Principal K stood right in the middle of the flow. He didn’t make any effort to get out of the way. Kids swerved around him like none of them wanted to get near him. He kept giving orders. “Walk. Slow down.” Clearly Principal K didn’t understand that his authority ended the instant that final bell rang. That’s the way Parker saw it, anyway.
But the kids obeyed. They slowed their pace. Parker was pretty sure it had nothing to do with respect. Kingman ruled his kingdom with a different tool. Fear. What would it be like to be raised by a dad like that? No wonder Clayton Kingman was such a headcase.
Parker watched for Jelly, and he picked her out the instant she sidestepped around Kingman.
Parker counted off ten seconds to let her get some distance from Principal Kingman, then gave a short whistle and stood.
She zeroed in on him, waved, and hurried his way.
Principal K spotted him too—and followed.
CHAPTER 17
ANGELICA COULD FEEL Principal Kingman following her. What on earth did he want this time?
“Miss Malnatti.”
Mr. Kingman had a gift of using a formal tone to talk down to people. Even at this distance, she could see Parker’s face cloud. She stopped and turned to face the principal.
Mr. Kingman was all sweet-tea smiles. “I see Mr. Buckman appears to be waiting for you. Your friend didn’t make it to last period, did he?”
He knew very well Parker didn’t. Nobody left or returned to the school without stopping at the office. His office. How could her sister go out with this man’s son? Did Maria have to check in with him every time Clayton took her out for a date?
“Miss Malnatti.” More gums. More teeth. “It was an easy question.”
Why was he pressing her to snitch?
“Did Mr. Buckman return to class?” He held up a finger. “The truth, Miss Malnatti. The truth.”
Just the way he said the word truth reminded her way too much of Clayton.
“Did. Buckman. Return. To class?” He raised his eyebrows.
“No, sir. But he texted—like two minutes ago. He just got back from the doctor. It was probably too close to the bell, and he just decided to—”
Mr. Kingman held up one hand. “I’m not interested in your theories. But I am curious as to what devilry Mr. Buckman was up to this time.”
“Devilry?”
“Mischief. Trouble.” Mr. Kingman talked down to her like she was a third-grader. “Some sort of activity performed with the help of the devil.”
“I know what devilry means.” She just couldn’t believe he used that term when speaking about Parker.
Mr. Kingman sighed in that loud way he did when he wanted someone to know they were testing his patience. “Let’s just go to the source and see if we can get this whole mess straightened out.”
Mess? Seriously? If he was so eager to clean up messes, why didn’t he do something about his son?
Mr. Kingman headed directly for Parker—who was already heading for them, like he knew it was pointless to avoid this. Angelica hurried to keep up.
“Mr. Buckman,” Principal Kingman said. “Miss Malnatti tells me you didn’t return to class after your appointment, yet here you were, waiting for classes to end.”
Parker’s eyes darted toward her.
She gave him the most apologetic look she could, hoping he’d read the truth in her eyes. I didn’t throw you under the bus, Parker. Honest.
“I just got back from the doctor.” Parker raised his bad arm slightly. “Didn’t see the point of going back to class for less than five minutes.”
Mr. Kingman gave a dry chuckle. “Didn’t see the point? My, my. I see we must curb you of your mendacious ways.”
He loved throwing big words around—acting surprised that whoever he was talking to had no idea what it meant, and then explaining the meaning in the most condescending way.
Principal Kingman let out a long sigh. “Mendacious has to do with being dishonest—which you most certainly were, Mr. Buckman. Five minutes or fifty, the point of going back to class is honesty. Integrity. Responsibility. Respect. Now I realize those may not be the most celebrated virtues up north where you came from, but they’re held in the highest regard down here.” He pointed to a star-shaped tie tack pinning his red necktie in place. Brass with diamonds. “This is the Star of Integrity. I got it—no, earned it—from my father.”
