Clean Getaway

by Nic Stone

  “All righty. Do tell.”

  Scoob sighs. “Everything happened in computer science.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “And like…not to brag, but I can do ninety percent of the work in there with my eyes closed and a hand tied behind my back.”

  G’ma laughs, but Scoob is serious. He’s known his way around most computers since pre-k. He always got 100 percent on the quizzes Atsbani made them take at the beginning of class every day. Always.

  Except for the one time two weeks before spring break when Scoob was going too fast and clicked B instead of C on question eight.

  He remembers smacking his forehead because he’d blurted “OW!” in a loud whisper, and a bunch of his classmates had turned to look at him. He was embarrassed about that. But when he finished the quiz and that 90 percent glared tauntingly at him from the score report page?

  “I couldn’t handle it, G’ma,” he says. “All I could hear in my head was Dad’s voice rambling on about careless mistakes and how they would ruin my future.” He shakes his head. “I considered going to my teacher—”

  “Was it really that big a deal, though, kiddo? You said you’d gotten all one hundreds prior…what’s one ninety?”

  “Well—” But how can he explain? The way Dad puts it, there will always be people who don’t want to see boys like Scoob do well (Dad’s never said it explicitly, but Scoob knows he means black boys), so it’s vital that Scoob never give anyone a reason to doubt his capabilities. Which is something Scoob understands beneath his skin and down in his bones somewhere but doesn’t know how to put into words. “I mean, Dad says—”

  “Oh, fiddlesticks on that,” she interrupts, which so surprises Scoob, he jumps. “That old goat. Go on with your story.”

  “Uhh…okay…”

  “Sorry,” she says. “He’s just always been so hard on himself, your dad has, and it grinds my gears that he’s transferring it to you.” She waves to Todd again. Points out a pair of earrings Scoob thinks are diamond, though they have a pinkish tint.

  “Ah, yes, the fancy intense pinks!” Todd crows as he hands them to her. “Excellent choice!” He lays a mirror on the counter.

  “What happened next with your teacher?” she asks Scoob as she sticks the skinny posts into her wrinkly earlobes.

  Scoob sighs, trying to re-center himself in the story. “It’s not that I thought the teacher would change my grade or anything. I just wanted him to know I knew the right answer. But when I looked up he was, like…laser-eyeing me like I’d farted in class or something.”

  G’ma lets out a barking “HA!”

  Scoob smiles and continues. “Dad would say I’m ‘making excuses,’ but I really don’t think Mr. Atsbani likes me very much. Every time I get a good grade or raise my hand to answer one of his questions, he frowns. Anyway, deep down, I knew I’d have to cut my losses and take the L—”

  “The L?”

  “For loss.”

  “Ah, I see. Go on.”

  “But it was bugging me so bad that I knew the right answer but accidentally got it wrong.”

  “So what happened next?” she asks.

  “Well, there were still eight minutes left on the quiz clock, so I decided to use the extra time to take a peek at the coding,” he says. “The quizzes are always multiple choice, and the way the software was set up, choosing an answer on a question takes you straight to the next question. So I was trying to see if there was a way to change an answer from the inside.”

  “Mmhmmmm…” G’ma points to a necklace with a ruby pendant and a bracelet covered in diamonds shaped like…diamonds. “Last two, I promise,” she tells Todd with her crinkly smile as he unlocks another case.

  “Whatever you need, ma’am. And take your time. I’m here all day.” Wink.

  As soon as he walks away, Scoob goes on. “I swear I wasn’t going to change it, G’ma. I just wanted to see if it was possible.”

  “Okay. And?”

  “Well, once I skimmed the block of code, I saw where I could change the score my teacher would see on my computer screen when he walked around the room to jot down everybody’s grades. So I gave it a try. I knew from seeing the rest that all I’d have to do to get my actual score to reappear was click the refresh button.”

  G’ma steps up to the big mirror and examines her newly bedazzled self. “You’re speakin’ Greek now, but continue.” She turns this way and that.

