Fake: Book One of the Crossroads Series

by Lori Saltis

  Auntie Cat takes a breath. Her voice shakes as she speaks, “Paul, your father is dead.”

  Chapter 10

  Paul

  Dad. Dead. How?

  I try saying those words aloud, but can’t. Auntie Cat hugs me. I sit stiff and still. She says something I don’t understand. At some point, she leaves the room. I don’t move. If only I could turn into a statue and not move, or think, or even breathe, then I wouldn’t have to feel the searing pain that lies beneath the surface of my skin.

  Tony stands in front of me. He says something about shock and needing family. What family? I have no family, not anymore. He places his hands on my shoulders and gives me a gentle shake. I blink. His face comes into focus. His usually rigid features are smeared with misery and his eyes awash with unshed tears. He loves Dad, and loves Mom, too, maybe more than his own parents. His parents… Auntie Sylvia… what has she done?

  “Come with me,” Tony speaks quietly.

  I need to be alone. I need to think.

  Tony’s hand slides to my forearm and tugs. I don’t budge. Tony’s grip tightens and his voice, though still hushed, becomes firmer, “Little Brother.”

  Little Brother. I still have family, a brother. We’d sworn an oath. And after that oath, Dad gave instructions. You must obey him as you would obey me.

  I allow Tony to lead me from the room. As we head down the hall, we pass my parents’ bedroom. I can see the now-empty bed and that pillow, the one Auntie Sylvia held over Mom’s face.

  We go to the living room. Everything looks the same: the brown leather couch we bought last year to replace the worn-out cloth one, the magazines carelessly tossed on the coffee table right before we left for Hong Kong in June, and on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, the large, framed photo of Mom and Dad on their wedding day.

  I take my place on the couch, at the end closest to the TV. Tony sits beside me in Mom’s spot. He knows that’s Mom’s spot. What is he thinking?

  Auntie Cat enters the room and sinks into the brown leather armchair. Dad’s armchair. She looks at me and asks softly, “Do want some water?”

  I swallow. My mouth feels dry, my lips cracked. I shake my head. I don’t fucking want water. I want answers. “What happened?”

  Auntie Cat grips the armrests. “This is what I heard from Head Elder. Mike went to Kowloon to see our brother. While they spoke, an assassin appeared. He was after George. There was a struggle, and your father was killed.”

  Pain stabs my gut. Not just dead. Murdered. I cough to clear the ache in my throat. “The killer was after Uncle George?”

  “According to Head Elder.”

  “Why? What’d he do?”

  Tony stares at his lap as he answers, “Head Elder said my father owes gambling debts which he refused to pay, so a killer was sent after him.”

  That sounds possible, but something isn’t right. It’s too convenient that Dad happened to be there. And why wasn’t he able to defend himself? “What kind of killer?”

  “Shinobi.”

  Shinobi have skills similar to the Two Dragon Clan. A powerful one would have a chance at killing Dad, but he wasn’t the target. Why would they send such a warrior after Uncle George? “Who saw the Shinobi, besides my father and Uncle George?”

  Auntie Cat answers, “No one.”

  “How did he kill Dad?”

  “We don’t know. No one has told us yet.”

  Shinobi are the ultimate assassins of the Crossroads. They don’t make mistakes and they don’t leave behind witnesses. “Why didn’t he kill Uncle George after he killed Dad?”

  Tony’s brow wrinkles. Good. He gets it. This is all bullshit. Then our aunt answers, “George was armed. By the time he pulled out his weapon, the Shinobi had killed Mike. George shot at him, but he got away.”

  My chest tightens. Breath comes hard and fast. Am I really expected to swallow some bullshit story about a Shinobi? I look from Auntie Cat to Tony. Can’t they see it? Do they really think it’s a coincidence that Uncle George was with Dad and Auntie Sylvia was with Mom, and now they’re both dead?

  “Paul?” Tony touches my shoulder.

  I jerk away. I jump up and dart behind the armchair, gripping the frame for support.

  Tony’s expression is bewildered. Is he faking it? Is he in on it, too? No, he can’t be. He can’t, because if he is… nausea burns my throat.

  Auntie Cat turns and stares at me. “Paul?”

