Busted

by Gina Ciocca

  “I’ll think about it,” I mumbled.

  “Think about what?” Nick asked as he reentered the room with an armful of soda cans and—to my surprise—a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a paper plate.

  “About changing her name to Marisa Palmera, Private Eye,” Charlie answered, helping him pass out the drinks. “It has a pretty badass ring to it. Don’t you think?”

  Nick peered over my shoulder and snatched the flyer from my hand. “What would you write about? How you once took a job in the school cafeteria to see if they were putting pink slime in the food?”

  “Did you want to eat that shit?” I grabbed for the paper, but he held it out of reach.

  “Or maybe you could tell them about how you hid outside Mr. Hastings’s classroom for two hours to find out if he was having an affair with Miss O’Donnell,” Nick added.

  “Mrs. Hastings used to babysit us! I had to know!”

  “No way,” Mindy garbled through a mouthful of peanut butter. “She’s totally writing about how she busted creepo Jason.”

  Nick snorted. “Funny how Lois Lane Junior never felt the need to check up on Jordan Pace, or she might’ve dumped him instead of the other way around.”

  I jabbed at his stomach and snatched the paper from him when he doubled over. “Or maybe I won’t write anything for the contest, because my days of channeling Nancy Drew are definitely over.”

  My phone started to ring in my bag, and I took the opportunity to shove the flyer inside while I pulled my cell out. When I saw the screen lit up with Kendall’s name, my stomach fluttered a little. When a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, I was shocked to realize the feeling was excitement.

  I threw a “be right back” over my shoulder and darted up the stairs to my bedroom. As soon as I closed my door, I connected the call.

  “Hey,” I said. “You’ll never guess what I was looking at earlier.” The contents of my memory box from our trip were still scattered across my bed. I sat down and picked up a smooth, fan-shaped shell, eager to share my nostalgia.

  But before I could say another word, Kendall cut in. “Marisa, I’m sorry to bother you while Charlie and Mindy are over, but do you think you can get away for a second?”

  “I’m already alone in my roo—wait, how did you know they’re here?”

  “I really need your help. Can you come outside? I’ll explain everything.”

  I shot off my bed. “You’re at my house?” I hurried to my parents’ room, the closest spot with a view of the street. Sure enough, a black Volkswagen sat at the curb in front of our house. “Kendall, what kind of help are we talking about here?”

  Kendall sighed. “The same kind you gave Charlie.”

  And that’s when the bubble of positivity I’d been floating in since reconnecting with Kendall Keene in the parking lot burst like a microwaved marshmallow all over the room.

  4

  I stepped up to my locker, still mulling over everything that had happened the day before. I didn’t notice Jordan approaching until his arm nearly touched my shoulder. When your last name is Palmera and your ex-boyfriend’s is Pace, it’s a bit of a problem to have lockers assigned in alphabetical order. I used to make excuses to stop at my locker, but that was when he’d smile and we’d chat and flirt as we switched out our textbooks. Now my book bag weighed fifty pounds at any given point specifically so I could avoid the anxiety that coiled my muscles in moments like this.

  “Hey,” I said stiffly.

  “Hey.”

  He didn’t even look at me, barely moved his stupid, beautiful lips when he spoke. A few short months ago, we could’ve given Greggie-George and Mystery Blond a run for their money with the way we made use of his lips, and now forming actual words was too much effort to waste on me. It burned me like crazy.

  Nick’s Lois Lane comment was still on my mind too, so I slammed my locker shut with an aggravated huff and said, “So is today the day I finally get to find out what I did?”

  He inhaled through his nose, like he could gather the patience he needed for my petulant question from the air particles around him, and looked at me with those blue eyes that used to drive up my pulse rate faster than gym class—that still did, as much as I hated him for it.

  “Look, when will you drop it already?”

  “When you give me an answer.”

  “I told you. It wasn’t you. It was me.”

  “Is there a planet where people don’t recognize that as the biggest line of bullshit ever? You won’t even look at me anymore!”

  He spread his arms and his eyes widened with incredulity. “You said you didn’t want to be friends!”

  “I meant I didn’t want to be dumped, Jordan, not that I wanted you to treat me like a leper.”

  He sighed, a resigned sound that made me feel bothersome and insignificant. “Look, I’ll be nice from now on if it’s what you want.” His eyes skimmed over me, unreadable and yet the final nail in my coffin of inferiority. “But every time we talk, I start to think maybe it’s better if we don’t.”

  He turned and walked away, his books tucked against his hip, before I could respond, though I imagined he’d seen response enough in my face. I went to slam my locker, angry at myself for letting a two-second conversation get me so riled, only to get even more annoyed when I found I’d already shut it.

  Damn Nick. Why did he have to remind me of the one time I’d failed to sniff out an answer? I’d told myself that the way I’d handled things with Jordan was called “giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

  In reality, it was the one time I’d needed the dirt on a situation but didn’t really want to know the truth.

  I yanked my bag around my hip and dug out a tube of Chap Stick, smearing it over my lips while I berated myself into calming down. When I threw it back into the bag, my homemade heart pin caught my eye.