  Scoob sighs. “What I’m saying is there was a spot on the back end where I could change ninety to one hundred, and when I did, and then returned to the score report screen, it read one hundred percent.”

  “William!” G’ma puts one little fist on her hip all indignant-like.

  “I didn’t leave it that way, G’ma.” (Though he’d definitely wanted to.) “Like I said, when I refreshed the page, my real score came back.”

  Which is where the trouble began. For one, when Atsbani came around to record scores and got to Scoob’s, he made some snide remark about how Scoob’s “boastful lack of attention during class” was “finally making its mark.” That made Scoob angry—and made Dad’s words about people not wanting Scoob to do well that much more real.

  Scoob was so mad, in fact, that when, for two, Cody Williams, the soccer superstar who sat to Scoob’s left—and constantly “stretched” so he could get a peek at Scoob’s screen during class—approached Scoob and said he’d seen what Scoob had done with the scores and wanted to learn how to do it?

  Well…Scoob agreed.

  And Cody was careful: he changed his scores gradually over the next few days and told Atsbani he’d been studying harder.

  Did Scoob feel a pang of guilt every time he heard Cody clicking around to change his score? Yeah, he did. But Scoob ignored it.

  He wasn’t the one cheating, after all.

  Except then things got complicated: Because Cody taught Dasia. And Dasia taught Holly. And Holly taught Bryce. And on. And on. Within a couple weeks, the class quiz average had risen to 97 percent.

  And Atsbani got suspicious.

  “I’ll never forget the day everything came crashing down,” Scoob says as they approach the center counter and G’ma begins to remove all the jewelry she’s wearing. “I could see it coming. Atsbani started his score-marking stroll like usual, but when he got to Bryce’s computer, he stopped. When his beady eyes got all squinty and he turned to look back at the computers he’d already checked, I knew it was over.”

  “Well, that sure sounds bleak.” G’ma takes the earrings off one by one and sets them down.

  “It was dead silent,” Scoob continues. “Atsbani reached out and pushed a key on Bryce’s keyboard, went ‘Mmhmm,’ and then made us all get up and go stand at the back of the room. I knew he was pressing F5 at each computer before writing scores down.”

  “F5?” G’ma asks.

  “Yeah. Refresh.”

  After Atsbani wrote the real scores down, he told everyone to stay put, then left the room. Not a single person breathed a word in his absence. He returned four minutes later with the principal in tow. “What’s nuts is that despite the fact that my score was one of four that didn’t change, Bryce ratted me out as the mastermind.”

  “Yowza.” From G’ma.

  “Yeah. Atsbani wanted me ‘expelled with utmost celerity!’ but Dad and Principal Armand settled on a five-day suspension.”

  Bye-bye, spring break.

  Bye-bye, freedom.

  He sighs.

  Todd approaches again. “So whattya think, young lady?” he says to G’ma. “Anything tickle your fancy?”

  “Oh, I can’t afford any of this,” she says, unlatching the necklace and laying it down all nice. Then the bracelet. “Though I appreciate you letting an old gal dream big for a bit. When you get to be my age, ya never know when you’ll just—” Sh
e makes a choking sound and drags an index finger across her neck.

  Todd’s eyes go wide. Scoob’s do too.

  “Uhh…G’ma?”

  “All righty then,” Todd says, sweeping the jewelry from the counter and clearly as uncomfortable with G’ma’s declaration as Scoob is. “You-all enjoy your Sunday.” And he jets off.

  When they get to the door and G’ma goes to push it open, Scoob notices a flash of red on her hand. “G’ma, wait!” he says. “You forgot to take the ring off!”

  That gets Todd’s attention.

  Oddly enough, G’ma looks more caught than shocked. Her face is as red as a raspberry. “Oh my!” she says. Over-says. Honestly, she looks the same way Bryce did the one time a teacher saw him shove Drake in the school hallway. He tried to play it off and said he’d tripped.

  What the heck is going on?

  “Welp. Guess that’s the end of fantasy jewelry shopping for this old bird! I’m clearly losing my marbles!”

