Alibi Junior High

by Greg Logsted

  “Why did he do that?”

  “He told me that Mr. Pedro had a new and very important job, making sure the bad man with the black hat didn’t go anywhere.”

  She looks at me for a moment, blinking her eyes like she’s having trouble taking in this information. “Seriously? That’s what happened to Mr. Pedro?”

  “Yup. Mr. Pedro made the ultimate sacrifice. He gave up his life in the service of our country.”

  Her face changes; sadness sweeps over it. I thought it was a funny joke.

  “What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?”

  “That’s what the letter from the president said about my sister Jodi.” She looks up at me. “Your mother.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I don’t think any letter could have done that.”

  I’m surprised to see a tear slip down her cheek. Can pain really last that long? I thought time heals everything.

  I try to think of some comforting words to say but I have too many questions of my own. I know I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help myself. The words slip out of my mouth. “Do you still have the letter?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I wish I did, but I ripped it up into tiny pieces.”

  We sit together in this snakelike silence. I briefly consider asking her more questions about my mother. I love when we talk about my mother but maybe it would be best if I just change the subject, keep things light for now.

  I blurt out, “Maybe you’re right. I really should try to talk more. Why don’t we talk about something fun. What would you like to talk about?”

  She lets out a long breath of air; she seems relieved that I changed the subject. “Oh, Cody, it doesn’t matter. Anything. What do other people talk about?”

  I’m not like “other people”—doesn’t she know that by now? “Other people” don’t spend their nights chasing mystery men around in the woods. “Other people” don’t toss six kids around a locker room like they were paper airplanes. “Other people” don’t spend their spare time making lethal weapons out of slingshots and steel spikes.

  My shoulders shrug all by themselves. “Um, I don’t know. I guess they talk about television.”

  “I’m sure they talk about more than just television. Maybe they talk about their days or what they’d like to do on the weekend. You know, that kind of stuff.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  She studies me for what seems like a full minute. “Cody…I swear, sometimes you drive me crazy. It’s like living with a robot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes you go hours without talking. Why is it so difficult for you? What ever happened to that little boy?”

  My eyebrows move up my forehead. “I’ve been talking ever since I walked into the kitchen.”

  “You answer questions. That’s not the same as talking.”

  “I asked if I could have some eggs.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope, that’s not the same thing.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “No, it’s not. Listen, I’m not trying to be a pain. I just want us to talk more. That’s all. Can we do that? I mean really try to do that?”

  My dad and I would sometimes go days without talking. It never really bothered me much. That’s just the way it was. It never occurred to me that being quiet could disturb someone.

  I force a smile. “Sure, we can do that.”

  “Thanks. So…let’s see…” She struggles to collect her thoughts. “I want you to feel free to talk to me about anything, and I mean anything…do you know what I mean?”

  I think about the mystery man in the woods, his assault rifle, and the little metal box. Then there’s the café bombing, the fact that someone’s trying to kill my dad, and the added stress of being forced to lead a life I’ve never lived before.

  “Um, I guess…well, kind of.”

  She leans forward, and even though we’re all alone she lowers her voice. “You know…you could also talk about girls, and the way guys your age start to feel about them, that kind of thing.”

  My head snaps up. That wasn’t what I expected her to say. I thought she’d want to talk about books or maybe the weather. I avoid eye contact. “Um, thanks, Jenny. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. Seriously, you can talk to me anytime. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She flashes me a smile. “So…do you have a girlfriend?”

  I stare at my eggs. I can feel my cheeks reddening. “No.”

  “Really? Good-looking guy like you doesn’t have a girlfriend? I thought maybe that’s why you’re wearing your suit today. Nothing wrong with trying to impress a girl.”

  “No, really. I just feel more comfortable in suits. I’ve always worn a suit. Me and my dad.”

  She reaches over and flicks a piece of lint off my sleeve. “Well, you wear a suit well. You look very handsome. Your dad used to wear suits when we were just teenagers. He had this part-time job at a local men’s clothing store. But I think you might wear a suit even better than he did.”

  “Really?”

  “Definitely. He lived right next door to us so I saw him all the time. You look more natural than he did. He used to swagger. He’d come home from work, park his car, and then swagger over to our house and try to impress us. I think Jodi fell for his dress-up routine but I’ve always liked a guy who acts natural.”

  “Girls like guys who act natural?”

  “Sure do. Is there a girl you’re interested in?”

  Even though the conversation is shifting it’s still making me very uncomfortable. I glance at the clock. Time’s slipping away. I really want to talk to Andy before school but for some reason the word “Maybe” escapes from my lips.

  She seems excited. “Really? What’s her name?”

  How did I travel down this road? I’ve got to get some sleep. I sit and blink at her, not really sure if I want to reveal my secret. “What?”

  “The girl’s name. What’s her name?”

  “Um…Renee Carrington. She’s in my history class. We’re working on a project together about France during the American Revolution.”

