Double-Crossed (11 page)

“What are you doing in there?” Alicia demanded.

“I was just looking inside Tyler's Batmobile,” he said. “He told me I could.”

“Oscar, why are you crying?” Alicia asked him. “Tell us.”

“The policeman, the mean one with the flashlight, he saw me inside here,” he said, trying to stifle his sobs.

“That must be Officer Porter,” I said.

“I don't know his name, but he yelled at me. He thought I was stealing the car. He pounded on the window, so I locked myself in.”

“You should have just gotten out and explained everything to him,” Alicia said.

“I was going to. Then suddenly, all the trucks and sirens came. The policeman, he ran away with them. But he said he'd be back. I was afraid of him. I was afraid of the fire. I didn't know what to do. So I stayed locked inside.”

“You don't have to be afraid anymore, Oscar,” I said to him. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

“But that policeman, he thinks I did.”

“He just didn't understand that you had Tyler's permission to look in his car,” I said. “Come out. Come be with us. It's okay. Trust me, it's okay.”

He got out of the car slowly, and I took him by the hand. I could feel that he was trembling all over. Alicia and I led him over to the deck. We sat him down at one of the redwood picnic tables. Alicia stayed with him while I went to find the governor, who was speaking with the fire chief while a few remaining guests were observing the firefighters. There were no more orange flames shooting from Mrs. Ivanov's house. Instead, clouds of white smoke wafted out of the water-soaked structure.

“It looks like we have it under control, ma'am,” the fire chief said to Governor Corday.

“No danger of it spreading?” she asked.

“Not anymore. We were lucky, though. Lucky it didn't spread. Lucky the structure didn't collapse.”

“So I can go home now?” Mrs. Ivanov asked. Ryan had put her gently in one of our beach chairs where she sat stunned, watching the fire.

Governor Corday pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. She spoke very softly to her.

“Mrs. Ivanov, you're not going to be able to go home for quite a while,” she said. “The fire has seriously damaged a good part of your house.”

“But my photographs, they are all right, yes?” Mrs. Ivanov was practically pleading. “I can't lose my photographs.”

“I'm sure the firefighters will save everything they can,” the governor reassured her.

“I love the one from
Swan Lake
,” Mrs. Ivanov said with a faraway smile. “I danced with Rudolf Nureyev, you know. It was 1964 in Paris. He was such a handsome boy. And a beautiful prince.”

The governor glanced at the fire chief.

“Is there any chance?” she whispered. 

He shook his head. “I'm sorry. Everything in there is either burned or water-damaged.”

“Oh no,” Mrs. Ivanov said. “Oh no, oh no, oh no!”

And then she put her head in her small, delicate hands and wept.

“We'll find out what happened here,” Governor Corday said, putting her arm around Mrs. Ivanov's thin shoulders. “I promise you that.”

“Governor Corday,” her chief aide said. He was holding two cell phones, one to each ear. “We have to go. You have two more appearances tonight.”

“Cancel them, Chris,” she said. Then turning to the fire chief, she asked, “Do you have any idea what started this fire? Was it the Santa Ana winds?”

“The winds didn't help,” the chief answered. “But they didn't cause the fire. People did.”

“People? What people?”

“Most likely kids. My men tell me they found a fresh bonfire on the beach in front of Mrs. Ivanov's house. In this wind, one spark from a bonfire can fly off, land on an old wood structure like this, and poof . . . it goes up in flames. Just like what happened here.”

“But bonfires are illegal on this beach,” the governor reminded him.

“Sure. Go tell that to the kids.”

A bonfire! Immediately, I suspected Jared and Sean and the General. I had seen the two of them out on the beach earlier. And when we were doing our performance, they were nowhere to be seen. Probably making the bonfire they always talked about. I didn't say anything, though. First of all, I didn't have any evidence, just a suspicion. And second of all, I knew the truth would reveal itself.

“Do you have any suspects?” Governor Corday asked the chief.

“Yes, ma'am, we certainly do.”

There, like I just said. The truth would reveal itself. Those boys would pay the price for breaking the rules.

“Officer Porter reported a young Latino kid who was acting suspiciously,” the fire chief said. “He was hiding in a locked car and wouldn't come out. Apparently, he was wearing a sweatshirt with some kind of fire symbol on it.”

