by Sara Hantz
“It’ll be fun if we’re in it together. I’ll help and make sure you don’t forget your lines like that time before. Please,” Summer says, her twinkling eyes and the persuasive tone in her voice almost swaying me.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, grinning and grabbing hold of her hand and heading into the den. “Bye, Amy,” I say.
Amy jumps up and runs over. “Bye, Jed,” she says, kissing me on the cheek. “Bye, Summer.”
“See you later, kid,” I say.
Summer and I leave the house and, before we get into the car, I pull her close to me. My heart flips. I know it seems a bit girly, but every time we’re together, it makes me catch my breath. I’ve liked Summer forever. And now that I’m with her, our relationship is everything I’d dreamed it would be. And then some.
“Do you want to go to the movies after school?” Summer asks.
“Instead of going to Redwood Park?” We’ve gotten into the habit of stopping there and making out after school.
“We can go there after,” Summer says, grinning.
“That’s okay, then. So, yeah, if you want to go to the movies, that’s cool.”
…
Leaning against the big old oak tree outside of school, shaded from the sun, I position myself so I’ll see Summer when she walks through the double doors. We always meet here after school, unless we’re in the same class. I’ll never tire of seeing the expression on her face and the way her eyes light up the moment she notices me standing here.
“Perving again, eh?” calls a voice from behind me, making me start.
I turn my head and see Foster close by, his lip curled in a sneer.
Before, I’d have reacted. Now, I try to ignore his sick comments. It’s not like he’s saying anything different from what he’s always said. And it’s not like what I say will make him stop or change the situation.
“Whatever.” I shrug and turn back, drawing in a calming breath.
Having control over the situation feels real good.
“Just because you’re doing Summer Mackenzie now doesn’t mean things are different. Your dad’s a pede and you’re gonna be one, too.”
My body tenses, and my fists clench as the feeling to punch him into the middle of next week washes over me. I have to stay calm. Calm and in control. I count to five slowly in my head. I won’t let him torment me like this. I’ve accepted that I’m different from Dad. And Summer has convinced me to deal with what I’m faced with each day as it happens and not to look too far into the future.
It’s not easy. I still have those horrendous nightmares of being inside Dad’s head and hearing his revolting thoughts. And the trial seems to be going on forever, which doesn’t help, and, according to the newspapers, it could last another month if not longer.
“Whatever,” I repeat, not looking back at him in case he sees me trying to retain my cool.
“When we were kids, I always knew there was something wrong with your dad. I could tell by the way he looked at me. As for your mom. You’re telling me she didn’t know. Like fuck she didn’t.” Foster says, only this time he’s crept up behind me and he speaks into my ear.
And I lose it.
I swing around and throw a punch that connects with his chest and knocks him clean off his feet. As he lies groaning on the ground, I’m just about to draw back my leg to kick him in the groin when I feel someone pulling hard on my arm.
“Jed, stop. Don’t!” Summer yells.
I freeze.
What the fuck am I doing?
As if in slow motion, my leg lowers and I glare at Foster, who’s a sniveling wreck, writhing on the ground, and then turn, take hold of Summer’s hand, and stride off.
“The jerk. The fucking jerk,” I mutter under my breath while increasing my pace so much Summer has to run to stay with me.
“Jed, wait, I can’t keep up,” Summer says. “Thanks,” she says catching her breath as I come to a halt.
“How does he manage to do it to me? It’s like I have everything under control, and Foster smashes it. How? Tell me.” My head pounds; it feels like I’m gonna explode.
“I don’t know,” Summer says gently. “Maybe it’s worse because you used to be friends.”
“A long time ago. And, even then, he was a little shit.” I draw in some deep breaths and turn to face Summer, pulling her close into my arms. I breathe in the scent of oranges from her hair. The tension gradually flows out of my body. “Mmm, you smell so good.”
“Who knew shampoo could calm you down so easily?” Summer says, easing out of my arms. “Maybe I should bottle it.” She giggles, which rapidly turns into laugher. “Bottle it,” she says. “Do you get it?”
A huge smile breaks out on my face. “Yeah, I get it. You’re crazy.”
Suddenly, my aggression toward Foster is relegated to the back of my mind, and all I can think about now is finding somewhere quiet so we can make out.
“Well, it worked on you, didn’t it?”
“Yep,” I say, grabbing hold of her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
“See you in five,” I call to Summer as she runs across the yard toward her house to change into her gear for our evening run. My favorite part of the day, apart from making out in the park. Running is just so exhilarating, and going with Summer makes it even better.
Mom’s car isn’t parked in the driveway. Which can only mean she was late collecting Amy, unless she’s gone shopping afterward. Though that’s highly unlikely. It’s so annoying, and the teachers aren’t gonna be happy, that’s for sure.
As I head toward the stairs, I notice a note in Mom’s handwriting leaning against the empty vase on the hall table.
Jed, police want to speak to you at the station.