  “That sounds fantastic. Working together on a project can be a great way to get to know each other better.” She stops talking; she has this look on her face like she just remembered something. “There’s something about her name. Why does it sound so familiar? Renee Carrington? Is that Annie Carrington’s little sister?”

  I’m confused. “Who’s Annie Carrington?”

  “You know. She’s Andy’s friend. I saw you talking to her in the driveway. She drives that car with the big engine.”

  “That’s Renee’s sister?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what I’m asking you. Annie Carrington was in my yoga class. I know she has a much younger sister who she takes care of, but I don’t know if her name’s Renee.”

  I pick up my fork and shovel some eggs into my mouth while I think about this new information. I mumble through a mouthful of food, “I guess it could be. I’ll have to ask Andy.”

  Jenny cocks her head to the side and her eyebrows rise slightly. “Is she cute?”

  I think about the question. “Yeah, that’s a good word for her, cute.”

  “Are you comfortable talking to her?”

  “Yeah, I guess…a little. You know.”

  “Well, don’t forget to listen, too.”

  “Okay.”

  “No, really, if you want a girl to like you, listen to her. Get her to open up about herself.”

  “Okay.”

  She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Seriously, anytime you want to talk to me about girls, feel free. I’ve got inside information that I’m willing to part with.”

  I’m not sure why, but hearing that makes me feel really good. I understand stuff like disarming bombs, alarm systems, and guys with guns, but when it comes to girls I could use a little help.

  I smile and mutter, “T
hanks.”

  “So, we’ll talk?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “About everything, the good and the bad?”

  I nod my head. “Yeah, everything.”

  She reaches out and roughs up my hair. For some reason it doesn’t bother me. I kinda like it. I wonder if that’s something my mom would have done too.

  I glance at the clock. “No! These clocks, I swear.” I bolt to my feet. “I’m really late. I’ve gotta run.”

  I gently tap on Andy’s bedroom window.

  The curtains move just the slightest bit, as if someone’s peeking around the corner and then they’re yanked to the side and he’s standing there in his underwear. He looks wide awake although I’m sure he was sleeping just five seconds ago.

  With his shirt off he seems more muscular, almost square, like one of those Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots my dad and I used to play with. He’s also got a nice tattoo on his shoulder; it’s a cobra with a knife in its mouth. I avoid looking at the stump of his missing arm and the long scar across his side.

  He opens the window and grins. “What’s up with the suit?”

  “I’m sick of wearing clothes I don’t understand.”

  He gives me a puzzled look. “Okay, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me right now, but then again I just woke up.”

  I cover my mouth; it’s something my dad taught me, an added precaution in case someone’s watching you. “We’ve got to talk.”

  His grin turns into a smile. “Well, I don’t know a whole lot about suits but you look all right to me.”

  I keep my hand over my mouth. “No, we’ve got to talk about last night.”

  The smile disappears. “What about last night?”

  “I saw you in the woods.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, and I saw the man you were tracking.”

  His face changes; he becomes very serious. He pushes the window open wider, leans forward, and lowers his voice. “Really? You saw the ghost?”

  “The ghost?”

  “That’s what I call him because I’ve never seen him and he’s so quiet. I was beginning to wonder if I was just being paranoid. I thought maybe all these flashbacks of the war were starting to mess with my mind.”

  I remember the way he moved. “The ghost” is an excellent name. “No, you’re not being paranoid. I heard something last night and I went to investigate—”

  Andy interrupts me. “That was my trap, he sprung my trap. I couldn’t believe it. He’s avoided all my others and trips a simple log-drop. Afterward I was beginning to wonder if it was just a deer.”

  “No, it wasn’t a deer, that’s for sure. I saw him. I was perched in a tree. Big guy, dressed in black, ski mask, moved fast and completely silent. Professional. Dangerous. Had a nasty weapon, you should be glad you didn’t catch up with him.”

  “Armed with what?”

  I struggle to remember the name of the weapon, I almost give up, then it comes to me. “A SIG 550 assault rifle with what looked like a night scope.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nod my head. “Yeah.”

  “Oh man, what’s going on here?”

  “I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s a mystery to me. What was he doing? Did you see anything?”

  “Yeah, he got some kind of metal box that was hidden by the tree line.”

  Andy’s eyes open a little wider. “Huh? By the tree line? How big was it?”

  “About this big.” I show him with my hands. “What do you think it was?”

  He clenches his jaw tightly. His expression looks grim. “We can’t talk about this now. Not here. We’ll discuss it later. I feel like I’m wading into something without knowing how deep it is. I think it’s time I know a little more about your past.”

  “About my past?”

  “Now’s not the time. We’ll talk later.”

  “But—”

  He holds up his hand. “I said later.”

  “Okay.” I start to walk away then stop. “Andy?”

  “Later.”

  “It’s about something else.”

  “What?”

  I look at my polished shoes. “Um, your friend Annie, is her last name Carrington?”

  “It is.”

