Snitch Page 4

  “Do you know where he would be?”

  “I have a few ideas,” I said.

  She nodded.

  I found Andrew in the first place I looked—one of those pub-style restaurants near the apartment. He was sitting at the bar. I slid onto the stool next to him. When he looked at me, I saw his eyes were red. I looked at the glass in front of him and wondered how many he had had.

  “Maybe you should have some coffee,” I said. “Then we can go home. Miranda is worried.”

  “I can’t believe I did that,” he said. “I can’t believe I hit my own kid.” He took another sip of his drink.

  “You’ve probably had enough,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You’ve probably had enough to drink.”

  “It’s soda water, Josh.”

  “Right.”

  He pushed the glass toward me. “Go on. Try it.”

  I did. It was soda water.

  “I quit drinking,” he said.

  Andrew was a responsible guy. He was never late for work. But, boy, he liked to party on the weekends.

  “You quit? When?”

  “While you were away,” he said. “As soon as I became a father.”

  I hadn’t really been paying attention, but once he said that I realized that I hadn’t seen him drink around the apartment. Not even a beer.

  “How come?”

  “I didn’t want to turn out like Dad.”

  Our father used to drink a lot. Too much. He got mean when he drank. Then one night he got into his car when he shouldn’t have and ended up wrapped around a concrete utility pole.

  “I didn’t want to ever hit my kids the way Dad used to hit us.” His eyes got all watery. “You know what they say, Josh? They say people who were knocked around when they were kids grow up to knock their own kids around. I don’t want to be like that.”

  I looked at him for a long time. My big brother.

  “You know what else they say, Andrew?” I said. “People can change. Isn’t that what you keep telling me? I can change? If I can change, you can turn out not to be anything like Dad.”

  We sat there for a while longer. He told me all about what it was like when Digby was born. How scared he’d been. How he was in awe of Miranda. She was so calm around the baby, and she always knew what to do. He finally agreed to come home with me. Miranda was so glad to see him that she started to cry. I heard them talking softly in the bedroom for a long time after that.

  Chapter Ten

  Travis got Sully.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  Of all the people who could have ended up with Sully, Travis got him.

  I got Amy’s scared little dog.

  “You have to talk soft to her,” Amy said. “You can’t shout at her.” She looked worried.

  “I’ll be good to her, I promise,” I told her.

  Travis wasn’t good to Sully, though. In fact, Travis came to the session in a rotten mood that day. He slouched in his chair and didn’t participate at all. When Mr. Weller asked him how his weekend was, he just shrugged. Mr. Weller didn’t push it. He never pushed it.

  Sully wouldn’t do anything for Travis. A couple of times I wanted to go over to Travis and tell him to calm down. But Mr. Weller came up to me and said, “They both have to learn, Josh.” So I let it go.

  Travis was in an even worse mood the next day. He was impatient with Sully the whole time. Sully responded by not listening and not doing anything right. Some of the kids jazzed Travis about it, but that only made him angrier and more impatient. After the session, he shoved Sully into his kennel and then banged on the gate. That got Sully all riled up. Travis smiled at that.

  I caught up with him at the bus stop. There were five or six other kids there, kids who didn’t get rides and who were waiting for the bus.

  “Hey,” I said to Travis. “If you’ve got a problem, don’t take it out on the dog.”

  “Yeah?” Travis said. “Or what?”

  “Or you’ll have to answer to me,” I said.

  Travis laughed. “You’re scaring me, Gillick,” he said.

  My hands clenched into fists at my side. Everyone was watching us.

  “Leave the dog alone, Travis. I mean it.”

  He laughed again. “You’re a wuss,” he said. “You won’t touch me.”

  I stared at him.

  He turned to look at the other kids who were waiting for the bus. “You know Scott?” he said. “Scott and Gillick were friends. Then Scott turned Gillick in.” He looked at me. “That’s the way it happened, isn’t it, Gillick? Your friend Scott ratted you out to the cops, right?”

  I hit him.

  I knew it was wrong when I was doing it, but I hit him.

  Hard.

  I knocked him right over.

  I probably would have hit him again if Amy hadn’t grabbed my arm and pulled me away—well, she tried to. She’s pretty small.

  “He’s not worth it,” she said. “You’ll get kicked out of the program.”

  Then Mr. Weller was there, asking what had happened. Where had he come from? Why was he up at the bus stop? He didn’t take the bus. He drove here.

  I couldn’t look at him.

  He asked Travis. Travis looked directly at me when he answered. He said, “Nothing.”

  Mr. Weller stared at him a minute. Then he turned to me.

  “What happened, Josh?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “It was nothing.”

  “I warned you once, Josh. You too, Travis. You’re both this close to getting kicked out of the program.” He looked at me a minute longer. Then he walked back toward the shelter.

  “Your friend Scott is trying hard to get rid of you,” Travis said.

  “Scott? What does he have to do with anything?”

  Travis nodded back to the shelter. Mr. Weller was going up the main walk now. Scott was standing just outside the door.

