I.D. (3 page)

I picked up all the cards and stuff and put them back in the wallet. I tried to put them in just the way they were before. I put Alexa's number in my back pocket. I counted the money left. About fifty-seven dollars. The next day I'd borrow eighteen dollars from my sister, and then I'd call Ashbury on the phone.

I figured a rich guy like him would probably give me a nice reward for returning his wallet safe and sound.

That would be my first step out of here.

I don't know why I'd been so worried about upsetting Mandy that night. I don't know why I even bothered trying to be nice to her. A lot of good it did me.

The next morning, I got up early. I knocked on her bedroom door. She went, “What?!” like she was already pissed off at me about something.

“Can I come in?” I said.

She went, “Why?”

“Because I want to ask you something.” I said it nicely but it didn't make any difference.

“Forget it!” she said. She didn't even open the door. “I'm not lending you any money, Chris. You still owe me eleven dollars from last week!”

It really bugged me how she automatically assumed I was going to ask her for money, but I didn't let it show.

I tried to explain that I'd pay it all back in a couple of days. I'd even throw in a couple of bucks extra, but she just went, “Yeah, right. How dumb do you think I am? Like I haven't heard that before? Why don't you just get a job instead of bumming money off everyone? I babysit three days a week. I work for my money. You could too—if you weren't such a waste!”

“A waste.” I was fine until she said that. She sounded just like Ron. She hated the guy—but it was me she was calling a waste.

I lost it. I kicked the door and swore at her. She screamed. Ron came running out
of the bathroom with his fat gut hanging over the top of his pants and shaving cream all over his face. He started screaming too. Mom came running upstairs. She just went, “Chris!” She didn't even bother asking whose fault it was.

Everyone was screaming. No one was listening. What chance did I have?

They could all just screw themselves.

I grabbed my backpack and took off. Mom put her arm out to stop me as I went past. I knocked it away. She stumbled back down the stairs. I didn't care. For once, Ron looked like he was actually going to help her.

Good. Because I wasn't going to do it anymore.

I was out of there.

By the time I got to school I was feeling better. Better than I had in a long time. For once, I had a plan. I had some hope. I'd get the reward. I'd get out of there. I could go stay with my cousin out west. He'd put me up for a while. I could find a job. Get on my feet. Things were going to be okay.

Alexa walked into Oxner's class. She had on a pink shirt. The top two buttons
were open. She sat down at the desk in front of me. I could smell her shampoo. She reached back and pulled her ponytail tight. Her fingers were really long and thin.

I wasn't sure I wanted to go after all.

If I dropped out of school, I'd never get a girl like Alexa. Sleeping on my cousin's couch, working at some crappy job—where would that get me? Not to some big mansion on Waterloo Crescent, that's for sure.

I had to think this through some more.

The PA came on and cut Oxner off. I'm never sorry when that happens. The principal announced that tickets for the school dance were only on sale until 3:00 pm that day. “Be there or be square,” he said. The guy's pathetic.

I wasn't planning on going. I never went to school dances. I never had the money.

I had the money now, though. I'd just borrow some more from the wallet.

No, I wouldn't. I wouldn't borrow it. I'd
take
the money. I'd call Ashbury and tell him I found the wallet, but there was no
cash in it. What would a guy like him care about seventy-five bucks? He'd be glad just to get his cards and stuff back. They were still worth a reward. I'd let drop that I lived on Fuller Terrace. He'd know anyone living in a place like that could use some money. Maybe he'd turn out to be a nice guy after all and give me something good.

For a second, I thought about the old man again. Why had I ever worried about him? What were the chances that he even knew Ashbury? What were the chances that he'd remember me? The guy was ancient. He probably couldn't even remember his own name.

I tapped Alexa on the shoulder. I whispered, “Hey! How'd you like to...”

She put her finger to her lips and went “Shhh!”

Oxner heard her. He turned around. He looked at me. “What's going on here?” he said and started coming down the aisle. He was just itching to haul me out of class.

