How Lamar's Bad Prank Won a Bubba-Sized Trophy (12 page)

O
fficer Perkins mumbles and paces. “You didn't mention anything about an accomplice. What are you doing hanging out with Billy Jenks? Don't you know he's trouble?”

I don't know what to say.

“Answer him!” Dad yells.

I squint at Officer Perkins. “You're wrong about Billy. He was just my lookout guy. He promised to give me a signal if someone came down the hall. That's it.”

Officer Perkins shakes his head. “I know Billy very well, Lamar. There's no such thing as ‘that's it' when he's involved.”

I panic. “Well, it is
this
time. I swear. He was only there to make sure my dad didn't come around the corner and catch me pulling the alarm.”

Xavier steps toward me. “You're lying, Lamar! You are
so
dead!”

Officer Perkins points at my brother. “Xavier, sit down! Let me handle this, please.”

Dad takes Xavier by the arm and drags him to a row of chairs against the wall.

Mason refocuses us. “Okay, Lamar, you said Billy was your lookout guy?”

I nod. “That's exactly what I'm telling you. I didn't know the alarm was connected to a sprinkler system. I bet Billy didn't either. He probably freaked just like I did and ran outside. I was on my way to find him when you caught me.”

Officer Perkins shakes his head. “Mason, turn the tape back on. Lamar, talk me through what I'm watching.”

I nod again. “Sure.”

As the picture comes in, it shows me and Billy in the hall, and I tell everything about that afternoon.

“We stopped to go over last-minute details. I got nervous and Billy thought I was backing out. I promised him I wasn't, and he promised to be in the hall for me, looking out.”

I cut my eyes to Dad and X. Dad is statue still.
Xavier bites his bottom lip. I stand closer to Officer Perkins, just in case Xavier comes at me.

Mason nods. “Okay, I'm going to switch screens. The second television records activities around the fire alarm.”

He reaches for his remote, but Officer Perkins grabs his wrist. “Wait.”

All eyes turn back to the television screen and watch Billy pull a nail file from his back pocket. He checks the hall one more time before walking up to the computer room door. He inserts the nail file in the lock, jiggles it back and forth, then leans in to listen. I can tell he hears something, because he stops and turns the knob. The door opens. Billy goes in and shuts the door behind him.

I'm paralyzed, physically and mentally. I can't figure out what's going on. This wasn't part of the plan.

Officer Perkins slams his hand on top of Mason's desk.

“Stop the tape!”

He turns to me. “Why is Billy picking the lock on the computer room door, Lamar?”

My breaths shorten as reality unfolds in front of me. Billy had
another
plan, totally separate from mine.
Which he conveniently forgot to mention.

Officer Perkins puts his hand on my chair. “Lamar, I asked you a question.”

I shake my head, shrug, show Officer Perkins the palms of my hands, and tell the truth.

“I don't know. We didn't talk about this. He never said anything about going into the computer room. He's supposed to be in the hall looking out like he promised.”

Officer Perkins sighs. “I've got a bad feeling about this, Lamar.” He turns to Mason. “Switch to the computer room camera.”

Mason presses buttons on his remote. The video shows a windowless room with desks and laptop computers. Billy enters. He scans, lifts his shirt, and removes a square object wrapped in plastic.

“What the heck is that?” I ask.

Mason gets closer to the television. His eyes widen. “You gotta be kidding me!”

He dashes out of the room. I call to him.

“What? What's going on?”

When Mason doesn't answer, I stare at the screen and watch Billy pull the plastic off a new black gym bag. He unzips it and quickly fills the bag with laptops. The fire alarm goes off and water pours from the ceiling. Billy zips the bag, reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a baseball cap to cover his head. He stands and walks to the door.

My eyes bulge. I point at the screen. “He's stealing the computers!”

The camera continues to scan the room but pauses at the computer room door. My body tightens as I look through the tinted glass and watch the replay of my terrible first encounter with Mason. I watch Billy cup his hands to the glass and witness my drama. Once I run and Mason chases me, Billy opens the computer room door and leaves.

