Bank Job (11 page)

“What about what he did to your life?”

He shrugged. “I didn't have a dad when I needed one. He did that to me. Maybe I should be mad, but I'm not. He was weak, that's all. I won't ever be weak like him. I've promised myself that.”

The nurse at the desk downstairs beamed one of her saintly smiles at us as we left.

By now, Tom knew the cause of Billy's troubles.

“Want to come with us, Tom?” said Billy on Sunday afternoon.

“Okay,” said Tom. “If you're sure you want me to come.”

This time when we got to the hospice, the doctor and nurse were in the room with Billy's dad, so we had to wait. When they came out, the doctor said, “I've given him something to make him comfortable, Billy.”

The doctor seemed nice. He was wearing a gray tracksuit and running shoes.

We all went in and sat. The old man's eyes were closed. His breath came in quick raspy puffs. He opened his eyes and looked at Billy, and without moving his head he looked at me. Then his eyes went back to his son. He didn't seem to notice Tom. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a grunt. He slowly reached a frail hand out to Billy. Billy clasped his father's hand in his own big fist and moved closer.

His dad made a single powerful effort to speak. “Billy?”

Billy stared into his father's eyes. “What is it, Dad?”

The old man gathered a second breath. “I'm… sorry…Billy.”

Billy wrapped his arms around his father and hugged him to his chest. He spoke a few words into his dad's ear. Then he laid him gently back onto the pillow.

I couldn't hear what Billy said because of his father's rattling breath.

The old man's eyes closed, and in a second he was asleep, the wrinkles gone and the beginning of a smile on his thin lips.

Billy decided to stay, so Tom and I made our way home, mainly in silence. Tom stared out the SkyTrain window. When we we got to Patterson and stood by the door, waiting to get off, I caught a glimpse of Tom's eyes. They were damp and pink, like he'd been crying. He'd been thinking about Billy's dad, I guessed. Or remembering his own dad—his lost family.

Billy stayed at the hospice all night and came home the next morning while we were eating breakfast. His face was white. He looked beat.

Janice jumped up from the table to meet him. “How is he, Billy?”

Billy said nothing and stood looking at Janice helplessly.

We all knew.

Janice flung her arms around Billy. Joseph stood and put his arms around Billy and Janice's shoulders. Tom, Lisa, and I joined the group, looping our arms around each other in a family hug. For a brief few days, Billy had a bit of family with his dad. Now his dad was gone, and we were back to being his only family again.

NINETEEN

MAY 4

We skipped out of school early again and rode the SkyTrain to the big city.

The Three Musketeers.

I had a bad feeling about this holdup.

We were socked in with the usual West Coast— “wet” coast—rain and a cold wind that went right through my wet raincoat and chilled my bones. I was probably getting the flu or mad cow disease or something equally terrible. I had a crushing headache and my nose was running.

We took our positions, Billy outside the Vancity Savings Bank, me close by and Tom out of sight around the corner.

This was our seventh bank robbery. Wasn't seven supposed to be an unlucky number?

I sniffed and searched my pockets for a tissue. I had none. I wiped my nose on my jacket sleeve like a little kid. The waterproof fabric rejected the mucus, leaving the smear on my face.

From my lookout under the Shoe Warehouse awning, I could see the bank was busy. It was an end-of-the-month Thursday. Maybe Billy's planning wasn't as good as he thought. Or maybe he chose a busy bank day deliberately to raise the bar on his excitement index.

A guy was hanging out in a beige Honda across the street. He sat behind the wheel, sipping coffee from a plastic cup and watching people going in and out of the shops. He looked across at Billy.

Was he a detective? Had the police finally caught up with us?

The man stared at me. Maybe he wasn't a cop. Maybe he was looking to pick up a street kid. I knew that happened to kids, guys pretending to ask for directions and offering money for sex.

Sicko.

I jammed my fists into my pockets and turned my back on the guy.

I checked my watch. It was 1:22
PM
.

Billy was taking forever. What was going on in that bank? He should have called off the holdup if it was too dangerous.

