Blackwater (8 page)

I went out the back door, the flip-flop slippery in my hand. Maybe I was sweating. Mom’s trowel lay on the back step beside her gardening boots. I took it and walked to the hedge that’s covered with climbing honeysuckle and overgrown with scented geraniums. The flip-flop wasn’t big. I remembered Pauline’s little square feet, and I began fiercely to dig. I went down about twelve inches, put the flip-flop in the hole, covered it with soil. The sickening smell of honeysuckle and geranium wafted toward me. I found an oval rock, smooth and pretty as a pigeon’s egg, and set it to mark the place, and right then it was as if I’d buried Pauline.

Dad would have known what to say over the little grave, but I didn’t. It felt right, though. What was Raoul’s word? It was a kind of closure.

When I turned, I saw Raoul standing by the back gate.

My heart leaped into my throat. How long
had he been there? What had he seen?

“Hi, Brodie,” he said. His hair gleamed dark and slick in the sunlight. His uniform had fresh creases in it. I swallowed hard. The trowel in my hand felt as big as a spade.

“Doing a bit of gardening?” Raoul asked.

“Sort of.”

He smiled. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

I knocked the dirt off the trowel on the step, set it down and wiped my hands on my jeans.

“I rang the front doorbell,” Raoul said. “And then I took a chance and walked round here to make sure. Are your mom and dad out?”

I nodded.

“Well, I just wanted to check on something, so I guess I might as well do it. Then I won’t have to bother you again.”

Raoul squinted down at me, same brown leathery face, same eyes crinkly and friendly.

I waited for the question.

“You heard that Mrs. Rand saw Pauline and Otis go into the river? There are a couple of loose ends. She says there was someone over on this side, someone standing up to his ankles in
Dinkins Pond. She said she didn’t know who it was, somebody small she’d never seen before. But then, it’s a long way across the river with the rock in between and all. And her distance sight’s not all that good, she says. It could have been somebody from the town. But nobody’s come forward.”

She’d seen Alex, I thought. And it was the way Alex had said. Mrs. Rand hadn’t been able to see me in the water. I tried not to let my face show the thoughts that were chasing each other around inside my head.

“It would be good if we knew who that somebody was,” Raoul said. “Because frankly, what Mrs. Rand saw Otis do, or what she thinks she saw, is making things even tougher for Otis’ mother. So I’d give a lot to be able to say she was wrong.” Raoul stuffed his hands in his pockets, looked down at his shoes. “Now, I know you two boys were over on this side. But you never went on to the beach or into Dinkins Pond, right?”

“Right.”

“And you didn’t see anybody else? Somebody your age? Or size?”

“No.”

And I realized I was standing here lying to a police officer, even if it was only to our friend Raoul. For sure now there was no turning back.

W
hen Alex came home, he said I’d missed a great performance. Mrs. Rand had come out and made a statement. So Alex now knew all about the person she’d spotted on the other side of the river.

My heart quaked. “Did she recognize you?”

“Naw.” Alex flopped onto the couch. “And I was standing right there in front of her. She dropped a Kleenex, and I even picked it up and gave it back to her and she said, ‘Thanks, son.’ Don’t worry. She wouldn’t recognize me in a million years.”

I told him Raoul had been here and that’s how I knew.

“Don’t worry about him either.” Alex got up.
“Want something to drink? It’s hotter than heck outside.”

I heard a car pull into the driveway and knew Mom and Dad were back from seeing the Generos. “How about something to drink?” Alex asked them when they came inside. “Aunt Jenny? There’s still some of that lemonade.”

“I’d love some,” Mom said in a tired, defeated kind of voice.

“Me too.” Dad didn’t sound any better.

I’d turned on the Giants game, and Dad asked, “Are you watching?”

“Not really.”

He switched it off.

“Brodie?” Something in the way he said it, something in the way Mom was looking at me made me tense up.
They
know, I thought, and my mouth went dry.

“Brodie,” Dad said. “Mr. and Mrs. Genero are arranging Pauline’s funeral for Friday. That’s tomorrow,” he added, as if I didn’t know.

I didn’t.

“It’s a little soon, especially since Mrs. Genero’s still weak. But Pauline’s uncle is leaving for Chile on Saturday.”

More was coming. Something bad.

Alex had come back from the kitchen carrying four glasses of lemonade. He stopped at Dad’s words or maybe at the feeling in the room.

