Trouble Makes a Comeback

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Trouble Makes a Comeback Page 18

by Stephanie Tromly


  Digby nudged me. I wasn’t ready for it, though, and as I tripped forward, my foot caught and I smashed my leg against the oxygen contraption attached to de Groot’s wheelchair. A frightening hiss emanated from a hose I’d detached. De Groot flailed, but he couldn’t turn far enough around to reach the back of the chair. I tried, but I couldn’t work out how to replace the hose. His oxygen was no longer connected.

  Digby got in de Groot’s face. “I don’t know why you need to see me beg, but get this: I won’t do it.” Digby took the hose from me. “Whatever happened to my sister . . . I’ll find out and I won’t need you to tell me. It’s just a matter of time and unlike you, I have plenty of time. Now tell me . . .” By now de Groot was gasping. “Am I bluffing?”

  After a scary long pause, Digby plugged the hose back in and de Groot started breathing again. Slowly, his lips regained their color.

  I didn’t notice he’d been reaching for the armrest of his wheelchair until Digby grabbed de Groot’s arm. “Or, how about this?” Digby paused. “You tell me what I want to know and I’ll get you the rest of her research.”

  And then Digby reached under the armrest and pressed the silent alarm button de Groot had been going for. An orderly ran into the room and began fussing over de Groot’s oxygen tank.

  “Call me when you’re ready to have that conversation,” Digby said.

  We exited through the French windows and went into the garden. When I started to speed-walk, Digby pulled me back and slowed me down. “Don’t run,” he said.

  That was actually kind of a relief, since the leg I’d bashed on de Groot’s chair had started to throb. We passed the house and made our way to the guardhouse at the gate. As we approached, the security guard stepped out and stood in our path with a phone to his ear, nodding to whatever instructions he was getting from the other end.

  Digby didn’t break stride. He took out his own phone and dialed. When we got within earshot, Digby turned on the speakerphone so the security guard could hear the voice on the other line say, “911. What’s your emergency?”

  The security guard muttered into his phone.

  “Hello,” Digby said into the phone.

  “Yes? 911. What’s your emergency?”

  The security guard finally budged. He went into his hut and opened the gate for us.

  By the time we got to the car, I was limping. We climbed in and Digby floored it out of there.

  “Did I really just put hands on a ninety-year-old geezer?” Digby said.

  “I believe you did, yeah,” I said. “I also think you promised to get him your mother’s research. Can you do that?”

  “Of course not. That’s crazy,” he said.

  By this time, my leg was really hurting. I rolled back my leggings and found I was cut and bleeding. It took me a moment to get over the fright of seeing my bloody and bruised leg, but then finally, I registered the peculiar shape of my injury.

  “Digby. Look at the mark I got when I fell over his chair,” I said.

  Digby almost swerved off the road when he saw my leg. The mark was the shape of the strange drawing we’d found on the warehouse wall of the double circle with a cross in the middle.

  “Then he was there. He went to see Sally for himself. She saw his wheelchair and copied the mark.” Digby gripped the wheel. “I should have killed him.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  “Feeling better, I see.” Mom was waiting in the kitchen for me when I got back, looking mighty pissed. “So, I made a special trip after work to Costco to get you a nebulizer because I was so worried about your lungs, but I come home and you’re what?”

  “Sorry, Mom,” I said. “Austin came by—”

  Mom made a rude buzzing sound. “Liar. I saw. It was Digby dropping you off in Austin’s car. Fakeout fail.”

  “If you let me finish. I’ll tell you that Austin came over and then all three of us went to the store . . .” I said.

  “You have the ex and the new guy hanging out now?” Mom said. “Wow. You have to teach me how to do that. Your father refuses to come to dinner with Mike and me.”

  “Why would you want that even?” I said.

  “Because they’re in my life and I don’t want the different parts of my life to be in conflict,” Mom said.

