Cameo (13 page)

“Is there a light?” Jason asked as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

A sliver of light crept through the dusty basement window. Dusk was approaching. I was apprehensive going down the stairs. I had never seen Cindy like this.

Cindy had been thrown three or four feet from the stairs. “What happened?”

“I can't get up,” Cindy said dryly.

I turned on the light. Cindy was lying right at the bottom of the stairs. Before I could stop myself, I let out a huge gasp. I tried to pretend it hadn't happened. If Cindy thought that cut was half as bad as I thought it was, she was going to go into all-out panic mode. She had a gaping gash in her leg. It was pretty bloody. It wasn't terribly large, but it was a hole, for sure. Her hair was a mess, like she'd rolled down a hill. Her makeup was smudged underneath her eyes. I could tell some tears had run down her face.

“Is your leg all right?” Jason asked her.

“Yeah, I just have problems with my knee sometimes because of an ice skating injury when I was eleven,” Cindy said.

I was slow to make my way down the stairs. Jason picked Cindy up and carried her to the couch, where he put her down. “Who did this?” he asked.

Cindy was slow to answer.

“Do you have a concussion?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

I dialed the police on my cell phone. The line was busy. How could 911 be busy in the middle of the day?! Things had gone from bad to horrific! I redialed the police.

“Tell me what happened,” I said.

“I was in the refrigerator, and someone put a hand over my mouth. They had on a smelly cheap black glove. It smelled like pleather. They grabbed me from behind. I tried to take their hand off my mouth. They had my other hand behind my back. I could barely move. Then they threw me down the stairs. Did you see the scrape on my leg?” I shook my head, no. Cindy glanced at it. “I hope it doesn't scar.”

The police picked up. What the hell was with 911 around here? “Someone just broke into my house. I live at Eighty-Nine Chester Street. It was a break-in. They assaulted my friend. They threw her down the stairs. … I don't know. They might've entered through the basement. … Yes, there is a back door. It was open too. But it was locked. … Don't break down the front door. We're going to move upstairs. … Yeah, I think she can move. … I don't know. I don't think it is broken. Okay.” I hung the phone up. “They're going to send a medic,” I said.

“He said something to me. He sounded kind of gay, though. Like, manly, but he talked like a valley girl,” she said.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“I think I hear some cars upstairs, babe.”

Jason was like my bionic guy with his supersonic hearing. He ran his hand across my back, and I flinched a little. It'd been so long since a guy had touched me like that. I put his hand on my waist.

“Excuse me, I'm hurt here. If they're upstairs, shouldn't we go?”

Needless to say, Cindy knew how to command a room.

“I'll take her upstairs.” Jason picked Cindy up and carried her upstairs. I walked behind him, pulling on the back of his shirt. He was so good to me and my friends. Who said chivalry was dead? Oh, yeah, every pop song on the radio maybe.

“He said to tell you that you're next,” Cindy blurted out somewhere between the dining room and the front hallway. Jason put her down on the couch.

“Why are they after me?” I asked Jason. Why didn't people make hell for the creeps like Michelle? “It could've been a girl. Did he have a white hat on?” I asked.

Jason peeked through the curtains.

“No. I didn't get a clear look at him. No. No. I do know he had on a black mask or a ski mask or something. But it was black.”

“Are they here?” I asked Jason.

“No.” He looked out the window again.

“What time is it?” Cindy asked.

“Six-fifty-five,” Jason said.

“These things are always somebody, you know. Who do you think is running the secret society?” I asked. The police were banging on the door.

“I'll get it,” Jason said.

Well, it was official. I was in big trouble. They were going to contact my parents and the whole nine. I was sure of it. I wondered if these things happened to members of the secret society. What if somehow these popular kids had power outside of school? Okay, that was completely ridiculous. Obviously, I'd seen one too many movies.

I was going to let Cindy and Jason speak with the uniforms first, in an effort to prolong making this report official. I was a little scared. What if this could ruin my life? I didn't know what I had gotten into. Either these people stalking me were punks or they were real. Suffice it to say I would have trouble sleeping tonight.

