Trouble is a Friend of Mine

by Stephanie Tromly

  “We’re working on it right now.” I was getting better at lying. Maybe Mom was right: Digby was turning me into a juvenile delinquent.

  “Oh, yeah? Let me hear what you’ve done so far,” Musgrave said.

  I’d congratulated myself too soon. I had nothing.

  “Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.” Digby’s extra-polite grin looked even ruder than if he just sat there flipping Musgrave off.

  Worryingly, Musgrave smiled. “Those are nice bright teeth, Mr. Digby. They show off that green gum in your mouth nicely. Of course, you know chewing gum’s a Level I violation of the school’s code of conduct. Three lunchtime detentions. Starting today. Follow me.” Musgrave wiggled his finger at Digby.

  “That’ll have to wait.” It was Officer Holloway. Officer Cooper was with her, hanging back a little. They were in street clothes with neck-badges on. “C’mon, kids. We need to talk.”

  “Oh, yeah? You have permission to be on school grounds?” Musgrave said.

  “Who are you?” Holloway said.

  “I’m the school resources officer.” Musgrave must’ve heard himself, though, because he immediately relented. “Fine. Three detentions starting tomorrow.” Musgrave lunged at Digby’s face. Impressively, Digby didn’t flinch.

  Holloway didn’t like the way Musgrave was bullying Digby, though. “Detention? What for?”

  “Chewing gum on school grounds,” Musgrave said.

  “Gum? Open your mouth, Philip,” Holloway said.

  Digby did. Of course the gum was gone, long since swallowed.

  “I don’t see any gum. And I don’t like how you physically interacted with this student.” Holloway asked Digby, “Do we need to talk about harassment charges?”

  Digby took his time. “Nah . . . Harlan’s just old-school. Right, Harlan? Good-bye, Harlan. . . .”

  To his credit, Musgrave knew when he was beaten. He slunk off.

  “Okay, that was cool. Like in Jurassic Park when the velociraptor’s about to get them but the T-Rex jumps in and chomps the velociraptor in half,” Digby said.

  “Every time I see you, kid, you’re getting cornered. What’re you gonna do when I take a day off?” Holloway said.

  “Like that would ever happen,” Cooper said. “How are you, Zoe?”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Good, good.” Cooper smiled like we shared a private joke. If we did, I didn’t get it.

  Holloway had us follow her. With Cooper taking up the rear, it looked like we were being perp-walked out of the cafeteria. Everyone watched and whispered. I felt new rumors forming.

  We went into an empty classroom.

  “So, your friend Henry’s lawyer called the DA, and the DA, in his infinite wisdom, decided this isn’t going to work,” Holloway said. “The video evidence against Schell got excluded. The whole case folded.”

  “What does that mean?” I said.

  “The vandalism violation’s been voided. Your record’s clean,” Holloway said.

  “Should we worry about Schell coming after us?” I said.

  “He thinks you were in there stealing meds,” Holloway said.

  “But you’re not letting him go back to work, are you?” Digby said.

  “We filed a complaint with the medical board and they issued an emergency restriction on his clinical privileges pending an inquiry,” Cooper said.

  “That’s it? No charges?” Digby said. “This same DA stalked my family for no reason at all.”

  “That’s not true. The evidence against your parents was legit,” Holloway said.

  “All circumstantial. Nothing like a video of someone actually committing a crime,” Digby said. “Wow. Nice to know I have nothing whatsoever to fear from the justice system if I decide to use my powers for evil.”

  It was weird to see Digby genuinely upset, because I’d mostly only seen him either mocking someone (usually me) or taking them for a ride (again, usually me). We all jumped when he kicked the trash can across the room.

  “Calm down, please,” Holloway said.

  Digby swept books off shelves and tore apart some poor social studies student’s diorama. It was heartbreaking watching him throw a tantrum. Finally, Digby sank onto a chair with his fists balled up on his lap.

  “I’m starving,” Digby said.

