The back door flies open, and before I even know what is happening, Cracker dashes out of the car and runs across the street. Ronnie quickly closes the door behind her, and in less than ten seconds, I watch Cracker jump inside the Ford Explorer, reverse out of the parking lot, and drive off down the road.
Lori smiles. “Now that’s what we call…”
“Convenience store shopping!” Natice and Ronnie answer in song.
Natice points out the window. “Look! Look!”
A moment later, the guy exits the store with a confused look on his face. He examines the parking space where his Ford Explorer was moments before. He looks around at the other spots, until it dawns on him his Ford Explorer has been stolen.
“Tha’s right, dumb ass! It’s gone!” Ronnie yells.
The guy looks up and down the street, and not seeing any sign of his Ford Explorer, he reaches into his back pocket. His body lurches forward, and his shoe slams down on the pavement. I’m pretty certain “fuck” is the word flying out of his open mouth.
“Oh shit. He left his phone in the car!” Ronnie says. The girls crack up. I can’t help laughing too.
The man finally runs back inside the store and says something to the store clerk, who looks out the window toward the parking lot. “Come on. Let’s go.” Lori’s eyes are filled with tears from laughing. “Show’s over.”
I pull onto the highway and drive back toward Cantor. “See all the skillful things you’re learning in Jersey,” Lori says to me.
“Yeah. She’s gonna go back home a criminal,” Natice says guiltily.
“Shit! Hanging with us, she will,” Ronnie says.
I smile and switch lanes. My hands rest easily on the wheel. And the truth is, it was sort of fun.
We meet back up with Cracker behind one of the abandoned warehouses not too far from where she lives. She’s already there with the Ford Explorer, along with a buddy of Vince’s I recognize from the pizzeria.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Lori hops out of the car.
“I’m hungry,” Ronnie complains.
“You just ate!” Natice says.
“So? I’m hungry again!”
I watch as another guy I don’t recognize removes the license plates from the Ford Explorer and replaces them with a set of Pennsylvania plates. Vince’s buddy hands Lori a thick envelope.
“Let’s go celebrate!” Lori jumps into the passenger seat.
On the way to Lori’s house, we make a quick stop at a liquor store. Natice and I stay in the car while the others run inside the store to buy beer. It’s the same one where I witnessed Lori and Cracker kick that man half to death. The image of the man’s bloody face, eyes begging me to help, has me shifting restlessly in my seat. I grab hold of the seat and turn around to face Natice. “Isn’t Lori afraid that clerk might call the cops?”
“Girl, he didn’t call the cops the first time ‘cause he has a lil’ side business selling drugs for Vince.”
“What does he sell?”
“Some coke. But ask him for a fifth of Jack, and you get a quarter bag of weed.”
“Really?”
“Hell yeah, girl.”
“So does everyone get their drugs from Vince?”
“Pretty much. Why you think the cops are always comin’ in and asking Pop about him?”
“How is it that Vince doesn’t get arrested?”
“I guess he’s jus’ like you—lucky.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re in Lori’s kitchen, getting drunk. “Don’t be muggin’ all the smoke. Pass that shit around!” Lori smacks Cracker in the back of the head. Cracker’s been holding a joint hostage since we arrived. She takes one last drag before giving it up.
“Cheerleader, come here,” Lori says.
I walk over, and she counts five hundred dollars into the palm of my hand. “There you go. Now get your fuckin’ air conditioner fixed!”
“Thanks, Mom.” I tuck the cash in my pocket. I noticed earlier she gave the others eight hundred dollars each, but I don’t care. I’m just happy she’s trusting me.
“Ally, clear off the table!” Natice carries in an iPod sound system, clutching a set of keys in her hand.
I clear off the bottles, and Natice places the iPod player down. She chucks the keys onto a nearby counter. “Cracker, hook me up!” Natice yells.
Cracker tosses Natice an iPod, and Natice pops it into the dock. “That’s right, it’s my birthday!”
“It ain’t your birthday,” Ronnie says.
