for it.
My mouth goes dry. I slowly repeat what I already related to Rose—about finding the paper, and my curiosity about the unfamiliar letters on the page, and how I stopped on my way to the nurse to see if I could find out what it meant. His expression never changes as I tell my story. His eyes never stray from my face, which makes my stomach squirm. But I do my best to appear calm as I explain everything up to the point where I met Rose outside the school.
“Meri told me right away what happened.” Rose sits down next to her father as she makes her point. “She wanted to go back to the school and tell Principal Velshi everything, but I convinced her it was better to talk to you first since neither of us understands what’s going on. I know she’s scared. I would be. I mean, why would a search for a word on a school computer set off alarms and make people at the school call for the police?”
Mr. Webster answers his daughter, but his eyes—clear and steady and searching—stay focused on me. “I can see why Meri would have been upset by what happened today. It would upset anyone.” He folds his hands and taps his thumbs together as he studies me for several long moments. “Neither of you are supposed to know this, but I am going to trust you both to keep this information to yourself.”
He pauses long enough for both of us to nod. “The paper Meri found outside the school had a code word written on it. It’s a word used by a gang of known criminals to help them identify each other. They’ve been causing problems around the city—breaking into buildings and encouraging violence.”
“I haven’t heard about any gangs causing problems,” Rose said.
Neither had I, and that would be news even I would have noticed. Since the pilot City Pride Program began, Chicago’s crime rate had dropped to the lowest of any major city in the country—something that was touted on all the public screens at least several times a week. A gang wreaking havoc in the city would be the featured story on both public news channels.
As if reading my thoughts, Rose’s father continued, “The authorities have been careful to keep this quiet. To do otherwise would give the gang the publicity they need to recruit new members and quite possibly inflict even greater harm on the city. We’ve been mostly successful, although we haven’t been able to cover up all of it. You might have heard reports of an explosion near the lake or the Blue Line train going off the tracks. They were reported as accidents, to keep the city calm. Public panic is something the mayor would very much like to avoid,” he explains in the cool tones he is known for when he gives interviews on behalf of the mayor. “It is easy for this kind of thing to get out of control.”
Everyone is required to take American history as freshmen and one of the units is about Chicago. According to the history text and my teachers’ droning lectures, not all that long ago Chicago had the reputation of being the most dangerous place in the country. Gangs ran rampant. People were scared to step out of their homes for fear of being shot. Thousands of Chicagoans were killed every year just walking down the street. People began to flee the city in droves until finally the government stepped in and order was restored. Once a year, the news runs a special on the city Chicago used to be and how much we’ve grown since those dark days of just decades ago. Still, it’s hard to imagine that kind of chaos and fear now that the murder rate is the lowest in the country and the only gangs on the streets are people working with the city to keep neighborhoods welcoming and prosperous.
“That’s why all known code words for the group send up an alarm when they are entered into a computer search,” Mr. Webster says quietly. “We’ve set up a system that combs the internet for specific words and phrases to stop this gang of troublemakers from recruiting new members who don’t understand what they are getting themselves into. We’re also exploring options about how to shut them down for good. Hopefully, the authorities will get a lead on how to do that before they cause far greater trouble. It took time for our city to become the safe, thriving place it is today. We don’t want all that hard work to be destroyed. I’m sure you can agree with that.”
Now that he has explained the problem, I guess I can understand how the search triggered an alarm and why the school called the police. But that answers only one of my questions. I swallow hard and ask the other: “So now what? What happens to me?” Compared with gangs trying to destroy the safety of the city, that probably sounds a bit selfish, but I never claimed to be generous.
“They can’t blame Meri for being curious,” Rose insists, shifting on the sofa so she is now facing her father. “Had I found the paper, I probably would have done the same thing.”
No. Rose doesn’t bend rules the way I do. She would have immediately asked a teacher what the letters meant. But I appreciate her support.
I feel like I am going to jump out of my skin until Mr. Webster lets out a sigh and says, “I will talk to Principal Velshi. Then I’ll contact the chief of police and inform her that you set the alarm off by accident. The task force always knew this kind of thing could happen.”
“So you know this isn’t Meri’s fault. Right?” Rose’s voice is like steel. “It wouldn’t be fair if she got in trouble for a mistake made by the city.”
Mr. Webster purses his lips, and I hurry to pull his attention away from her before one of them says something that will strain their relationship even more. “I honestly didn’t know what the word was, Mr. Webster. It was a mistake not to turn the paper in the minute I found it.”
Finally, he pulls his gaze from his daughter and looks back at me. “Rose is right. It wouldn’t be fair if you got in trouble because you were curious.” For the first time he smiles, which warms his eyes. “I would have wanted to know what an unfamiliar word meant, too. It is the nature of active minds to search for answers. Don’t worry, I’ll see that you don’t get in trouble for what happened today.”
I let out a relieved sigh as Rose matches her father’s grin. “Thank you.”
“But,” Mr. Webster adds as his expression dissolves from positive to stern. “Now that you know about the gang and the things they’ve done, I’m certain you can see the value in putting a stop to this group’s activities sooner than later. We would like to keep any other innocent people from setting off the alarm and being questioned.”
I nod. I’m lucky Rose could ask her dad for help. What would happen to someone who didn’t have a city official to call?
“That’s why I have to ask, are you sure you don’t still have the paper you found, Merriel?” He leans toward me. “There is a chance something about the paper could help us track them down.”
“Dad, she said she tore it up and threw it away,” Rose answers.
Part of me considers going to fetch the note where I stashed it after we arrived at the house. Rose went to the bathroom and I shoved it in the back of the freezer under a bo
x of frozen peas that have been in there as long as I can remember. But Rose’s defense had taken away any chance of my turning the note over. I wasn’t about to make her look foolish while at the same time turning myself into a liar. Not when Mr. Webster was going to make all of this go away. “I’m sorry, Mr. Webster. I’d like to help, but I don’t have it anymore.”
My heart beats hard, and I force myself not to wipe my palms on my uniform. He stares at me like he knows I am not telling the truth and is waiting for me to admit it. Finally, he slaps his hands on his legs and says, “Well then, that’s that. I will call your principal on the way back to my office, and if you want me to, Merriel, I can call your father later and let him know that this has all been cleared up.”
“It’s probably better if he hears about it from me,” I say. Which means he won’t hear about it at all.
“Very well.” He stands and walks to the door. Turning, he adds, “In the future, I advise you both to come directly to me if you run across anything you have questions about. No matter how insignificant you think it might be.”
Rose nods. “Of course we will, right, Meri?”
“Right,” I agree automatically.
“Good.” He smiles again, then turns to Rose. “I’ll drop you at home on my way back to the office. Your mother told me you have some details for your summer job that you have to see to.”
Rose leaps for her bag as her father heads to the door without a backward glance.
“I totally forgot!” Rose shoots me an apologetic look. “Do you want to come with? My mom would love to see you. I showed her some of your recent work and she really wants you to take a crack at the new logo. Maybe after Mom and I finish our stuff, you could—”
“You go on without me.” I want to make sure I destroy the paper I hid in the freezer before anyone can find it. The sooner it’s gone, the sooner I can put all of this behind me. “I’m good,” I insist as Rose gets that fighting look in her eyes. “Thanks for helping today. I’m not sure what I would do without you.” My voice cracks.
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