  “I have sunflower seeds you could have,” Cooper said.

  Digby shivered. “Bird food. No, thanks.”

  “They’re great for your skin.”

  “Do not even.”

  I checked that the Red Delicious sitting on the desk wasn’t wax and gave it to Digby. We watched him mechanically eat it. When he was done, he asked, “Did you check his prints?”

  “We ran them. Nothing,” Holloway said.

  “But you were able to take his fingerprints?” Digby said.

  “Sure. When we arrested him. Why?” Holloway said.

  “Just a dumb idea I had about the smudges in Marina Miller’s room,” Digby said. “Did you see she was a patient of Schell’s?”

  “Look, the search for Marina’s stalled. If you know something more about it, you should tell us now,” Holloway said.

  “Are you saying you need my help?” Digby said.

  “I’m saying you want something from us too,” Holloway said. “Maybe we could help each other out.”

  “Sounds like you’re out of ideas. You go first if you wanna trade,” Digby said. “Well?”

  Holloway and Cooper were silent.

  “We’re gonna be late for . . . Spanish?” Digby looked at me for confirmation.

  “Language arts. You’re kidding. Are you telling me you’re in that class with me? I’ve never seen you,” I said.

  “So, what about it, policepersons?” Digby said. Still nothing. “Look, I’m not gonna blink first. I have all the time in the world.”

  “All right. I’m afraid to ask. What do you want?” Holloway said.

  “My sister’s case files,” Digby said.

  “File a Freedom of Information request,” Holloway said.

  “I did. They gave me stuff they released to the media. I want the investigating officers’ notes. Full transcripts of the interviews,” Digby said.

  “I can’t do that,” Holloway said. “That case isn’t closed.”

  “Good luck with Marina, then. Put her file next to my sister’s on your special shelf for missing girls who stay missing,” Digby said.

  “Okay, okay,” Holloway said. “We’ll see what we can do.”

  “Don’t ‘we’ll see’ me. I’m not some eight-year-old kid asking to go to Chuck E. Cheese,” Digby said.

  “No, you’re a sixteen-year-old kid asking me to steal confidential police files, so be realistic and let me see what I can do. In the meantime, stop playing games and tell me something worth committing larceny for.”

  “I got the prescription number from Marina’s file and called her pharmacy. A week before she disappeared, she got eight months’ worth of birth control,” Digby said. “Were there seven and a half unused packs of pills when you searched her room?”

  “I’ll check the log at the precinct.” Holloway paused. “Thank you, Philip. That seems relevant to the case.”

  “You’re welcome. Even if that was a little condescending,” Digby said.

  “Gimme a break, kid. You just schooled me, okay?” Holloway said. “But do me a favor. No more breaking into places?”

  Cooper smiled and patted me on the head before they walked out the door.

  “That was weird,” I said.

  “Those are some hugely inappropriate cops,” he said. “Maybe that means there’s a chance I’ll get those files after all.”

  “Are you coming? We really are gonna be late now.”

  “Late? For what?”

  “For language arts. Hello
?”

  “You go. I have to see about this skateboarding banana. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “You’re skipping again? Do you at least want me to make up an excuse for you?”

  “Nah . . . it’ll just confuse the teacher. Don’t even mention it. He probably doesn’t know I exist.”

  “Um . . . the teacher’s a she, and she’ll probably figure out that you do exist when she starts writing your report card and realizes she’s never even seen you.”

  “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, and left.

  I didn’t know how it wouldn’t come to that, since in my experience of school, report cards were kind of impossible to avoid. But like I said, that was my experience of school, and this was Digby we were talking about.

  FIFTEEN

  That night, I googled Digby’s family some more. By the time I looked up, I’d spent two hours in the Church of Search.

  An interview with one detective fascinated me. Her name first of all: Rosetta Pickles. Who wouldn’t follow that down the Google hole? And the weird mole on her lip looked like it’d pop whenever she said words with an O sound like lost and home.

