Quid Pro Quo (15 page)

“I can kiss you as much as I want. See? … “Okay, okay, Cyril. Geez. If you didn't want me to drool all over you, you shouldn't have tried so hard to find me.

“Anyway, we got about two minutes out of town and the gas tank thing started going bing, bing. Chisling was on empty, but he wouldn't stop. I guess he didn't want some gas jockey seeing me in his car and blabbing to the police when I went missing.

“So Chisling kept going, and the gas tank thing kept binging, till about twenty clicks down the road he finally gave in and pulled up at a self-serve. He's the type of guy who never sweats—worried it'll ruin one of his nice shirts, I guess—but he was sweating then. That's what was scaring me the most. Those little drops hanging off his eyebrows.

“I should have just run for it right then, but I didn't. Don't know why. I was scared, I guess. Or worried that if it turned out Consuela was lying, I'd look like a
beeping
idiot. Anyway, I didn't. Best I could do was just scribble that note to you on my key chain and drop it out the window while Chisling was filling the tank. I never really believed it would make it back to you in time. I just wanted you to know if anything happened to me that I love you, even when you make that ‘I'm-going-to-barf' face.

“Anyway, Chisling was still pretending we were just on a nice little country drive. He took me on a lovely tour of the Birchy

Head Yacht Club that ended, somewhat unceremoniously, when he booted me into the men's room and locked the door. A few hours later, Consuela and Byron got the tour too. It took us a couple of days to calm Consuela down. She was so upset about telling on Byron. But it wasn't her fault. Chisling had her terrified.“I was really scared at first too. But then when Chisling didn't kill us the first day, I figured he wasn't going to. I just told myself, You got to have faith. Cyril will tell Atula, Atula will tell the cops, and the cops will catch Chisling. I figured I could hold out until then. No way was I going to let Chisling think, even for a minute, that he beat me.

“You know, I lost all respect for that man. I mean, ALL respect. I don't respect him as a human being. I don't even respect him as a kidnapper. The guy's such a loser. You know, eventually, he's going to let us go, but only because he's too chicken to do anything else. What a
beeping
wuss.”

chapter
forty-three
Bribery and corruption

Giving or offering any reward to any person
to influence his or her conduct

S
o, what are we going to do about it then?” I said.

“Do about what?” Andy went.

She drives me crazy sometimes.

She drives me crazy sometimes.

“The skyrocketing cost of toenail clippers!” I rolled my eyes. “Geez, Andy, a homicidal maniac has us locked up. What do you think I'm talking about?”

Atula jumped in. “Cyril, your sarcasm is completely uncalled for.” Andy stuck her tongue out at me like she was in grade two or something. “However, I do think you raise a valid question.” I stuck my tongue out at Andy and pumped my fist in the air. “What are we going to do?”

Byron answered. “Here's our options as I see 'em. One: Walk out the door. We tried that. It's locked, and Andy's tweezers didn't do no good prying it open.

“Two: Crawl out the window. Tried that too. It's locked and it's boarded up from the outside.

“Three: Scream at the top of our lungs and hope some moose hunter hears us. Tried that too. It just gave me a sore throat, though Andy seemed to enjoy it.

“Four: We could all gang up and jump Chisling. We didn't try that. He's got a gun and we don't. So there you have them. Our options.”

I was, like, wild.

“Oh, c'mon! There are other things we can do!”

“Yeah? Like what?” Byron said.

“Well …” I was thinking as hard as I could. “Kick down the door!”

“Oh, sorry. Tried that one too. What do you think those dents are from?”

“Okay … Okay! Well, what about…the drains! Couldn't we pull the toilets off and crawl out that way?”

Andy said, “After you, Cyril!” and started laughing like some old drunk. I mean, I didn't relish dog paddling through … let's just say, “human waste,” either, but I thought we should at least consider it.

Byron said, “Even if you could hold your breath that long, the sewage pipe ain't wide enough. Didn't you never see a sewage pipe?”

I was just about to lay into everybody for being so negative when Kendall leaned over and whispered, “Byron's right.”

