Summer on the Moon (14 page)

Socko dropped to one knee and brushed his palm across the dense blades of grass.

“You look like a pilgrim.” Livvy perched on top of the fence, legs swinging.

“It’s not like this where I come from,” he said, sitting back on his heels. The road and houses and sidewalks were nearly identical to the ones in Moon Ridge, but here the blank spaces in between had been colored in with the green of lawns and trees, dotted with the bright pixels of flowers. He was looking at his own neighborhood three or four years down the road—the Moon Ridge Estates his mother had imagined when she stared at the brochure.

He crossed the narrow strip of grass and hit a sidewalk, which he followed past a house with a sundial on its lawn. Livvy hopped down off the fence and ran after him.

The next house had a bed of purple flowers planted in front. Individual flowers were dropping and lifting like piano keys played by an invisible hand.

“It’s just bees,” Livvy said.

“
Just
bees? Eight out of every ten bites of food you put in your mouth was made possible by bees.”

“Thank you, O magnificent bees!” Livvy lifted her palms and bowed from the waist. “I get it that everything is green, but this is so
completely ordinary.” She lifted her arms and let them fall. “I mean, what’s here? Some lawns, a few flowers, trees so little they need sticks to hold them up. We had
real
trees in the Heights … grandfather oaks.”

So it wasn’t the Amazon rain forest—or even the Heights. It was still way better than what Socko was used to.

From behind a nearby house he heard the whoop and splash of kids in a pool. Judging by their voices, the swimmers were probably older—high schoolers, maybe? Curious, he headed toward the noisy house—and that’s when he saw it. Lying in the grass, one wheel resting on a coil of garden hose, was a cherry red and black ripstick.

He pointed it out to Livvy. “I saw a board just like that by one of the houses in Moon Ridge.”

“Really? Maybe kids from here are coming over to Moon Ridge to check out the dirt!”

Ignoring her joke, he ventured up to the driveway, then stopped.

“Socko? What is it?”

He stared into the dark cave of the house’s open garage, letting his eyes adjust. A new SUV was parked on one side. On the other wall were shelves. He sidled a little closer to the house, stopping near a tall bush halfway up the driveway. “Look at that.”

Livvy peered into the garage too. “Look at what? We’re in somebody’s yard, Socko.”

“See those paint cans lined up on that shelf? Take a look at the empty spot closest to the door.”

Livvy squinted, then her eyes opened wide. “Ohmygosh!”

Although the interior of the garage was in deep shadow, sunlight hit the end of the last shelf. Even from the sidewalk it was easy to see that the low wooden shelf was stained with dark, rusty rings too small to be made by cans of house paint.

A door at the back of the garage swung open and a tan, sun-blond guy in wet Hawaiian-print trunks came in from the backyard. He was fifteen, sixteen, easy. As he sauntered over to a refrigerator near the garage’s large open front door, Socko and Livvy ducked behind the bush.

“Go on, Socko,” Livvy whispered. “Confront him!”

“I don’t know …”

“Come on. You’re tough. You’ve seen a guy shot through the heart, point-blank. And you’re way taller than he is.”

“I could probably take him,” Socko whispered back, giving himself the benefit of the doubt. “But if someone calls the cops, which one of us do you think’ll get slammed against the squad car door?”

“But
Socko
, he did it!” breathed Livvy. “We have evidence.”

“Tell your dad to send Officer Friendly over.”

They heard the refrigerator close. The boy turned toward the door that led to the pool. Before Socko could stop her, Livvy sprinted the rest of the way up the driveway. “Hey, you!”

The guy swung around. Eyebrows raised, he touched himself in the middle of his chest. “Me?”

Livvy stopped just outside the garage door. “Have you by any chance paid a visit to Moon Ridge Estates recently?”

“Why? Who wants to know?”

“Quite a few people, actually.” She spread her feet wide and planted her knuckles on her hips. “Did you spray-paint profanities all over a house in Moon Ridge Estates?” she demanded.

“No. Why would I?”

Peering out from behind the bush, Socko could see how the boy’s eyes tailed away from her.

“What if I told you there was a witness?” Livvy bluffed.

There was a long pause, and then Socko heard a pop as the guy pulled the tab on the can in his hand. “Get lost, little girl.”