  “But Dad isn’t in your life. He’s in my life,” I said. “And he hasn’t said anything to me, but I’m pretty sure it bothers Cooper that you and Dad are back up in each other’s business again.”

  “Like I said before, nothing’s going on with Richard and me,” Mom said.

  “Yes, I absolutely know that now,” I said. Mom looked surprised. “When I was sneaking back into my room last night—”

  “Excuse me?” Mom said.

  “I overheard Dad in the backyard calling his housekeeper and asking if Shereene is still mad.” When my mother looked confused, I said, “Don’t you see, Mom? He’s only here because Shereene kicked him out. Or to make her jealous. Either way, he’s not here to be ‘in your life’ like you think.”

  Mom suddenly got really busy emptying the dishwasher.

  “I don’t even understand why you’re upset by this. It’s not like you want Dad back, is it?” Her silence freaked me out. “You don’t, do you?”

  “No, of course not,” she said. “Look. Mike wakes up every morning a hundred percent sure he’s doing the right thing. And, I mean, after eighteen years of watching your dad using his big, genius brain working for the Dark Side . . . Mike was so refreshing and simple. But sometimes . . . I need a little complication.”

  Mom poured herself some coffee and said, “At this point in the conversation, I should check if you understand what I’m talking about, but I know for a fact you do.”

  “Ha-ha.” I poured coffee for myself too and started to leave the kitchen.

  “Anyway, no more sick days,” Mom said. “I don’t want you to fall behind too much.”

  • • •

  “You are so behind. You missed a couple of days of school and it’s like . . .” Allie threw up her hands at lunch the next day. “Spring fever plus spring-cleaning equals hookups and breakups. It’s total chaos.”

  While I ate my lunch, I zoned out while Allie rattled off a list of what she considered the week’s highlights, so I didn’t immediately notice when Digby walked into the cafeteria. People at school had heard he was back, but hardly anyone had seen him. The room hushed and Digby milked it, doing a series of twirls and curtsies for the people staring at him, before joining Henry at a nearby table.

  Charlotte came over to my table, then said “Hey” in a tight voice and sat down. Allie said “Hey” back to her in the same tight voice and then the two of them made painfully frosty chitchat with each other. Clearly, something was going on between Allie and Charlotte.

  Over at Digby’s table, Henry’s face was a mess, the partially healed bruises from his first beating layered with the brand-new ones.

  I was just crafting my excuse to get up and talk to Henry when Charlotte elbowed me really hard in the ribs and said, “Right, Zoe?”

  “I’m sorry, what? I missed that,” I said.

  “You’ve been missing a lot lately,” Charlotte said.

  “You’re still coming to the party, though, right?” Allie said.

  “You’re not bailing on the party, are you?” Austin dropped his backpack and sat at the table with us. I noticed Charlotte looked annoyed at his arrival.

  “No, of course I’m coming,” I said. “It’s huge. Everyone’s talking about it already.”

  “Meh,” Charlotte said.

  “You okay?” I said.

  “I’m not feeling the party vibe these days,” Charlotte said. She glared at Allie.

  “You’re always like this. Just wait until you get there,” Allie said. “We need this party. We deserve this party.”

  “I don�
�t know. People go to these parties and then go do really shystie stuff like hook up with someone else’s boyfriend and say, ‘Oh, I was drinking . . . I didn’t even know what I was doing . . .’” Charlotte said. “I hope this isn’t that kind of party. Know what I mean, Allie?”

  “What is up with you two?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Charlotte said.

  I was glad that for once, I wasn’t the one in trouble.

  “Hey, there’s Digby,” Austin said. “You know what? I’m not saying I like the kid, but yesterday was kind of . . . exciting, I guess?” He took out car keys from his backpack. “I should switch back my car keys with him.”

  “Was there a key party we didn’t know about?” Allie said.

  “Ha-ha. No. We literally had to switch cars last night,” Austin said.

  “Can you imagine, though? I mean, you’d end up with Bill,” Charlotte said. “She’s all over social media with how she and Digby are together.”