My heart pumps double time. I whip my head to the side to see the expression on my father's face. He won't look at me. I turn back to Officer Perkins.

“Billy said he was going to be my lookout guy. He promised. He helped me plan my every move. I thought he was my friend.”

Officer Perkins turns on his radio but raises an eyebrow at me. “Do you
still
think he's your friend?” He pulls the radio to his mouth. “This is Perkins, badge five-four-three-nine. I need an officer to bring in Billy Jenks for questioning on a possible robbery. We'll also need a search warrant for his place of residence to hopefully recover four stolen computers, over.” He turns back to me.

“I'm one-hundred-percent sure you had nothing to do with the robbery, but pulling a fire alarm without cause is a crime.” He pulls a pair of handcuffs from his belt and reaches for my right wrist.

“Lamar Washington, I'm placing you under arrest.”

Clink. Clink.

My body tightens. “Dad, help me! It was just a stupid prank!”

Dad's eyes water. His hands rest on his hips. He shoves them into his pocket. Seconds later, his arms fold across his chest. And then, they rest on his hips again.

“There's nothing I can do, Lamar. Pulling a fire alarm is not a prank. It's a crime.”

“But I didn't know!”

Officer Perkins asks for silence as he reads me my rights. “Do you understand what I just read, Lamar?”

I wipe my eyes. “Yes, sir.”

He turns to Dad. “I'm sorry, Mr. Washington. I have to book him. You can meet us downtown. He should be ready in an hour or so.”

Perkins and Dyson escort me down the flooded hall. We approach the exit doors. I look out at the crowd of soggy people standing in the grass, waiting in the parking lot. Officer Perkins opens the door. A thousand sets of eyes stare at me.

Coming out in handcuffs makes me instant gossip, tried and found guilty by appearance.

My face warms in shame. I hear two women whisper as I pass by.

“His mother would turn over in her grave.”

I tighten my jaw so I don't cry. Sergio steps out of the crowd and stands in front of me.

“Lamar, what happened?”

He's dressed in a Holiday World T-shirt and cap.

I shake my head. “I'm sorry, bro. I can't go. I'll make it up to you.”

“You can't make it up to me! It's my birthday, Lamar. You messed up my birthday!”

Officer Perkins points at Sergio. “Move.”

I can't hold it any longer. I burst into tears in front of the whole town of Coffin.

Officer Perkins palms my afro and pushes it down as I bend to sit in the backseat. “Watch your head, son.”

The siren blares. Reflections of revolving red and blue lights flash off cars and clothing as we leave the parking lot. The silence inside the squad car is louder than the music at Striker's.

At the police station, I'm fingerprinted and photographed before they allow me to leave with Dad. Officer Perkins tells us that the judge has referred me to a resolution council called the Coffin Accountability Board. I see them tomorrow, and they will hand down my punishment.

As Officer Perkins and Dad talk, I wonder if this Accountability Board is going to send me
away. In the middle of my freak-out, Dad grabs a handful of my shirt.

“Let's go.”

Xavier's in the front seat. I slide into the back. Once we're inside, Xavier begins to talk, but Dad holds up his hand and breaks X off in one low tone.

“I don't want to hear from you right now.”

No radio, no conversation, nothing. X fixes the mirror on his sun visor to stare at me. I try to avoid his looks, but it's so hard. I'm in trouble. I'm in big trouble.

Dad pulls up to the curb. I rush up the steps. Xavier sprints after me. Before I can open the door, he snatches my collar and rams me against the outside wall. I struggle to break free. There's evil in his eyes, and I brace for another painful beat-down.

Dad's huge arm appears on Xavier's shoulder. He spins him around and pins him to the screen door. “It's over. Do you hear me? All of this pay-back mess is over.”

Dad gets in Xavier's face. “If you
ever
put your hands on your brother again, I'm going to put my hands on you. Are you taking your medication? Answer me, Xavier!”

Tears flow down my brother's face. “It makes me sleepy. And it makes me sick to my stomach. I can't play ball like that.” His head lowers. “It
doesn't matter, Dad. The scouts were there today. They won't come back. I'll never pass algebra. Lamar ruined everything.”