“The thing is…they would like you to give the eulogy, Brodie.”

“The eulogy? What’s that?” Alex asked, and then he said, “Brodie? Would you come and get two of these before I drop them?”

I took two of the glasses and set them carefully on the table, while my mind scuttled around as if it were caught in a net. They wanted
me
to give the eulogy.

“The eulogy is…making a little speech at the time of the service. Saying something about the person who died,” Dad told Alex.

“Wow! Would you want to do that?” Alex took a sip of lemonade and licked his lips.

“I couldn’t do it. I’d die before I’d do it.” I heard my voice rising. “Talk about Pauline—I—”

Mom interrupted. “You don’t have to, Brodie. I told them that it would be super hard for you. They seem to think since you were the one who tried so hard to save her, and since you knew her at El Camino …”

“Her mom said Pauline spoke about you often,” Dad said.

I shook my head and shook it and shook it. “No. I couldn’t. I’d feel like…like a murderer.”

Dad looked shocked. “A murderer! Come on, Brodie! Why would you feel like that?”

“Oh …”

“Oh, he thinks he’s responsible for her drowning, that’s why,” Alex said. “It’s so dumb, Brodie. It wasn’t your fault. Nobody could have fished out either of them. They went by too fast. I was there. I saw. You ought to be happy that you even tried.”

“Shut up, Alex.” I clenched my teeth so tightly my ears hurt.

“Don’t be this hard on yourself, Brodie,” Mom said. “And don’t be mean to Alex. He’s just trying to make you feel better.”

“Can you please tell Mr. and Mrs. Genero no?” I asked.

“Of course we can.” Dad came across and hugged me hard. “They’ll understand. It was just their way of showing you how much they appreciate what you did.”

I couldn’t look at Alex or any of them. I couldn’t lift up my head.

Alex and I helped Mom fix sandwiches to go with the lemonade because she decided it was lunch time. Dad went into his study. I took his lunch to him.

He had his guitar and he was sitting on the floor by his desk, cross-legged, strumming chords, a pile of sheet music beside him.

He looked up absently without stopping. I knew instantly that he was choosing something to sing at Pauline’s funeral service. Probably the Generos had asked him to.

The phone was ringing in the other room, and we heard Mom pick it up. I went back just in time to hear her say, “Judy? Well, hello.” Mom’s sister, Alex’s mom.

Alex was sitting at the table, and I saw his face go first red, then white. He straightened, bolt upright, as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“They’re all right,” Mom said. She listened for a minute and then said: “Well, I’m not sure if excitement is quite the right word. Hold on,
Judy.” She beckoned Alex toward her. “It’s your mom.”

Alex shrugged and went to take the phone.

Mom lifted her glass and plate. “Let’s go in and eat with your dad, Brodie,” she whispered. But on the way into the study I heard Alex say, “Oh, nothin’. Yeah, well, it’s nice of you to worry. No, I’m not trying to be sarcastic. Why would I want to be sarcastic?”

I glanced back over my shoulder, and he raised his eyebrows at me.

Mom nudged me forward and closed the door between us and the living room.

“That sister of mine,” she said angrily to Dad. “It’s about time she called. Here’s her nephew and son, the two of them involved in this thing, on TV even, in the newspapers, and she takes her own sweet time getting in touch. Never mind that I’ve left a jillion messages. That poor kid. Not much wonder he’s as messed up as he is.” She glanced at me and bit her lip.

I sat on the floor beside Dad and didn’t say anything.

Alex opened the door. “Where did you all go?”

“We thought you might like some private time to talk to your mom,” Mom told him.

“Naw. Nothin’ to say. Move over, Brodie.” He sat on the floor beside me and put down his plate and glass.

“How is she?” Dad asked.

“OK, I guess. But I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not going back there. Not to her. Not ever. I hate them both.”

“Don’t say that, honey.” Mom’s eyes were misty.

We ate. But it was plain nobody was hungry. Imagine if your mom didn’t call you for days and days and when she did you had nothing to say to her? And not wanting to ever go back to her? I couldn’t imagine it.

B
obby Steig came over later in the afternoon. He brought the coupons for the two hero sandwiches.

“Cool,” Alex said. “Have you ever had a hoagie? Hoagies are great!”