Alexa said, “Sorry. That was me, Mr. Oxner. I thought I was going to sneeze.”

Oxner looked at Alexa. He looked at me. He stood there, squinting, for a while, trying to figure out what to do, and then he just turned and walked back to the board. I touched Alexa on the shoulder and whispered thanks. She nodded but kept looking straight ahead for the rest of the class. She's the type that writes down everything the teacher says.

The bell rang. I was going to ask Alexa to the dance then, but Oxner wanted to talk to me. He said, “Don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes, Mr. Bent. I don't know what you were up to, but I know you were up to something.”

He went on and on. I wasn't going to let myself get mad. I couldn't screw up now. I just had to think about something else and wait until he was finished.

I thought about going to the dance with Alexa. Ron would have a heart attack. Me going to the dance with his boss's daughter. He was going to love that.

I didn't see Alexa for the rest of the morning. No surprise. It's not like we hung out in the same crowds or anything. I'd ask her to the dance before history class.

I hadn't had any breakfast that day. I was starving. I headed to the cafeteria to see if I could bum some fries off someone. Then I realized I didn't have to. If I was going to tell Ashbury there was no money in the wallet when I found it, I could spend
what was left. That meant I had enough to buy the tickets to the dance and get myself something to eat.

I decided to go to the Big Slice for pizza. I was thinking if I was lucky, Alexa might even be there. I left the schoolyard and was turning onto Windsor Street when I bumped into someone. I didn't even see him coming. Alexa did that to me.

We both said sorry at the same time. I looked up. It was the old man and his dog. He jumped back. His eyes went all big. He yanked the leash, and then he and his dog took off running.

It freaked me out, him running like that. The guy remembered me all right. He looked at me like I was some kind of criminal.

I didn't go to the Big Slice after all. I went back to school. I suddenly wanted to get rid of the wallet as fast as I could. I didn't even like having it on me.

I took the money from the wallet and put it in my pocket. Even if I got caught, no one would be able to tell it was
Ashbury's money. If anyone asked, I'd say I won it playing poker. Matt would back me up. Maybe sometime later I'd tell him the truth.

I went out behind the cafeteria. There was a Dumpster there I could chuck the wallet in. The truck would take the garbage away and no one would ever know I had it.

When I got there, a bunch of guys were hanging out behind the Dumpster, smoking. I couldn't very well throw the wallet away then. They'd want to know where I got it. They'd want to know why I was throwing it away. I hung around and bummed a smoke, as if that had been my plan all along.

By the time the bell rang, I'd calmed down. Maybe the cigarette helped or maybe it was the fact that I knew what the other guys there had gotten away with. This thing was nothing compared to some of the stuff they did. I'd been acting like a wuss. The old guy recognized me. So what? I'd scared him. There was no crime
in that. He'd probably forgotten all about the wallet. It would be stupid to just throw it away and not even try to get a reward. I didn't want to end up the kind of guy that hangs out behind Dumpsters smoking someone else's cigarettes. I wanted to have some cash in my pocket when I took Alexa to the dance. We'd probably be hungry afterward. I said, “See ya,” stubbed out my cigarette and went back inside.

I stopped at the office. The secretary didn't look too thrilled to see me. She raised her eyebrows when I bought two tickets to the dance. I guess she'd just figured I was there for some more “disciplinary” crap.

I saw Alexa walking down the hall to history. She was alone. It looked like a good opportunity. I ran up to her.

“Hey, Alexa!” I said. She turned around. She looked worried about something, but she smiled anyway.

“Oh, hi,” she said. “We don't have any history homework due today.”

I said, “Is that the only reason you think I talk to you?” and gave her a little nudge
with my elbow.

“No, I guess not,” she said. She went all blotchy again. She's the first person I'd ever met who actually blushed.

“Can you guess why I want to talk to you now?” I said.

She shook her head.

“I'll give you a hint—Friday night.” I tilted my head and looked her right in the eye. “C'mon. Take a guess. You're a smart girl...”