Instead I just went, “Okay, then. So what are we going to do? Just sit here until Chisling breaks down and admits he made a terrible mistake?”

All I wanted was an answer.

I got a demonstration.

Byron jumped up and said, “Exactly — except we ain't going to sit.” Me and my big mouth had just reminded him that it was time, if you can believe this, for our “aerobics class.”

As if I hadn't had enough exercise that day.

As if it was a good idea to make six people trapped in a tiny bathroom work up a sweat.

As if the place didn't stink bad enough as it was.

I figured Andy wasn't going to go for aerobics class either. Her idea of exercise was stretching across the table for an ashtray. But suddenly she was Buffy Buffbody. She grabbed me by the arm and went, “Get up, Cyril! Quit groaning! Byron's right. He's the one who's done time. He knows how to survive a prison situation. If we all want to keep our sanity until Chisling gives in, we got to stick to a routine, look after our health, keep our minds and bodies strong!”

Once again an alien had taken over my mother's body, but this one looked mean. I wasn't going to take any chances. I got up and did Byron's stupid stretching routine.

The only thing that made it bearable at all was that I got to “accidentally” kick Andy in the bum every time I did a leg curl. It felt good, but not good enough to make me forget what was about to happen. No matter how hard I pumped or lunged, I just couldn't quit thinking that Chisling was coming back to off us. I could picture him outside right that very moment, pouring gasoline around the yacht club and lighting the match.

Could you blame him? What choice did he have? Andy made it clear she wasn't going to be bribed or blackmailed into keeping her mouth shut. And if he got rid of Andy, he was going to have to get rid of all of us. Better do it fast before anyone noticed we were gone. At least, that's what I'd be thinking if I were him.

I heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, and my whole body went
Doink
. A lot of good all that stretching did. It's hard to stay loose when you hear the guy with the gun show up. Andy heard the car too, but she just smiled and went “Lunch!” She was acting like the school bell had just rung and there were Dunkeroos for dessert. Byron made us all wash our hands. (Can you believe this guy?)

I was waiting for my turn at the air blower when Andy nudged me and said, “Aren't you glad I made you order something?” I smiled, though it wasn't what you'd call a real cheery smile. By that time I figured, Well, it's over. At least we're together. Better than being mauled in the woods by a bear, or Andy dying out here all alone and me never knowing what happened to her.

I looked around the room. Kendall was sitting on the floor, studying his nails like he'd never seen fingers before, or maybe like he'd never see them again. Under the circumstances, that was more likely, I guess. I felt really bad about dragging him into this. He had nothing to do with any of it. He was just being a good guy, as usual, helping me out. You can see where that gets you.

And Atula. It was my stupid fault she was there, too. I should have just lied, come up with some dumb reason why she couldn't take us out to Birchy Head. I could have said I was carsick or left the stove on or forgot I had an appointment at the Adolescent Growth Clinic. I could have said anything.

I should have said anything.

If Andy and I died together, big deal. The world would go on. We just had us. Who else cared? But if something happened to Kendall or Atula, tons of people would be really sad. Kendall had his little sister and his dad and his mother, who wasn't doing too good since his dad left, and, of course, Mary MacIsaac. Atula had her son and her parents and Toby and Marge and Mr. Lucas and

Elmore Himmelman and even Darlene and Freddie. People needed her. Consuela had her kids at home in Mexico. I don't know who Byron had, but it didn't matter. He'd already done enough for us.

This really sucked. It sucked more than anything in my life had ever sucked.

“Is there something in your eye?” Andy said, and I said, “Nah, it's just the toilet disinfectant getting to me, I guess.”

The washroom door opened, and Chisling pushed a box in with his foot. He kept the gun aimed at us.

“There you go. They didn't have any green tea, so I had to get Byron red zinger.”

Andy grabbed the box and started handing out the food.

“It's
beeping
cold!” she said. “What were you doing out there? Going for a Sunday drive?” She gave him this what-a-jerk face and went back to tossing people their lunches.