  “Yeah, but look how he’s looking at Zoe right now.” Allie pointed at Digby. “He is so sprung. I bet if you whistled, he’d come running over.”

  “Allie, what are you trying to make happen?” Charlotte said.

  Austin laughed and said, “Yeah, Allie, what the hell?”

  Felix arrived at Digby’s table and sat down.

  “Now that is a really random collection of people,” Allie said. “Although, I guess they’re the ones no one else will hang out with?” She counted them off. “Felix is like, super-young. What, did he skip, like, four grades or something? Even the nerds think he’s kinda weird. And everyone’s still mad at Henry for what he did to Dominic. And Digby . . . well.”

  “I hang out with Digby,” I said. “And Felix skipped three grades. Also, I hang out with Felix and Henry too.”

  “Well, it’s not like you go anywhere you’re seen,” Charlotte said.

  I don’t know if I succeeded in keeping the irritation off my face as I stood up and took the keys from Austin. “I’ll switch the keys.”

  Austin grabbed my arm as I turned to leave and said, “Let’s not wait until the party to talk, okay? Maybe after the SATs tomorrow we could go get coffee?”

  I nodded just to get out of there. When I got to Digby’s table, I said, “Henry, God, your face looks like raw steak. Are you okay? Did you see who it was?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Henry said. “But I didn’t see who they were. They had masks on. My sister Athena walked in and got one guy real good, though. I’m pretty sure his nose will be messed up. She got her finger in a nostril and just pulled. The place looked like someone had gotten shot, there was so much blood everywhere.”

  “Damn,” I said.

  “But we have a problem. My sister heard the one guy yelling at me to give back their stuff. So I told her what was going on and she says she’s going to call the police if I don’t take care of it,” Henry said.

  Sloane came over. “This is getting out of hand. On top of the black eye and cracked ribs from last time, Henry now has a new black eye, a chipped cheekbone, a separated rib, and he’s going to have to cut bangs in for life to cover that scar.” She pointed at Henry’s forehead and then poked Digby. “You need to get those drugs back to Silkstrom before those people finally kill him.”

  “Okay, Your Highness, we’re working on it,” Digby said.

  And then Sloane said to me, “I got your message. Was that a joke? You were in the de Groot house?”

  “Not a joke. We were in there all right,” I said. “Wait, so you know about the de Groot house? Have you been?”

  “They invite the neighbors to a garden party once a year, but they themselves never show up,” Sloane said.

  “Weird,” I said. “By the way, now that you’re finally talking to me again . . . I think Henry should talk to a lawyer right away. He won’t want to, but—”

  “I don’t need a lawyer,” Henry said.

  Sloane and I exchanged looks. Nothing more needed to be said. “I’ll ask my dad,” Sloane said.

  “I still have the recording of Silk beating up Henry,” Felix said. “I’ll make copies so we can turn in the originals.”

  “But that recording makes it sound like we’re there to buy stuff,” I said.

  “We were undercover,” Felix said.

  “The cops won’t believe that,” I said. “Maybe I should talk to Cooper.”

  “Or, we could go with my plan.” Digby had that look again.

  “I vote no on Digby’s plan,” I said.

  “I second,” Sloane said.

  “We could put the bag in Papa John’s locker and call the cops on him. Cut ourselves out completely,” Digby said. “He’ll definitely make a deal and tell them who he’s working for . . .”

  After a beat, Sloane said, “That’s actually not bad.”

  “We’re all going to be here tomorrow morning for the SATs. Let’s do it then,” Digby said. “Meet up an hour before the test?”

  “Because tomorrow isn’t stressful enough already,” I said.

  “How many times do I need to tell you? Chill about the SATs already,” Digby said. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Besides, the distraction might actually help us relax,” Felix said.

  “What do you know about academic stress?” I said.

  “Test taking is a specific skill set. Sitting in a room, coloring in circles? That’s not where I shine,” Felix said.