“It is if I want it to be.” Natice selects an album and hits play.
It isn’t long before the four of them are drunkenly dancing in the middle of the kitchen. Ronnie bangs into the table, sending a forty-ounce bottle crashing to the floor. Lori makes a comment about how big Ronnie’s ass is and slaps it.
I stand off to the side, trying to act like I’m having a good time as I guzzle beer. Inside, I’m vibrating with anxiety because I can’t stop thinking about the set of keys Natice placed on the counter. I know one of those keys unlocks Lori’s bedroom door, and I’m as desperate as a drug addict to get inside that room. The police weren’t able to come up with anything, but if Lori isn’t carrying her gun, it might be in her bedroom. Or on a long shot, maybe Lori keeps a journal or diary. I don’t exactly see Lori writing in a diary, but who knows?
So while Natice, Cracker, and Lori take turns slapping Ronnie’s ass, I move to the counter, place my beer bottle down, and discreetly pick up the set of keys. I slip them into my back pocket and turn to leave.
Natice sees me exiting. “Where you going?”
“Gotta pee!” I yell back as I leave the room.
I reach the top of the stairs and quickly pull the keys from my pocket. They drop onto the floor, and I feel like I’m in a bad TV movie as I scoop them up and try several before finding the key that unlocks Lori’s bedroom door. I hurry inside and slam the door behind me. I can hear the girls and the music downstairs. I quickly scan Lori’s bedroom. There aren’t too many places to hide a gun or a diary. There’s a bed, a closet, and a chest of drawers. The walls are bare, and the room hardly looks lived in. It isn’t as nice or as clean as Mark’s bedroom. But there are a few signs of sentimentality. Lori has a handful of framed photographs of her and Vince and some with Natice, Ronnie, and Cracker that are displayed on top of a chest of drawers. They all look much younger. On Lori’s bed, I notice a worn teddy bear.
I drop to my knees and check under the bed. The only things I discover are sneakers, cartons of cigarettes, and loads of dust. I stand back up and move to the chest of drawers, quickly rummaging through the contents. I come across the red-and-white-striped tank top I first saw Lori wearing. More clothes. Another picture of Vince. Socks. Bras. A few pieces of cheap jewelry.
I move to the closet and search through a pile of clothes, making certain to check the pockets of every sweatshirt and jacket in case something is hidden inside. I hear someone scream, and I jump, my nerves razor thin. It’s followed by a burst of laughter, and I continue my hunt for evidence.
On the bottom of the closet is a box. I open it and inside are Blu-ray discs from Target. I stand up, frustrated. What the hell am I doing? Detective Thoms didn’t find anything. What makes me think I will? Especially eight months later.
I decide to get out of Lori’s bedroom before I get caught. I hurry into the hallway, close the door behind me, and as I slip the keys into my back pocket, Cracker appears at the top of the stairs. I pause, worrying she saw me, then I just walk toward her, trying to appear normal, and hoping she’ll ignore me. But of course, Cracker doesn’t. She stops right in the middle of the hallway, blocking me from going any further.
“Where’d you go?”
“What are you, the hall monitor?”
“Yeah, I am. What the hell you doin’ up here?”
“I had to piss. Do you mind?”
Cracker’s eyes shift to Lori’s closed bedroom door. “It took you long enough, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t time myself. But I took a shit too, if you really wanna know,” I say, interrupting her stare.
Cracker takes her eyes off the door and places them closely on me. “I bet you did.”
“Yeah. Well, sorry I didn’t call you to wipe my ass. Maybe next time,” I say sarcastically. I can tell by the way Cracker’s looking at me she knows something isn’t right. But she doesn’t know what it is. “Now, can you move? I’d like to go downstairs.”
She barely steps aside.
“Thanks. You’re a real sport, Cracker.” I walk past, praying that Cracker doesn’t notice the keys in my back pocket.
“Hey, Cheerleader?”
Heart pounding, I turn and face Cracker, trying to think of some messed-up reason I have Lori’s keys. Either that, or I’m gonna run.