She opened the last brown paper bag to see who it belonged to. All I could see was the back of her head, but I knew right away that something was wrong.

“What the
beep
is this?” My first thought was that Big Bob must have slipped her a nice juicy deadratburger for lunch.

Andy jumped up and started waving the package in Chisling's face. She was wild.

“I said: ‘What the
beep
is this supposed to be?'”

Chisling tried to look cool.

“It's my last offer, Andy, that's what it is. A hundred thousand dollars. Take it or leave it. It's your choice.”

One hundred thousand dollars.

One hundred thousand dollar bills.

One thousand hundred dollar bills.

It was such a pleasant thought.

So comforting.

Bob would put the gun away and give us each a big pile of money and we could all go home. I felt light. Like I didn't weigh anything at all. Like any second I might start floating around the men's washroom, like an astronaut in a space module.

A rich astronaut.

An astronaut with a new skateboard and brand-name clothing waiting for him at home on Planet Earth.

Andy shot that spaceship down pretty fast.

“That's what we've been trying to tell you all along, Bob. There is no
beeping
choice here. You killed a man, and nothing you can do will ever make us forget it.”

Andy biffed the wad of money at Chisling. Most of it got him in the head, but a few bills broke away from the pack and sort of fluttered around for a few seconds like little hundred-dollar ballerinas.

Chisling whacked one out of the way and looked at Andy like he was going to kill her.

Andy looked right back at him.

I suppose I should have been proud. You know, my mother standing up for what's right and all that. But to tell you the truth, I was really just hoping that someone would pipe up and say, “Whoa, whoa. Now wait a minute here, Andy. Maybe Mr. Chisling has a point.”

I looked around the room. Byron had already gone to jail helping someone. Atula's whole life was about sticking up for people who can't stick up for themselves. Consuela saw Karl die, and I knew she'd do anything to make up for it. I ruled them out.

I was sort of hopeful about Kendall; maybe he'd say something. But he was standing beside Byron now, with his head up and his shoulders back, looking at Andy like she was Sylvester Stallone. I knew he was on their side.

That left me. But if I said anything, Andy would kill me. Better Chisling killed me, and I'd at least go out like a hero. I actually thought exactly that, but it still wasn't my first choice. Die a chicken or die a hero? Frankly, neither appealed to me.

I wanted to live.

I wanted to skateboard.

I wanted to at least kiss a girl.

I wanted to see the new Jackie Chan movie.

I wanted to live long enough to hit five foot nine.

Even five six, five four, five three. I didn't care.

I just wanted to live.

Chisling went, ALL RIGHT! and I thought he was going to line us up against the wall right then and blow us away. “I'll throw in a nice three-bedroom condo at Haliburton Place, but that's my final offer. I mean it.”

Andy took two steps toward him and went, “
Beep
… Off.”

Chisling's face turned purple. His fingers started toying with the gun. He moved his neck back and forth like his collar had suddenly got too tight.

I believe this is what they refer to as an “explosive situation.”

For a second there, all I could think was, why didn't Andy ever take me to church? It would have been handy to know a prayer right about then.

But I didn't know a prayer or even who I'd say it to. So I had to come up with something else.

I said, “Mr. Chisling? …”

He turned and looked at me. “What?”

I said, “My hands are greasy. I can't open this package of ketchup.”

I held it out like I wanted him to help me. He stepped forward; he was a dad after all. I guess helping kids with ketchup is sort of an instinct. As soon as he got within firing range, I squeezed the little tinfoil package as hard as I could. Ketchup splatted all over that nice gray suit of his.

You'd swear I'd barfed on him. He jumped back and went “Aii! Ffff … My Prada jacket!” He looked down at the mess, and that's when I lunged at him. I dug my Beaver Boy fangs into his hand and the gun went flying. Andy scrambled after it. Chisling went to grab her, but Consuela's extra hot taco got him dead in the eye. Kendall did this kick-flip thing I've seen him do on his skateboard. Chisling went down like a bowling pin, and we all winced when his head hit the knee Byron had out waiting for him.