  “We’re putting it in his school locker, right?” Henry said. “Because if we put it in his football locker, they might open up the lockers of everyone else on the team. A lot of guys who aren’t selling might get busted.”

  “Using isn’t allowed either, Henry,” Sloane said.

  “Sorry, man. If we’re going to do this, then I think we need to get them all out,” Digby said. “All the guys selling and all the guys using.”

  Henry looked utterly miserable.

  “You guys know they put cameras in the hallway outside the locker rooms, right?” Felix said. When Digby groaned, Felix said, “But I have the keys to the coaches’ offices. That’s where they keep the hard drives. I could wipe the footage.”

  “Don’t just erase the film. It’ll look bogus. You need to create a loop so it’s just empty hallway the whole time,” Digby said.

  “That is better,” Felix said.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Digby said.

  “Sounds like a criminal conspiracy,” I said. It didn’t help that when I looked up, I saw everyone in the room was watching us.

  • • •

  That night, I rescheduled dinner with my father and brought a dinner tray up to my room. I was at my desk, about to start eating, when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a dark figure. I thought my heart was going to explode.

  But it was just Digby, lying face-up on my bed. I threw my fork at him. “Dammit. You scared me.”

  “So I said to myself . . .” Digby sighed. “Self, there’s no way Princeton was ignoring us at lunch, is there? I mean, she came over, but only after everyone else got there . . .”

  “Is it a problem that you and your ‘self’ are two completely different entities that have conversations with each other?” I said.

  Digby said, “Because maybe she doesn’t appreciate our shenanigans anymore—”

  I said, “I wasn’t ignoring you—”

  “Except she didn’t call them shenanigans. What did she call them?” Digby waited. When I didn’t supply the word, he said, “‘Dumb-ass stunts.’” He took my spaghetti off the tray, shoveled in a huge mouthful, and then immediately spat it back out. “Aaargh . . . that is frickin’ hot.”

  “Look at it. It’s steaming,” I said. “Do you still need someone to blow on your food?”

  He drank my milk. “You know, Bill’s mom is a nutritionist and she says cooking food too hot kills all the nutri
ents.”

  “You met her mom?” I don’t think I fully succeeded in keeping from my face how annoyed that made me. He dipped a fork-load of spaghetti in what was left of my milk and crammed it in his mouth. “So.” I changed the subject. “What would you do if de Groot did call you?”

  “I don’t know,” Digby said.

  “You told him you could get the rest of your mom’s work . . .” I said. “Did you mean that?”

  “You know that saying about your ego writing checks your body can’t cash?”

  He paused. “I mean, I always thought the end of the road would be when I figured out who took Sally and why. I know all that now, but I still have no idea what really happened to her. All of a sudden I need to know things I didn’t think were important to me before, like whether she died alone and where her body is buried.”

  “You really believe your sister’s gone?” I said.

  “All this time, I held out hope that she was being kept in a basement room or being raised by some deranged woman with baby fever. But now . . .” Digby balled up the napkin and overhanded it into the garbage.

  “Your poor mom said she could feel Sally’s still alive,” I said. “It’s really sad.”

  “She feels whatever she needs to feel. But a fact’s a fact. Sally’s gone,” Digby said. “All that’s left now is filling in the details . . .”

  “And what about de Groot? Are you going to tell the police?” I said.

  “There’s no point. Even if it were an open-and-shut case, with his money and influence, the only people who’d end up in jail would be my parents and Fisher,” Digby said.

  “Couldn’t you get a lawyer to argue for mitigation?” I said. “Explain why they did it . . . the kidnapping . . .”

  “First, my mother stole classified government property and at least some of what they gave de Groot was real. Second, my parents can’t use intent as a defense. Espionage Act,” Digby said. “Even legit whistleblowers automatically go to prison. I need to know what actually happened to my sister, but I’m not sure getting the closure is worth my mom getting life in prison.”

  “Why do you think de Groot’s guys were following us around?”

 

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