  Todd slowly outstretches his hand as G’ma crosses the store, and Scoob can see he ain’t exactly buying her story.

  But he does let them leave.

  “Well, that was a close one!” G’ma says as they head back to the RV. Which is when Scoob notices the license plate. Which is white again…

  But says Tennessee.

  “Let’s get a move on,” G’ma says as if the previous fifteen minutes never happened. “We got places to be.”

  Scoob’s so baffled—by everything—that when G’ma tries to continue the jewelry store conversation (like she didn’t just try to steal from it?), he rolls with it.

  “So why’d you do it?” she says. “Help people cheat.”

  In truth, Scoob’s been so indignant over the fact that he was the only person to get in trouble despite not actually cheating, he hasn’t given this part much thought. Why did he show Cody how to change the score? It’s not like Scoob didn’t know exactly what Cody was planning to do.

  But could Scoob have said no? He guesses he could’ve technically, but Cody is one of the most popular guys in school. Scoob has to admit he enjoyed all the smiles and head nods and fist bumps he got from his classmates during those two weeks. He felt…cool. Appreciated.

  Something he certainly didn’t feel at home…“I mean, it was nice feeling like people liked me again,” he says. “After that fight with Bryce, it’s almost everybody was scared to get too close. Like they thought I’d go all Bruce Leroy on someone at any moment.”

  G’ma’s bark laugh fills the RV, and Scoob smiles. She’s the one who introduced him to the African American karate master. Though he has to admit the movies were kinda over the top.

  “Wild, ain’t it?” she says, seeming suddenly sadder.

  “Huh?”

  “How easy it can be to do the wrong thing.”

  Scoob doesn’t respond to that, and she doesn’t say anything more.

  He does, however, decide to pipe up when, at the next traffic light, she hangs a right instead of a left. “Not to question your sense of direction, G’ma, but shouldn’t we be going the other way? I think the highway’s behind us.”

  To Scoob’s surprise, G’ma sighs more heavily than he’s ever heard her sigh before, and when she turns to him, her eyes are all mopey and full of sadness.

  Which makes Scoob feel terrible. “Umm…I mean—” His throat gets tight and he looks out the window.

  “I just miss him, Scoob-a-doob,” G’ma says with a creak in her voice like the rusted hinge of the old toolshed in her backyard he was never supposed to play in but did all the time. “I miss him so darn much, and there’s so many things I didn’t do right.” She eases to a stop at a red light and rotates her cotton-topped head in Scoob’s direction. “Think you can indulge your old G’ma in a little nostalgia?”

  At the look on her face, all “destitute,” as Shenice would say in her grown woman voice (he’s really starting to miss her), Scoob feels like cracks are forming all over him and he’s gonna break into a jillion and one pieces like a smashed Lego tower. He feels like all the rules are flip-flopping just like they did last night when G’ma was talking in her sleep: he’s the grown-up now, and she’s a little kid needing “a safe space to be sad”—something she used to insist he needed.

  It’s also strange hearing her ask his permission.

  “Of course, G’ma. We can go wherever you want.”

  She nods just as the light changes, and within a few minutes, they’re creeping at a snail’s pace down a street lined with mostly boarded-up buildings. Reminds Scoob of something out of one of the forbidden-to-them horror flicks he, Shenice, and Drake used to watch on the iPad after the adults went to bed.

  He’d wind up sleeping in Dad’s bed for three nights after.

  As he looks around him now, Scoob’s mouth goes dry and he gets a shiver down both his arms. He kinda wishes Dad were here. “Uhh, G’ma?”

  It’s like she doesn’t hear him. “I can’t believe it,” she whispers. “It’s all gone. All of it.”

  They continue down the road—Fifth Street, Scoob notes as they pass a sign—then G’ma pulls into a parallel-parking spot. Once the RV is shut off, she covers her face with both hands and begins to quietly weep.

  Scoob has no earthly idea what he’s supposed to do. All he knows is her grandma whimpers feel like stabs straight to the heart—and as much as he hates himself for it, Scoob starts to feel mad at her.