Jason held the door open. The lead detective walked inside. Two other uniforms followed behind him. I have to say he was kind of hot, in the distant I'm-not-dead-yet sort of way. He was black with jet-black hair in a crew cut, nice, brown skin, and almond-shaped eyes. He was built but lean.

“Detective Smart,” he said. The detective shook Jason's hand. “Who called the police? Was it you?” he asked Jason.

“No,” Jason said.

“I did,” I said.

“Is this your house, miss?” he asked

“Yes, someone broke in. I think through the basement window or something because all the doors were locked. Then they attacked my friend. Cindy, tell them how you were at the refrigerator and someone attacked you,” I said.

“I was looking for something in fridge, and then somebody grabbed me with a grimy black glove. …” Cindy said.

“And tell them how he said I was next,” I said.

“I will, if you take a breath and let me talk,” Cindy said.

After reliving the same story from varying angles, we got to the meat and potatoes of everything. “Do you kids have any guess as to who this could be?” Detective Smart asked.

“Already been there. Try Roger McEvans to start,” Cindy said.

“Smart, come look at this,” the rookie said.

“One sec.” Detective Smart wanted to finish his notes. “Who else do you think might have done this?” Detective Smart looked at Cindy.

She shrugged.

“Michelle,” I said.

Cindy grabbed me by the collar. “I just want you to know you just blacklisted all of us. Let me break it down. ‘All of us' includes Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor over there. Think about that,” she whispered under her breath.

“Didn't you say it was a guy?” Detective Smart said.

“Yes, I did.” Cindy sounded all too gleeful.

“We don't know if Michelle did it herself, but she could've sent someone. That's conspiracy at a minimum … right?” I said.

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Just perfect, Ms. Know-It-All!” she said under her breath.

“Do you have her last name?” the detective asked.

“No,” Cindy said.

“Does she go to your school?”

“No,” Cindy blurted out.

“Yes,” I said.

Everyone became quiet.

“Look, we don't think that she did this, but I think she may know who did this,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“I don't know. She hates me,” I said.

“I'm imagining that there could be other kids at school that hate you too?” he said.

“No, I think you may be imagining wrong,” Jason said angrily.

I can't believe I had thought the detective was cute.

“I know where you can find Roger right now,” Cindy said.

“Where?” he asked.

“At the coffee house in the mall on Old Creek Manor.”

“Wait!” I yelled.

Everyone in the room slowly turned to me. I guess it sounded as if I'd had a revelation. “My gut tells me that Roger is innocent,” I said.

Detective Smart rolled his eyes. The rookie detective in the back laughed under his breath. I turned my back to the detectives and whispered to Jason. “Did I just sound like a super sleuth or something?”

“It's cool,” Jason said. Was he always this calm?

“Back to Roger, think about it. Roger barely weighs 130 pounds, who the heck could he overpower? Second, he's head over heels for Cindy. He would never push her down the stairs. And I've never talked to him before this week. I don't think he hates me,” I said.

“He doesn't,” Jason said.

Detective Smart was taking all of this down in his tiny pad.

“We need to head back to Cindy's house. My mother is out of town on business until tomorrow, and I'm staying at Cindy's house. How much longer will this take?” I said.

“This is a crime scene. Sorry. I can't take pictures with my mobile and send you a text message with an update later on. Someone has to take a look at your friend's busted leg. They have to process the doors for fingerprints and the floor for footprints,” he said.

“Awesome! The county has a forensics budget for break-ins. Maybe they can pick up the tab for my broken heel. These shoes were $130,” Cindy said.

Jason was looking kind of worried.

“I have to get some things from upstairs. That's why we stopped by here, so I could pick up some of my stuff,” I said.

“Okay. But don't be long.”

I shook my head. “Um, it might be safer if Jason escorted me upstairs.”

“Miss, we've already secured the house, but he can go with you. Be back soon,” Detective Smart mumbled under his breath while taking notes.