  “He doesn’t know how to mind his own business,” Travis said. “He saw you hit me, and he snitched on you. Again.”

  I looked back at Scott. He came across so nice and helpful to everyone in the program. They didn’t know him like I did.

  The phone rang around 9:00. It was for Andrew. He listened more than he talked. Then he said, “Sure. I understand. I’ll talk to him.”

  When he got off the phone, he came into the living room where Miranda was watching TV. I was doing my homework at the table.

  “That was Brian Weller,” Andrew said. He looked mad. “He said you hit some guy today. Is that true?”

  “The guy was hurting one of the dogs.”

  “So you hit him?” The way Andrew said it made it sound like even if Travis had killed a dog, I shouldn’t touch him.

  “The guy is a jerk, Andrew. He hurts the dogs and he’s always needling me.”

  “That’s no excuse,” Andrew said. But he didn’t stop there. He kept right on going. He said it didn’t sound like I was making much progress if I hit someone and then wasn’t even sorry about it. He said I should apologize to the guy. He said I should be grateful that Mr. Weller was giving me a second chance. When I tried to explain again what happened, he said he didn’t want to hear it. Boy, Scott just never stopped getting me in trouble—first with the cops, then with Mr. Weller and now with Andrew.

  “What did I tell you about following the rules, Josh?” Andrew said.

  That’s when I left the apartment. I had to get out of there. I had to get some air.

  Chapter Eleven

  Andrew shook me awake the next morning. He kept his voice low when he said, “Where were you last night, Josh?”

  I had already told him that when I got back to the apartment and found him sitting in the living room waiting for me.

  “I was walking around,” I said. “Trying to calm down.”

  “The cops are here,” he said. “They want to talk to you.”

  “Cops? What for?”

  “They’re in the kitchen. Get dressed, Josh.”

  Th
ere were two of them, a man and a woman. They were sitting at the table, drinking coffee that Miranda must have made for them. The woman cop said they wanted to ask me some questions. She said I didn’t have to answer anything if I didn’t want to, but if I said anything, they could use it against me. She asked me if I understood that. I said I did. She said it was okay for Andrew to be there if I wanted him. I said I did.

  “Are you charging him with something?” Andrew asked.

  “We just want to ask a few questions,” the woman cop said. “Where were you last night around 10:00, Josh?”

  “I was out walking around.”

  “Where?”

  “Just around.”

  “Do you know Scott Alexander?”

  Scott? Did this have something to do with him?

  “Yeah,” I said. “Why?”

  “He was attacked last night. In a park not far from here.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s in the hospital. He’s unconscious.”

  Jeez.

  “How do you know him?” the woman cop said.

  “We used to be friends,” I said. “We used to do stuff together.”

  “You and Scott Alexander used to snatch purses together, is that right?” the woman cop’s partner said.

  I hated to think about that. “Yeah,” I said.

  “And after the last time, he went to the police and turned you in, is that right?”

  The last time. I hated to think about that too. That last time, everything went wrong. The woman we picked out just wouldn’t let go of her purse. I couldn’t believe it. Most women get scared when two guys come at them. But this one held tight. I got so mad I hit her with the weighted wooden priest that used to belong to my dad. Hit her in the wrong place. Too hard. She crumpled to the ground. I grabbed her purse and we ran.

  It turned out she had a good reason for not letting go. Her purse was filled with cash—more than five thousand dollars. We read in the paper later that it was money she had raised for AIDS research. Her brother had died of AIDS. When Scott heard that, he almost started to cry.

  “We have to give it back,” he said. He said it over and over.

  I told him he was crazy.

  Scott told me he was going to the cops. He asked me to go with him.

  I said no. I said he could go if he wanted to, but no way was I going to turn myself in and no way was I giving back the money.

  I thought that was the end of it.

  Until Scott ratted me out.

  “I heard you ran into him again recently,” the woman cop said. “He got you into trouble again, didn’t he? Because of him, you could get thrown out of the program you’re in, and then you’ll be in trouble with your youth worker. Isn’t that right?”

  Wait a minute. “Are you saying I hurt Scott?”

  The man cop pulled something out of his pocket. It was a photograph.

  “You recognize this, Josh?”

  I stared at it. It couldn’t be.

  Andrew looked at it too. After a moment he said, “That looks like the fish club Dad gave you.”

  “Those are your initials, aren’t they, Josh?” the woman cop said.

  I nodded.

  “It’s what Scott was hit with. We have it down at the police station, Josh. Besides your initials, it has your fingerprints on it.”

  “That can’t be right,” I said. “It’s right here. It’s in my box.”

  They let me look for it, even though it turned out they knew I wouldn’t find it. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the box. It wasn’t under the couch. It wasn’t anywhere.

  But they didn’t arrest me. They said they were going to talk to Scott first. They warned Andrew to keep a close eye on me.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I didn’t do it,” I told Andrew.

  He just nodded. He didn’t say he believed me. Miranda didn’t say anything at all.

  I went to school because I had to, but I can’t remember anything either of my teachers said that day.

