Page 2 of Sealed in Ink

“I’mnot,” he snapped.

“Something’s wrong?”

“You don’t care. Nobody cares.”

“You’re right. I don’t care, but maybe I can help.”

He looked closely at me then, as people sometimes did, like I was a specimen, a freak. It’s because I just sat in the back of the class, stayed silent, did my work, and then went to training,nothing else. The gym, home, school, repeat. I didn’t want or need friends. It’s not like I’d be able to invite them over.

“People usually pretend to care.”

“It doesn’t matter what people usually do. Why are you pouting, kid?”

“I’m not a kid.” He sat up straighter.

“You’re acting like one.”

“It’s my mom.” He threw another stone. “She won’t stop praying. My baby sister won’t stop crying. Mom thinks it’s because, a couple of weeks ago, some idiots broke in and stole this stupid golden Cross.”

I nodded, saying nothing, and then he went on. That made me peaceful around him immediately, though I wouldn’t have acknowledged it then. He would talk without me needing to prompt him or say anything in reply.

“Can’t your dad stop her praying?”

“Stop her?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Yell at her or something.”

“Dad doesn’t yell at Mom,” he said like I was crazy even thinking that.

More silence. We stared at the moon and the stars. Everybody from our small midwestern town came to the lake to try to sort out their minds and the pain in their souls. I was just here because I didn’t want to listen to Mom and Dad.

“The thing is,” he said, “I know where it is. The Cross. Mikey from school… Do you know Mikey?”

“I don’t know anybody’s name.”

“Well, I’m Brad.”

“I’m—”

“Rust. Everybody knows.”

I shrugged. “Where’s the Cross, Brad?”

“Mikey told me his older brother had heard about the burglary from one of his friends. So I found the friend by watching the brother on my bike. I saw two guys who looked pretty shifty, you know? They all walked into town together and hopped on a bus to Lonham. So I got on the same bus and followed them to their apartment. Look.”

He reached into his pocket and took out a Polaroid. “You photographed them?” I say. “That takes balls, kid.”

“I’m not akid.”

I took the photo. Then, for the first time in my life, I smiled. It felt so strange. In the photo, there was a rundown apartment with dirty frontage showing in the sunlight. There was a bright, gleaming point proudly displayed in the window— the Cross.

“Why didn’t you take it back?” I asked.

He looked at me weirdly. “What? They were home. No way.”

“Then your mom would stop fussing. Maybe your sister would relax if your mom settled down.”

“I was going to take it to the cops tomorrow. I’m just worried because Dad said they’re all working overtime to find that missing girl. The whole county is.”

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