Amber Eyes (8 page)

Outside, it started to drizzle. Edward covered himself under the canopy. The redheaded cop, followed four steps behind by the puffing, chubby station guard, came into the yard.

“If she’s not in the restrooms, then the girl you’re looking for is not here, ma’am,” the guard said as he gasped for air. His double chin shook like Jell-O. “This station’s very small.”

I shivered. Once they came to search the restroom, I’d need to play an Oscar-worthy boy role. My performance had already convinced Edward I was one. I only hope the officer would find my act as convincing.

As the two grown-ups approached the restrooms, Edward squatted and opened his backpack. He searched inside it until he produced a red baseball cap. He got to his feet and put it on, bringing it down to his eyebrows. He crossed his arms. Nonchalantly, he leaned one of his shoulders on the wall and started humming a song, a no-troubles-wanted attitude. Meanwhile, the redheaded officer entered the ladies’ restroom.

“Alexandra, Alexandra!” she boomed.

The guard pulled open the door to the men’s restroom but backed off, wiping the air in front of his nose. I sprung to the washbasin and opened the faucets.

“God! Is there a dead skunk inside?” The guard shut the door, staying outside. I peeped again through the crack between the door and its frame. The guard turned to Edward. “Is that your friend in there?”

Edward turned his head a bit, but not his body, his back still towards the guard. He answered over his shoulder. “Yup.”

“He’s a guy, right? I mean, he ain’t a girl called Alexandra, is he?”

“Of course he’s a guy. Who is the Alexandra you’re looking for, anyway?”

“The lady’s looking for a teenage girl who might be traveling to Abbeville. Lola says you two are heading there, already purchased your tickets. Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

Edward rolled his eyes. He turned, standing tall with his arms crossed. The chubby guard was as least five inches shorter than he, so the guard had to look up.

“I live there,” Edward grunted.

“If so, what were you two doing here in Somerset, eh?” The guard pointed at Edward with a finger and raised his chin.

“I play soccer, came for the Inter-High Soccer Tournament. We played the final match yesterday. Check with John Adams High if you don’t believe me.”

The guard kicked Edward’s backpack. “Would I find weed if I search in there?”

Edward shrugged his shoulders. “No weed, but if you don’t believe me, check it. You’ll find nothing. My old man’s Abbeville’s Sheriff.”

The redheaded officer came out of the ladies’ and turned to the guard. “There’s nobody in there. Did you check the men’s?”

I prayed,
Please, don’t come in here, don’t come in here.
My hands and legs were shaking. I had to hold to the wall.

“Negative, ma’am. She’s not in the men’s. I’m afraid your girl never came—”

“Is this one of the teens traveling to Abbeville?” She meant Edward.

“Yes ma’am. He states he and his friend live in Abbeville. Came here to play a soccer match at Adams High.”

The chubby guard had to be an idiot. Edward had never said I was on his team—he just assumed. Not that I complained. In the perilous situation I was in, I would take any break I could get—including stupidity. The redheaded cop turned toward Edward with a curt movement. Her bristled hair, so orange and so crisp, looked more like copper wire than hair. Edward stood at attention.

“You guys participated in yesterday’s match, didn’t you, son? At ease.”

Edward changed his posture moving his right foot out to his shoulder width and reached both hands behind his back. “Yes, officer. I’m the team’s captain.”

“Saw you. I was at John Adams High yesterday. You were goalkeeper, weren’t you?”

“Yes, officer, that’s my position,” Edward had been about to say something else, but the redheaded cop raised her hand and stopped him. Evidently, she didn’t have time to chat about soccer matches. Rather, she produced a walkie-talkie and pushed some keys.

“Inspector Steel, do you copy? This is Holt,” she said.

Edward said nothing else but stood respectfully silent. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Edward’s should be the right way to answer to any authority, with efficient and direct statements.

“Inspector Steel, do you copy?” she insisted.

A male voice burst out of the walkie-talkie. “Steel speaking. Over.”

“Inspector, this is Holt at the Greyhound station. The girl’s not here. According to the staff, a teenage girl arrived about half an hour ago, but she was traveling with adults and doesn’t fit the description. Over.”

Static.

“To hell with the description Holt, it’s useless. The Olsen woman has described five different outfits the girl was supposed to be wearing. Over.” The radio squawked.