“Cindy, you should make sure nothing was stolen out of your car,” I added.

Cindy was practically frantic. She hopped up and limped out the door.

“Wait, wait!” the detective yelled after her. That should keep him busy for a while. He pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Still waiting for backup at Eighty-Nine Chester Street. Over,” he said.

Jason and I walked up the stairs. He walked in front of me. I grabbed his hand, and he glanced over his shoulder. I was in so much fear I started biting my nails, something I never do. In my head, we had already gone out, broken up, made up, and gone out again. I couldn't shake the feeling I had built up over the past forty-some odd days that it was inevitable for a guy to cheat.

Just let go!
That's what I kept saying in my head. Maybe my fear of breaking up was the problem.

“Down the hall on the right,” I said.

Well, he was about to enter my bedroom. Jason stopped in front of the door and waited for me to go inside.

“Well, you know what we have to do,” I whispered to him.

“What?” He asked eagerly.

“Close the door, slowly,” I said. Once I was sure the door was closed, I resumed my normal tone. “We have to find Michelle and get to the bottom of this.”

He didn't say anything, but the way he shook his head matched my sentiment exactly. If Michelle was behind all of this somehow, she was definitely crazier than we thought.

“I just can't take this anymore! We have to do something, something big. I mean what if … I'm not sure. What if this is only the beginning?” I said.

“I think the forensic scientists downstairs got this on lock. Somebody should be put away or on charges by tomorrow.”

Okay. So I knew this was the worst time to be thinking it, but if this continued for another day or two, when would be a good time to kiss him? Would it be like fire, you know, like this explosion of passion? Or would it be sweet enough to steal my breath away? Or would it be like kissing your brother—just downright vile? Uh, please, it could not be the last one! He was definitely too fly. Plus, I didn't even have a brother.

I didn't want to do anything but kiss him. To feel him so close to me was everything I had wanted. It was what having a boyfriend meant to me, I guess. For a moment it seemed like time everywhere had stopped, and all we had to do was kiss. He caught me staring at him.
Yikes! There goes my cover.
I was supposed to play it cool. Jeez, the pressures of living all in my head were too much sometimes.

I packed a few outfit options for the next day and snagged a pair of shoes. “Can you carry my bag downstairs?”

“I got it.”

“I shouldn't have accused you earlier,” I said. I wanted to get back to our good place. Maybe I should tell him that. Then again, post-Craig, I have a policy against baring all the first week of dating.

“No issue. It wasn't a thing. I didn't know this was so serious. This whole stalking society … thing,” he said.

I looked out the window, searching for something to remind me that tomorrow would come, and lo and behold, I set my eyes upon that white hat! Across the street in the neighbors' yard was a girl in a white pageboy cap. Either this was the must-have accessory of the summer or this was the work of the infamous secret society. Why didn't I just call a spade a spade?

“Babe, come here!” I called.

Jason smiled. Was he thinking what I had been thinking five minutes before? I counted in my head as he walked to me with lust in his eyes.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.
He stood as close as he could to me without touching me. He leaned into me slowly. Too bad, it was back to reality! No kissing, yet!

I turned my head to the window. “See that girl across the street?” I asked.

“With that white hat on?” He said it like the white hat was a dangerous, contagious virus or something.

“Guess I shouldn't wear a white hat tomorrow, huh?” I said.

“Nah, you could wear anything and it'd look good,” he said.

“Babe, we have to go get that girl.”

“Why? What do you mean ‘get'?”

“We need to question her!”

“Who is she?”

“I don't know. She's part of that idiot society.”

“How do you know?”

“The infamous white hat!” I shouted.

“Shhh!” He laughed.

It was the first time he'd laughed all day. I had almost forgotten how cute his laugh was. I hate that infatuation amnesia where your memory is temporarily paralyzed when you fall head over heels for a dude. You forget what he looks like, what his voice sounds like. But you can't forget his kiss. Ask any ninety-year-old woman was about her best kiss and, although she may not remember where she had put her teeth, she'll remember his first and last name, be sure of that.