  “Does she have a sister, Renee?”

  “She does. Why?”

  “Um, she’s in my history class. I better run. Talk to you later.”

  I start to walk away.

  “Cody.”

  I turn around. “Yeah.”

  “Keep your eyes open. Be careful.”

  That’s what my dad had told me. I nod my head and walk toward the bus stop.

  THE RUNNING OF THE MICE

  I thought I was going to miss the bus, but the usual collection of kids are still standing at the stop, side by side like books on a shelf.

  Why do they do that? You’d think they’d walk around or something, but they just stand there staring across the street into the woods. It’s kind of eerie, almost like they’re prisoners awaiting execution. They might as well tie blindfolds around their heads.

  I join the group fully expecting everyone to take one look at my suit and then rip me apart like a fortune cookie, but nobody says anything, not one word, not even “Good morning.”

  I study Albert. He’s messing with his backpack. Like he suddenly has to find something in there that’s really important. He seems angry.

  “Hey…is everything all right?”

  He digs deeper in his backpack and doesn’t look at me. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just looking for something.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Ah, you know, um, stuff…stuff that I…can’t seem to find.”

  He continues to dig. Unless he’s got something sewed into the lining of his pack, I don’t think he’s going to find whatever he’s looking for.

  “You sure everything’s all right?”

  “Yeah, fine.” His voice sounds different.

  Something’s wrong. I’m used to people giving me a hard time, it’s what they do. I stare at Albert, sifting through his books like he’s panning for gold. I’m getting aggravated. I should tie him to a tree and force him to make fun of my suit.

  I glance at Cell Phone Girl. She quickly looks away. The redheaded iPod girl has her back to me; her music is blasting, she’s safely enclosed in her little bubble of noise. There are two other kids I’ve never talked to before. I’ve always thought of them as Neighborhood Kid A and Neighborhood Kid B. Both of them are standing at attention, staring straight ahead, like those unblinking English guards assigned to protect the queen.

  Albert just keeps on digging but I think if he could, he’d leave his books by the side of the road and crawl into that pack. What’s going on here?

  Cell Phone Girl’s phone goes off with some hip-hop ringtone I’ve never heard before. Instead of answering it, she just lets it ring and looks at me. There’s a pleading, apologetic look in her eyes, the same kind of look you’d give someone if you accidentally ran over their cat in the driveway.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

  She digs the phone out of her bag.

  “Hello…Yeah, um, I can’t talk right now…. I’ll call you later…. No, really I can’t…. Seriously, I can’t…. You know why…. Yes…Yes…I gotta go. Bye…. I will. Bye…Bye.”

  She clicks the phone shut, slips it back into her bag, and desperately tries to act natural, standing there, looking around, doing everything but whistle. I feel like we’re all playing tennis with a bowling ball.

  Albert zips up his pack. I walk over to him. “What’s going on?”

  He shakes his head and mutters, “You know.”

  “Know what? I don’t know anything.”

  He glares at me, points at the others, and snaps, “They all think you’re some kind of crazy psychopath.” Then pointing at himself, “And I’m mad that you broke the code!”

  “W
hat code? What are you talking about?”

  “I haven’t told Andy yet but I’m sure he’s going to be upset, too.”

  I throw up my arms. “What code? I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

  “My sensei at the dojo taught us that the first rule of karate is to hide your karate like a buried treasure. That means you don’t go around busting heads just because you can. You only use it to defend yourself.”

  “I was defending myself, and Frank Flynn, too. They were pushing us around in the gym. Someone kicked me in the back. Pogo Stick threw a punch at me. Hey, it was six against one.”

  Albert rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and growls, “You’re such a…” He stops and gains control of his anger. “That’s not the story I heard. Everyone said you just went crazy and almost killed those guys. They think you’re a seriously messed-up psycho. And I think they might be right.”

  I hold up my hands. “That’s not what happened. Really. Why would I do that? It doesn’t make any sense. Besides, how does everyone even know about it? All this just happened yesterday.”

  “What planet are you from? This is all everybody’s talking about. You know, cell phones, e-mails, someone even posted a video on YouTube. They reenacted the whole episode using G.I. Joe dolls.”

  “Really?” I can’t believe this.

  “Hey, you’re a star. You’re the talk of the school. I guess that’s why you’re wearing the suit. Getting ready for your big close-up, Mr. Hollywood?”

  “I’m wearing the suit because I like wearing suits, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, right, whatever you say.”

  This is another fine example of why this whole school routine can just drive a guy completely nuts. I didn’t have to deal with this kind of stuff when it was just me and my dad. Maybe that’s the real purpose of school: to drive everyone bonkers.

  I wonder if it’s even worth trying to convince him what really happened. He seems to have made up his mind based on what he’s heard and some stupid homemade video using dolls. It surprises me how much his anger hurts.

  I guess I value his friendship more than I realized.

  The bus finally bounces around the corner, giving me an excuse to put off this conversation until I can figure out what to say.