  For not telling him where they are or where they’re going. For bringing him here to this weird ghost town place with no explanation. For breaking down this way and putting him in this uncomfortable position.

  “I’m sorry, Scoob-a-doob,” she says as if she can hear his thinking. Which makes him feel even worse. “This place—this street…”

  She crumples into whimpery sobs again.

  Scoob closes his eyes and takes one of the deep breaths Drake sometimes has to take when there’s too much going on and he gets overwhelmed. Then he grabs the box of Kleenex, reaches across the space between the seats, and puts a hand on G’ma’s back.

  “G’ma, it’s gonna be okay,” he says. “We’re gonna be okay.”

  She pulls a couple tissues, blows her nose like an elephant, then puts her baby-blue eyes on his brown ones. Her chin is still quivering, but she smiles. “You’re such a good egg, Jimmy. I’m the luckiest woman alive.”

  Scoob gulps, and that nervous rock reappears in his gut, tripled in size. “I’m William, G’ma. Scoob.”

  She turns to look at him and squints for a sec. “Of course you are,” she says.

  “You…called me Jimmy again.”

  “I did?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze drifts out the window, and they lapse back into that stuffy silence that makes Scoob itchy all over. Definitely nothing for him to say now.

  After a minute or so, he hears her sigh and say, “All right, Ruby Jean. Pull it together. Grab ahold of these granny panties and buck on up, now.”

  At this, Scoob chuckles. “Gross, G’ma.”

  “You hush,” she says, removing her seat belt and rotating her seat all the way around so it’s facing the live-in part of the RV.

  “Whoa,” Scoob says.

  “Didn’t realize we could do that, huh? I’m gonna pop into the little girls’ room for just a moment, get back to myself. Then I’ll tell ya where we are, and we’ll press on.” She rocks a couple times in the seat, then pushes up to her full stature. Much more adorable than imposing, Scoob notes.

  The moment the bathroom door clicks closed, G’ma’s cell starts blaring from one of the cup holders, and a scowling face appears on the screen.

  Dad.

  Scoob freezes, heart thumping so fast in his ears, it practically drowns out the sound of the phone.

  Should he answer it? What would
he even say? Not five minutes ago, Scoob wanted Dad, but now that he’s calling…what if Scoob answers and Dad starts going off the way he does?

  The ringing stops, and Scoob exhales—

  But then it starts up again.

  “Who’s that?” G’ma says, materializing, it seems, at Scoob’s shoulder and reaching for the vibrating device. She startles him so bad, he instantly needs to go to the bathroom. The phone stops ringing as she brings it closer to her face to read the caller ID.

  Then immediately starts again.

  “Oh, that old sourpuss,” she says. The phone goes silent, but Scoob has a hunch it’s just gonna ring again.

  “Maybe you should answer,” he says, hardly believing the words are leaving his mouth. “That’s the third time he’s called in a row.” And then there’s all those times he called yesterday. Why is G’ma acting so funny when it comes to Dad? And why’s Scoob going all sweaty in the armpits?

  “So he can poo on our party?” G’ma says. “Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head. “Nohow, no way, no sir. We’re on a mission, Scoob-a-doob.”

  Scoob feels like his heart is getting bigger with each beat and will eventually explode from his chest as he watches her gnarled index finger hold the button on the side of the phone to shut it all the way off. She returns it to the cup holder.

  “I gotta pee,” he blurts.

  “Well, get a move on, Silly Billy!” G’ma checks her watch, then pulls the treasure box from his bag and sets it on the dining booth table. Lifts the lid and reaches into her pocket. Looks up at him. “Well, whatcha waiting for?”

  “Oh.” As he scrambles up from his seat, she pulls a gold necklace with a small pendant from somewhere within the depths of the lacquered box and lays it neatly to the side. As Scoob passes, a pair of diamond earrings appear on the table as well.

  Pinkish ones.

  Eerily similar to the ones he last saw on the jewelry store counter after G’ma removed them from her ears.

  It’s nothing short of a miracle that the pee actually stays in.