  Auntie Sylvia appears in the doorway, her eyes pinched red and face masked with sorrow. “The paramedics are gone. They said the coroner will call…” Her voice falters as I stab her with a look that I wish could kill.

  “You did it. I saw you.”

  Auntie Sylvia seems to grow even paler. She takes a step back. Words stumble out of her. “Nephew, I’m… I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t know what to do. I… I…”

  “You killed her. I saw you.”

  No one speaks. Tony and Auntie Cat stare at me like I’m crazy. Auntie Sylvia looks scared. She looks guilty.

  Tony stands. “Little Brother…”

  Hold this oath in your hearts. It binds you for life.

  No. None of that. No more blind obedience. “Listen to me. I saw her. She killed my mother.”

  Auntie Cat comes around the chair to stand beside me. She speaks in a calm voice, “How did she kill her?”

  I exhale. She’s Dad’s sister. She’ll listen to me, even if no one else will. “I came into my parent’s bedroom. I was quiet, in case Mom was still on the phone with Dad. I saw her,” I jab my finger at Auntie Sylvia, “sitting on the bed, leaning over Mom, holding a pillow over her face. She pushed it away and then took something from Mom’s neck. She killed her and stole from her.”

  “No,” Auntie Sylvia gasps. “That’s not true.”

  “It is true,” I shout. “You murdered her.” I start for her, but Auntie Cat catches hold of me and yanks me back. I spin around. For a moment, I almost shove her into the wall, but the small part of me that isn’t batshit crazy manages to hold back. My heart slams against my chest and I suck in air to slow it down.

  Auntie Cat’s consciousness touches mine. Despite her pain-pinched face, her inner voice is coldly rational. Paul, you have to calm down. Anger and threats won’t lead to the truth.

  I know she’s right, but it’s so hard. I take a shaky breath that barely softens the ragged edge of my anger.

  Auntie Sylvia takes another step back and looks as if she wants to run. Then she glances at Tony. She licks her lips. “No, that’s not what happened. He’s confused.”

  “What happened?” asks Auntie Cat.

  Auntie Sylvia wipes her hands down her thighs. She swallows and her face becomes more composed. “My ex-husband called to tell me his brother had been murdered.”

  Tony looks at his mother, incredulous. “Dad called you?”

  “I was surprised, too. He must have been in shock.” She takes a deep breath as a tear trickles down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly. “I came upstairs to find Chelle and see if she had heard – to see if I could help. I found her on the bed, not moving. I thought she was asleep. I tried to wake her. A pillow was against her face, almost covering it. I moved it away. It didn’t seem like she was breathing, so I checked her neck pulse. That’s when Paul walked in.”

  Tony exhales and wipes his brow. He looks at me sympathetically. “Little Brother, you’re in shock. It’s natural to want to blame someone.”

  My mouth gapes open. How can anyone believe that crock of shit?

  Auntie Cat says, “Paul, I came over because your grandfather called me. He had called your mother to tell her what happened to your father. He said she didn’t respond. She didn’t hang up and he couldn’t hear anything. He asked me to check on her, to make sure she was all right.”

  “Why did he call you? Why didn’t he call her?” I jut my chin at Auntie Sylvia. “She lives here.”

  Auntie Sylvia replies, “Head Elder called and left a message while I was talking
to my husband. He must have called Cat when he couldn’t get a hold of me.”

  “Head Elder also called me,” says Tony. “I was taking a shower and I didn’t hear my phone ring.”

  Why didn’t Head Elder call me? My phone. I haven’t turned it on since we left Hong Kong. If I had, maybe I could have gotten to Mom in time. My breath starts to hitch again.

  Auntie Cat slides her arm across my shoulders. “You know she had a weak heart. The shock must have been too much for her.”

  “No,” I shout. I lower my tone and my voice trembles. “She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t die and leave me alone.” I thrust a finger at Auntie Sylvia. “You killed her. And Uncle George killed my father. You murdered my parents. Why?”

  “Paul, stop it.” Tony’s eyes reflect anguish and anger. He loved Dad, but Auntie Sylvia is his mother. He’ll never believe me. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You should go to your room and lie down.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not staying here. I won’t stay in the same house with her.”