Bobby asked if I knew there was going to be a tree planted in memory of Pauline at the corner of the school playground, where the basketball court was. “I guess it will be for Otis, too,” he said. “If he’s…you know …”

Alex opened his eyes wide. “For Otis, too?”

“Sure,” Bobby said. “Why not?”

“Well.” Alex paused. “Everybody’s saying—”

I butted in. “Nobody should be saying anything. Nobody knows.” Except someone, I thought. My heart hammered.

“Let’s just keep hoping and praying that Otis will be found alive, and he won’t need any monument,” Dad said.

“Yeah.” Bobby shuffled uncomfortably. “Anyway, Brodie. There’s going to be a sort of ceremony down at the river, five
P.M.
”

I looked at my watch. “It’s twenty after four now.”

“You might want to go,” Bobby went on. “It’s supposed to be just kids from El Camino, but it would probably be OK if Alex went, too.”

“Gee, thanks,” Alex said. “What is it? Maybe I don’t even want to go.”

“You know Sim Corona?” Bobby asked me.

I nodded.

“His dad has one of those big inflatable rubber boats, you know the kind?”

“I’ve seen it,” I said. “He had it down at the Gainsville dock one time.”

“Right. Well, the idea is that all you kids bring flowers, and Sim and his dad will row them out to the Toadstool and put them on it. It would be a sort of good-bye from you guys.”

I tried to keep from meeting Bobby’s eyes, to act normal, to not let my face tremble.

“I heard Mrs. Manuel thinks it’s a good idea,” Bobby said. “A closure.”

There was that word again.

“Who’s Mrs. Manuel?” Alex picked at his thumbnail, examining it intently.

“The school counselor. Everyone was a bit worried that Otis’ mom would be upset because they were doing this for Pauline when there’s no definite news yet about Otis. But Mrs. Manuel talked to her and she said go ahead. She thought it was great, and that Otis would want it, and when he comes back he can put his own flowers on the Toadstool for Pauline. And my boss man better send
him
two hero sandwich coupons.”

I nodded.

Alex stopped picking at this thumbnail and looked up. “I’ll go.”

“You should go too, hon,” Mom told me. “I think Mrs. Manuel’s right. It will help you say good-bye to Pauline, there with all your friends around you.”

“OK,” I said.

“I brought some flowers for you to take,” Bobby said. He’d left them on the front steps before he came in, just where the person had left the
towel bundles yesterday. “I didn’t want to come in, carrying them,” he said. “I’d look like a dork.”

His flowers were really nice. There were big ones with heads like red daisies, and white baby’s breath, and the kind that are purple and have flower bells hanging from them. “Foxglove,” he said, touching one with his finger.

“I didn’t know you knew so much about flowers,” Mom said.

“Yeah, well.” Bobby grinned.

Mom and I cut a big bunch of her prized yellow roses.

“Don’t give us all of them,” I said halfheartedly, but Mom just smiled and kept on clipping. She divided the bunch between Alex and me.

We walked down the hill toward the river. The late-afternoon sun slanted over the trees and the sky was pinkening in the distance. I felt as if the houses we passed were staring at me with their window eyes, nudging each other.
He’s the one. He’s the guy who did it.
I hunched myself small inside my sweatshirt.

Isabel Moreno and Jill Aikens were just ahead of us. Isabel was carrying a bouquet too, and Jill
swung two red and white pom-poms. They waited for us.

“Pauline was really into being a cheerleader,” Jill said. “She was good, too. Remember the way she could do cartwheels?”

We were quiet, remembering.

I was remembering too how the summer hopes John and I had included Jill Aikens. John and Jill and me and Pauline. Was it only a couple of weeks ago that we’d been scheming how to make that happen?

Isabel and Jill kept glancing at me, sort of shy. I was different somehow. I’d been on television. People were calling me a hero.

“I’m Alex, by the way, Brodie’s cousin,” Alex said. And they mumbled something and tossed their hair.

“Are you here for the summer?” Jill asked.

“Yeah. And maybe longer,” Alex said. “I might be going to El Camino.”

“But probably just for the summer,” I said.

Alex looked at me. His eyes were hot and angry, and he started to say more and stopped. It was then I knew something. I knew I had to be
careful with Alex because he had power over me now. He had an ax that he could hold above my head, and he could bring it down anytime he felt like it. I wanted to drop the flowers and run.