Accidental Mobster (18 page)

“Well, you'd better hurry,” I reply. “Because within half an hour, everyone will be reading about it in the school paper.”

Tommy momentarily quits thrashing. “What? Who told them?”

I smile at the look of defeat on Tommy's red face. “I did.”

Tommy's glares at me, and his voice is deadly calm. “You haven't won, gutter-rat. Everything you have, that family of yours—” Tommy glances at Vince “—it's going down.”

“Oh, come on, Gallo,” Mr. Doonesby says. “Let's go. You've got enough suspension and detention to keep you occupied for a while. Only the best for the best!” he jokes, and I nod my head to him as a thank you for his help.

I chuckle as Tommy is led away. That is, until Vince points toward the gymnasium doors. Portia stands at the end of the hallway, glaring at me with hurt and anger written across her face, a school newspaper hanging from one hand. Then she turns and disappears from sight.

“Portia!” I yell, taking off across the gym toward the doors through which Portia has just vanished. My moment of victory over Tommy Gallo is lost in my new desperation to explain my past to Portia before she reads about it in the school newspaper. I had made a deal with Julia for the paper containing my revelation not to be released until lunch, but I now realize I should have told Portia sooner. Much, much sooner.

I pause momentarily as I pass Julia. “I thought you said this was coming out at lunch!” I shout at her.

“It is,” Julia replies. “She must have an early copy.”

I shoot her a dirty look, knowing that Julia may be the reason Portia has an early copy. I suddenly realize that Portia may be jealous of Julia, but Julia may also be jealous of Portia, merely for the fact that I obviously like Portia. I don't think Julia really likes me, but I do believe she is extremely competitive, and my partiality for Portia seems to have brought her selfishness to a new low.

Third period has just ended, and students cluster in the hall around their lockers staring curiously at me as I rush by them. I am a little relieved to see that no one else seems to have an early copy of the newspaper. I don't catch up to Portia until I reach her locker, where, much to my dismay, she is being comforted by none other than Tony Chen. He has his hand on her shoulder, and she looks like she is about to cry. Tony was almost nice to me at the hospital, but any trace of that friendliness is now gone, replaced by a look of anger and disgust.

I waste no time trying to defend myself to Tony. That would be a useless cause.

“Portia,” I say softly. “I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I wanted to, but I thought you'd hate me. Tommy said you would hate me; Julia said you would hate me. I felt like the whole school would look down on me at a time when I didn't think I could handle the teasing I would get as a kid from Ridley. You said you wouldn't abandon me, whatever happened today!”

Portia faces me and puts her hands on her hips. “You know, I thought you were different, Danny! I thought you didn't care what other people thought—that you were just yourself and that you'd look out for the ‘little people.' But it turns out you were lying the whole time.” Her furious face is inches from mine.

I suddenly have a strange urge to kiss her. Instead, I take a step back. “I just wanted you to like me.”

“I did like you! Not because you were supposedly from Boston or because you beat up Tommy Gallo. I liked you because I thought you were a good person. But good people don't lie, Danny! And definitely not to their friends!”

Now I'm staring at the ground. “But I'm from Ridley, and—”

“Who cares?” Portia says, shouting. The stares from other students in the hallway have become even more curious. “I know I don't!” she continues. “Ridley wouldn't have hurt our friendship. But the lying, that ruins it.”

Portia turns around and hurries down the hall, Tony following her quickly, after shooting me a disdainful glare. I can't think of anything else I can say to appease her. I feel someone come up behind me and I snap around, still edgy after my emotional showdown with Tommy. Vince stands at my shoulder, watching Portia and Tony continue down the hallway. “You did the right thing,” he says.

“What? Lying to her?”

“No—making things right, telling the truth. It was really brave of you, especially with how much you like Portia.”

I let out a long, frustrated breath. “Well, I couldn't have kept the act up for long. I don't know anything about Boston!” I pause. “Wait, how did you know I like her?”

