by Vicki Grant
For a second, Andy’s lip stopped quivering and she looked like she was going to argue with me, but then her face changed. Her eyes squinted up, all mean. If she had been outside, I’m pretty sure at this point she would have spit on the ground. Instead she just turned up her nose as if something smelled bad and said, “You’re right. And I bet that’s exactly why he took it.”
I didn’t need to ask who she meant.
chapter 18
Circumstantial Evidence
Evidence in a trial which is not directly from an eyewitness
or participant and requires some reasoning to prove a fact.
I guess that would have been the time to mention that I’d seen Biff hanging around outside the apartment. I could have told Andy how he lied about being there, how he hid when I waved at him.
But I didn’t. Biff even daring to show his face in our neighborhood would be all the proof Andy needed to convict him of breaking into our apartment and robbing us blind—if stealing someone’s toe rings amounts to robbing them blind, that is.
I kept my mouth shut. I still wanted to believe there was another reason for Biff to act the way he did. I mean, I sort of thought of him as my friend. You know, my buddy. Even—this is kind of embarrassing—my dad or at least my almost dad or, like, I guess, my almost stepdad or whatever.
I had to admit it didn’t look all that good. I’d seen Biff skulking around. He had a key to the apartment. He wouldn’t have needed to break in. He knew all about Andy’s Catcher in the Rye obsession. He knew how much losing that book would bug her. He cleaned the apartment all the time too, so he was probably the only person who knew where she usually left her toe rings (or the nail scissors or the clean towels or the egg flipper, for that matter).
The evidence was piling up against him, no question about it, but I just couldn’t believe it. I mean, Biff just didn’t seem to me like the type of guy who would do something like that. I know that’s what people always think. No one ever suspects. Reporters interview the little old lady who lives next door to some deranged serial killer and she always says, “Why, I can’t believe it! He was such a nice man. So polite and quiet!” She never asked herself why he always seemed to be out digging holes in the backyard at 2:00 AM. She figured he was just doing a little late-night gardening, I guess.
Well, call me Myrtle, because I couldn’t believe it either. Biff cleaned the compost bin! He gave us his love seat! He did lots of nice stuff for us he didn’t need to do.
He made me that chicken dinner just because he knew I liked it and probably wasn’t being fed all that well since he left. And okay, I did end up getting sick after I ate it, but I went to the bowl that day after school. I got home a lot later than I should have. The food had probably been sitting out in the warm hall for a while, growing bacteria or whatever, so, like, maybe it was my own fault. I bet he didn’t mean to poison me.
And he probably hadn’t seen me when I waved to him or heard me when I called him, and it’s not that hard to forget the name of a street, even if you walk by it every day. He probably had other things on his mind.
He was a nice guy. He was.
He was.
I was almost sure of it.
chapter 19
Appeal
A process for making a formal challenge to a verdict.
I didn’t need this right now. I really didn’t.
I blew up. I went, “Quit dreaming, would you? Nobody stole anything! You might have time for this garbage, but I don’t. I’m leaving! I’ve got to redo my entire stupid project thanks to...”
I shook my head. I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to get into it with her right now.
I kicked the beanbag chair and stuff sprayed out as if it was choking on a mouthful of crackers.
Andy went, “Cy-ril!”
I just waved my hand at her and went, “While I’m gone, do something useful, why don’t you, and clean your room! It’s a pigsty.”
Somebody had to be the grown-up around here.
I stormed out of the apartment. I didn’t even look around to see if Biff was hiding in the bushes anywhere. I was sick of adults and their childish behavior. This was like recess at the Big Baby Daycare or something. I had one kid playing Make Believe, another one playing Hide-and-Go-Seek and another one who was having major teething trouble.
Get me out of here. Even doing homework was better than this.
I was lucky it was another slow night at the library. Hardly anyone was there. I couldn’t even see a librarian. I sat down at the computer and Googled Ernest Sanderson. I was just waiting for the lab footage to come up when I heard this lady’s voice go, “Ah, ‘scuse me? Excuse me?”