The freaky guy in the Honda drove away. That was a relief. I wiped my nose on my sleeve again.

Finally, at 1:26
PM
, Billy gave the signal and I headed over to the bank.

Billy presented his note, and as the terrified teller was reaching into the drawer for the cash, I left to wait outside.

Billy came flying out of the bank, flipped off his ball cap, mustache, and glasses, and dropped them into my bag along with the money. Then he took off around the corner, heading for the mall.

I moved down the street in the other direction, turned the corner and made the hand off to Tom. Tom grabbed my bag and disappeared.

It was 1:32
PM
.

I walked back toward the bank, muttering, “Be calm. Be calm.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the beige Honda was back.

The driver was watching me. It was creeping me out. Was this it? Was I was about to be arrested? Thank God I didn't have the money. Had the Honda creep seen the handoffs?

“Hey! Girl!” He pulled up beside me.

He looked like an undercover cop sure enough. He needed a shave, and he had a bald head, pockmarked face and wet lips.

“Hey, girl? Stop right there!”

I turned to face him, head and heart pounding, nose running like a tap. He was close. Too close.

He grinned, baring yellow teeth. “I been watchin' you.”

I said nothing and stared at the wet lips.

“You're real pretty. You know that, girl? You wanna make fifty bucks?”

I spat a big gob of snot in his ugly face and bolted.

The SkyTrain station was less than a block away.

I ran as fast as I could. I took a quick look behind to see if the creep was following me, but I couldn't see him.

I was panting hard when I got to the SkyTrain station. I ducked inside and fed my pass into the slot. Then I jumped onto the train and dropped into the closest seat with a groan of relief.

There were only a few people in the carriage.

My nose was dripping. I was wet. I was cold. My head pounded.

The three-tone bell rang out but before the doors could swish shut, someone jammed himself in between them and pushed his way inside.

The creep? I got ready to run to someone for help.

But it was only Tom.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, glaring at him. “You're supposed to take a different train.”

“Quit telling me what to do,” he hissed back. He yanked the shopping bag out of his pack, flung it onto my lap and thumped down on the seat in front of me.

I grabbed the bag. “Look. The only way this will work is if we all do what we're supposed to. That's what Billy said. Okay?”

“I'm sick of it,” he muttered. “I'm sick of you. And I'm sick of Billy.”

“We'll get caught if we're not careful.”

“So?”

“So if we're seen together someone might figure the whole thing out.”

An old woman wearing a floppy rain hat turned and stared at us. Had she heard?

I shot her my mean squinty-eyed look. She turned away quickly to look out the gritty window.

“Anyway,” I said, poking Tom's back. “You shouldn't be here.”

“Look,” Tom said. “Why should I stand out there in the rain freezing my butt off just because you said to?”

“It's all part of the plan. Surely even you can understand that?”

“Like I said, I'm sick of this whole deal. It's just not worth it.”

“Not worth it? How can you say that? If we don't do this, you know we'll be sent away. They'll probably send you to someone like Mrs. Osberg, and she'll beat you with her cane. How will you like that?”

Tom shook his head. “Look,” he said, keeping his voice low. “What we're doing is wrong. Wrong. Period. Besides it just isn't working. There's no way we can get ten grand. Might as well be a million at the rate we're going.” He cracked his knuckles. “I've had it. There's no way I'll let Billy talk me into it again.” He made a fist with one hand and punched his other palm hard— again and again.

I flinched. I knew he was wishing it was Billy and me he was punching.

“You guys won't have me to boss around anymore,” he growled.

He had quit for good this time. I could tell.

When we got to Patterson Station, I pushed through the crowd to get off quickly, but Tom was right behind me. He was out of the train and running down the escalator. I tried to get away so no one would know we were together. But he stuck to me like dog crap to the sole of a shoe. I swung the shopping bag ready to wallop him, but he stayed just out of my reach. I powered up the hill to the Hardy house. Tom was right behind me the whole time.

When we got to the front door, we were both breathless. He flicked his house key out of his pocket before I could dig out mine, unlocked the door and barged in ahead of me.