Not again. How many times had Angelica heard him drone on about the Star of Integrity? He’d managed to build a whole assembly out of the topic. But he was lecturing the wrong person. Parker had the strongest sense of integrity of anyone she’d ever known—besides his dad. Parker didn’t need some cheesy piece of jewelry. Principal K just talked about integrity. Parker and his dad lived it.
Mr. Kingman straightened the star so the tip pointed directly at his double chin. “Integrity is a little thing you’d do well to develop yourself, Mr. Buckman.”
Parker’s face got really red. “Thank you for the inspiration, sir.”
To Angelica’s relief, he said it without even a hint of sarcasm. She did not want Parker to say anything that would earn him a detention—and with Mr. Kingman, it wouldn’t take much. The keys to surviving in an empire led by a dictator like Mr. Kingman were simple: Don’t cross him. Don’t contradict him. Don’t disrespect him in any way. And stay off his radar—which was the hardest thing of all.
Mr. Kingman’s walkie-talkie squawked. He drew the unit from its holster like he’d rehearsed the move. A lot. He tilted his head slightly to listen. “Seems we have some minor altercation by the buses.” He holstered the walkie-talkie. “Tell you what, Mr. Buckman. You come to my office first thing tomorrow morning and we’ll have a little chat, hmmm?”
Parker nodded.
Mr. Kingman raised his eyebrows like he was expecting something more.
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Kingman smiled. “Well,” he tapped his walkie-talkie. “Duty calls.” He spun on his heel and walked at a man-on-a-mission pace for the school.
Parker let out a breath of air. “That was fun.”
Jelly snagged Parker’s cap off his head and slapped it on hers. “I’m soooo sorry. I never—”
“I know you didn’t,” Parker said. “That’s just the way he is.”
“In all the places we’ve lived, I’ve never met a principal I didn’t like. But Principal Kingman is in a class all his own.”
“Easy, there, Jelly. Keep talking like that and you’ll never earn a Star of Integrity either.
Angelica laughed. “He’s got an ego the size of the Everglades.”
“His son isn’t much different.”
Clayton. She hated the thought of him dating her sister. “Actually, that’s who I wanted to talk to you about.”
Parker gave her a curious look.
“Let’s talk on the way to the skiff.”
He hesitated. “What did he do?”
She shrugged and avoided his eyes. The real question was how much she dared tell him.
CHAPTER 18
PARKER SWUNG INTO THE CIRCLE K for snacks. Normally Jelly wouldn’t buy a thing—just poach some of his food. But Jelly still had half her PB and J sandwich left. The fact that she hadn’t even finished her lunch was another clue. Something was really eating at her. Parker pedaled alongside Jelly through town and past the visitor center. She didn’t give him so much as a hint as to what was going on with Kingman. What was she waiting for?
Growing circles of sweat soaked through his T-shirt. Even the wind he created from pedaling wasn’t enough to keep his legs dry, thanks to the heat radiating off the asphalt.
They hit the three-mile bridge out to Chokoloskee before Jelly got past the small talk.
“Maria and Clayton broke up.”
Parker let out a whoop. “Seriously? When?”
“Last night.”
She didn’t exactly look happy, which made no sense.
“So why aren’t you doing cartwheels?”
Jelly st
ared at the road like she hadn’t heard the question. “It was messy.”
He wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but he knew her well enough to sit tight and wait for it. She liked to process out loud, and he’d probably get more information if he didn’t bombard her with questions.
“And it isn’t over.”
Parker glanced at her.
“My dad thinks it is. But it definitely isn’t.” Jelly looked at him—and hit a pothole. She lost control for an instant, but pulled it together enough to keep from spilling.
Parker swerved around her and circled back to where she’d stopped.
“My tire,” she said. “Great.”
It was flat, and they were barely halfway across the bridge. He dropped his bike on the shoulder and inspected Jelly’s front tire. “This thing is shot.”
Jelly raised her face to the sky and growled. “Not one more thing.”
A faded blue and white Chevy pickup slowed alongside them. It looked like early seventies. There wasn’t a single quarter panel without dents and scratches. A total beater—and towing a twenty-foot Carolina Skiff that was in a lot better shape than the truck.