No one answered. I tried to ignore her but she started doing that “Yoo-hoo!” thing. I figured some poor sucker’s mother had just come to pick him up and/or publicly humiliate him. This I had to see. I was usually the one trying to disappear into my hoodie.
I peeked around. I didn’t want to be too obvious about it. I’ve got a heart.
It wasn’t anybody’s mother. It was Shannondoah, waving and calling to someone. I looked behind me to see who it was.
There was nobody there. My face got all prickly. I swallowed. I turned back around really slowly.
Shannondoah was still waving and smiling. She said, “No, no. I mean you.”
That’s what I was afraid of. I pointed at my chest and went, “Me? You...um, ah...me?” I must have come across like Tarzan of the Apes or something. (Right. In my dreams. Tarzan of the Spider Monkeys was more like it.)
She nodded again, lifted her eyebrows and smiled some more. My heart bounced off the roof of my mouth and nearly gave itself a concussion. Shannondoah was really pretty when she smiled. It wasn’t just her teeth—although I had to admit that Gleamoccino stuff was amazing. Her eyes sparkled too. She didn’t look tired at all when she smiled.
“Sorry to bother you,” she called out. “I can’t find anyone to give me a hand around here, and you teenage guys all seem to know so much about computers. Could you just help me for one itty-bitty second? Please?”
Sure. Once I regain control over my limbs, I’d love to help you.
“Yeah, okay,” I said. My voice came out like it belonged to Dora the Explorer or something.
I walked over all Mr. Roboto and sat down next to her. I felt like I was about five and my feet were dangling a foot off the floor. It was so weird. It was like having the world’s prettiest babysitter. I couldn’t even look at her.
Shannondoah grabbed the arm of my chair and pulled me toward her. “Now don’t be shy! I won’t bite.” She smelled nice. She smelled like someone Biff would go out with.
She went, “You’re going to think I’m the worst old dummy. I come into the library every day, but I still haven’t got the hang of these computers.”
She smiled again. I didn’t think she was a dummy at all. It was weird. The more she smiled, the smarter I thought she was. Or maybe just the less I cared.
She picked up her notes and put them in a neat pile next to the computer. “Okay,” she went. “Now tell me what I’m doing wrong here. I’m trying to look some stuff up, and the librarian said I had to go to this, ah, searching thing...”
“Search engine?”
“Yeah, something like that. So I just type it in...”
I didn’t know how she could type with those big long nails. It was like tap-dancing on stilts or something. She looked around the keyboard for a couple of seconds, then went, “Oh! There it is!” and hit the Enter button.
“See what happens?” she said to me. Her eyes were this amazing light green, like a lime popsicle or something. “It keeps saying it can’t find the site.”
I looked at the screen. I was glad to have something to look at other than her. My tongue was starting to dry out.
I went, “Oh. Ah...yeah. It’s, ah, like—you know—Google. com—not gargle.com.”
She looked at the screen, then she looked at me, then she let out this huge laugh. (
The librarian would have thrown her out for sure had he caught her.) It surprised me. She didn’t look like the type that would have a huge laugh, but it totally suited her. It made me kind of laugh too.
“Oh, that’s funny! Google, that’s what he said! I couldn’t figure out why the librarian wanted me to gargle sea lice. I get plenty in my coffee every day, thank you very much...”
I got up to go, but she grabbed me by the arm.
“Sorry. Can you stay for a second or two longer—just to make sure I’m doing this right?” She tilted her head and looked up at me with these big green eyes, and it was kind of corny and cheesy, but hey. It worked. Who cared about my project? I could just call this research. Maybe I’d find out something about Ernest that I could use in my video.
“Yeah, sure, okay,” I went. “What else do you want to look up?” I was proud of myself. I hardly sounded like a cartoon character at all.
Shannondoah rifled through her pile of papers and found the one she was looking for.
“Okay, let’s see. How about we start with Power Powder?”