  I’d made that pin, with its bursts of sparkle and bright, bold colors, the night Jordan kissed me for the first time. The elation in every crystal and bead could probably ward off evil.

  And if I had to look at it one more time, I’d vom my guts all over the place.

  I plucked the pin off my bag and hesitated in front of Jordan’s locker before turning the combination and shoving it inside. He’d probably throw it away, but I didn’t care. He’d been equally careless with my real heart, so what did it matter? If the pin represented us, then it represented something that had never been real anyway.

  5

  “Something wrong, Marisa?”

  I jolted when I realized I’d been caught staring. TJ’s confused eyes met mine and I squirmed in my chair and drummed my pen against the desk, searching for a way to make my gratuitous eye-boring seem casual.

  It was weird to think of TJ as Kendall’s boyfriend. I hadn’t made any promises during my conversation with her, but I’d been thinking about her request nonstop. Probably because it still creeped me out that she’d called from outside my house. I assumed she’d followed Charlie after their meeting at the library, because I didn’t know how else she’d know where I lived. Still, making a phone call and a house call at the same time was a hundred percent Kendall’s brand of weird, so it’s not like I was totally bowled over. Nor was I surprised that she wouldn’t come inside. She and Nick had never been particularly chummy. So I’d sat in her front seat, watching her peel and push the skin around her nails as she explained that something about TJ had been off lately.

  “He’s so distant,” she’d said. “At first I thought he was upset about switching schools, but now he’s not even happy when we’re together. It’s like his mind is somewhere else and I’m stuck with this moody shell of my boyfriend. I can’t stand it anymore.”

  “You mean he’s not like that all the time?” slipped out before I could stop it.

  Her eyes widened. “No! He actually had a sense of humor before. He liked being
with me, or at least I thought he did. He keeps saying nothing is wrong, but Fall Ball was the last straw.”

  “The dance? Isn’t that this weekend?”

  “Saturday. And we’re not going. He told me yesterday that he doesn’t have time between work and schoolwork. I bought a dress, shoes—everything. I mean, I know he’s not a people person, but these are all people he knows. And I’m his girlfriend.” She folded her arms, her mouth a line of worry. “Something is up, Marisa, and I need to know what it is.”

  Her gaze turned pleading and I felt myself cracking like dried-out cement.

  As I watched her, unsure of what to say, it occurred to me that Fall Ball was the “obligation” TJ hadn’t been looking forward to when he’d chased me down with my broken ankle bracelet. But was it because he didn’t care for crowds, like Kendall had said, or because he had something to hide?

  Damn it. Why did I even have to care?

  I was still asking myself that question as I sat in yearbook, sizing up TJ, trying to decide if I cared enough to do something about it. And trying to cover up my stare as he waited expectantly for an answer to his question.

  My eyes darted from TJ’s dark, furrowed eyebrows to the logo on the left breast of his shirt, and I sat up straighter.

  “Um, where’d you get the Maple Acres shirt?”

  His expression didn’t change. “Maple Acres.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Right. I meant, do you work there?”

  “Yup.” He sat back in his chair and pulled at the logo, stretching the white cotton away from his chest before turning his attention back to the computer screen. “Long time now.”

  As soon as he said it, my memory was triggered. I’d always thought he looked familiar but could never quite place where I’d seen him. As I thought back to every trip I’d taken to Maple Acres, twice a year since I was two years old, the image of a boy with dark curls stuffed beneath a knit cap and a heavy flannel coat that made him look like Paul Bunyan clicked into place. The farm stretched over two hundred and fifty acres, selling pumpkins and cider and offering hayrides and a corn maze in a fall, then Christmas trees that you cut down yourself in the winter. The place had a storybook quality to it that I loved, and I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to figure out TJ was a part of it.

  “We go there for our tree every year. I think I’ve seen you.”

  TJ kept his eyes on the screen. “Probably. I’m usually bundling the trees or in the checkout area. Sometimes I drive the tractor for the hayrides.” He glanced over long enough to shoot me a half smile. “Maybe you’ve seen the back of my head.”

  That would’ve been an occasion I definitely hadn’t noticed him. The one and only time I’d taken a hayride had been the lone trip I’d made without Charlie or my dad, both of whom are allergic to hay. I’d gone with Jordan. Superman himself could’ve been driving the tractor and I would’ve been too busy drooling over Jordan in his plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up around his gorgeous forearms to notice.

  Vom, vom, vom. I pushed the chunks down and forged ahead. “So, that thing you didn’t want to do the last time we talked, is that…still an issue?”

  “Uh, no. That fell through, so my article should be good to go on Monday.”

  He’s not making this easy for me, that’s for sure.

  “Take your time, really. I hope you didn’t cancel your plans because of me.”

  He glanced over and gave me a wry smile. “No.”

  “So, um, the tree farm. I go all the time.” I mentally slapped myself. Twice a year is all the time? “Do you live nearby?”

  “You know the green colonial across the street behind the barn?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He smiled again. “That’s my house.”

  “Wait, I thought the owners lived there.”

  “They do. We have for my whole life.”

  “Your family owns Maple Acres?” I blinked a few times, dumbfounded by my own dumbness.