  “I’ll take him home with me,” says Auntie Cat. “Help him calm down.”

  Why won’t anyone listen to me? I shake off Auntie Cat and run down the hall and into my parents’ room, slamming the door shut. My knees buckle as I collapse onto the mattress.

  My fingers brush the pillow, still indented from my mother’s head. I reach for the other pillow: the one Auntie Sylvia used to smother her, and turn it all around looking for evidence. Nothing. But what can I tell from a pillow? I shouldn’t touch it. I should leave it for the police.

  I punch the mattress. There will be no police. How can I get justice?

  The door opens. Auntie Cat steps inside and closes it softly behind her.

  I glare at her. “Why don’t you believe me?”

  “They’re my brothers. I know them better than anyone. I can’t believe George would kill Mike.”

  “Was Uncle George jealous of Dad?”

  She takes a hesitant breath. “They had issues between them, but they were working them out. Those gambling debts…” she shakes her head. “George is a scholar, not a gambler. He must have racked them up on purpose to make trouble for Mike, but Mike wouldn’t have let the debt get so out of hand. I don’t believe Head Elder’s story about the Shinobi. The assassin wasn’t after George; he was after Mike. Head Elder used George’s debt as an excuse to murder him.”

  “And he helped Head Elder because he wants Dad dead, too.”

  “Paul, no.”

  “Uncle George was with Dad. Auntie Sylvia was with Mom. Now, they’re both dead. They’re working together. It’s so obvious. Why won’t you believe me?”

  “Because George and Sylvia hate each other. They’re divorced. Why would they work together?”

  They wouldn’t. I know they wouldn’t. Which is why it’s the perfect crime. If I hadn’t caught Auntie Sylvia red-handed, they might have gotten away with it.

  Who am I kidding? They did get away with it. Head Elder used their hatred for my parents to do his dirty work. No one will believe me because no one wants to believe a crime as awful as this.

  “Do you want to come home with me?” asks Auntie Cat.

  I can’t stay here and have nowhere else to go, so I nod. She pulls out her phone and calls a cab.

  I go to the dresser. On top is that muddy brown mug I’d made in 7th Grade ceramic class. It was my first attempt and I thought it’d turned out pretty crappy, but Dad had said he liked it, and he’d used it to hold his spare change. Next to it is the two-sided mirror I’d bought for Mother’s Day. Looking back, it was a stupid gift since Mom doesn’t use make-up, but she’d said she loved it.

  I’ll never buy her another gift. I blink. Tears run down my cheeks. I wipe them away with the back of my hand. The mirror is hanging off the edge of the dresser. Mom wouldn’t leave it like that.

  I tilt the mirror and see a hairline crack across its surface. How the hell did that happen? Maybe the paramedics had knocked it over when they rushed in. Now they’ll have seven years bad luck.

  Bad luck. Dad and I had both touched the spirit wall. Had that bad luck somehow transferred to Mom? Is that why she and Dad are dead? I shove away the mirror like it’s made of fire. It teeters before falling over on top of the dresser.

  My eyes sting and snot dribbles from my nose. Who said crying is supposed to make you feel better? It makes me feel worse, like I’m a helpless child. I swipe my face with my sleeve. Then I turn to Auntie Cat. “Let’s go.”

  We go to my room to get my suitcases before taking the elevator to the ground floor. When we reach the front entrance, Tony and Aaron block the way. My heart pounds so hard it hurts. Why can’t they let me go?

  Aaron’s shoulders are hunched, his eyes wide and expression confused. “I’m sorry about your mom and dad. They were… they were…” He rubs his nose with the back of his hand. Tears fill his eyes. “I loved them, too, you know.”

  My words come out hoarse, “I know.”

  Tony tries to stare me down, but it doesn’t work. Pain blurs the edges of his imperious attitude. His whisper is also hoarse. “Little Brother, don’t leave. Stay with us. We’re your family.”

  My chest quivers. Big Brother and Little Brother, they’re my family, but they’re also Auntie Sylvia and Uncle George’s sons. They’ll never believe me and I can’t stay, knowing that. I roll my suitcase forward, determined to push past them if they won’t move.

  After a moment’s hesitation, my cousins step aside.

