by Harper Lin
“Who’s that?”
“Guy Mast.” Reggie shook his head. “I’ve been trying to get that kid out of the school for over two years. He’s a drug dealer and a punk. We just haven’t been able to catch him with anything yet. He’s no dummy. But he and Brian had more than a couple arguments. Very public arguments.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. In fact, they threw a couple of punches at each other in the lunchroom just a couple of weeks ago.”
“Over drugs?”
“Drugs or a girl. Who knows?” Reggie shrugged. “Normally, we have a zero-tolerance rule for fighting, but they are both seniors, and I don’t think either one of them landed a punch.”
“I wonder if they know how funny that is.”
“You’re right.” Reggie chuckled. His entire body shook. “I can just imagine them swinging away like windmills with their eyes shut and not a single swing landing.”
“You know how it is when the hormones are raging.”
“Yes. But Guy Mast is a little more than just hormones. I’ll bet dollars to donuts that he won’t be in today. Conspicuous by his absence.”
“Well, if you are right about this kid, then the police will probably catch him in no time.”
“I hope so. It’s going to be a nightmare today. We’ve got counselors on standby. I was thinking of talking to one myself.”
“Well, Reggie, if it’s any consolation, I thought that with Meg being in the art club this year, I’d offer to organize the bake sale for the art-department fundraiser.”
Reggie’s eyes popped wide, and he smiled.
“I can’t think of a person more qualified. Thank you, Amelia. I’ll get you a list of parents who might be willing to help out.”
“That would be great, Reggie.”
Suddenly, a loud discussion among a couple students began taking place behind Amelia.
“Speak of the devil,” Reggie said as he looked past her. “That boy is skating on thin ice. Would you wait in my office, Amelia, while I give Guy Mast a stern talking-to? What he needs is a boot in the backside.” Reggie whispered that last part.
“Sure.” Amelia turned around and saw the boy Reggie had been talking about. He was surrounded by a group of girls who had taken serious offense at something he’d said.
“You shut up!” Guy shouted in some blond girl’s face. “No one cares what you think!”
“Just get out of here, Guy!” she shouted back.
“You want to make me get out of here? What are you going to do? Have your boyfriend come try to kick my ass? Oh, that’s right. He dumped you for Kerri Smith!” He snickered happily.
“Guy Mast!” Reggie shouted.
The look on the boy’s face said it all.
“Man, she started it!” Guy pointed to the blonde, who quickly scurried away with her girlfriends before Reggie could ask for license and registration.
Guy Mast was exactly what Amelia would expect based on Reggie’s brief description. His dark-brown hair was long. He kept shaking his head to get it away from hanging in his eyes. Because he let his hair hang around his face, his skin was shiny, and red spots of acne peppered his cheeks.
He wore a flannel shirt over a white T-shirt and plain blue jeans that were baggier than they should have been. His Nike shoes looked brand new and had to cost over one hundred dollars. He didn’t carry any books.
“My office, Guy. Now! Like we haven’t had enough trouble without you starting up first thing in the morning.”
“Fine! Take her side! What else is new?”
Guy didn’t look at Amelia as he shuffled into Reggie’s office. Instead, he smirked and bounced his eyebrows at a couple of kids dressed in similar flannel shirts who were standing at the other end of the hallway.
“Sorry, Amelia. Duty calls.” Reggie rolled his eyes.
“Of course. Where does this kid hang out? I’d hate to have Meg or Adam run into him when he’s in a bad mood.” Amelia felt a little funny about using her children as pawns in her attempt to gather information, but she couldn’t say what she said to Reggie was a complete lie.
“You know kids like to hang out wherever there are no adults. Rogers Park. Spinster’s Grove.”
“Sure. Okay. Well, I’ll let you get back to things, and will I see you this Saturday at Food Truck Alley?”
“Unfortunately.” He patted his belly. “You will.” He waved pleasantly, but Amelia saw as he turned his head he replaced his jolly demeanor with a scowl. “It’s not even eight fifty, Guy. Are you serious?”