“Hope you put the seat down.” Cracker smirks then disappears into the bathroom.
I go straight to the kitchen and grab another beer out of the fridge. I take a quick sip, hoping to calm my nerves as I watch Natice and Lori laugh hysterically while Ronnie makes the fat rolls on her stomach move in rhythm to the song that is playing. Natice has tears in her eyes, she is laughing so hard. She drunkenly clings onto me.
“Yo, what’s up?” Natice says.
I clink my bottle against hers. “Ya know, jus’ being sexy,” I say with a smile.
They beg Ronnie to do it again. And when she does, I discreetly place the keys on the counter.
Chapter 32
I listen to my mother’s voice on the answering machine. She sounds happy. “Hello, you’ve reached the Campbell residence, and nobody is home right now. So please leave a message, and we’ll return your call!” A beep follows. I wait to see if my father will pick up, and when he doesn’t, I leave a message. “Hey, it’s Alex. We’re heading to the beach now, so I’ll give you a call later or tomorrow. Bye, love ya.” I hang up, wondering where my parents are. They never screened calls before Jenny’s death. Now, they screen all the time.
I chuck the phone down on the dresser next to me, and my Cantor phone rings. The incoming call reads: Ronnie. I squint at the number. “Hunh.” I exchanged numbers with Ronnie last night, but I didn’t expect her to call me so soon.
“Hey. What’s up?” I say, excited.
It isn’t Ronnie. Cracker is on the other end. “Look out your window.”
I push aside the drapes and see Cracker sitting inside Ronnie’s car. “Come
outside.” She clicks off the phone.
I step into afternoon heat and close the door behind me.
Cracker is already walking toward me, holding a newspaper in her hand.
I start to panic. Why are she and Ronnie visiting me at the motel? But even more alarming—how does Cracker know what room I’m in? I never told any of the girls, not even Natice. Cracker probably made a visit to the manager’s office. This makes me even more worried, but I just try to appear as if nothing is wrong.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Ever make headlines before?” Cracker asks.
My stomach drops. This is it. She knows exactly who I am.
She opens the newspaper: ATM Robbery. Third in Year.
“They call you a blond-haired female youth. They don’t exactly have all the details right, but it’s close,” Cracker says, pleased with herself.
I scan the article. …late Saturday night. Two female youths entered the backseat of the victim’s car… produced guns… ordered couple to the ATM to withdraw money… this is the third ATM robbery in the past twelve months.
Cracker hands the newspaper to me. “You can keep it. Give it to your grandmother for her family album. I have my own copy saved.” She smirks.
“Thanks. I’m sure she’ll be proud of it.”
“So where is she?”
“She went grocery shopping.”
“I thought she’s sick?”
“She is, but she can still walk. She’s not dead.”
“Not yet.” Cracker smiles with her eyes.
“What do you want, Cracker?”
“I want to meet your grandmother.”
“She’s not here. I just told you.”
“Fine, I’ll stick around and wait. You don’t mind?”
“I have shit to do,” I raise my voice.
“She walked to the store?” Cracker asks.
“Yeah.”
“In this heat?”
“Apparently.”
“Mind if I use the bathroom while we wait?”
It becomes very clear Cracker is testing me. Perhaps the manager told her I’m living alone and that he’s never seen my so-called “grandmother.”
“The place is a mess. Now’s not a good time.” I hope Cracker will give up and leave. But of course, she doesn’t.
“I don’t give a shit!” Cracker shoves past me. She stops right in front of my room and bangs on the door. “C’mon, Cheerleader. Open the door!”
I feel like I’m trapped on a rollercoaster with no way of getting off. I’m not sure what to do other than keep Cracker out of my motel room no matter what.
I hear a familiar squeaking, and there she is, the old woman who lives a few doors down from me. She comes around the corner, where the sidewalk meets the entrance of the motel, pushing her ShopRite shopping cart. She has just moved onto the walkway of the motel and is heading toward her room.