I’d been right. Mrs. Olsen had spilled everything. I clenched my fists.

“Uh-huh. So, what are your instructions? Should I check the roads in case she’s trying to hitchhike? Over.” She pursed her lips.

Yes, go and check the highways. Get the hell out of here.

“Negative. The witness said the girl was planning to travel by Greyhound and had money. Ask the manager for access to the security video and locate the segments where that girl you’re talking about appears. I’ll drive the witness to the station so she can take a look. Hope she can confirm the identity when she views the tape. Two people were assaulted tonight by a 14 year-old girl and there’s a reason behind it. I have a theory, but I need the girl to be sure. Over.”

I bit my lip. I’d talked too much. I should have said nothing to Mrs. Olsen.

“Roger that, Chief. I’ll get that tape. Over.”

“We’re on our way. Over and out.”

Holt sheathed her radio with a Wild West gunman’s move. No further comment and she strode back inside, forsaking the chubby station guard on the spot. I finally opened the restroom door and stared at the guard, giving him a fake smile, hoping to hide my anxiety.

The guard looked at me and shook his head. Then he followed the redheaded officer inside.

July 2, 2:30 am

Edward and I stayed in the yard. He bobbed his head signaling towards the interior, but I shook mine—I wouldn’t talk because I was afraid my voice would break like a scared li’l’ kid’s, which maybe I very well was. Besides, my mouth was so dry, I doubted I could talk at all. He shrugged, pulled his red cap down to his eyebrows again, crossed his arms and leaned on the large window, looking into the sitting room.

The canopy barely covered us from the drizzle, but I didn’t mind. Going back into the sitting room would have been suicide. Through the window behind me, I could see the redheaded cop pacing the room. Now and then, she’d address the tickets girl and the guard and would go in and out of the station several times. Every time she returned into the waiting room, she gave me an empty feeling in the pit of the stomach.

Deep relief filled me when our bus pulled in the yard some minutes later. Three people exited it. Behind them, the driver beckoned for us to board. Through the large window, I spotted the tickets girl behind her counter. She blew Edward a kiss and signaled him to call her. The very bitch! I hated her flirting with Edward, as if Edward were mine, which of course he wasn’t, but I did anyway. He gave her a thumbs-up. I glared at her and wondered what Jenny would have done, even though I knew quite well. I raised my middle finger and showed it to her.

Just as the driver was checking our tickets, the redheaded cop came out.

“Hold it there!” she called.

Omigod! I shut my eyes and started hyperventilating. This was the end of it. I heard the cop striding across the yard, the click-clack of her boots on the pavement sounding like a drumroll before hanging a criminal.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Move Justin, we’re all set.”
Phew!

I climbed the bus steps as the redheaded officer boasted her badge to the driver. “I’m looking for a missing girl. Where do you come from?”

“Montgomery.”

“And your next stop is?”

“Elizabethtown.”

“I’ll check inside.”

“Go ahead.”

I had to climb down to allow the redheaded cop to get into the bus instead of me. Edward was still standing on the sidewalk and didn’t move. Two minutes later, she came down.

“Thanks, you’re all set,” she said. She passed so close to me I could actually smell her perfume: a dry, slightly minted aroma similar to the one school teachers used.

Inside the bus, a strawberry air freshener scent was everywhere, and it was inconveniently dark as well.

“Excuse me!” I said after I stumbled on somebody’s foot. I turned my head back and glared at the driver who seemed not to notice the boarding passengers needed some light. There were few empty seats. I feared it might not be possible for Edward and me to sit together.

“There are two empty seats in the last row, Justin.”

At the back of the bus, instead of the strawberry scent, there floated this greasy and vinegary tang of hamburgers and French fries. A McDonald’s paper bag containing leftovers lay on the floor.

“It’s shocking the way some people just leave trash lying around,” Edward said in a curt whisper.

He picked up the bag and got off the bus to throw it into the proper recycle bin. When he came back, I’d already taken the window seat, leaving the one on the aisle for him. He sat, frowned and got up. I just stared at him bewildered and he shrugged. “It’s still warm. I hate that. I’ll wait ‘till it cools.”

