Keep Them Close(79)

I marched down the stairs and into the garage. I jumped on my bike as my mother came into the garage. Ally, listen—

Don’t fucking call me that! I shouted, my voice choking through emotion.

What did you just say, young lady? Get back here right now!

I rode away, my eyes clouded with tears. Luke was perfect, but Allison? Allison needed to change. No rice for you. No potatoes for you. You’re too heavy! Your clothes are too plain! You waste too much time expanding your mind! Why can’t you be popular like Luke? Why can’t you be good-looking like Luke? Why can’t you be like Luke Luke Luke?

I was still sobbing when I reached the bike racks nestled between the elementary and middle school. I didn’t bother to lock my bike. Let someone steal it. I was feeling destructive. I wanted pain. I wanted to feel it. I wanted to inflict it.



* * *





American history’s clearly our Achilles’ heel, said Mr. Lewis, one of our humanities teachers and the coach of the Scholastic Bowl team. Which is a little sad, considering we live in America. He smiled. With his bow tie and his glasses on the tip of his nose, Mr. Lewis looked much more serious than he appeared. He checked his watch. We’re over time. All right, next practice, we’re focusing on post–World War Two history. Be prepared, minions.

Our practice had run a little late. It was quarter to six. But I was in no hurry to get home after how I’d left things with my mother. Though it felt good to tell her off.

Allison, Mr. Lewis called after me. Your parents haven’t reserved their—

They’re not coming, I said.

They’re not—oh—oh, I see, he recovered. I’m sorry to hear that. Okay, well, in that case, we’ll need to get a parental chaperone—

I know. I’ll ask Evie.

Okay, sure. Great. His brow furrowed, he nodded at me. Great job today. I’m sure—

My brother has an important baseball game that weekend, I said.

Ah. Yes. Luke. Well, it sounds like your parents have two very talented children.

You might want to mention that to them, I did not say. Instead I smiled, because that’s what I was supposed to do, and left the classroom.

I went to the bike racks. It was humid outside, as it had rained much of the day. I saw Finley there and immediately straightened my posture.

Hi, Fin, I said. Whatcha doing?

We’re riding the hill. My turn as gofer. He grabbed a bike, freed it from the racks, and walked it over to the fence, where he lifted the bike chest-high. One of the boys on the other side grabbed it. Then he returned, wiping his hands. Nice beret. Want to help?

I looked over at the fence, where a bunch of boys, Jimmy Wilding and Charlie Gennaro and Kevin Galloway and Andy Frerichs, waited for the bikes, Luke the center of the group, as always, cracking jokes. Everyone flocked to Luke, Luke, Luke, the star athlete with the golden arm and the golden smile.

Finley picked up a bike and started for the fence.

I looked down at Luke’s bike, still in the racks.

Sure, I told Finley. I can help.

I reached inside my backpack and found my paper razor.





70


Allison

Luke and Trinity wear grave expressions as I pour out my confession. Trinity seems to be suppressing emotion. “Thank you for saying that,” she says. “We couldn’t be sure.”

I draw back. “What do you mean, you couldn’t be sure? You…knew—”

“The video,” says Luke. “We can see you and Fin talking at the bike racks, and then you squat down by my bike after he walks away. We assumed you were cutting the brake lines, because somebody cut them right around that time, but your body blocked the camera’s view of my bike and what you were doing.”

I step back from them. “What are you talking about? What video?”

“What do you mean, ‘what video’? You know this already. The thumb drive I left in Trinity’s car for you—”

“That’s what that was?”

Luke looks dumbfounded. “The ‘school security video.’?”

“I thought…I thought ‘school’ meant Mortimer. The videos from the parking lot that night. The road rage?”

“Oh.” Luke makes a face. “From the parking lot that night? No. I handed you those discs. I watched you break them into pieces.”

I bring a hand to my face. “I thought you made copies.”

He throws up his hands. “Why would I do that?”

I am nearly overcome with relief. I am not going to prison. That night in the parking lot is behind me.

“How long…” I shake my head. “How long have you had that video from middle school?”

“I saw it when I first met Trinity last October,” says Luke. “She told me everything from the start.”

“You’ve known all that time? And you didn’t say anything?”

“We…” He glances at Trinity. “We needed to get the documentary off the ground first. If we were at odds with you and Finley from the get-go, I’m not sure it would’ve happened. So yeah, I tried to block it from my mind. But then, after we saw you planting the drugs in Trinity’s trunk…yeah, I dropped the thumb drive in the car when the cops pulled me over. Kind of another test, I guess. I wanted to see if you’d watch it and what you’d do. Turns out, you hardly even noticed it.” He shrugs. “Sooner or later, it was going to come out.”