“I’ll let you use the bathroom. Just don’t curse in front of my grandmother,” I say to Cracker as I walk toward the old woman and block her from moving forward. “How are you?” I mutter softly in Spanish.
“Bien. Calor,” the old woman responds with a tired smile.
A moment later, Cracker arrives at our side.
“Nanna, this my friend Cynthia.”
The old woman nods.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” Cracker says.
“Cynthia’s one of the girls I’ve been playing basketball with. She’s really good.”
The old woman smiles, not understanding a word of English.
“So what are you doing now?” I turn to Cracker.
Ronnie honks the horn. “Cracker, c’mon! I’m hungry!”
Cracker looks back at Ronnie and sighs. “What else? We’re gonna eat.”
I wave to Ronnie. “That’s my friend Ronnie.” The old woman waves too, and I can’t help smiling.
“Well, I better go,” Cracker says. “Nice meeting you,” she says to the old woman. “See ya later, Ally.”
“Yeah, see ya later.” I watch Cracker get back in the car and wait until the Jesus-mobile tears out of the motel’s parking lot and is fully out of sight before I step out of the old woman’s path.
“Sorry. That’s a friend of mine. She’s a little crazy,” I say in Spanish. The old woman nods as if agreeing then pushes her cart past me and heads toward her room.
I open the newspaper and reread the headline: ATM Robbery. Third in Year. It’s official. I’m a criminal.
I take a deep breath and make sure Cracker and Ronnie aren’t coming back here, then I hurry inside my room. I slam the door behind me and chuck the newspaper on the bed. I circle the room, walking back and forth across the brown carpet. Cracker’s visit has every nerve ending feeling like pricks of needles. But I also have another problem to deal with: I need to have a conversation with my father. I call him at work.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, honey. Having fun?”
“Yup.”
“And how are Natalie and her parents?”
“They’re good.”
“Great. So what’s up, kiddo? You coming home soon?”
“Well, I was actually thinking of stayin
g longer.”
“Really? How much longer?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the rest of the summer?” I say tentatively. “I’m just having a really good time here, and I don’t want to leave. Would you care if I did?”
My father is quiet for a moment. “The rest of the summer? Alex, are you sure that’s okay with Natalie’s parents?”
“Yeah, totally. She already asked them.”
“I don’t know, honey. I’d like to speak with Natalie’s mother first.”
I wasn’t expecting that response and grow flustered, unsure what to even say. “Sure, but uh, I don’t think she’s here. I think she went shopping.”
“Okay, when she gets back, ask her to call me. And if it’s okay with Natalie’s mother, you can stay. It’s fine with me.”
“All right. Thanks, Dad.” I hang up the phone. “Fuck!”
Chapter 33
Later that day, I go across the street to the Burger King and ask a woman if she’ll pretend to be my friend’s mother for a school project. The woman looks at me as if I’m crazy and walks off. It takes me another two tries before I eventually find a woman in the Laundromat who agrees to do it for twenty dollars. I stand next to her, nerve-racked, as she carries on a conversation with my father using my Middletown iPhone. But she plays the part beautifully.
“Oh, it’s been no trouble at all. Truly. It’s been a delight having…”
“Alex,” I remind her.
“Alex stay with us.” She smiles. “Uh-huh. No, that’s not necessary. You really don’t have to. Yes, yes. Well, my husband and I are happy to offer our home. We’re glad the girls get along so well. Okay. You too. Take care. Here’s Alex.” The woman hands the phone to me.
“Hey, Dad. So is it cool if I stay?”
My father unknowingly agrees to extend my stay in Cantor.
“Great! I will. Love you too. Bye.” I hang up the phone and turn to the woman. “Thank you!” I hand her twenty dollars.
“No problem, sweetie. You need me again, you know where to find me.”
The next day at work, I tell Natice about Cracker’s visit. “What if Cracker narcs me out to the cops?” I pretend to be worried about the newspaper article when I’m really more concerned with her showing up at my motel.
Girl on Point Page 16