Oscar? Was he talking about Oscar?

“Some kids are like that,” he went on. “Obsessed with fire. Can't get enough of it. We're going to talk to him now.”

I glanced over at the redwood table and saw Oscar sitting with Alicia. He looked so scared. Officers Beswick and Porter were approaching him, with Porter shining his flashlight right into Oscar's face.

Oh no
, I thought.
Oh no, oh no, oh no!

The Accusation

Chapter 12

“He didn't do it,” I said to Governor Corday, planting my feet firmly in front of her. “I know he didn't.”

From where I was standing, I could see Officer Porter questioning Oscar. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I saw that Oscar wasn't answering. He just kept his head down and stared at the wooden planks on the deck. Alicia was sitting next to him with her arm around his shoulders. She was crying.

“Sammie, you can't say that for certain,” Governor Corday said. “The fire chief said your friend was acting suspiciously.”

“But, Governor, I am a Truth Teller. Even you said how brave I was to tell the truth, no matter how painful. I wouldn't lie about this.”

“Listen to me, Sammie. Sometimes when we care about people, we want to believe the best about them. I understand that you want to believe your friend is innocent. But you have to let the officers do their work.”

“Well, I'm going to help Oscar. He doesn't even know how to answer their questions.”

“I'll come with you,” she offered. “I want to get to the bottom of this, too. Let's just make sure that Mrs. Ivanov is settled first.”

An ambulance had come to take Mrs. Ivanov to the hospital to be checked. She was protesting, saying that she was fine and wanted to stay in her house. It was only when GoGo agreed to ride in the ambulance with her that Mrs. Ivanov agreed to go. Governor Corday was so incredibly kind to Mrs. Ivanov. She even waited by the ambulance until she was settled on the gurney and safely inside.

“Please let me know how she is,” the governor said to GoGo. “This must be heartbreaking for her.”

Her aide handed GoGo a card with phone numbers on it. “You can reach us on the private line,” he said.

“Sammie, you take care of Oscar,” GoGo called out to me. “Get your father to help.”

The ambulance driver closed the double doors, and the last thing I saw as it pulled away was GoGo reaching out to take Mrs. Ivanov's hand.

Governor Corday kept her promise. She told her aide to hold all her calls, that she had urgent business she had to attend to. Together we went to the table where Oscar and Alicia were sitting. By then, the fire chief had joined Officer Beswick and Officer Porter. Councilman Ballard was there, too, with Spencer at his side. Dr. Mandel was sitting quietly, stroking his gray beard, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. Amidst all those important people, poor little Oscar looked frightened and alone.

For the first time since the fire broke out, I took a real look around. Mrs. Ivanov's house was damaged, but not as badly as I had thought. The front room and the deck were entirely scorched, but the back of the house seemed like it had been saved. Nearby, the firefighters were cleaning up the mess from the fire, picking up debris and carrying their hoses and equipment to the truck. Sitting at a table close to the beach, just a little distance from us, were Lauren and Charlie and the other girls. All their smiles had disappeared. They looked worried and jittery. I noticed that Jared, Sean, and the General had joined them. The only kids missing were Lily and Eddie. They were nowhere to be seen.

I had a desperate urge to march right over to Jared, Sean, and the General and accuse them of setting the bonfire. I wanted to make them defend themselves, to stand up for what I believed they had done. But they weren't the ones being encircled by a group of adults asking tough questions. Oscar was. And he needed my help. I had to pay attention to the questioning that was going on, so I turned away from them and focused my full attention on Governor Corday.

“What have you learned, gentlemen?” she asked as she took a seat at the redwood table.

“Not much,” Officer Porter said. “The suspect isn't talking.”

“He's not a suspect,” I blurted out, trying to sound reasonable but knowing that I was barking like an angry little dog. “His name is Oscar Bermudez and he's here to get his leg operated on. Isn't that right, Dr. Mandel?”

“That's correct,” he answered quietly. There was pain in his voice. “I hope we can still do that.”

“We all feel for this young man and his physical difficulties,” Mr. Ballard said. “But the issue here is whether or not he started the bonfire. The police have asked him, but he has refused to answer.”

“That's because he's afraid of you,” I said. “Of all of you.”