She was really blushing now. It was obvious she knew what I was getting at, but she just shrugged.

“Okay, I'll tell you then,” I said. “I got two tickets for the dance. One's for you—that is, if you want it...”

I smiled. I put my arm around her shoulders. I felt her neck go all tight. She stopped walking. She went, “Um, Christopher...”

I don't remember exactly what she said after that. Why bother even listening? It was all a load of crap. She could tell me how busy she was, how many commitments she had
She could come up with any damn excuse she wanted. It didn't make any difference. In the second she turned and looked at me, I saw what she really meant.

It all boiled down to this: Are you serious? Me? Alexa Doucette? Go out with a piece of garbage like you?

I cut her off. I said, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” and threw the tickets in her face. I called her a couple of names, and then I left. She wasn't blushing anymore. She was white as those fancy teeth of hers.

Oxner just happened to walk down the hall while I was kicking the crap out of my locker. He grabbed me by the jacket. I elbowed him in the gut. He called for help. I swore and took off. No use hanging around to hear what the principal had to say. I knew I was out of there for good.

I couldn't go home. I couldn't go to the Big Slice. I couldn't go to Matt's. (His mother would want me to “work my problems out” with the school, my parents,
the whole frigging world. As if.) I couldn't go out west to stay with my cousin. You need more than forty-seven bucks to do that. I didn't know where to go.

I wondered if Oxner had called the cops. He was just the kind of wuss who'd be dialing 9-1-1 and screaming emergency because of a dented locker. I needed to disappear before they showed up. I didn't want them dragging me to jail or, even worse, home.

I saw a bus coming—the number 24. It was heading uptown. I got on. I needed a chance to figure things out. The bus was pretty empty, but I went right to the back anyway. I slouched down in the seat. I wanted to disappear.

For a while I didn't do anything. I just looked out the window. It was a nice day. Girls were already out in sleeveless shirts. I almost forgot about stuff.

The bus stopped at a park by the river. I wasn't planning on getting out, but I saw the river and I saw a phone booth. Something just hit me. I got off.

I knew I was near Waterloo Crescent. I'd phone Ashbury, give him the wallet and get the reward. I looked up his number in the book and dialed. The phone rang and rang. I was just about to give up when a woman answered.

She went, “Hello-o!” as if she was singing or something.

I said, “May I please speak with Andrew Ashbury?” When I was little, my mother made sure I knew how to talk on the phone. It's one of the few things she did right. No one has to know you live in a dump when you talk on the phone. If you sound good, you could be anybody.

“You got the wrong number,” the woman said. She wasn't singing now.

“Is this 555-1254?” I said. “I'm looking for Andrew Ashbury at 27 Waterloo...”

She said, “He doesn't live here! I told you, wrong number!” and hung up in my frigging ear.

I hate rude people. I was just trying to help the guy! I'd had enough of this crap. I slammed the phone down.

Then I picked it up and slammed it down again. And again and again.

Screw you, lady.

I sat down in the shade under a tree. A bunch of boats sailed by on the river. It pissed me off. It really burned me that there are people out there with enough money to go sailing on a Thursday afternoon while the rest of the world is slaving away trying to earn a living.

I bought myself a hot dog from a guy with a cart. Then I bought myself a pop too, and some chips. If they could sail, I could get something to eat.

I went back and sat under the tree. I ate my lunch and thought about Ashbury. This was his neighborhood. I bet he'd been to this park before. He might even have sat under this exact same tree. He might have eaten a hot dog, bought from the exact same guy. He might have looked out at the exact same view.

He might have done all the exact same things I was doing right then—but I knew it would have been entirely different
for him. He wouldn't be eating his hot dog wondering where he was going to find enough money for his next meal. He wouldn't be thinking about where he was going to stay that night. He'd just be enjoying the view, thinking about JJ and what the two of them had planned for the weekend.

A guy like that wouldn't give me a reward. He wouldn't care about his stupid wallet.