Spies and Prejudice (6 page)

I set my backpack on the table. “I brought my own.”

“Still counts.”

I sit down across from Drew. “It’s not a date, okay?”

“What is it then?”

“Um, lunch?”

Drew nods. “Lunch. Hmmm. I like it. Has a nice ring to it.”

I laugh. “Stop.”

We eat in silence for a little while, but it’s not awkward. It’s kind of nice.

“So what are you running from, Berry Fields?”

The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m an okay guy and all, but if this isn’t a date, I can’t figure out why you’d want to come eat your lunch in the bowels of the library. I know what I’m running from. What about you?”

“You first.”

“I already told you. I’m running from high school. And people who go to high school. I just want to finish so I can get out of here and go back home.” He stares at me expectantly.

I’m hiding from so many things. Tanner and the way he makes me feel like a stranger in my own skin. Mr. Moss and whatever connection he had to my mother. All the doubts about my mom that won’t stay buried. I go with evasion. “Maybe I like it here.”

Drew looks around the tiny room with its gray walls and lack of windows. “Even I don’t like it here. It’s the lesser of two evils.” Drew waits for me to say something.

I open my mouth and shut it again. I don’t want to air my dirty laundry, but I’m surprised at how much I want to talk to someone.

“I can keep a secret.” Drew looks around the small room. “Who am I going to tell?”

I need to talk to someone about the letter. So I do.

I tell him everything. About seeing Mr. Moss with a piece of paper with my mother’s letterhead on it. About coming here to review the article about her death for the hundredth time. About how much I need for her death to be an accident no matter what the official police report says. About how I can’t talk to my friends about it because they think I’m over it, and I want them to keep thinking that. About how I can’t talk to my father because I want to believe in my mom as much as he does. I talk and talk and talk.

There’s a reason it’s easier to talk to strangers than people you love. Strangers don’t come with preformed expectations about who you are. Strangers don’t hold you to a higher standard than you deserve. Strangers won’t be hurt by anything you say.

Neither one of us touches our food.

Drew waits until I’m finished. “You must think I’m a whiny little baby.”

“What? No. Why would I think that?”

“Here I am complaining about missing my friends. And you lost your mother.”

“Eight years ago.” I can live with that. There’s not really any other
option. It’s how she died that eats at me in the middle of the night. It’s not ever really knowing if she left me on purpose. “I just need to let it go. That’s all.”

“Really? So you don’t want to know why your friend’s father has a letter with your mother’s name on it? Don’t you at least want to know what it says?”

Of course I do. But I shouldn’t. I should trust her. She wouldn’t have an affair with Mr. Moss. She wouldn’t leave us on purpose. She didn’t kill herself. She loved Dad. She loved me. I know it.

I know it
.

I shake my head. “Whatever is in that letter, I’m sure it had nothing to do with her death. It’s just a letter.”

“What if it’s a suicide note?”

My mouth goes dry. I try to swallow, but I can’t do anything but suck in the thick library air. “A what?”

Drew looks stricken. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure that letter has nothing to do with anything.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. What if it is—” I can’t bring myself to say it, like a little kid, I’m afraid that voicing my worst fear will make it come true.

“You have to find out.” Drew says it so matter-of-factly, as if investigating my mother’s death is as simple as following a college professor and snapping a few pictures.

But if I go down this path, I’ll have to stop pretending I don’t have doubts about her. No matter what the truth turns out to be, there’s no going back from that.

“I’ll help you,” Drew says, as if it’s already been decided. He finally takes a bite of his sandwich.

If I do this, I have to do it alone. I’m certainly not going to bring in some guy I’ve met twice in the hidden corridors of the library. But he waits for me to answer, and I can’t stop the word that slips from my mouth. “Maybe.”

It’s the same thing my dad always says when he’s on the verge of caving. I try not to think about how close I am to giving in to the urge to follow the trail of bread crumbs laid out in front of me.

It’s even harder not to think about where they might lead.

B
y the time Dad gets home, I’ve changed clothes three times for dinner with the Watersons. I settle on a baggy sweater with a mock turtleneck and pair of jeans that’s a size too big. There’s a line of dog drool on the sweater, but I douse it with water and call it good.