“If he's innocent, he has nothing to be afraid of,” Officer Beswick pointed out. Easy for him to say. He wasn't a thirteen-year-old kid from a country two thousand miles away with a bunch of powerful grown-ups breathing down his neck.

“Sammie, can I use your phone?” Alicia said. “I have to call my father. He should be here.”

“That will take too long, Alicia. Go find my dad. He'll help.”

She got up to look for my dad. Through the clubhouse window, I could see that he was on the phone. Ryan was next to him, writing something down on a yellow pad. I assumed they were trying to get the number of Oscar and Eddie's parents in El Salvador. Ryan's under the mistaken impression that he is actually good at speaking Spanish. My dad looked totally frustrated. I tried to get my dad's attention, but he didn't look up, just kept pacing back and forth with the phone to his ear. We needed him here, to defend Oscar, to tell Officer Porter to give Oscar a chance to speak.

“Oscar,” Governor Corday said. “I know this is very intimidating. But we need to hear what you have to say. Will you talk to me? I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help.”

Her voice was soft and soothing. For the first time, Oscar looked up from the ground. He glanced over at me.

“It's okay,” I whispered to him. “She's a good person.”

He nodded.

“Good,” the governor said. “That's a start. Now Oscar, tell me honestly. Did you make that bonfire on the beach?”

“No.”

“Then why are you wearing that sweatshirt that says ‘The Human Torch'?” Officer Porter butted in. “Just for grins and giggles?”

“He's my favorite superhero,” Oscar muttered. His voice was shaking.

“Oh, really? The Human Torch? What's he do?” Officer Porter's voice was harsh and accusing. “Set fire to old ladies' houses?”

“Officer Porter,” the governor said. “Try to control yourself. You're frightening this young man.”

Oscar looked back down at the ground. I could see him pulling back into his protective shell of silence.

I hate bullies. Every kind of bully. Grown-up bullies and kid bullies. Bullies in long basketball shorts or bullies in uniforms. As far as I'm concerned, they're just people who like to pick on others who can't defend themselves. I opened my mouth to confront Big Bully Porter, but Spencer beat me to it, and in a much more polite tone of voice than I was about to use.

“Officer Porter,” he said in a calm and surprisingly mature voice. “The Human Torch is one of the Fantastic Four, like the Thing and Invisible Girl. They make the world better through scientific discovery. The Torch can control fire by sheer force of will. Right, Oscar?”

Oscar nodded and even gave the slightest grin of recognition. I could have kissed that Spencer Ballard.

“Poppycock comic book crud,” Porter said.

“Maybe to you,” Spencer said. “But kids like it, and that doesn't make us criminals.”

“Thank you,” the governor said to him. “Well said.” Then turning to Oscar, she went on with her questioning. “Tell me, Oscar, where were you when the fire broke out?”

“In the Batmobile.”

“Oh swell, now we have to listen to more comic book nonsense,” Porter scoffed. “Why don't you let me ask a few questions, ma'am? I'll get to the bottom of this.”

“Please let Oscar speak.” The governor frowned at Office Porter. He tried to hide his annoyance, but I could see him tapping his foot impatiently. She went on. “Tell me, Oscar, what is the Batmobile?”

“It's a Ferrari 458 Spider convertible—Tyler's car.”

“Tyler Frank is the photographer,” I explained. “He said it was okay for Oscar to take a look inside his car. If you don't believe me, ask him.”

I looked around to see if Tyler was there to put in a good word, but he was already gone.

“Where'd he go?” I asked.

“He left a few minutes ago,” the governor's aide answered. “Said something about having to get the photos in before the deadline.”

Great. He's no help.

“Oscar, did anyone see you in the car when the fire started?” Officer Beswick asked. He didn't seem like he was trying to blame Oscar; it was more like he wanted to help.

“No, sir. I was by myself.”

“Where was Eddie?” Alicia asked. “Didn't he go with you?”

“He went for a walk on the beach. With Lily.”

“So we have no eyewitnesses to verify that he was in the car at the time the bonfire was started,” Officer Porter stated flatly. “All we have is his word, for what that's worth.”