  I wait on the sidewalk while Auntie Cat exchanges a few final words with Tony. Headlights shine in the fog as a taxi rolls into the alley.

  Auntie Cat comes out and we climb into the back of the cab. As it drives away, I look back and see Tony standing in the street, staring after us. He raises his hand. I turn away.

  Chapter 11

  Penny

  “Class, I want you to form teams for our next project,” announces Ms. Gagliardi.

  I know how this is going to play out, so I stay in my seat and sketch a pattern while the rest of the class buddies up. I don’t have any buddies. Even Kayla goes out of her way to avoid the lockers when I’m there. My chest tightens, but I don’t know why. I don’t care.

  After the hubbub dies down, Ms. G. calls out, “Penny, do you have a team?”

  I shake my head.

  “All right, let’s see.” She glances around the room. “I’ll have you join Sarah and Dani.”

  That’s right. Put me with two members of the Daisy Chain, even though they openly and loudly gag.

  Yay team.

  Why are teachers, even cool ones like Ms. G., so clueless?

  My team settles into a corner and badmouths me while tossing some fabric around as if they’re working on something. I finish my pattern, cut the fabric and start sewing while half the class is still trying to figure out how to thread the bobbin. I’ll have my pinafore finished before the rest of them have even started their projects. It’s really flash, too, with ruffled shoulder straps and buttoned flaps over the pockets. Everyone is going to be jealous, which, of course, will make everything so much better. The tightness in my chest squeezes my heart.

  If only I could shove my backpack into my locker and head for the park, but I can’t cut class anymore. The teachers have been ordered to keep a close eye on me, which is to say they monitor me for bad behavior, but turn a blind eye when I’m being bullied. The Daisy Chain circle me like sharks, openly insulting me since I can’t retaliate. I feel like I’m walking through life with my hands tied behind my back.

  I don’t give a fig about getting kicked out of this joke of a school, but if I’m expelled, I won’t be allowed to perform anymore. Bill and Bridie made that clear. If it were just the Auld Sod, I would have thumped each of those bints twice over by now, but it also includes our “rehearsals” on Market Street. Dancing for the applause of the Beggar Chief and his crew makes me feel like I’m on the Crossroads again. I can’t give that up or I’ll be dead ins
ide.

  As I stitch the last bit of ruffle to the left strap, I see Ms. G. talking to Sarah and Dani. Sarah’s smile bares her too-white teeth while Dani’s oily brown eyes slide off our teacher and ooze a warning at me.

  Ms. G. comes up to my table. She’s a heavyset, gray haired woman with hazel eyes and a kind smile. She favors bright, batik print dresses and woven shawls tied around her shoulders. “Penny, are you working alone or with Sarah and Dani?”

  Do they really expect me to give them credit for my work? “Alone.”

  “Why?”

  I shrug. “It’s better this way.”

  Ms. G. lets loose a deep sigh, rustling the fringe on her shawl. “See me after class.” She walks away.

  Nothing I do here is fucking right. This school is a microcosm of the larger world where the Bleater elite set their minions on the Gypsies and outcasts. Is dancing in the streets, even for the Beggar Chief, worth this? I think not.

  The bell rings. I keep sewing while the other kids file out. As Sarah and Dani pass me, Dani asks in her breathless whine, “Don’t you ever go online?”

  Rarely. Not that it’s any of her business.

  “Because there’s a ChatBack page all about what a whore you are.”

  I stick out my foot and hook her ankle. I feel the satisfying tug of her weight as she sprawls into her crony. Sarah shoves Dani back. Giggles erupt all around them.

  Dani points at me. “It was her, she tripped me.”

  I smirk. “Oops.”

  Sarah glares at me through the thick mascara caking her lashes. Then her lips twist. “You know what it says on ChatBack? That you’ve sucked off half the guys at this school.”

  Everyone looks at me. I stand, slowly, the chair squealing as it slides behind me. I flex my fingers. Getting expelled will be so worth smearing that sneer off her face. Both girls try to back away, but the other kids won’t budge. Interesting. Maybe they’re sick of Daisy Chain bullshit, too.

  “What’s going on?” Ms. G.’s voice booms above the hum of tension. The crowd reluctantly parts as she shoulders her way in.