I walked her through the process again. The Power Powder site was down—the company had apparently gone out of business—but there were a number of other articles on the stuff. Shannondoah didn’t even know how to double click, so I stayed with her while she printed a few pages out. By the second time she did it, she seemed to know her way around. I didn’t know why she thought she was dumb. She picked up the computer stuff faster than Andy, and Andy uses a computer every day.
“Why, isn’t this fabulous!” she said. “It’s not hard at all. It’s way easier than rooting around through a bunch of old books. Now let me do one all by myself, okay? What do I have next on my list? Let’s see...P-a-t-e-n-t. Space. P-r-o-t-e-c-t-i-o-n. Patent protection. Sounds like something you do to your shoes, doesn’t it? Then just hit ‘I feel lucky’ and—voila!”
A legal site came on the screen. Shannondoah threw her hands up in the air. She went, “You’re a genius!”
Then she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
I don’t know what I looked like from the outside, but inside I was definitely doing the whole bug-just-slammed-into-windshield thing. I think Shannondoah must have seen that too. She let out another one of those big laughs.
She went, “You’re cute!” and wiped her lipstick off my face with her thumb. “There. All gone! Don’t want your girlfriend getting jealous of an old widow-lady like me!”
I sort of stumbled back to my corner. None of the guys at school were ever going to believe that Miss Gingivitis USA kissed me. Those posters they had up all over the reading room were right. Libraries can be fun!
I tried to concentrate on my project, but my mind (and my eyes) kept wandering. I mean, you really never know about people. For starters, who’d have thought Shannondoah Sanderson would think someone like me was cute?
And, for seconds, who’d have thought someone who looked like her would spend her time in a library? I’d been all ready to write her off as some blond bimbo when I saw her on TV, but here she was again, doing research—and it wasn’t on nail polish or hair color or some celebrity’s love life or anything. She was looking up Power Powder. Unless I was wrong, that was the cleaning stuff Chuck threw on the fire.
I wondered what she was up to. Was she thinking of appealing the case or something? It wouldn’t be that surprising. I mean, lots of cases get appealed. If lawyers can find one tiny thing the judge did wrong or one little itty-bitty legal loophole, they’ll try and get another trial—and hopefully this time a verdict they like too.
It dawned on me that I should probably tell Andy about what Shannondoah was doing and give her a chance to get prepared. That’s what a good son would do.
I thought about it for a couple of seconds. My choice: Betray my mother. Or betray Miss Gingivitis Or betray Miss Gingivitis USA. The answer was clear. I guess I wasn’t a good son.
I put a CD in the computer and copied the footage I needed for my project.
Shannondoah stuck her hand up and waved. “Yoo-hoo! I’m going now! Thanks again!”
I smiled and waved back.
I waited for the tingling in my spine to calm down and then I tried to focus on my project again. Was there anything else I needed? I printed off some still shots that I could maybe use for a poster. Ms. Cavanaugh hadn’t asked for a poster, but there could be some extra points there for me. I copied a few things on the trial too. Then I got up to go.
The fastest way out of the library was straight past the returns desk, but, I don’t know why (okay, that’s a lie), I went the long way, past Shannondoah’s seat. Maybe this is what they mean when they say criminals always return to the scene of the crime.
I tried to make it look natural, like it was no big deal, like I just had a bad sense of direction or something.
I sort of glanced down at her desk as I went past. I guess I was half hoping to see her face reflected in the screen, smiling back at me, blowing a kiss, doing that “You’re cute” thing again.
No such luck. But there was something even better there. Shannondoah had left one of her papers behind.
I picked it up and bolted out of the library.
chapter 20
Eviction
Ousting a tenant who has breached the
terms of a lease or rental agreement.
Iran up and down the street a couple of times, but Shannondoah was long gone. I was sort of hoping I’d at least find a glass slipper or something, but the nearest I came was a grubby gray gym sock all balled up and perched on the ground like a big outie bellybutton. (I didn’t think it was hers.) After a while, I just stopped, kicked a couple of pebbles in disgust and then stuffed the piece of paper into my pocket.