The driver stopped right in the lane. He looked like someone out of one of those swamp-dweller shows. Ragged black beard halfway down his chest. Face as pale as a bar of soap—like he only came out at night. “Wanna ride?”
Jelly took a step back. “It’s just a flat. I can walk. Thank you, though.”
In the months he’d lived here, Parker had never seen this guy before. But that’s the way it was with some locals. They lived on the fringes of the Everglades—and of society.
“Toss the bike in the bed.” The stranger motioned. Nails long, and as black underneath as his beard. “Hop in.”
She flashed Parker a desperate look.
“We’re okay.” Parker stepped in front of Jelly. The bench seat was loaded with crumpled fast food bags, empty cups with tops and straws, and oily-looking rags. “Thanks anyway.”
“I weren’t offering you a ride. Nothing wrong with your bike. The girl’s the one what done got the flat.”
He locked eyes with Parker for a moment, just boring into him with a freaky intensity.
The man leaned forward to look around Parker. “If you change your mind, darlin’, just give a wave and a holler.” He pointed at his rearview mirror. “I’ll be watchin’.”
He pulled forward slowly, like he really expected her to motion him back.
The trailer bounced past as the pickup gained speed. The Yamaha 115 outboard mounted to the transom looked brand-new.
“Night Crawler.” Parker read the name on the back of the boat. “Just the kind of guy you want to get a ride from.”
“Now you’re giving me second thoughts.” Jelly smiled. “And I was just about to flag him down.”
“Really? Well, let me help you.” Parker raised one hand high. “I’m sure he’s still watching.”
She dropped her bike, lunged at his arm, and dragged it down. “If he turns around, I’m taking your bike—and you’re riding with the creep.”
Parker couldn’t think of any situation where he’d be desperate enough to get a ride from the guy. “The truth is, I think there’s a lot of creepy people just like him living down here.”
“You’re exaggerating. I’ll admit there’s some scary people living down here.” Jelly picked up her bike and started walking it toward Chokoloskee. “But almost everyone I’ve met seems decent. Just as normal as we are.”
Parker walked his bike next to her. “So you’re saying you’re normal?”
She veered her bike into his path to cut him off. “Watch it, Parker. You can be replaced.”
“You’ll have to do it soon enough.” He regretted the comment the moment he said it.
Jelly’s smile faded. “Any word on the transfer?”
He shook his head. “Nothing official. But my dad’s supposed to hear something any day now.”
She nodded, but kept her eyes on the pavement.
“I feel like this . . . place . . . is some kind of prison. I just have to get away from here,” Parker said. “I have to escape—and I just know life will be better after I do.”
She was quiet. Way too quiet.
“Seriously, Jelly. Don’t you ever dream of getting out of this place?”
Jelly looked up at him. “Every blistering day. I used to love it here. At least I thought I did. But after the accident, everything changed.”
He’d suspected something like that. But she’d never actually admitted that before. “Once we find out where my dad gets assigned, how long before your dad gets transferred there?”
Jelly shrugged. “My dad said that could take months.”
Which was the huge downside of the move. But she’d get there, and then everything would be fine. Time to change the topic. “Tell me about the breakup. What made Maria finally see the light?”
“She didn’t. My dad gave her kind of an ultimatum.”
Parker groaned. “Don’t tell me she still thinks she’s in love with the maniac.”
Jelly nodded. “She says she’s going to marry him.”
He couldn’t have been more stunned if Jelly had taken the ride from the swamp guy. “What? No way.”
Jelly held up one hand like she was taking a solemn oath. “She told me. And if you tell anyone, you’re dead.”
“She’s seventeen. A senior in high school.” Even though he rarely saw her there. “Is it even legal to get married that young?”
Jelly shook her head. “But she’ll be eighteen in February.”