“Oh,
please.
Everyone but Portia knows you like her.” He turns and looks at the huddle of students watching us intently. He smiles and turns to me. “I feel like I'm a monkey at the zoo. You want to get out of here and go eat lunch?”

“Sure. But aren't you a little concerned I might destroy your reputation? I'm about to become the school outcast.”

Vince chuckles. “My reputation? Really, Danny, you have no powers of observation at all. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not that popular. Welcome to the club.”

* * * *

My time as Newcastle High's outcast lasts a day. A long, embarrassing day, but only a day. By lunch, most of the school had learned I lied about the whole Boston thing, which took less than ten minutes after the first students got their hands on a fresh copy of the paper. Vince and I eat lunch together for the first time since I started school, and his humor helps me tune out the murmur of voices and ignore the many glares pointed in my direction. Portia and Tony avoid me the rest of the day, even when we are in the same class. Evie is the one person who smiles at me, but I figure she may have already known about my past from talking to her dad. I give her credit for not spreading the news sooner. Timing was everything in my plot to trick Tommy.

In fact, my trap for Tommy quickly turns into my salvation. The next day, Julia's story about Tommy's blackmailing and my ingenious setup comes out in the online edition of the paper before first period, and by third period, I am the school hero. Many of the same kids who had whispered behind their hands yesterday actually come up and thank me for catching the “bully.” I almost laugh as they congratulate me and give Vince nods of appreciation. The whole entire mess has come full circle in twenty-four hours. High school is a fickle place. However, even after a few days, Portia continues to avoid me, and, compared with anyone's treatment of me, this hurts me the most. I see Tony and Portia glance up whenever I come to my locker, and then they hurry away before I have a chance to say anything. I am enjoying hanging out with some of the eleventh graders (because, despite Vince's claim of not being popular, he actually has some decent friends and is a persistent ladies man), but I miss my interaction with Portia. I'm depressed to think that I may never have the experience of chatting with her again.

Several weeks pass, but I have no opportunity to observe Gino's criminal activities. Gino goes out at night and gets back late in the morning, and I am busy trying to keep up with the high school workload. Gino is also making himself very likable to me in measurable ways. One day after school, I come home to find that Gino has bought me a new cell phone with a music player and unlimited text messaging. But it's not just the stuff that keeps coming my direction; even though we don't speak much, I always feel that my godfather is watching out for me and protecting me. He talks to me about school and checks up on me—just like a dad should.

In fact, I have almost convinced myself that my two trips to the diner were bad dreams and that Gino isn't doing the things I know he is. I find that I am definitely not making my role of being a spy in the Vigliotti house a priority. I have almost pushed the scenes from the diner out of my mind when I see Tony's dad pick Tony and Portia up from school one day and notice Mr. Chen's face is still black and blue from his brutal beating. The scene from the diner comes back like a blow to my head.

In an effort to distract myself from my conflicting emotions, I talk to Reggie on my new phone a few times a week and find that I miss my old friend as much as I enjoy hanging out with my new ones. I finally decide, on one Saturday a few weeks into September, to persuade Vince to drive over to Ridley with me to meet Reggie.

Unfortunately for me, Vince is not inclined to drive to Ridley, but he does want to make a trip to the mall. I call Reggie and convince him to meet us at the Newcastle Mall.

“But only rich kids shop there, Danny,” he complains when I call.

“Come on, Reggie. I'll buy you something.”

“I don't need your charity! Don't get all high and mighty on me!”

“Knock it off, Reggie. I was just kidding,” I reply. “Just meet us there, okay? I promise, the scenery is great.”

“You mean girls?” Reggie asks.

I smile into my phone. “Of course I mean girls.”

* * * *

I don't know what I was expecting, but Vince and Reggie are not natural friends. Vince's burly Italian body and moody personality are a sharp contrast to the energetic and lanky Reggie. One has never known what it is like to want something and not get it, and the other has never been given anything he has not earned himself. But both teens make an effort to get along, at least for my sake, even though Vince is not helping the situation by constantly texting me.

