The Right Hook of Devin Velma
Page 16
“They’re my treasure.”
I watch the cliffside of Harkness’s forehead avalanche a little bit in confusion.
Grammy always told me that no matter what I stole, my hands were the real treasure. I guess I must have taken that to heart. My therapist tells me it’s part of my “issues.” Yep. A little anxiety to go along with my uncontrollable urge to swipe things. Another gift I should probably thank my dad for.
“I can’t even wear gloves,” I explain. “Just the feel of them, all itchy and squeezy around my fingers, freaks me out. So yeah, nobody touches my hands.”
Eddie nods solemnly. “That’s my bad. It’s clear you’ve been through a lot. But this is tough, see, and we wouldn’t be asking if we didn’t think you could do good here, that you could help.”
He stands up, leaning his backside on the edge of the table. Man, can he loom. He looms like nobody’s business.
“Part of this, Nicki, is that you need to sign your records over to us. Ms. Wainwright told us she wouldn’t do it without your approval—and good on her for saying so. Kid, you should’ve seen the hoops she made us jump through just to get this far. We had to have our director Skype with her from his office, forms signed in triplicate, multiple IDs.… The lady does right by you, let me tell you.”
I cast a glance up at the camera, giving it a little nod. Eddie continues.
“This is a big decision, because once your records are the property of the U.S. marshals, we’re going to destroy them. Nicki Demere will no longer exist. If your father …”
I wince. Eddie sighs sympathetically, but goes on.
“If your father or mother come around looking to reconnect, they won’t find a trace of you. If some long-lost uncle researches his family tree, he’ll find no evidence that you were ever here. All your records destroyed. You’ll be issued a new birth certificate, new social security number, new identity, and Nicki Demere will be erased from the government’s memory. It’s a big commitment, but …”
I think I already know the “but.” Yeah, I have fostering papers and school reports, but there’s another kind of record that I wouldn’t mind obliterating.
“Does this also mean my juvie record will be …” I start, sitting up and meeting Eddie’s gaze.
“Yes. You’ll be forgiven. No evidence will be kept of any trouble you’ve been in, and as a result of your cooperation any sentence you may have received will be considered served in full.”
“Let me get this straight. No community service. No prior record. No court-mandated therapy sessions. No nothing?”
“No nothing, Nicki. A fresh start.”
“And … and these people will take care of me? Like an actual daughter?”
“Their safety depends on it. Anything out of the ordinary might draw attention and put them at risk. In fact, that’s your number one priority—making sure everything stays normal. Nothing to draw notoriety, or shine any sort of spotlight on the family. Remember you said you’ve never been caught stealing? It’s your ability to lay low, to assimilate into new families and schools quickly, that makes you ideal for this most important task. Other foster kids—”
“Kids in foster care,” I correct.
“Sure, Nicki … anyway, they don’t all adapt like you. They haven’t done as well in schools, have acted out, have had problems that make them unfit for what we’re doing. You’re strong, though. You’ve made it through.”
I almost laugh. Oh yeah, I’ve adapted just swimmingly. Have they seen my rap sheet? And I’ve “made it through”? All those nights I spent latched on to Fancypaws, unable to sleep, crying quietly so I wouldn’t be a weepy burden on whoever I was with and get sent away again? Yep. I’ve been making it through just fine.
I give Eddie an archy eyebrow.
“But let me guess—I do this, I don’t get to see anyone here ever again. I don’t get to say good-bye, or tell them where I’m going. I just … disappear.”
Eddie nods solemnly. “We’d leave immediately. You and Janice would collect a few of your things and pack them right away. Our training center is in Georgia, and we’d fly there this afternoon. You’ll be taught the protocols—how to act, what to look for, how to lay low. You’ll also learn more about the Sicurezza family and your new home.”
I run a hand through my hair, pulling it over my face like a blanket on a birdcage. Hiding behind that veil, I’m able to think more clearly.
“What’s she doing?” Eddie asks Janice after a few minutes.
“She’s thinking,” Janice replies.
Janice might be the stuffiest lady I’ve met in a while, but she gets this, at least.
Okay, Nicki—pros and cons. Pros: No criminal record. New family. New responsibilities. An amazing secret to keep. Maybe my own Taser. Cons: No more friends at the Center. No more dreams of meeting my dad in a diner and having a slice of Dutch apple pie. No more Nicki, except in my own mind.
