What Happened to Lani Garver (31 page)

I shut my eyes, not wanting to go there. "Beat you up or pretend they're going to drown you." That was the closest I could bring myself to any graphic details. "Why waste time thinking of that?"

"Well, I can't win a fight."

No shit, Sherlock.
To my amazement, he flopped on the mattress facedown. I could hear him sniffing.

"Lani, for god's sake. You did great the other night with Vince. Think of something cool like that! And get out of that damn costume." His outfit was making me way nervous, as if my gut was beginning to accept what my brain refused to believe—we could get ambushed while innocently sitting inside a house. When he didn't respond, I spoke louder. "Get up! Put your normal shirt back on—"

"Oh, stifle it, Claire! Do you really think I care what a bunch of school babies think of my stupid school-play costume? Let me think!"

That kept me quiet for half a minute, though I still thought the costume weighed into things more than he did.

I finally said more softly, "Whatever they would do, it would have a lot to do with you. Anything you showed fear over, it would egg them on. Whatever you're wearing that looks stupid or foolish, it would egg them on."

His eyes flitted around the room with a combination of desperation and sadness that really scared me. "You're starting to sound like
me
," he said, like that was oh-so-interesting an observation. It did seem like we were having some role reversal here, and as much as I didn't like it, I flew back into more of the thinking pattern that he simply was not reaching for.

"Okay, we have to take a huge, huge risk." I dialed my mom's number.

"Who's this?" Her voice sounded suspicious, like she didn't recognize the number from caller ID.

"It's me, Mom."

She let out a moan of relief. Then, "So, when'd you decide you love your fath'r more th'n me?"

I dropped the receiver, slapping my forehead in pain and frustration. "She's ripped," I muttered to Lani.
Fat chance she'll risk a DWI.
At this point the sight of Lani was making me more angry than anything else. "Would you please get the fuck dressed?"

"What
ever
." He stood up, annoyed.

"Mom, listen to me. This is
really,
really serious. If you don't want me to get myself half killed, get your car keys, get in the car, and drive to where I'm going to tell you."

"Claire, is that li'l bastard holding you captive?"

It took me a minute to realize she meant Lani and not Tony. "Mom, please! Get a reality check! Tony Clementi is threatening us. You know Tony Clementi?"

She'd known him since he was born. "S'maybe you deserve to be threatened."

"Mom! He's not just threatening to pull my hair! It's a long story! Please come and get me—"

"You're in deep trouble with y'r friends, Claire." She ignored me. "Macy thinks you've gone crazy. I know about all those people you've been hitting ... and shoving. Eli's mom called here. Said Jule said you're even shoving eighth graders!"

I had only seconds to exchange glances with Lani and feel the deep pain of betrayal by a parent. He was used to it. It felt like battery acid had been thrown at my chest. I didn't have time to argue with her. Out of nowhere, footsteps clomped on the stairs. It sounded like work boots. My jaw dropped as my eyes flew to Lani. He had only gotten one piece of the outfit off.
Tony ... Been in the house for some time? Listening?

"Mom! He's coming! Mom, call the cops, please!"

The door opened with dramatic slowness, and Tony stood in the doorway. My legs collapsed, landing me on the mattress, looking straight up at him as he took the phone out of my hand.

"It's Tony. Hey, found your kid. I'll bring her home, how's that? ... Mrs. McKenzie, I don't know what she's blabbering about. I would never hurt your kid. What do you take me for? Just you sit tight. I'll bring her home.... No, she's just hanging out with ... uh..."

He turned his gaze to Lani, who had shot up after my knees gave way. Lani's face was covered in shadows, but he backed up two steps toward the mirror, and again, the image, the reflection, the dazzling walls, his ramrod-stiff posture made him look ironically powerful again. I clamped my eyes shut, dropping my forehead into my palm, praying Tony might get scared, might see Lani like I had, if only for a minute.

"She's just hanging out with ... uh...," he repeated, and there was a long enough silence that I just knew he was sufficiently freaked. I actually started to smile.

Then a laugh peeled out. "Mrs. Mac? She's hanging out with a guy, who right now as I'm standing here is dressed up in some sort of drag ... Before the God I believe in ... I swear ... No. Don't call the police. Scott, Phil, and my brother are here, too. We will take care of this for you ... You're welcome."