  “Well, co-owns. Have you seen the guy with the white hair who sneaks free gourds to all the little kids at Halloween? That’s my uncle Roger. He’s there all the time, but my dad does more of the financial stuff.”

  My face lit up. “That’s awesome! I love that place! I took a picture of the white barn from the top of the hill once and tried to sketch it. All the trees had snow on them, the sky was this amazing gray color, and the pond was reflecting it”—I remembered midbabble that I’d veered off course and reined myself back in—“anyway, let’s just say it was magical, but drawing isn’t my strong suit. So, um, if you didn’t move, then why did you switch schools?”

  TJ’s eyes slid back to the computer screen and his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, as if I’d brought up something he didn’t really want to talk about. Now I was getting somewhere.

  “Our property is right at the intersection of three town lines. Technically, I could’ve gone to any one of the high schools.” He stabbed a few keys with his pointer finger, eliciting three clipped clicks. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I could’ve sworn his jaw tightened. “I left Templeton because it was time for a change of scenery.”

  “It must’ve been hard though, transferring for your senior year.” And pretty odd, in my opinion. “I’m sure you had a lot of ties there.”

  TJ’s fingers paused in midair over the keyboard and he looked at me. “Not that many.”

  This time when he turned his attention back to the screen, I knew our conversation had ended. He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture that had a definite undertone of irritation. Whether it related to my question or some memory pertaining to the school, I couldn’t tell. But when I caught sight of the leather bracelet on his wrist, my desire to exclaim OMG THAT’S GORGEOUS WHERE DID YOU GET IT almost overruled my desire to ask what the hell his comment was supposed to mean. I’d been baiting him to say, “Yeah, my girlfriend goes there.” He hadn’t. What did that mean?

  Maybe nothing.

  But damn it all to hell, I suddenly had to know for sure.

  6

  “I don’t know, Kendall.” I sighed into my cell phone. “This is different from what I’ve done before. You’re not asking me to follow him for a night or two. You’re basically asking me to stalk him. This feels…sneaky.”

  “How is it any sneakier than trespassing on private property and aiming a camera inside someone’s living room?”

  She had a point. Still, I didn’t feel quite right about this “assignment” to trail TJ, if that’s what we were calling it now. I’d phoned her after school to confirm that I’d gleaned an inkling of what she’d described in her car that day and to find out how she wanted me to prove something was amiss. I’d expected her to give me a day and time when she thought I might snag him, oh, having pizza with another girl. Instead, she wanted me to watch him. Like, all the time.

  “You don’t understand, Marisa,” she said, desperation creeping into her voice. “TJ is different. You’re not going to catch him sneaking off at a party with some drunk girl. It’s not how he’s spending his time. It’s how he’s acting when he’s finally spending time with me.”

  “Are we sure this is a cheating issue?” Because it sounded a lot more like a communication problem, and I wasn’t a relationship counselor. Then again, I wasn’t really a private investigator either.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice shrank into weary resignation. “I don’t know anything anymore. Maybe he is chasing drunk girls at parties. The TJ I know would rather be holed up in that shitty old barn than do something like that, but who am I to say? I’m only his girlfriend.”

  I flopped into the purple papasan chair at the foot of my bed. “So let’s go over this one more time. You want me to drive over to the tree farm this Saturday night, park between his house and the white barn, turn off my car, and watch.”

  “I told you I’ll pay
you.”

  “I don’t want your money. I want to make sure I understand your request.”

  “Then yes.”

  “Do I need binoculars?”

  “I don’t know. Do you have a pair?”

  I balked. “I was kidding! Geez, do you want me to wear camouflage and paint my face too?”

  “Ha-freaking-ha, Marisa. Are you going to do it or not?” And there was the bossy, impatient Kendall I knew and loved. Sort of.

  I stopped myself from making a joke about designing a special camo line of jewelry called PI Jane, knowing I’d be the only one amused. Instead I asked, “Why aren’t you coming with me again?”

  She sighed. “Now that I’m not going to the dance, I have to go to New York with my mom for my cousin’s bridal shower. No sense in letting a two-hundred-dollar dress go to waste, I guess.”

  I almost dropped the phone. I could tally the cost of all the jeans in my closet and not come close to two hundred dollars.

  “What if he leaves?”

  “Then follow him.”

  “What if he doesn’t leave?”

  Kendall paused. “Then make sure no one goes to him.”

  • • •

  It occurred to me as I sat in my car at the edge of the tree farm that I really needed to get a life.

  As if she’d read my mind, Charlie said, “We’re either the coolest people ever for doing this, or the world’s biggest losers. I haven’t decided which one yet.” She pulled her corduroy jacket tighter around her torso. It hadn’t taken long for the chill of the early November night to find its way into my jalopy.

  “Well, let’s see. We’re hanging out on the side of a tree farm on a Saturday night, ready to freeze our butts off for an unspecified amount of time, while alternately staring at a house and a barn that a guy we barely know may or may not come out of, all for a girl who can’t be here because she’s breaking in a new dress. What does that tell you?”

  Charlie grimaced. “That you should’ve let her pay you.”