He shut the door, preventing Amelia from hearing any more.
As she exited the school, the thought of going to Spinster’s Grove was daunting. Not only did that area have a reputation for being a hangout for kids like Guy, but there were also rumors of devil worshipping, animal sacrifices, and as-of-yet-undiscovered mass graves.
Right then, as the sun was shining and the day was just beginning, the idea of people in black robes roaming in the woods was as likely as a UFO landing in the middle of town. But when the sun started to set and the shadows crept over more and more of the woods, those things started to become more and more believable until every crunch of leaves, every howl of wildlife became a diabolical entity determined to snatch up a soul by the stroke of midnight.
“Nice, Amelia. Freak yourself out a little more,” she said as she drove her sedan to Food Truck Alley.
Chapter Seven
That night, Amelia planned to go to Spinster’s Grove and see if Guy Mast might show up. The kids had finished their homework and were sitting together on the couch. Meg had a book in her lap, reading what was probably the latest story about dragons and wizards. Adam was watching his favorite recorded show about aliens that had taken over the planet.
“I’ve got to run to the store. Either of you guys need anything?”
“I’ll take a million dollars,” Meg replied.
“Can you bring me Rita Hayworth?” Adam followed.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Amelia said as she grabbed her purse, then she sniffled and headed out the door.
Spinster’s Grove was a forlorn piece of property in between Luther Township and Central Avenue. It wasn’t like many of the forest preserves around that were several hundred acres and easy to get lost in. It was rather small. There were only two known ways in and out of the Grove. Usually, the police or suspicious neighbors monitored who came and went off the grounds. Most people didn’t want the likes of Guy Mast and his ilk to be meandering so close to their homes, though there was at least an acre between the first house and the edge of the Grove.
Still, it didn’t change the fact that the rumors of insidious behavior and practices swirled around the small plot of land.
“You’re not even sure Guy Mast is going to be there,” she muttered.
A creepy gravel road peeked out from the surrounding overgrowth. Amelia was sure the police used it as a speed trap. It was a Tuesday night. There was a pretty good chance that the police were not going to occupy this spot this evening.
“It’s either this or park in the subdivision and walk.”
Amelia decided to take her chances. She carefully backed into the small space, easing her car as far back as she could. By the time she shut off the engine and headlights, the sedan was almost completely concealed by the shadows and surrounding foliage.
It was a clear night, and the moon provided an eerie light.
Amelia thought her nerves felt as if she were sitting next to a construction site and someone was using a jackhammer right next to her. With every beat of her heart, she felt her chest tremble. Her eyes were wide as she took in as much of the terrain as she could.
Her idea of entering the Grove without any light soon melted away as she tripped and tumbled over several roots that had arched up through the ground. There was no reason to waste any more time. She snapped on her flashlight and proceeded.
“You don’t even know where you are going. This is a stupid idea, Amelia,” she whispe
red. “Reggie said Guy also went to Rogers Park. That place is even bigger and scarier. He could be there tonight.”
Amelia stopped. She wrapped her hand around the trunk of a thin tree and contemplated turning back. What did she lose by trying to find Guy here? Nothing, really. No one knew she had come. No one was even expecting her to go investigating. She sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. Just as she was about to turn back, she heard it. Laughter.
“You’re such a jerk! Give it back!”
More laughter.
There were people up ahead. Amelia snapped off her light, held her breath, and listened again. She could hear a quiet murmuring then a sudden peal of laughter just ahead.
Carefully feeling for a tree to steady herself with each step, Amelia inched her way closer and closer to the sound of people. Finally, she saw a light through the trees in the distance. It wasn’t a fire. It was a camping light. The closer she got, the more clearly she could hear the voices.
“Do you have some?” a female voice asked.
“Honey, I always have some. Here. Simon. Roll a blunt.”
“I thought you were bringing some beer,” another person said.
