Page 27 of Don't Say a Word
She pulled out her phone to take a photo, but heard a voice so she quickly pocketed the card just as a someone said, “Can I help you?”
It was the principal, Mr. Borel. “Um, hi, Mr. Borel.”
“You’re not supposed to be in here without a teacher,” he said.Angie didn’t think she’d said more than two words to him in the three years she’d been here.
“Um...” She saw an SAT study guide on the table. “I just saw Mrs. Clark at the volleyball game. She told me I could pick up this study guide.” She grabbed it.
He might not believe her, but it wasn’t like she needed to hack in and change her grades or anything. Though shewouldlike to erase all the absences.
Before he could question her, she pushed past him and said, “See you tomorrow!” Without looking back, she headed toward the side door, but heard a jingling of keys and voices just outside. She didn’t want to explain herself to anyone, so she turned and headed toward the main exit before anyone else could ask her any questions, stuffing the thick SAT book into her already crowded backpack.
Two minutes later, Angie stood on the street outside the school and knew she didn’t want to go home. Her mother worked until six, and she didn’t want to be alone with Bruce. When her mother was home, they ignored her. When she wasn’t, Bruce thought Angie was his personal slave to clean up after him and fetch him beer because he was too lazy to walk ten feet to the fridge.
Besides, she was hungry, and she doubted her mother would have anything good to eat—even though she was a cashier at a grocery store and got a discount on food. Every night, she brought home frozen pizza or chicken nuggets. You’d think just once in a while she’d get apples or milk. So Angie headed toward the Cactus Stop. She’d walked this route many times with Elijah after he started working there last March. He’d been so thrilled because most places didn’t hire teenagers anymore and the Cactus Stop paid fifteen dollars an hourandhe was guaranteed twenty hours a week. He worked five to nine, Tuesday through Saturday. Angie would stop by sometimes to chat or pick up snacks. They always had fruit, even if sometimes it was overripe.
In the summer, Elijah worked longer hours and Angie hadn’tseen him for weeks. When she ran into him the week before school started, he looked miserable and tired. He’d also lost weight.
She’d asked him about it, but he hadn’t talked. She’d pushed; he told her it was nothing.
Was his weight loss about his job? School?
Drugs...
She pushed the thought out of her mind.
Now he was dead and she couldn’t push him,makehim tell her what had him so preoccupied.
She had wanted to tell the detective about these changes over the last few weeks, but the cop hadn’t called her back and Angie leftthree messages. The detective hadn’t listened, hadn’t cared; Mrs. Clark listened, but couldn’t do anything. Angie was so frustrated that everything in her life was out of her control that she wanted to scream.
But she didn’t. She focused on trying not to feel so alone and angry.
Angie entered the convenience store. Though the tall, narrow aisles and abundance of merchandise made the place seem crowded, it was clean. She really didn’t know what she was doing, except she’d spent so much time here talking to Elijah. Maybe she just wanted to feel close to him. Maybe she wanted to know if anyone worked with him the day he died.
Walking down the aisle of chips, she grabbed a bag of spicy Doritos and a bottle of water. She put the cold bottle on the nape of her neck and felt better. She grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter; it wasn’t bruised, a plus. She put her items down, then realized she knew the kid behind the counter. “Benny?” she said.
“Hey, Angie! How are you?”
Benny grinned ear to ear and walked around from behind the counter to give her a hug. She hugged him back. It felt so good she didn’t want to let go.
Benny Vallejo was Angie’s ex-boyfriend’s little brother. Notso little—he was six inches taller. But she’d known him since she started dating Chris back when she was a freshman and Chris was a sophomore. The three of them used to do things together all the time before Chris went to college.
Tears burned, but she didn’t let them fall. She missed Chris, but he was in college and she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be needy or use him as a crutch or pressure him to visit or anything. He had his life, she had hers, and that was that.
But she missed him, and she realized she missed Benny too. They didn’t have it any easier than she did—their mom was long gone and their dad was an asshole who smacked them around. But Chris and Benny had always been a unit, a team, and looked out for each other.
And her, when she was Chris’s girl.
“When did you start working here?” she asked, blinking to push back those damn emotions.
“I started on Thursday. Couldn’t believe it, I applied months ago, then they called me up Monday and said they had an opening. Totally sweet. My dad is thrilled, you know? And, well, not being home has its advantages.”
“I hear ya,” Angie said.
He laughed, squeezed her arm because he knew about her screwed-up homelife and she knew about his. There was a camaraderie when you shared something like that. “And I love getting a paycheck. Or I will, when I get my first one on Friday.”
Elijah was killed ten days ago. Benny had filled his spot.
“You okay?” he asked. Then his face fell. “Oh. Oh, God. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I’m so sorry about Elijah. Did you talk to Chris?”