My heart sinks. What about this time? I hope they’re not going to ask me to visit Dad again. I can’t. Not after what happened the last time. Except… If it helps other people, then what choice do I have?
I pull out my phone from my pocket and text Summer.
cant go running can u come over.
I walk back into the garage and straighten up my toolbox while waiting. After only a couple of minutes, I hear her footsteps outside.
“Jed, where are you?”
“Here,” I call, striding to the garage door and meeting her as she walks in. I take hold of her hand and lead her into the garage where we lean against the bench next to each other. “The police want to see me.”
“What about?” She frowns.
“No idea. Mom left me a very brief message. I’m guessing it’s about Dad. I really don’t want to go. In case they try to persuade me to see him again. But I’ll have to, won’t I?”
It’s selfish and mean of me not to agree to see him, especially if it can help another family. But after I totally screwed it up the last time, how likely is it that I’ll end up doing the exact same thing again?
“Well, you can’t just ignore them. Do they want to see you now, or should you phone and make an appointment?”
Good question. If Mom had left a decent message, then maybe I’d know.
“Not sure. Mom’s note didn’t say. I’ll go to the station now and find out. I don’t even know the name of the officer I’ve got to see.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. How hard would it have been for Mom to get more details, instead of leaving me in the dark like this?
“Good idea. Do you want me to come with you, for company?” She takes hold of a curl that’s escaped her ponytail and twists it around her finger in the cutest way possible.
“Yeah, thanks. Let’s go now and get it over with.”
…
What should only take ten minutes ends up taking forty-five because of the traffic. Eventually, we pull into the parking lot and then we head up the steps and through the double doors into the station.
I walk up to the desk and explain who I am, and the officer asks me to sit and wait.
“Why does this place make me fe
el guilty?” I ask Summer. “Even though I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I know what you mean. It’s the way everyone walking past looks at us like we’re criminals. It creeps me out.” She shudders.
“No one could ever think of you as a criminal. You’re the only person I know who worries about taking sugar packets from the café,” I tease, leaning in and nudging her. She grins.
“Jed Franklin?” I glance up at the sound of my name and see a woman standing in front of me.
“Yes.” I stand and tower over her.
“I’m Detective Drake. Please, would you come with me.”
I wonder what happened to the detectives I saw last time.
“I’ll stay here,” Summer says.
“Why don’t you come with?” I say, holding out my hand. “If you want to,” I add.
“That’s not allowed. You’ll have to wait here,” the detective says tersely, glaring at Summer, before walking away.
I glance at Summer and notice how anxious she looks. “Don’t worry, it’s probably just some stupid rule which means you can’t be with me,” I say quietly. “I won’t be long.”
I slow jog to catch up with the detective and then follow her into a small room with nothing in there other than a table and three chairs. She gestures for me to sit.
“My colleague will be here shortly. Would you like a drink?”
Yeah, a beer would be good. Actually, that’s not true. I haven’t had any alcohol since Summer and I got together. Haven’t felt like it.
“No, thanks.” She leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
If I’m meant to be helping them find out about Dad, then surely she’d have been friendlier. But what else could it be? The only other time I’ve seen the police was when Dawson went missing, and that’s all been worked out. An uneasy feeling begins coursing through me, but I shake my head and mentally berate myself. I’m being stupid. It’s probably just the detective’s manner. Nothing to do with me at all.
After a few minutes, Drake strides back into the room followed by an older man. She glares at me and then goes over to a camera in the corner, picks up a remote, walks back to the table, and sits opposite me next to the other guy.
She points the remote at the camera and presses one of the buttons. “This interview will be recorded, and we will give you a DVD of it once we’ve finished, and you can give it to your lawyer, if you want to,” she says.
Recorded? Lawyer? What the fuck?
My hands begin to feel clammy. I wipe them on my jeans.
“Wednesday 4th June at seventeen-hundred hours. Those present detectives Drake and Foreman and Jared Franklin.”
What the hell’s going on, and what’s with the Jared all of a sudden?
“Jed,” she continues. “Thanks for coming in. We want to ask you about Tom Bilson.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Tom Bilson’s a sixth grader at your school.”
Bilson? I wrack my brain, trying to remember who he is but can’t. Hardly surprising, when you think of how many students there are.
“Sorry, no. I don’t know him. Why?”
“He knows you,” Foreman says, leaning in and fixing me with narrow dark eyes.
“Yeah, well, everyone knows me, but that doesn’t mean I know them.” I roll my eyes toward the ceiling.
“He says you do know him, and he’s made an accusation against you.”
I sit forward in my chair. Why would someone I don’t know make a complaint about me? It makes no sense.
“What’s he accusing me of?”
What can I possibly have done to a sixth grader who I’ve never even met before?
“He said that, this morning during morning recess, you touched him. Touched him inappropriately.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Touched him inappropriately.
What the hell does that mean? Rhetorical question. The thought of it makes me want to vomit and fills me with disgust.