"Mom!" I screamed at the phone. "Don't be such a drunk! Call the cops! It's a stupid costume from a play at—"

My throat closed in some whacked-out guilt. It was the loudest, most blatant thing I'd ever said to my mom about her drinking. For a second I was glad Tony covered up my voice with loud coughing. Then I got mad. I tried to grab the phone from him. I wanted to say it over and over at her. But he had clicked the phone off and pushed me back down on the bed so hard my neck snapped.

He didn't seem too interested in the fact that Lani had kicked his backpacks into the closet and kicked the door shut with his foot. I figured maybe Lani's nine-hundred-dollar book was in one. He didn't want it to get stolen before he could sell it for runaway money. Tony was too overcome by the outfit. He stared at Lani's costume, not seeming to notice what Lani's feet were doing.

Tony finally said, "Hot outfit, darlin'. I think maybe you need to show it to the neighbors."

Lani backed into the corner beside the dresser. I could not see his face in the shadows. And I really needed to see it. I really needed to know he had thought of some way to stump Tony and that I wasn't meeting his weak side for the first time. I had no clue what Lani would do—or could do, how strong or how stupid he could be.

The last thing I expected Lani to do was fall on the ground and start to cry right in front of Tony. It snapped my neck back and made me suspicious he was playing some kind of brilliant game. But when he lifted his face up, real tears were spilling down.
He's not that good an actor. Nobody's that good.

Tony went and stood over him, cat over a mouse. He had his legs kind of spread in this arrogant way that made me look around for something to hit him with. Unfortunately, the room was pretty cleared out, save some pillows and lit candles.

"Your mom told me to come here, dough boy. I just seen her." He laughed, like this was the funniest thing in the world. "She's trying really hard to make friends around here. Went to play bingo with all the locals. I watched her go down there. My mom's there, too. Your mom looked so sad, trying not to cry on your aunt's shoulders. I figured she needed a friend. One minute she tells me she's scared you're going to run away again. Next minute she says she's scared you're going to stay and ruin her life."

I flinched at the harshness of the remark, sensing the reality in it. Lani lifted his head about six inches off the floor and put it down again, not saying anything. I caught a flash of the wet shine on his cheeks, which seemed so out of character with his usual guts. Yet I had to admit ... when even parents betray you, what happens to hope? My mom had just done it, and it cuts through you like a knife.

Tony was chattering on like we were a couple of his fishing buddies. "I told her I would talk to you, you know, as one of the nice local Joes. I told her maybe I could talk you into not running away. Maybe getting a haircut. I don't know." He hooted, finally, slapping his thigh. "I think maybe I could talk you into getting a haircut. With a little help from my friends. But I don't think I could talk you into staying here, when there's a chance you could, you know ...
disappear
forever and ever."

An electric jolt almost threw me backwards as I took his meaning. Lani was mewling like a kitten. It took everything I had not to scream, "Shut
up
!" He was just egging Tony on.
This is not an orchestrated suicide. It's not.

I reached shakily for the phone Tony had dropped on the mattress, moving it under my leg, wondering how loud it would be if I hit 9-1-1. He had his back to me and toed Lani with his work boot, and Lani tried to crawl away from him, tripping over the nightgowns like an imbecile.

"Yeah, we kind of like each other around here. We all ... fit in. You know?"

"What are you going to do?" Lani still sounded like a kitten.

"Will you shut
up
," I blasted at Lani in astonishment. Tony was feeding off his fear maniacally.

"Why, I don't know what we're going to do to you! Maybe you can help us decide! Hey, maybe we can give you a choice. We can beat you within an inch of your life. We can give you a very, very close shave. All over your head! Claire can tell you about how a head wound bleeds. Or! We can throw you in a fishing net until we hear you cry 'uncle' from underwater! Did you know that Indian summer makes the air warm but that the water just keeps getting colder? It's about forty-five degrees right now. Wouldn't that be toasty?"

"But..." Lani hiccuped. I gripped the hell out of that phone, still hoping against hope he would heave up a lastminute strategy. But he opened his mouth and sealed his own fate. "But ... I can hardly swim."