“Naw. Maybe tomorrow. My dad was home.”
“Did anyone see Mr. Bliss’s pants today? He looked like he was expecting a flood or something,” a girl said.
“Pass that over here,” a boy said.
“Maybe he had a growth spurt.”
They all started laughing.
Finally, Amelia was close enough to count three boys and two girls. They were obviously passing around marijuana, but Amelia didn’t see anything stronger than that. One of the boys was Guy Mast. She took a deep breath and called out.
“Hello?”
Everyone froze and looked into the dark woods in Amelia’s direction.
“Hello?” she repeated. “Don’t be scared.”
Who are you kidding, girl? You’re the one who is scared.
When Amelia stepped into the light, she held her hands up as if she were surrendering. It couldn’t be a good look. The kids stared at her as if she were a talking tree. But there was no concern that maybe Amelia had seen them with drugs. These kids were past worrying about getting in trouble.
The girls had long hair hanging straight down to their shoulders. Their jeans were tighter than they should have been. Their makeup was the typical garish style of high school girls in too much of a hurry to grow up. The boys donned the uniform of either some old rock band T-shirt—did they know Pink Floyd was over fifty years old?—or flannel.
“My name is Amelia.”
“Are you lost, Amelia?” one of the girls hissed.
“No. I’m looking for him.” She pointed at Guy.
“Guy, you didn’t tell us you were dating Mrs. Robinson,” one of the other boys teased. He was a scrawny thing with dirty-blond hair and lips that disappeared when he smiled.
“I don’t know you,” Guy said. His voice was cool. But Amelia could see his nervousness behind his eyes like the flicker of shadows against a wall cast from a fireplace. Behind his eyes, he was afraid of something.
“No. You don’t. But I need to talk to you. It’s about Brian Richtman.”
No one said anything. They all looked at Guy as if they expected him to say something they already knew.
“Look, I don’t care what you guys are doing out here. But Guy, you might be in a lot of trouble, and I might be able to help you.”
If Guy had anything to do with Brian’s death, Amelia knew Dan would help. He’d make sure the interview, the booking, everything was done on the up-and-up and that Guy would be treated fairly.
“I didn’t touch that scumbag. But I’d like to shake the hand of the person who did him in.” Guy talked tough. “He owed me money.”
“For what?” Amelia asked, not realizing how naïve she appeared.
Everyone started to chuckle.
“He bought weed from me every week. Up until the last three weeks. He thought that because he was on the varsity football team and had some colleges scouting him, that that somehow meant his dope was free.”
“Did anyone else know he smoked?”
“Everyone. But see, he wore a letterman’s jacket. He had a house in Millbrook. His daddy went to work at a law firm every day. Brian Richtman couldn’t possibly be a pothead. He couldn’t possibly be in the hole to a person like me for over two hundred dollars.”
Amelia swallowed.
“Brian didn’t deserve to die,” one of the girls said. She had strawberry-blond hair and wore blue eyeliner.
“You are just saying that because you had a crush on him,” Guy spat. “You know what he thought of you? He thought you were an easy piece. That’s all.”
“You’re just jealous because he actually had a future,” Strawberry Blonde replied.
“Ha! He’s the last guy I’d ever be jealous of.”
But Amelia could hear it in Guy’s voice. There was a hint of jealousy there. If only Guy would listen to her. She’d tell him life got so much better after high school.
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
“You sure are asking a lot of questions for a lady who doesn’t have a badge or gun,” the blond boy said. He looked at the other boy, who had a crew cut and squinty eyes, as if the light of their lantern was too much. He blinked a lot.
All eyes were on Amelia as the teens waited for her to reply.
“You’re right. I’m not a cop. I’m just a mother. I have a son and daughter in your school.” Amelia wasn’t sure that was a smart thing to reveal, but she had to earn a little of their trust. “That gives me a reason to be worried about what happened there.”
“You were talking with Reggie,” Guy said coolly. “I can’t believe he’d be such a coward as to have a woman do his snooping around for him.”