Shauna Waterson isn’t the only lawyer who refers Dad work, but there’s no question that she’s important to our business. Shauna was one of Dad’s first clients. She’s referred him business ever since Dad caught her ex-husband running around with a paralegal. She had the last laugh, divorcing the sleazeball, taking the house, and nabbing all their clients for her own private practice. The only compromise she made was joint custody of their son, Collin. Considering what a mess Collin turned out to be, that was probably a strategic decision.

Dad smooths his hair in the rearview mirror as we pull into the Watersons’ driveway. I catch a whiff of Obsession for Men. I know the scent well. It’s the preferred brand of middle-aged men on the prowl. “Are you wearing cologne?”

He looks out the front of the car, his face flushed. “You caught that?”

I nearly choke on the smell. No way.

Dad and Shauna Waterson?

Dad and anyone?

No way.

“Seriously? Shauna Waterson?”

Dad can’t look at me. He looks out the window instead. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I don’t even know if it’s something I should talk about with my teenage daughter.”

This can’t be happening. I mean, it’s been eight years and I’m sure my dad could use some kind of—personal life. But Shauna Waterson? “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Not long.” He finally faces me. “I like her, Berry. I like her a lot.”

My stomach twists and tangles into a tight knot, and a tear forms in the corner of my eye anyway. I force myself to smile. “That’s great.”

He watches me and I pray for the tear to stay put. “You’re sure?”

I nod and look away. “Yeah. I mean, she seems nice.” It’s true. She does seem nice, even if she does remind me of artificial sweetener, dressed in pink and too sweet to be real. I wipe my cheek as Dad turns off the car and steps outside.

The Watersons’ house is big, with expensive-looking furniture and modern paintings on the walls. A little white dog trails at Shauna’s feet, some kind of designer-poo with a red collar and painted toenails to match.

Shauna hugs my dad and then plants a kiss on my cheek. Her hair smells like violets and dandruff shampoo. I’ve never thought much
of her beyond the fact that she gives us a steady stream of work and has hair teased high enough to house a small family of owls, but now I notice the way she smiles at me, like I’m a stray kitten in need of a home. “Oh, Berry, I hope you won’t think it’s presumptuous of me, but I would love to take you on a shopping spree.”

“Hey.” I give her a closed-mouth smile and ignore her invitation to bond over shoes.

Shauna’s smile falters a bit. Everything about her looks unnaturally plump—her lips, her curves. “I would love for us to do girl things.”

I take in the plunging neckline of her blouse and the false eyelashes that rim her eyes and thank the universe that I have been spared doing girl things for as long as I have. I almost wish I’d left the dog drool on my sweater. “I don’t really do girl things.”

Shauna blinks so hard one of her ultra-long lashes sticks to a glob of mascara on her lower lash like a Venus flytrap. Her lid flutters in a useless attempt to free itself.

My dad puts his hand on my shoulder in warning. “Berry.”

Collin walks in, looking almost cute with his hair washed and combed. He’s wearing one of his football jerseys even though it’s not a game day, which would totally work with the Dead Presidents or one of their minions, but just makes me roll my eyes. His jersey still looks brand-new even though it’s halfway through football season, meaning he’s on the B roster, a nonsensical group of players who never have any real hope of playing, made possible by McHenry’s inclusion mandate.

“Hey,” Collin says, oblivious to the tension.

Shauna turns away and tries to separate her lashes with her fingers. When she looks back as us, her left eye is open, but her face looks oddly off center. The spidery lash peeks out from between her fingers. “Excuse me,” she says as she bolts from the room.

Dad gives me the look that says I better behave. I know he’s right. It’s not Shauna’s fault. She’s trying. But that’s what’s so awful. I don’t want her to try. I’ve gotten by just fine without a mother, and I certainly don’t need Shauna Waterson to take me under her wing. As near as I can tell, my dad’s been on a few dates. It doesn’t have to involve me. At all.

Collin glances at my sweater, making me glad all over again for the extra layer of armor. “You want to play some video games until dinner’s ready?”