Oh, and there’s a criminal organization hunting down my new family.
Twenty minutes ago, when my world seemed sane, this would have been a much harder decision. What if I left with these two, and the next day my dad showed up, fresh out of prison and ready for a new start? But he’s had two years’ worth of days to do that, and he just hasn’t. I run through every possible excuse. The law won’t let him near schools or orphanages? The parole board told him he couldn’t see me? He developed a weird pathological fear of telephones and taxis? No matter what I come up with, though, it’s not good enough. None of that would have stopped me from finding him, so the only excuse I can think of that makes sense is the most painful one.
He just doesn’t want me.
Something tells me it’s probably not a good idea to do this to spite him, to say “Two can play at this never-coming-back game.…” Something’s telling me I’m not in the right mental state to make this decision, and especially not so quickly.
Then again, the vindictive, petty, angry, hurt part of me is saying it’s a fabulous idea, and sometimes you’ve just gotta give that girl her due.
I slowly sweep the hair from my eyes. Eddie offers me what must pass for him as a soft, reassuring smile. Looks more like someone chiseled a horizontal line in a block of well-tanned concrete.
“Nicki, I know this seems out of the blue, and strange; that it’s not normal—”
I raise my hand, cutting him short. I learned three foster families ago that a kid needs to have a flexible definition of normal.
“Where do I sign?”
Janice and Eddie exchange glances. His is triumphant. Hers is more “What did we just do?” Warily, she slides several papers from the file toward me. “Going to need you to sign at all the Xs, Nicki. And make sure your signature is clear.”
Grabbing a pen from the center of the table, I brush my hair behind my ears and get to reading. I think I understand most of it, or would if my head wasn’t swimming. I carefully sign each form, thankful that I’m right-handed. When I’m finished, I swallow once, think a tiny prayer, and toss the pen to Eddie, who fumbles with it for a minute before setting it down.
“All set, Nicki?”
I nod. Janice grabs the papers and hurriedly jams them into a folder. I try to smile but find that my teeth are starting to chatter, to go along with my quivering left hand and bouncing leg.
I’m totally about to freak out again.
I just joined the U.S. marshals.
About the Author
Jake Burt teaches the fifth grade in Connecticut. He lives with his wife and their daughter in Hamden, CT. Greetings from Witness Protection! is his fiction debut. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter One: Narrowed Down
Chapter Two: The Double-Barreled Monkey Bar Backflip of Doom
Chapter Three: Good Samaritan Hospital, Los Angeles
Chapter Four: Freeze Up, Let Down
Chapter Five: Debts and Trespasses
Chapter Six: The Velma Family Curse
Chapter Seven: Mr: Velma
Chapter Eight: Devin’s Plan
Chapter Nine: That Stupid Dishwasher
Chapter Ten: Devin’s First Follower
Chapter Eleven: A Dramatic Turn
Chapter Twelve: The Game Plan
Chapter Thirteen: A Sign from Heaven
Chapter Fourteen: Devin’s Sister
Chapter Fifteen: The Devin Is in the Details
Chapter Sixteen: Getting There Is Half the Fun
Chapter Seventeen: The Staples Center
Chapter Eighteen: The Pride of the Velma Family
Chapter Nineteen: The Fall
Chapter Twenty: The Fallout
Chapter Twenty-One: Good Samaritan Hospital. Again.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Soaking It All In
Chapter Twenty-Three: Squeezing It All Out
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Right Hook of Devin Velma
Chapter Twenty-Five: Mother Knows Best
Chapter Twenty-Six: Epiphany: Noun: A Sudden Realization
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mornings with Darcy and Rob
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dear Devin
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Showstopper
Chapter Thirty: Dinner at Devin’s
Acknowledgments
Excerpt: Greetings from Witness Protection!
About the Author
Copyright
A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
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THE RIGHT HOOK OF DEVIN VELMA.
Copyright © 2018 by Jake Burt. All rights reserved.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-1-250-16862-7 (hardcover) / ISBN 978-1-250-16861-0 (ebook)
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First Edition, 2018
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eISBN 978-1-250-16861-0