“No. I know him from the neighborhood. He didn’t ask me to do anything.”
“What did he tell you about me?”
Amelia looked at the other kids. They were so young. But the mistrust on their face was unmistakable.
“He said you were a bad kid,” Amelia admitted. “He said you had potential and that you were wasting it and that made you a loser.”
It was a bald-faced lie. Reggie hadn’t said anything even close to that. But Guy didn’t have to know it. He didn’t have to know that the vice principal really hated him and wanted him expelled. What good would that do an eighteen-year-old boy who, from the looks of things, had very little to begin with?
“You’re lying. Reggie would never say that,” Guy grumbled. He looked as if he wanted to believe those words but had heard the contrary so many times he didn’t want to get his hopes up.
“I don’t care if you believe me or not, Guy.” Amelia was feeling braver. “All I want to know is what you know about Brian Richtman.”
“All I know is that he died before he could pay me what he owes me.”
Guy folded his arms across his chest. He wasn’t going to say another word.
“Well, Amelia, I don’t think you are welcome here anymore,” the squinty-eyed boy said.
“Just tell me this. If you didn’t have anything to do with Brian’s death, do you have an opinion on who did?” She looked at all the kids. “Any of you?”
“You know, instead of judging us and pointing fingers because we’re different, maybe you should, like, check out Brian’s friends,” the other girl piped up. It was obvious that everyone else had spoken. She decided it was her turn.
“Yeah, you’re, like, only here because Reggie suspects Guy. The only reason he suspects Guy is because he doesn’t fit into the mold of what he thinks a high school student should be,” the dirty-blond-haired boy said.
Amelia wanted to laugh. These kids sounded like every kid in every John Hughes film. They were so stereotypical it was embarrassing. But she didn’t laugh.
“You’re right,” Amelia replied, looking at each of them. “But I had to start somewhere. I appreciat
e your time. I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing. Don’t stay out too late. Your parents will worry.”
“Our parents will worry? Right. My mom is working. My dad, well, who knows where the hell he is. Could be dead, too, for all I know,” Guy hissed.
Amelia turned, snapped on her flashlight, and headed back in the direction she had come.
“Wait!” Guy shouted.
She turned around, half expecting to get the finger or some rude comment. Guy uncrossed his arms and took a step forward.
“You might want to ask some of the guys on the football team. They aren’t all for one and one for all. No matter how much they pretend to be.”
“Any names I should look for?”
“Joe Smarman,” the strawberry blonde replied. Her friend nodded, and the other boys both gave each other looks that could only be described as shock. It was as if they thought the girls had just released the kraken by mentioning that name.
“Thanks. I will.” Amelia nodded and then quickly hurried back to her car. She heard the kids talking, their voices getting quieter and quieter as she neared the street. Even though she was out of Spinster’s Grove, she still felt an eerie something tickling up the back of her neck.
“So much for the devil-worshipping, animal-sacrificing, black-robe-wearing lunatics out here. If that is all there is, that’s… pretty lame,” Amelia said once she was back in her car with the doors locked.
She was happy to be back on the main road, where there were other cars and bright streetlamps. Guy Mast was hardly the intimidating force that she had originally thought he was. It was obvious that he was lost. But he wasn’t hopeless.
“His parents are probably divorced,” she said. The thought was like a slap across the face. Here was a boy who was in the same predicament as Adam. But where Guy turned to drugs and a rougher crowd, Adam threw himself into his schoolwork, his skateboarding, and his computer stuff.
Adam and Guy were like night and day. But they had more in common than Amelia cared to admit. It was because of her and John that Adam was a kindred spirit to that boy. If John tried to take Adam away from her, he wouldn’t be able to watch him as she did. Jennifer would be too wrapped up in her new baby to pay any attention to two growing, developing teenagers. The edge was so thin that Adam and Meg could slip and fall into the pit that Guy and those other kids were obviously in.