He stopped dead. I ran into him.

Uh-oh. Janice was here. She wasn't supposed to be home until four.

TWENTY

Janice poked her head out from the kitchen. “Hi there, you two. You're early. Want a cup of tea? I just made a fresh pot.”

“Tea sounds good. Thanks,” I said, trying to sound normal as I peeled off my soaked jacket and draped it over the rack by the front door. But what should I do with the bag? I couldn't leave it there.

Janice touched my forehead. “You're hot, Nell. And you look awful. A nice warm cup of tea and an aspirin is what you need. Then you should take a good long shower.”

She disappeared into the kitchen. I followed reluctantly and grabbed a handful of tissues. Tom was right behind me. Janice gave us tea, scalding hot. “Did they let you out early today?”

I racked my brain for an explanation.

I started my lie. “The teachers let us out at noon because they have this very important meeting, so…”

Tom interrupted, puffing air out of his mouth like a blowfish. “That's a lie,” he said flatly. He cracked his knuckles. “A total lie. We skipped out.”

“Shut up,” I hissed, glaring at him.

“Not only that,” he went on, ignoring me, “We've been skipping out all month.”

Janice said, “Skipping out of school? But…I don't get it.” Her laugh was uncertain. “You're good kids, remember? Good kids don't skip out of school.”

“Us? Good kids? Ha!” Tom laughed hoarsely. “That's a joke. You know what your good kids have been doing?” He turned his back on me. “We've been robbing banks.”

My heart plunged. How could Tom be such a dirty traitor? After taking the oath of secrecy. I was horrified.

Janice's mouth dropped open. In a state of shock, she couldn't speak. Finally, she said, “Robbing…I don't understand.”

“Show her the money, Nails,” Tom demanded.

Janice turned to me, face collapsed like a burst basketball.

I clutched my shopping bag close and stood up.

Tom growled. “Come on. Let Janice see what's in the bag.”

I backed away clutching it to my chest.

Tom wrestled it from me and emptied it out onto the kitchen table. Billy's fake moustache, glasses and ball cap fell out. A few bills fluttered out of the cap.

“Go ahead, Janice,” said Tom. “Take a look at what your good kids have done.”

Janice picked up the bills. “You want to tell me where this money came from?” she asked me quietly.

I shrugged.

“From a bank in Vancouver,” Tom told her. “Not much of a take this time though.”

I was numb with shock.

“This time?” Janice said, her voice cracking. “You mean…”

There was a rattle at the front door and Billy came bumbling in, a grin plastered on his face. He noticed the shopping bag and its contents spread about the table. Then he looked at Janice holding the money. His grin vanished.

“Billy is in on this too,” Tom told Janice. “We're bank robbers, all three of us.”

Janice dropped the bills like they were suddenly red hot.

“I don't believe it!” she whispered.

“It's true,” said Tom.

Janice stared at us, her eyes huge. I wished with all my being that I was somewhere else. Anywhere.

Janice made a visible effort to pull herself together.

“Take off your jacket and come and sit at the table,” she told Billy in the voice she used when she wanted to sound tough. “And don't any of you move.”

We sat. Billy stared at Tom, his brow furrowed like he was wondering what was going on. Tom wouldn't look at either of us.

It was turning into a nightmare. Tom was a dirty rotten fink, a traitor. He was our own Judas. Right then, I hated him.

Janice punched phone buttons.

Billy patted me lightly on the shoulder as if to say, “Don't worry.”

How could I
not
worry when bombs were falling all around, when the earth was opening to swallow me up, when my whole life was sliding down the garbage chute?

Janice spoke into the phone. “Joseph. We've got a problem here. Can you come home? Nobody's injured, but we need you, okay?”

While we were waiting for Joseph, Janice started in with the questions. “Where is the rest of the money?”

I told her.

“Get it,” she said.

Head pounding, I dragged myself up the stairs and got the shoe box from the closet. The running total on the lid was pitiful. A mere $5,470.00. We were only a little over halfway to our goal.