“No.” The last thing I want is to go anywhere unsupervised with Collin Waterson. I might really hurt him.

Dad squeezes my shoulder. “Go on, Berry. Have some fun.”

“Yeah, Berry,” Collin grins. “Have some fun.”

Dad watches me expectantly. I’ve already lost this battle. “Fine.”

I’m relieved when Collin leads me to a game room that’s next to the kitchen. At least we’re out in the open. Despite the fact that we’re here for dinner, there is no activity in the kitchen. I start racking the balls on a pool table, since I never wanted to play video games to begin with. “Did you know my dad was dating your mom?”

He shrugs. “I figured it was something like that. How hot would it be if they got married?”

“What?”

“We could still go out. It’s not like we’ll really be related.”

“Did you really have to go there? ’Cause I think I might hurl.” I line up the cue ball and prepare to take a shot.

“Coach says I can try out for running back next year.”

More with football? I’m probably supposed to start sighing and getting all mooney-eyed. “That’s great. It’ll give you something productive to do with your time.” I hit the cue ball and watch as a few of the balls roll away.

“Kennedy Patton invited me to her party. Are you going?” Poor Collin. He’s trying to have a normal conversation and failing miserably.

“No. Why would I want to hang out with a bunch of people whose idea of fun consists of dancing awkwardly to lame music and making out with people who will pretend you don’t exist on Monday morning?”

“Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.” He walks over to the table and lines up a shot. “I could get you in. Your friends too.”

It’s not like anyone needs an invitation to Kennedy’s annual While the Parents Are Away house party. She’s usually preoccupied within the first hour and pretty much anyone is welcome after that. Still, Kennedy has never forgiven me for the time in the third grade when I caught her kissing fifth-grade boys behind the Porta-Potty. As if it was my fault. It doesn’t matter, since I’ve never forgiven her for telling me my mother’s death had been ruled a suicide. As if it was her fault. We’ve reached a tentative peace only made possible by the damage we could inflict on each other if we were outright enemies. We’re the high school equivalent of a nuclear standoff, neither willing to launch the first strike.

“I’m not going to Kennedy’s house party.”

Collin shrugs, “Your loss.”

Shauna Waterson flows into the room, her eyelash repaired and the little dog at her heels. “Dinner’s ready.” Her smile is tentative. She looks surprised when I smile back, but I’m determined to try to get through this without any significant casualties.

Dinner consists of takeout Chinese food served right out of the little cartons. Shauna and Dad sit next to each other on one side of the table, and Collin and I sit on the other side. Collin’s thigh inches closer to mine as Dad relays his story about following the school superintendent accused of harassment on his lunch date earlier in the day.

I concentrate on my moo goo gai pan and keep as far away from Collin as I can manage, sitting on the far edge of my chair.

Shauna bats her lashes at my father and giggles too loudly when he tells her how the couple disappeared into the back of a minivan for thirty minutes. Dad grins and pats her hand.

The knot in my stomach is still there, but I can’t help wanting to see him smile like that more often. This is good for him.

Dad took Mom’s death really hard. For the first year, he almost never came out of his room. The only thing that got him going again was work. He did a few freelance investigations and then a few more, finally making it official with Fields Investigations.

At first, I went along on some of Dad’s stakeouts by necessity. It’s not like we could afford a sitter. We spent a lot of time hanging out in the car, watching old movies. I loved the excitement of waiting for something to happen. Mostly I loved having my dad back.

Shauna flashes her too-white teeth in my direction. “Steven tells me you were the one who got the shots of Lambert this weekend.”

I smile and nod. “That was me.” I wait for the lecture about how a girl my age shouldn’t be doing such dangerous work, but it doesn’t come.

“They’re very good.”

“Thanks.”

Shauna reaches across the table, placing her hand on my arm. She means it to be comforting, but it’s terrifying. “I’ve got a new job for you. It’s a big case for us.” The way she says “us” is even scarier.

“Berry’s the best.” Dad says, genuinely proud of the work I do.

Dad realized early on that adults generally ignore kids, which made it almost too easy for me to get in close. It’s only gotten easier as I’ve gotten older. Most adults won’t even make eye contact with a teenager.