It made me smile. Edward seemed to be so righteously fussy. Everything had to be perfect. He himself seemed to act exactly by the book, helping me after finding me sleeping on the sidewalk, standing alert when the officer had talked to him, and picking up the rubbish. Were all Boy Scouts that goody-two-shoes?

Minutes later, the driver called on the loudspeaker, “Sir, please take your seat, we’re leaving.”

Edward complied as the bus started to move. Large raindrops began trickling down the glass. The drizzling was turning into proper rain.

“Wanna sandwich?” He took one out of a paper bag.

“No, thanks.” I was not hungry and feared I’d puke again.

“Then try to sleep, you totally need it. You’ll feel better tomorrow morning.”

As the bus exited the parking yard, I kept peeking outside—I wanted to be sure the redheaded cop would not follow the bus. In spite of the street’s emptiness, the bus paused before taking Fulton Drive. A police car had parked in its way. The street was as dark as any other Somerset street—the town’s standard—but the car’s warning lights, flashing red and blue, allowed me to glimpse the redheaded cop and another one assisting old Mrs. Olsen in pink pajamas and hair-curlers to get out of the police car. She looked exactly as I’d seen her earlier tonight, which made me feel better. It would have felt so bad if I’d hurt her. The other officer struggled to protect her from the rain with an open umbrella.

Edward was peeking out of the window too, almost leaning on me. “That old lady is getting all soaked. My old man wouldn’t allow that to happen to any citizen. The officer holding the umbrella is an idiot. I wish I were back in Abbeville.”

Mrs. Olson looked up at the bus and I’d swear she stared at me through the window. My heart skipped a beat. It was the end of it. She’d just recognized me.

“She saw me!” I hastily pull down the shade.

Edward leaned back in his seat. “Who?”

“Mrs.—That old woman.”

“So what?” He shrugged.

All at once, the bus began to move and my cell phone purred. I flinched, but then I felt infinitely relieved. Jenny was back ahead of schedule. All my problems would be solved. God existed. I pulled the cell phone out of my shorts back pocket and looked at its screen.

It read:
Laura
.

Mom?

I didn’t know what to do. I thought she’d never call me again. Where was she, at Yago’s, or at her new boyfriend’s? Was she gonna tell me she’d pick me up tomorrow or rather tell me how to travel to wherever she was? I was not sure whether I wanted to live with her again until I knew more about this new boyfriend of hers. Who was he anyway? Another drunkard? Another addict? Another pervert or another guy who would beat her or try to rape me? I twisted toward Edward and stared at him like he had a reasonable answer. My cell phone rested on my open palm. He glanced at it.

“Is Laura that friend of yours who’s out of town?”

I answer nothing but kept staring at him. It would have been great had it been Jenny instead of Mom. I couldn’t decide whether to pick it up. The phone’s vibration massaged my palm.

“Aren’t you gonna answer?”

“Hello,” I said, picking it up. My heart beat a thousand miles per hour. Only silence could be heard at the other end. “Hello?”

More silence.

“Laura, is that you?”

Still more silence. Then, the connection went dead.

July 2, sometime before sunrise

The bus was as silent and dark as a graveyard. Everybody but the driver slept. It took a while for the engine’s hum to lull me, if it did at all. I couldn’t be sure if I slept or just plain lost my mind because I saw people who couldn’t be riding that bus.

My dead dad, for example. I saw him walking down to the restroom located across the aisle from Edward’s seat. I even called to him, “Dad,” but he didn’t pay any attention to me. He visited the restroom again sometime later. He didn’t look like an adult but like a teenager. However, I knew it was him. I wondered how old you remain after you’re dead.

Maybe you can take whichever age you prefer, and that’s why Dad looks now like a teenager.

Jenny was in my dreams too. My cell phone rang again and even though ‘Laura’ blinked on the screen, it was Jenny. At first, she didn’t answer. I shouted on the phone until she finally talked, only to tell me she’d be delayed forever. I cried, ‘No way!’ but she explained to me she’d gotten this new boyfriend, an Orlando guy, and that she was gonna move in with him. Jenny talked about Orlando and Disneyworld, about Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck, and some other stuff, but I didn’t pay attention. I choked instead. I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded so fast and loud, Jenny asked if a drum major was playing nearby.