Maria was fun and nice, and always used to make time for Parker—before she started with Kingman. Parker was pretty sure Maria could get any guy. “Why would she settle for a clod like Clayton Kingman?”
“He can be a charmer. At least he was at first.” She stared out over the water as she walked. “He complimented her a lot in the beginning—and coming from a college guy, that meant a lot.”
“He’s a college dropout.”
“But older,” Jelly said. “That was the key. And he flattered her, if you ask me. She used to go on and on about how good he was at listening and encouraging her.”
“That does not sound like the Clayton Kingman we know,” Parker said.
“My theory? It was all strategic on his part. Kingman did it just to gain Maria’s trust—and she confided in him more and more. Hopes. Dreams. Fears. Her weaknesses. Times she messed up. He’d ask her so many questions. Seemed so caring. Eventually he got her to tell him really private things. I mean, she told him everything. Everything. All the stuff she used to tell me, I guess. I think he used it against her. He used her secrets to keep her in line.”
“And she thinks a guy who does that actually loves her?”
“He loves himself,” Jelly said. “Oh sure, he’d buy her gifts all the time. Make her think she was special to him. He got her to lower her guard a million ways. But I’m absolutely convinced he was just grooming her so he could control her or manipulate her to do whatever it was he wanted. Like she was his pet to train.”
Suddenly he could see it. The strategy behind what Kingman was doing, anyway. “It’s like teaching a puppy to obey.” Good doggy. Rewarding with treats and compliments. Bad doggy. Keeping a tight leash. Yanking them back in line. Shaming them. “Eventually a well-trained puppy follows the trainer around everywhere—”
“Right,” Jelly said. “And they do exactly what their trainers tell them to do.”
And with a guy like Kingman being the trainer . . . with his own agenda? That did not sound good.
“It was like he broke down her defenses,” she said. “He’d rip her up about something, saying she was a lousy girlfriend—or sister—or daughter. Saying she was stupid. She’d be all depressed and busted up about it, and then the guy would flatter her in some way. Stroke her ego. Suddenly she was flying high again.”
Good puppy. Bad puppy. “And Kingman had her eating out of his hand.” He picture
d Kingman with a box of Cheerios.
“It’s like he’s got a hold on her somehow.” Jelly tapped her forehead. “Almost like it’s some kind of mind control. He’s brainwashed her. She’s a totally different person.”
“There’s a spooky thought.” Maybe Kingman wasn’t controlling Maria’s mind, but he’d sure messed with it.
“I told my dad how Maria said she was going to marry the jerk,” Jelly said. “That clinched it. That was enough for my dad to bust them up for good. And there’s even more that he doesn’t know.”
“Like what?”
She shook her head. “Don’t even ask. I promised I wouldn’t tell.”
It wasn’t like her to keep secrets. Not from him, anyway. Whatever it was, it had to be big. Parker resisted the urge to ask for more details, even though the questions were piling up in his head.
They walked in silence for a few minutes. His shoes felt like they were on fire by the time they reached the Chokoloskee end of the bridge.
As they passed the marina he spotted the blue and white pickup by the launch ramp. The bearded man was removing the straps holding his boat to the trailer. “There’s the Night Crawler,” Parker said.
Jelly glanced toward the ramp. “Are you referring to the boat or the guy driving the pickup?”
Parker laughed, but stopped when the guy turned and looked right at them. “What’s he doing?”
“Making me really nervous,” Jelly said.
The man just stood there staring. Clawed at his beard—making no attempt to hide the fact that he was watching them. “Mr. Crawley is staring at you,” Parker said. “Like I’m not even here.”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
The guy hadn’t moved. Just stood there. Watching. Parker waved his hand in a big arc. We see you, creep. You sicko.
“Stop!” Jelly grabbed his arm and pulled it down. “He’s going to think I want a ride.”
Parker laughed and waved with his other arm.
Which cracked Jelly up. “Idiot.”
The guy was still watching. And if he thought they were laughing at him, well, Parker didn’t care. Chances were really high Parker wouldn’t see him again before he moved.
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