  Then I noticed something. I rewound the interview to make sure.

  “She was the sweetest little girl,” Rosetta Pickles said.

  Past tense. I remembered something about murderers using the past tense to talk about victims they couldn’t know were dead.

  I kept googling, but Rosetta Pickles dropped out of the story. The only thing I saw was a listing for an apartment bought by a Rosetta Pickles in Manhattan. River Heights to Central Park adjacent? Nah, it couldn’t be the same person. I had twenty-three tabs open when my phone rang.

  “If you get down to the mall in the next twenty minutes, I’ll show you something that’ll blow your mind, I swear to God,” Digby said.

  “Can’t. Busy,” I said.

  “Oh, come on . . . you can screen stalk anytime.”

  He was too close to the truth for my taste. I shut down some tabs.

  “Nope. Busy.”

  “Pretty sure you can sit alone in your living room eating leftover rotisserie tomorrow night too,” Digby said. “And next time, if you wanna pretend you’re busy, don’t answer on the first ring.”

  I threw down the chicken leg I’d been chewing on.

  “Still can’t.”

  “What’s your excuse now?”

  “I feel crappy.”

  “You were fine at school today . . . what, did you and Liza have a fight?”

  “No. Well . . . maybe. She’s annoying.”

  “She’s there?”

  “She’s out. On a date.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh, okay.”

  “No, you don’t get it. She’s wearing my dress, which is way tight on her, and these heels that give her cankles . . .” I said. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

  “You mean like a little kid moping around at home, mad because Mommy’s out on a date?”

  Maybe it was exactly what it sounded like.

  “Fine. But if I come to the mall, can we not talk about my personal stuff?”

  “Sure. But hey, I’m starving, so bring ten bucks.”

  “I’m not just your ATM, you know.”

  “Oh, right. Then bring twenty. No fun watching you watching me eat anyway.”

  I still found the whole one-stop mall shopping thing weird. I liked going to three different places when I wanted three different things. Like, I got my shoes fixed in the subway station on Henry and Clark. I’d get croissants at a bakery on Montague, and Mom bought flowers at the bodega down the street because they always lasted three days longer than flowers from anywhere else.

  In River Heights, though, you got your shoes repaired and bought your cakes and flowers at the mall. And in River Heights, going to the mall meant going to Promenade Plaza, which, except for a couple of dusty strips of depressing businesses like DVD rentals and inkjet cartridge refill places, was the only real mall for miles.

  The food court was packed. The jocks were in a food fight in one corner. The pretty, popular girls were sitting on their boyfriends’ laps uploading mall-haul videos. A big group of guys eating KFC were playing an RPG and taking directions from this one kid wearing a cape and giant plastic ears. The emo kids caught me looking in their direction and glared. They didn’t have to consult each other. They just did it all together and at the same time. One girl snarled.

  Henry and Digby were right. There was a huge difference between being alone at home and being alone in a crowd. I was lonely sitting home alone. At the mall, I was terrified.

  I needed to get out of there and was halfway across the food court when someone wearing a full-body costume of a brown girl teddy bear in a tutu and ballet slippers stepped in my way. The leotard had SUZIE BEAR written across it. I moved to the left. The bear moved to block me.

  “Hey,” Suzie Bear said.

  I moved to the right, and Suzie Bear moved to block me again.

  “Hey,” Suzie Bear said. “Gimme ten bucks.”

  I wondered if people were going to let me get mugged by a teddy bear in the middle of the food court.

  “Don’t tell me you forgot to bring the money, Princeton. I’m desperate. I just ate what I thought was a Skittle covered in lint,” Suzie Bear said. “It wasn’t a Skittle.”

  I finally realized it was Digby. My hand made a hollow donk when I slapped the head of his costume. “You scared the crap out of me. Will you take that thing off?”

  “My boss won’t like that,” he said.

  “Boss? This is your job?” I said.