Although he hadn’t been spotted, Socko shifted uneasily.

“I said, get lost!” The guy reached out with his free hand and gave Livvy a shove.

Socko touched the
S
on Damien’s cap and stepped into view. Hoping his slow walk looked confident, not scared, he strode up to the open garage door.

“Hey.” He stopped right next to Livvy. “How’s it goin’?” The guy was much smaller up close. Socko was not only taller, he was bulkier.

“Holy crap!” the guy breathed, falling back.

Socko took another step toward him, thinking,
this must be what it feels like to be Meat
.

The guy raised his voice. “Pete? Trevor?”

Two more blonds slouched through the door of the garage and stood there, dripping on the concrete floor. “What’s going on, Brad?” asked Pete or Trevor.

“Your friend vandalized a house in Moon Ridge Estates, my father’s project,” Livvy said. “He isn’t too happy about the damage.”

Both guys repeated Brad’s eye fade.
They were all in on it
, Socko thought.

Brad seemed to expect his two unwelcome visitors to go away quietly now that he had backup—but that wasn’t going to happen. Socko ran his hand over the rusty rings that stained the shelf. “Looks like a couple dozen cans of spray paint should be sitting right about here.”

One of the blonds turned on Brad. “I told you we shouldn’t of—”

“Shut your face, Trev.” Brad looked at Socko and Livvy. “You two are trespassing.”

Livvy let out a sudden, bloodcurdling scream. “Get your hands off me!” she yelled.

The guys jumped, and then traded confused looks. Socko was just as mystified.

“Leave me alone!” she shrieked.

A second door flew open. “Bradley!” A woman in a crisp white tennis outfit stepped into the garage. “What is going on here?” She saw Socko and Livvy. “Is everyone all right?”

“I’m Olivia Holmes,” Livvy volunteered, her voice perfectly calm now. “My father built this house. A couple of days ago your son vandalized a house in my father’s current project, Moon Ridge Estates.”

The woman whirled and faced her son.

Brad opened his eyes wide. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, Mom.”

The woman pursed her lips. She stared at her son hard before turning back to Socko and Livvy. “Unless you have some proof, it’s your word against my son’s—and I trust my son.”

But not much
, thought Socko. He tapped his fingers on the shelf.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but should there be cans of spray paint on this shelf?”

The woman looked at the conspicuously empty stretch of shelf, blanching when she saw the rings of rust. “Bradley!” She turned on her son. “First you get suspended for drinking, then you scratch your father’s BMW. Speaking of your father, do I need to call him and ask what should be on that shelf?”

“Hey, it was Pete’s idea!”

“We so kicked butt! And how did you like my scream?” Livvy held her hand up for a high five.

Socko kept walking, his head down. “What just happened back there? Those guys come right out and admit they did it, and Brad’s mom says there’ll be consequences. Then she gets on the phone with your dad to make sure there aren’t any.”

“I bet they’ll get grounded, or lose their driving privileges.”

“Big deal. Is your father gonna call Officer Fricke and turn them in?”

“I doubt it.” Livvy put a sneaker on the bottom rung of the fence. “It takes forever to get the money if you go to court. Brad’s mom already said she’s going to pay the damages.”

“But they messed up his property!” Socko jumped down on the Moon Ridge side of the fence. “When
I
was the suspect your father had a cop at my door in a heartbeat.”

“The situation was different. Now we know who did it and Brad’s parents are going to pay for the damage.”

“Oh, I get it. Brad and Pete and whoever don’t fit the description. They have money, so they get off. No wonder jails are full of guys like me!”

She walked beside him, watching the ground. “You’re right,” she said at last. “They’re guilty. They should be punished. I know my dad won’t call the police, but … we could.”

“Like they’d listen to us …”

“Maybe we can get the General to do it.”

“Oh, crap! The General!” He knew he’d catch it for being gone so long, but maybe once he got past the crackle of complaint, he’d convince his great-grandfather to make that call. It was time for a little of that “justice for all” the General claimed all Americans were entitled to.

When they reached Tranquility Way, Livvy veered off toward her own house. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

The first thing Socko noticed as he jogged toward his own house was the vacancy at the front window. The old guy must be pretty mad.