  Then I went to the program because I had to. I thought Mr. Weller would give me a hard time, but he didn’t. He told everyone that Scott wouldn’t be in that day, but he didn’t say why. He didn’t press me to talk in circle, either.

  Amy’s little dog, Coco, was pretty good that day, which was good because I didn’t need any hassle. I just wanted the program to be over.

  As soon as we were finished, I headed for the bus stop. I stood apart from the others who were taking the bus, and when the bus came, I took a seat in the very back.

  Amy dropped down in the seat next to me.

  “Are you okay?” she said.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Because you’re really quiet today,” she said.

  I stayed quiet.

  “Did you hear what they’re saying about Scott?” she said. “They’re saying he’s in the hospital. They’re saying someone beat him up.”

  I stayed quiet.

  “I heard Travis say you and Scott were friends,” she said.“You want to go see him?”

  “What?” If she had heard Travis, then she also knew what Scott had done to me.

  “Your friend is hurt. You want to go and see him?”

  I noticed then that she had light blue eyes. They stared right at me, almost like she knew me.

  “I’ll go with you if you want,” she said.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I got into a fight with my best friend,” she said. “It wasn’t her fault. I was mad because of stuff at home and she said something and I started hitting her. She ended up in the hospital. That’s why I’m in the program. I’m supposed to learn how to control my anger.”

  “I didn’t hurt Scott,” I said. “And we’re not exactly friends anymore.”

  “I know,” she said. “So, you want to go and see him?”

  “What is it with you?” I said. “Why do you even care?”

  She shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  The truth was, yeah, I wanted to go to the hospital. I wanted to see Scott. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t me. But I didn’t think they’d let me get near him. Amy said, “You’ll never know until you try.”

  Amy was the one who went to the information desk to ask what room Scott was in. She told the woman she was Scott’s girlfriend. When we got upstairs, I froze and ducked back around a corner.

  “What’s the matter?” Amy said.

  “That woman who just came out of that room? That’s Scott’s mother.”

  She peeked around the corner.

  “She’s down by the elevator. Maybe she’s leaving. Or going for coffee or something.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

  “You came to see him. So go see him. I’ll wait by the door and let you know if anyone is coming.”

  I shook my head.

  “Come on, Josh,” she said. “You’re a good guy. I know it.”

  There were those blue eyes again, looking right into me. Then she took my hand and led me to Scott’s room as if I was a little kid. She pushed me inside.

  “I’ll let you know when anyone comes,” she said.

  Scott’s eyes were closed, but he opened them when I came into the room. He had one black eye and a huge bandage on his head.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey. How are you feeling?”

  He smiled just a little and then winced. “I’ve got a really bad headache,” he said.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I think so. They said I have a concussion and they want to watch me for a while. But they’re not acting weird, like I’m dying or anything. And I haven’t forgotten anything. At least, I don’t think I have.” There was that goofy grin again. If he could grin like that, I figured he’d be okay.

  I tried to think of what to say to him. Finally I just said what I had told the cops and Andrew.

  “I know I was mad at you for snitching on me,” I said. “To the cops and at the shelter. But I just wanted you to
know, it wasn’t me, Scott.”

  He started to grin again. I couldn’t tell if he believed me. Then he said, “Hey, Josh, I—”

  “Josh!”

  I turned and saw Amy in the doorway.

  “We better go,” she said. “His mother’s coming back. And there’s cops with her.”

  I got out of there fast. I saw Scott’s mother and the cops down at the nurses’ station. They were talking to one of the nurses. I don’t think they saw us. We took off down the stairs and kept right on going until we were a couple of blocks from the hospital.

  “Did you say what you wanted to say?” Amy asked.

  “Yeah.” Then I said something else I wanted to say. “Thanks.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Miranda was pacing up and down in the kitchen when I came through the door. She was holding Digby in her arms. He wasn’t wearing a sleeper like he usually did around the house. Miranda had dressed him in a T-shirt and a pair of little baby jeans. She was more dressed up than usual too.

  “Are you going out?” I said.

  “The police phoned. They want you to go down to the police station.”

  I felt sick, like someone had punched me in the stomach.

  “Andrew can’t get off work. He said I should go with you.”

  “Are they going to arrest me?”

  “They just said they wanted to talk to you and that you should come down there.” She picked up Digby’s diaper bag and grabbed her keys. “We’re going to have to take the bus.”

  She didn’t say anything all the way to the police station. When we got there, she asked for a police officer by name. It was the woman cop again. She showed us into a room and said she wanted to ask some more questions. She said Miranda could stay if I wanted her there.

  “He does,” Miranda said before I could answer. I guessed that Andrew had told her she had to stay with me. She settled Digby on her lap.

  The woman cop put my wooden priest onto the table.

  “Remember I said we found this in the park where Scott Alexander was beaten up?” she said. I nodded. “Is it yours?”

  I stared at it. It was mine. Even without the initials I would have recognized it. It was beat up in a few places—it had been for as long as I could remember.