Who was I kidding? What difference would it have made if I caught up to her? I was totally dreaming. Gus the Mouse didn’t get Cinderellie. The Prince did.
Back to reality. Back to this stupid project. I checked my watch: 7:45 PM. The media arts lab at school was open until nine. If I booted it, I figured I could at least throw something together tonight. Better than nothing.
Mr. Yurchesyn, the technician, wasn’t thrilled to see me showing up so late, but I squeezed past him.
I sat down next to this kid everyone calls Fitzmo who was even further behind than me. I loved sitting by that guy. He always made me look good.
I turned on the computer. I got this sudden brain wave. Maybe I wasn’t in as much trouble as I thought I was. Maybe I’d saved my project onto the hard drive here. I keyed in my password. There it was! Chuck and Andy. It looked like something was finally going right for me.
I clicked it open.
I let out a big sigh and clunked my head on the computer. It wasn’t what I was hoping for. It was just some footage from that dinner we’d had after Andy won the case. That wasn’t good for anything.
Okay. Fine. Forget it. I closed the file, put my CD in the computer and started editing my project from scratch. I was in the worst mood. That whole Shannondoah thing had kind of taken my mind off Andy for a while, but there was nothing distracting me now. Just looking at the footage made me mad. Andy was the reason I had to do the project over again. The malicious prosecution suit was the reason we were getting those orange envelopes from the power company. Chuck was the reason I could barely stand going home anymore.
Chuck.
More like Upchuck.
I couldn’t stand the guy.
I really wished I was a better person. Honestly. I wished I could look at people and see what’s good about them and not just kind of zoom in on their faults. The man I would someday like to be wouldn’t even notice if someone was a know-it-all or a mooch or a little short on teeth.
But I’m still a kid. Call me shallow, but I find it hard to remember that somebody tried to save a person’s life when he’s spitting all over my dinner. I find it hard to be crazy about somebody who’s making me miserable.
That part in the video where Eva Jackson “from the award-
winning CJCH news team” talks about Chuck came on the screen. She said something about “the timid, uneducated man at the center of the case.” I almost screamed. Timid? Please. Some investigative journalist. Eva obviously never talked to the guy. I couldn’t believe she fell for that big act of his.
I stuck my hands in my pockets to keep from punching the screen. I took a couple of big breaths. I was being stupid. Why work myself up over something like this now?
I felt Shannondoah’s paper in my pocket. There was one sort of nice thing in my life anyway.
I decided to give myself a little break.
I took the paper out and opened it up. Shannondoah had the kind of handwriting girls practice on their binders. All kind of neat and curlicue. I bet she’d spent hours perfecting it when she was a kid.
I was sort of hoping the note would say something like Call me sometime, Big Boy, but I wasn’t even close. Avenues to Explore was written in big letters at the top of the page. Underneath was just a bunch of almost-questions.
Flammability of Lice?
Location of Fire Extinguishers?
Assistants?
Traffic Court?
Phone/E-mail Records?
Patent Protection?
Appeals?
I breezed through the list. None of it made much sense to me, but that Appeals thing stopped me cold.
I was right. Shannondoah must have been thinking of trying to overturn the verdict. She wanted a new trial.
My stomach clenched in that chicken-and-mashed-potatoes-left-out-in-a-warm-hall sort of way.
I wasn’t blinded by her green eyes anymore. I could see what this really meant now. Andy would do the appeal on contingency too. How long could we go without money coming in? She was spending too much time already on Chuck’s malicious prosecution suit. Was she doing anything for her paying clients these days? Was any money coming in? I could feel everything starting to slip away.
Andy doesn’t mind when money gets tight, but I’ve always hated it. It’s scary. Food starts getting scarce. The landlord starts pushing madder and madder letters under the door. We stop answering the phone because we don’t want to talk to the guy from the power company or the collection agency or even Atula, who’s wondering how she’s going to pay the office expenses on her own.