“It’s a lie. A lie. I don’t even know him. And I wouldn’t do that,” I say, the words catching in the back of my throat as I desperately try to protest my innocence.
I stare at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow me whole. And as I do so, everything I’d researched regarding pedophiles, all the words, images, and stories, flash before my eyes, along with Foster’s taunting words.
In. The. Blood.
But I’d never knowingly do something like that. At least not now. Not ever, if I have anything to do with it.
“He said you did, and that’s what we have to investigate,” Drake says, drawing me back to the present.
“Are you arresting me?”
The press would have a field day if they did. I can just imagine the headlines: The Arizona Monster’s Son is a Chip off the Old Block. And what the fuck will Summer think? Or Mom? And what if someone mentions it to Amy?
It doesn’t bear thinking about.
“Not at this stage. We only have Tom’s version of events. We want yours.”
“I have no version. I don’t even know that kid, as I’ve already told you,” I say.
There are over two thousand students at our school, and suddenly I’m expected to know all of them. It’s ridiculous. I just about know the juniors and seniors. Other than that, forget it.
“Think,” Drake says sharply, fixing me with her cold pale-blue eyes. “Morning recess today. What were you doing?”
“What I always do. I met Summer, and we went to the cafeteria for a…”
Fuck. No, we didn’t. Summer had to see the hockey coach. I went for a walk, on my own. I just can’t catch a break.
“For a what?” Drake asks.
She’s just gonna love this. The opening she’s been looking for. I wonder how long it will be before she drops my dad’s name into the conversation.
“Nothing. I forgot that Summer wasn’t with me. I spent recess alone, walking on the sports fields.”
I maintain eye contact so she doesn’t think I’ve something to hide, even though it does sound lame.
“What about your other friends?”
Before I’m able to check myself, a hollow laugh escapes from my mouth. “Well, I don’t have many; not after what my dad did.”
It’s like watching the cogs in her brain slowly move as she makes the connection, and a look of horror crosses her face. Yeah, lady. Ben Franklin’s my dad. I can’t believe she didn’t already know that. Or is she just pretending?
“So you were on your own?”
So what if I was? It’s not a crime. Lots of people like some alone time. It’s just for me it’s enforced.
“Yes.” I nod.
“And you definitely didn’t see Tom?”
“No. I don’t know. I might have. I can’t know if he was there if I’ve no idea what he looks like!”
How many times do I have to tell them before it sinks in?
The detectives exchange glances, then Drake gets up.
“I’ll be back soon.” She stops the recording using the remote.
What’s that all about? I’ve said nothing to incriminate myself. Because there is nothing to incriminate me.
Foreman leans back in his chair, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He stares at me. If I could get inside his head and see what he’s thinking, it will be something along the lines of like father, like son. But he’s wrong. It wasn’t me.
“Do I need a lawyer?” I ask.
Not that I have one. The only one I’ve ever come across is Dad’s, and I don’t want him. I can just imagine how that would affect everything. Plus anyone who represents my dad must be a real heartless jerk.
“Do you think you need one?” Foreman replies, his snarky tone a clear indication that he thinks I’m guilty.
“I didn’t do anything.” No self-doubts anymore. I know it.
“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?” He arches an eyebrow then stands up and heads for the door. “Stay here,” he says before closing the door behi
nd him.
Left alone, I let out a long sigh. My head’s spinning. It’s like as soon as everything seems to be going okay, something comes along to destroy it. Summer’s gonna be so shocked when she finds out about Tom Bilson accusing me. I wonder if she’ll believe me. If she doesn’t, then I don’t know what I’ll do. Without her faith in me, I’m nothing.
This is a fucking nightmare.
I glance up as the door opens, and Detective Drake walks in, alone.
“You can go,” she says, not bothering to sit down.
“What?” I say, jumping up out of the chair and move toward the door before she can change her mind.
“You can go,” she says, holding out her arm to stop me from going any farther. “But don’t leave town without telling us. We may need to talk to you again.”
“So you still think I had something to do with it.” My fists clench by my side.
“We don’t know. We’ll have to continue with our investigation.” A look of frustration crosses her face. “Right now, it’s your word against his. We’ll be looking for witnesses. Can you remember if anyone saw you during recess?”
Mentally retracing my steps, I don’t remember seeing anyone. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t there. I’m an expert on blocking everything out. It used to make coping much easier. Now I have Summer for that.
“No.”
Chapter Forty
Summer smiles when she sees me approaching the chairs where she’s been waiting. I try to return the smile but end up grimacing.
“Hey,” she says, a frown appearing on her face. “What happened? I was really worried because you’ve been so long.”
I shake my head and keep walking. She quickly catches up, and then we walk in silence until getting outside the station.
“Tom Bilson. I don’t know him. Do you?” The words come out with far more force than I intend.
“Yes, he goes to our school. He’s Dee’s brother. Why?” She bites on her bottom lip, a sure sign she’s not comfortable.
Well, she should try being me for a while. Being comfortable is something I can only dream about.
“He says I touched him.”