I could see all of the adults at the table exchanging glances. I didn't like where this was going. I looked over at Charlie, who was sitting at the table with her friends. They were all listening intently, except for a couple of the SF2 boys who had left their table. She was sitting with Lauren on one side and Jillian on the other. I wanted her to come sit next to me, to tell these people that Oscar was a good guy, that he would never harm anyone or anything. But when my eyes met Charlie's, she looked away. I thought I saw her scoot over closer to Lauren.

Someone had to defend Oscar, and it looked like it was up to me.

“You guys are not being fair,” I said. “Just because no one saw Oscar in the car doesn't mean he started the bonfire.”

“That's true, Sammie,” Governor Corday answered. “However, it does mean that we can't account for his whereabouts when the fire started.”

“Which means we can't eliminate him as a suspect,” Officer Porter chimed in.

“But you don't have any proof,” I protested.

“The girl has a point,” Officer Beswick said. “We don't have any evidence.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jared approaching us. He was carrying a backpack, a bright red one that I immediately recognized as Oscar's.

“Excuse me, sir,” Jared said to Officer Porter. “My name is Jared McCain, and I'm a member here. I found this backpack out on the beach that I think belongs to the suspect. Maybe there's something in there that would help you figure this out.”

“Thanks for keeping your eyes open, son,” Officer Porter said. He took the backpack and unzipped it, taking out its contents and laying each object on the table one by one. A half-empty bottle of water, a beat-up copy of
Car and Driver
magazine, a
Fantastic Four
comic book, a pack of colored pencils, and a folded-up drawing of the Human Torch rescuing that same blond girl from a burning skyscraper. It wasn't finished, but this time the girl looked more like me. At the very bottom of the backpack, there was a clean pair of white socks, and . . . could it be? . . . a pack of matches from Frankie's Clam Shack.

“Well, what do we have here?” Officer Porter said, holding up the matches for everyone to see. “Interesting, isn't it?”

Oscar couldn't believe his eyes.

“Those aren't mine!” he said.

“Oh, really?” Officer Porter snapped. “What did they do, walk into your backpack all by themselves?”

We all waited for Oscar to offer some explanation, but he didn't say a word.

“It's not against the law to carry matches,” I said. “Just because he has them, doesn't mean he used them to start a fire. He's here from El Salvador. I'm sure he just took them as a souvenir. Didn't you, Oscar?”

“I already told you, they aren't mine,” Oscar said. “Why doesn't anyone believe me?”

“All right, folks, I have a suggestion,” the fire chief said, rising to his feet. “Everyone sit tight here for a minute. I'm going to check something out. I'll be right back.”

We sat there waiting in silence, watching him walk across the deck and out onto the sand. In the darkness, we couldn't see what he was doing, but we followed his flashlight until it stopped at a place on the beach right in front of Mrs. Ivanov's house. I was so focused on watching him, I nearly jumped out of my skin when my dad slid onto the bench next to me.

“Been on the phone for twenty minutes,” he said. “Finally, it's all arranged.”

“What is, Dad?”

“Your match tomorrow,” he said. “The Sand and Surf Club didn't know if they'd have to cancel the tournament because of the fire, but everything's a go. You girls play your first match at eleven.”

He had to be kidding! With all that was going on, with Oscar in such terrible trouble, he expected me to play in some tennis tournament?

Is it possible that someone can have mashed potatoes for brains? Talk about a one-track mind!

I was just about to let him know that tennis was not on my next day's agenda, when the fire chief came tromping back across the sand to our table. His face looked stern. Troubled. He gave Oscar an unsympathetic look.

“I found these in the sand next to the bonfire pit,” he said. And reaching into the pocket of his yellow jacket, he pulled out a charred pack of matches and tossed them on the table. Everyone leaned in to look at them. The cardboard cover was black around the edges and covered with ashes, but when you brushed away the soot, you could clearly read the words—Frankie's Clam Shack.

I gasped. Alicia gasped. Oscar gasped.

Governor Corday reached out and took my hand. “I'm so sorry, Sammie,” she said. “It's terrible to be disappointed by a friend.” Then she turned to the others. “Gentlemen, you can take it from here.”

I watched her leave and climb into the black limousine that had been waiting for her all this time. When she was gone, I turned to check on Oscar. I looked into his beautiful dark eyes. They were filled with sorrow and shame.