“Stop texting me, Vince—I'm right here,” I say irritably, even though I am just as guilty. We have been texting each other at the kitchen table for the past few weeks, much to Ronnie's consternation.

Vince scowls when I scold him yet again and pulls out a Snickers, which Reggie and I watch him devour. The mall is quiet, and we are soon bored with the lack of activity and

“scenery.” I talk Reggie into coming back to the house with Vince and me, although Vince grumbles something under his breath about Reggie's beetle, which is greatly outclassed by the Lexus. To my relief, Reggie doesn't let the older teenager's comment hurt his pride.

“Hey, you take what you can get when the only money you have is from your own piggy bank,” Reggie replies.

Vince appears impressed. “You paid for your car by yourself?”

“Absolutely,” Reggie says. “If I waited for my parents to help me, I'd be an old man before I got wheels!”

All three of us laugh, but I can tell that Reggie's comment has stirred in Vince a newfound respect for my less than wealthy friend. I ride with Reggie as he follows Vince back to the house, and I have to suppress a small surge of jealousy toward both of my friends; I don't have a car or access to one. Reggie has taught me to drive in a parking lot, but I'm sure I would be rusty by now. My dad has never had any reason to teach me to drive as there is only one car in the Higgins' family.

“Vince has never had to buy a thing for himself, has he?” Reggie asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“I don't think so,” I answer and glance at my new cell phone in my hand, realizing I don't have much experience earning my own money either. My circumstances have changed because of whose house I am living in, not because I have worked to change them.

“Just be careful, Danny,” Reggie warns. “It's easy to get comfortable with someone taking care of you. But if you let someone do everything for you, you'll never learn to be self sufficient. And besides, remember where all that ‘stuff' comes from.”

I know Reggie is referencing Gino's illegal activities, but instead of acknowledging the warning, I feel defensive for myself and my new family. “Take it easy, Reggie,” I say. “It's not a big deal.”

Reggie shoots me an irritated look, and we spend the rest of the trip in silence. As we pull into the Vigliotti driveway, Reggie exclaims over the size of the house, but I barely register my friend's amazement. I am staring at a very familiar BMW parked outside the Vigliotti house.

“Reggie, Frank's here.”

Reggie's eyes widen. “The agent?”

I nod and am suddenly panicked. “We shouldn't have brought this car here! Frank and Gino didn't see it, I don't think, but if anyone else were to drop by—”

“Do other mobsters drop by often?” Reggie interrupts, his movements becoming agitated as he starts to put the key back in the ignition.

“No, no one else that I know of. Even so, maybe we should park this down the road,” I reason.

“No, Danny. In this neighborhood? My car sticks out as much as I do!” He shakes his head. “No, I'm going home.”

“You don't want to come in?” I ask, desperate to show my new home to Reggie. I realize I want someone from my old life to tell the others at Ridley how well I am doing, and I suddenly feel slightly ashamed of my motives.

“I can pretty much guess what it's like, Danny,” Reggie answers quietly.

“Do you respect me at all? I feel like you're disappointed in me—both as a person and as a friend,” I accuse, not even realizing I feel this way until I say it out loud.

“I
do
respect you, Danny. You've been thrown some real hardballs in your life,” Reggie says, and I nod in agreement. It feels good to have someone acknowledge my challenges.

“But you've got to be careful,” Reggie continues. “And you've got to stay true to yourself. The Danny I know has always done what's right, and he's always stood up for the people that need help defeating the bullies in this world. Don't let all this ‘stuff' change that.”

I nod again, but I don't respond. I get out of the car and shut the door, feeling that I have let my friend down. Reggie is right—having ‘stuff' makes it harder for me to see the world as black and white like I did when I was poor. Now that my lifestyle is tied to Gino's livelihood, I'm not so ready to separate good and evil. But it is more than just the things; I like my new family. I still like Gino, even though I know what my godfather does is wrong. How can I betray the family who gave me a home when my life was falling apart? My world has become much more complicated.