Dad fumbles with his keys to unlock the front door. “Stop saying that! Everything is
not
ruined! We'll figure out something, but right now, bring me your medicine!”

X shuffles to his room. Dad turns to me. I tremble, watching his chest move up and down as air enters and exits his flared nostrils. He lifts his finger toward my bedroom door.

“Go wait for me.”

I sit on the edge of my unmade bed and wait. I'm wheezing like crazy, so I take a quick puff of my inhaler. I've got yesterday's clothes sprawled on the floor. My feet are still wet inside my shoes. I want to take them off, but I'm scared to do anything.

Dad appears in my doorway with Xavier's prescription bottle in his hand. He scans my room, comes inside, and sits at my desk. With arms folded across his chest, he fires the first question.

“Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“It wasn't supposed to go down like that, Dad. I didn't know about the sprinklers.”

“Your brother is devastated, and rightfully so. Your boneheaded, idiotic prank wasn't funny. Worst of all, you've labeled yourself. Do you
know what that means?”

I look at him. “What?”

“People will whisper about you for the rest of your life. They'll call you a thug, a juvenile delinquent, a troublemaker, bad news.”

I stand and pace. “That's not fair. I'm not a thug. A guy can only get dogged so much before he can't take anymore. I had enough, Dad, and I wanted X to get the message.”

I plop on my bed again, grab a handful of my blanket, and twist it.

“I had to get even with him for what he did to me.”

Dad's eyebrows move closer together. “You're talking about your eye, right?”

I feel the tears coming from behind my eyes. The wells fill before I have a chance to prepare.

“Did you really think I'd volunteer my space on the mantel? Did you? I'm not going to tell you what X did. Let me show you.”

I yank off my shirt and watch Dad's expression change from curiousity to shock. He glares at my bruised chest and sides. Before he can say anything, I put my shirt back on because those scars don't hurt nearly as bad as what I'm about to show him.

I gently lift Mom's Post-it from my nightstand and give it to him. His face wrinkles worse than
the crumpled edges of the tiny note. His eyes tear up, but I'm too angry to care.

“How do you think that happened, Dad?”

I can't hold it. I clamp my teeth to hold on, but I can't. The longer I stare at Mom's note, the harder I cry. The uncontrolled outburst angers me. I wipe my face hard with the bottom of my shirt.

“Why can't you see what's up? X has everything. That note was all I had of Mom, but X took that, too. And what happens? I get blamed. I'm a thug now because I fought back.”

“Why didn't you talk to me, Lamar?”

“About what? About who? Your beloved Xavier the Basketball Savior? I try to make you proud, Dad, but all you care about is my breathing treatments and my inhaler.”

“That's not true, Lamar. I talk to you about a lot of things.”

“No you don't! What have we ever done together? When have we just kicked it, you know, sat around and talked like you and X do all the time?”

“I talk to you about bowling together, I ask about Sergio, and—”

I cut him off. I've got so much to say and I need to say it.

“I made the honor roll every semester last year. I showed you my report card. Where was my
celebration steak dinner? Mom would have done something. She believed in me.”

I take her note from his hand. “She even put it in writing.”

Dad grimaces. “So she would have approved of how you handled this situation? You think your mom would be proud of you right now, Lamar?”

I try to reply. “Mom would say…I'm sure she would say…”

The clock rings midnight in the living room.

Clang!…Clang!…Clang!…

Each chime sounds like my conscience. Would Mom be proud?

No…no…no…

I collapse on my bed, grab my head with both hands, and wail it out. Dad's fingers slide across my shoulders, and we cry together.

“I miss her, too, Lamar. I miss her so much.”

We sit on my bed, shoulder to shoulder. I tell Dad everything. I tell him about my drama with Sergio. I even mention how Dr. Avery refused to give me any supermeds to play soccer.

“Soccer? Why would you try out for soccer?”

I begin to cry again. “See, there was this girl.”

A half grin slides across Dad's face. “Say no more. Girls will make you do stupid stuff like stand on your head and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Yeah, I did that in fourth grade.”