"Oh! You can't swim!" Tony bellowed in fake shock. "Maybe we can teach you!"

Beep ... beep ... beep...

I never realized how loud a phone dialed. It echoed off the walls, pointlessly. Tony spun.

"
Help us!
" I screamed, holding the phone out of his reach as he struggled for it. He ripped it from my grip, and I wasn't sure if the 9-1-1 call went through.

He backed away, talking as he hit
DELETE, DELETE, DELETE
from the caller ID. "Where's the rest of the magazine?"

Lani's eyes shot all over the room. "If I give it to you ... Promise you will not throw me in any water."

Tony shrugged. "Okay. Promise."

I kicked at Lani's jeans as he lifted the outfit and reached into his jeans pocket. I accidentally kicked him hard enough to make him yelp. But if he got any stupider, we'd both wind up dead. "Will you just shut up!"

"I don't care. I don't care anymore," he cried.

"Well, if you don't care about you, could you please care about me!" I bellowed, then realized we were just tickling Tony's funny bone by arguing. He was laughing so hysterically, my anger buttons went off. I balled up my fist and came through from the side with all my strength. Despite that I knocked him pretty good in the skull, he barely staggered, grabbing hold of my throbbing knuckles and turning them to sludge.

Stupider than Lani, I just started spewing out the truth. "You know what, Clementi? There isn't even a word for someone like you. What do you call a closet gay who gay bashes? You are such a slimy concept that people don't even have a name for it!"

Before I knew what happened, I was slammed up against the wall, pinned there, choking on his tongue. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

I finally heaved a huge gulp of air as he breathed in my face. "I wanna hear again what you just called me. Maybe my hearing ain't right."

I just stared at him in terrified awe. I could not believe he would still deny it. He stared back at me, though I could hear Lani behind him, fussing with papers or something.

"Here! Just take it. Take it and get out and leave me alone. Just leave us alone!"

He hurled the folded pages of the magazine at Tony, but being paper, they just flitted to the floor. It looked pathetic.

Fortunately, it was a distraction, and Tony backed off from me to swoop them up. I heaved a sigh of relief, despite Lani still on his stupid spree.

"You promised. I gave it to you, so you can't throw me in the water."

Okay. He's on his own if he's that dumb.

I waited until Tony had held the pages over a candle flame and started giving Lani a lecture on how you hold your breath underwater when you're freezing. I turned and hurled myself into the hallway, jumping down the stairs six at a time. To my amazement Tony did not chase after me. I yanked open the front door and stopped.

"
Scott, Phil, and my brother are here, too." Tony'd said it to my mom.

He was laughing crazily upstairs, Lani was mewling again, and I wanted nothing more than to get away from the sounds of both of them. All seemed quiet out front, but I fumbled to the back door just in case the guys were hiding. I threw myself into the night air.

I raced for the curb, trying to gauge how long it would take me to run to the police station.
Five blocks ... two min
utes...
The sky came up to meet me as I was hurled to the grass. A pile of bricks fell on me, which had the head of Phil Krilley.

"Came out the back!" he shouted.

Footsteps pounded closer. I had hoped Tony had lied to Mom.
He would have to come alone to destroy evidence.
The idea that he could dupe three huge guys to staying in the back of his truck while he went in the house ... I had not conceived of that.

Phil still had too much trust. He jumped off me too quickly, and I bolted. But it was like square-dancing with three gorillas. I blindly threw punches, all my newly found anger whaling at them. One at a time I was stunning them, dodging through them. They made it a group effort. I ended up on the bottom of a football pile that somehow was not on the ground but in the back of Tony's truck, parked on the dark side street.

"Claire, we're gonna take you to the goddamn nuthouse!" It was Scott's voice. "Just calm down! Next person you hit, you're gonna get hit back!"

I couldn't tell who was on top of who. Scott sounded kind of high up. I felt one of them grab the back of my hair, tight, and Scott said, "Okay, get off her."

They started getting off, and all I needed was the sight of Vince Clementi's face in the street lamp. I could see a shiner from where I'd gotten him the other night, and I swung for it so hard, he fell over the side, roaring curses.