He slipped inside. The wheelchair stood empty in the middle of the room.

“General?” His voice echoed, but there was no answer. Then, through the arch that opened into the family room, he saw a few inches of the brown Naugahyde recliner. One scrawny arm and claw-like hand hung down its side.

“Sir?” Sometime after they’d left, the old man had climbed back into “bed” and dozed off again. Old guys did that.

Socko crept toward the silent family room and stood in front of the recliner. Not moving at all, the General was the oldest-looking thing Socko had ever seen. He was oddly slumped too, toppled to the right.

Socko tried to detect motion, but there was none. He felt his own heart start beating weird. The arm that hung down seemed barely attached to his great-grandfather’s body. In fact, all of him looked as if it had been strung together with worn-out rubber bands.

Socko put a finger on the old man’s shoulder. When nothing happened, he put his whole hand down, feeling the bones under the thin skin. “General, sir?” Socko gave the bony shoulder a shake. His great-grandfather slipped lower in the chair.

“Crap! Oh, crap! Oh, crap!” The General was dead. But how could he be? He was alive when they’d left—alive and complaining.

But in all of Socko’s experience, nothing had ever looked deader—including Frankie with a bullet through his heart.

If the old man
was
dead, he and Delia had fulfilled their side of
the contract. The house was theirs—but Socko hadn’t wanted the stupid house in the first place.

Eyes stinging, he stared at the crumpled body in the chair. “How could you leave Mom and me alone in this desert? I was starting to like you!”

He heard the front door open. “What’s for lunch?”

Socko stood still, his back to Livvy.

“Socko?”

He turned away from the body in the chair. “The General … croaked.” He’d tried to make his voice sound strong, but instead it shook.

“Oh, Socko!” She threw her arms around his neck. A shock wave ripped through him as his face was buried in her hair. Taking a surprised breath, he smelled green apple shampoo.

She let go fast and stepped away from him. Knotting her hands, she stared at the pitiful body in the chair with tears in her eyes. But the sad look quickly changed and she dropped to her knees. “General?”

She brought her face to within inches of the shriveled corpse. “Please stop this, General. You’re scaring Socko.” When nothing happened, she stage-whispered, “I’m onto you, you old faker.” Then she spread her hands. “Rise!”

Socko let out a hoarse scream when the corpse straightened up in the chair.

“Aw, heck,” said the General. “I was just having a little fun with the kid.”

Socko was stunned silent, caught between gratitude, embarrassment, and a fury he could almost taste. “You were
faking
it?” His voice was quiet but hard, the armored-up voice his mother called “attitudinous.”

“It was a joke, Sacko!” The recently dead General rubbed his palms back and forth on the arms of the chair. “I was playing possum.”

“That was supposed to be funny?” Socko roared.

The General pouted. “You two lit out of here without even a howdy-do. You were gone so long I got worried. I don’t know what
you’re all worked up about anyway, Sacko. You did it first, pulling that fast one on Livvy.”

Livvy put her hands on her hips. “Told you playing possum wasn’t funny.”

Socko collapsed to the floor, where he sat cross-legged staring at the tile in front of him. He hadn’t felt this exhausted since he and Damien made that hour-long crawl up the fire escape chute.

“Sacko?”

He heard the
whoosh-snap
of the recliner being brought back to the upright position, followed by the scuff of slippers. He didn’t look up to see where the General was going. He was done with the old man.

The corduroy toes of a pair of mole colored slippers slid into his circle of vision and stopped. A bony hand clamped down on his head. “It’s been so long since anyone’s liked me I guess I’ve forgotten how to act. I won’t scare you like that again. Next time I look dead, go ahead and order flowers.” Socko tried to lift his head under the weight of the old man’s hand so he could look up, but the General would not ease up, would not let go. “So, we’ll just forgive and forget, okay, Sacko?”

“Quit calling me Sacko!”

He felt the grip on his head relax. “Okay,” the General whispered. The weight of the hand lifted. The old man patted Socko’s head gently one time before coming down with a firm slap. “And now, like the young lady says, what do we have for lunch?”

Socko stared in disbelief. “What do you
think
we have for lunch?”

Socko pushed himself to his feet and went to the kitchen, glad that for once Livvy didn’t follow him.