  “Would you feel better if I said this was my hobby? Yeah, this is my job. Not everyone’s on the double-dip divorce allowance money train.”

  “I can’t even fight with you right now. This place is too much. I don’t feel good.” I didn’t. My head was swimming. In that moment, I realized how important it was for me to get out of River Heights if I didn’t want to spend the next two years as a social outcast.

  “Your lips are white. You gonna pass out?” Digby took off his costume’s head. Underneath, he was still wearing his suit. He took my hand in his paw, dragged me into a Ye Olde Tea and Crumpets Shoppe kind of place, and sat me down at a little wrought iron table.

  “Can I get you guys something to drink?” The cashier’s name tag said: HELLO, I’M CHAD.

  “Not me. You, Princeton?” Digby said.

  “I don’t drink tea,” I said.

  “Nothing for us,” Digby said. “We’re just gonna sit awhile.”

  “Dude.” Chad threw up his hands in a give-me-a-break way.

  To which Digby replied with a wave around the totally empty store. “Dude. Seriously?”

  Chad thought about it, gave up thinking about it, and pulled out his phone. “Whatever, dude.” Chad walked into the back.

  “So, what’s the matter with you?” Digby took a dish of cut-up scone samples from the counter and started plowing through them.

  “Even the food court’s so . . .” I said. “. . . cliquey.”

  “Look, you don’t even want to hang out with these people. I mean, if there were a show about the average River Heights life, it’d come on between 16 and Pregnant and Extreme Hoarders. Be glad you don’t belong here.”

  “So where do I belong? Because it wasn’t easy making friends at my last school. It’s a dumb metaphor, but I’m sick of being the weirdo book channel show only serial killers watch.”

  “No, Princeton, you’re HBO all the way. Most people think it’s depressing and pretentious, but the fans are real fans. They pay ten extra bucks a month for the original programming. Also the sex.”

  “Sex? That’s Cinemax. Or, as Mom calls it, Skinemax.”

  “Right. Sloane is Cinemax,” Digby said. “Bless her.”

 
“It’s weird to hear you say that while you’re wearing a tutu.”

  “I’m not wearing the tutu. The bear is. I’m wearing the bear.”

  “As usual, the logic is bulletproof. What’s the deal with the costume anyway?”

  “I get minimum wage handing out flyers for the Make-Ur-Bear place, but this costume is awesome. It’s basically an invisibility cloak.”

  “What do you need an invisibility cloak for?”

  “Watch.” Digby dropped the teddy bear head back on and worked the costume. He clumsy tippy-toe danced from the tea shop back into the food court. He pirouetted a guy’s soda off his tray. He threw flyers up in the air. He was incredibly disruptive.

  I didn’t understand what he meant by the invisibility cloak comment, because everyone totally noticed him. Kids threw food at him and fries dangled off his fur.

  Then I saw who was sitting at the table he was bothering.

  Digby was doing pelvic thrusts for Ezekiel, who was sitting with Schell. Digby was right about the teddy bear outfit being an invisibility cloak. They had no idea.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have a teddy bear costume and I’d have to pass Ezekiel and Schell’s table if I wanted to leave the mall. Living across the street had been stressful enough, and the only reason I was even sleeping at night was that his Amazonian overlord seemed to have him under control. But now, seeing him sharing a basket of fries with the guy who shot at me . . .

  It didn’t occur to me at the time that I could’ve waited them out and that they probably wouldn’t murder me in the middle of the mall. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

  “Is there a back door?”

  Chad gave me a dimwitted stare. “Well . . . yeah . . . but . . .”

  That’s all I needed to hear. I ran past him into the back. I didn’t care that the door was clearly labeled NOT AN EXIT. I didn’t care it said ALARM WILL SOUND. I went through it and ran until I caught the bus two stops past the mall. I heard the mall’s screaming alarm for blocks.

  On the bus, I was so paranoid, I didn’t realize I was staring at some random old dude sitting near me until he said, “Please stop that. You’re making me nervous.”