Double-Crossed (12 page)

This is as bad as it gets.

Little did I know, the worst was yet to come.

The Worst News Ever

Chapter 13

“We're going to send you home with your uncle tonight,” Officer Beswick said to Oscar. “There's not much we can do in the dark. Tomorrow we'll continue the investigation.”

Alicia had finally gotten in touch with Candido, who came barreling over in his truck in record time. When Oscar saw him, he fell into his arms and sobbed. They spoke in Spanish, and although I couldn't understand the words, I could see that Candido was trying to calm him down and reassure him. By that time, Eddie and Lily had returned from their walk. They had strolled all the way down to the Santa Monica Pier and even gone for a ride on the Ferris wheel. When Ryan brought Eddie up to speed on what had happened, he got really upset that he hadn't seen the fire or been there to protect and defend Oscar. Lily put her hand on his arm.

“I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding,” she said to Eddie.

“Don't be so sure of that,” Officer Porter said. “These kids aren't like you and your friends. Chances are, they don't even know right from wrong.”

“You have no reason to say that,” Lily said. “It's unfair to judge people before you know anything about them.”

“No offense, honey,” Officer Porter said, “but you don't know what you're talking about.”

Lily bit her lip to keep from saying more. Instead, she turned to Eddie and whispered, “I'm sorry you have to hear this. The rest of us don't feel that way. At least, I don't.”

Officer Beswick wrote down an address and handed the piece of paper to Candido.

“I want you at the police station at ten o'clock tomorrow,” he said to Candido and Oscar. “By that time, our investigators will have gathered up any other evidence and we can see where we are with this.”

“Do you think we can trust you to be there?” Officer Porter asked Candido.

I had never seen Candido get angry before. He always has the sweetest smile on his face, and is so nice to everyone at the club, especially the kids. When their beach balls go into the water or the sand is too hot on their little feet, he stops to help them, no matter what else he's doing. But there was no doubt that Officer Porter had made him really angry, and I didn't blame him one bit.

“We will be there,” Candido said, his tone of voice sharp and abrupt. “You believe my nephew is guilty, but I believe he is innocent.”

“You're entitled to your opinion, mister,” Officer Porter said with a shrug. “But you can't argue with evidence.”

“We will be there,” Candido said. “You have my word.”

Rising to his full height, he put on his straw cowboy hat and turned to leave. Eddie and Alicia followed him. Oscar got up to go, too. I ran after him, and when I reached him, I put my body in front of his so he couldn't leave without talking to me.

“Oscar, look at me. I know you didn't cause that fire.”

“But I have caused all this trouble for you, Sammie. I should never have come to America.”

“Don't say that. You came here to get your leg fixed. We'll show them that you're innocent.”

“How?”

That was a good question.

“I don't know, Oscar. I just know that I believe in you.”

He looked so sad, so hurt. Before I could even think about what I was doing, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He put his hand up to his face and touched the spot gently. I took his hand in mine, but he pulled it away from me.

“No, Sammie. I am too ashamed.”

Then he stepped around me and followed the others to the truck. As I watched him go, it seemed that he was limping more than usual. I understood. He was weighed down with a lot of worry.

Alicia and Eddie were already in the backseat of the truck and Candido was behind the wheel with the engine running, waiting for Oscar to climb into the front so they could go home.

“Candido! Wait up a second!” a voice called. “We have to talk.”

I turned around to see Dr. Mandel hurrying out of the club and over to the truck. I followed him, and when he reached the passenger side door, Oscar rolled down the window. Dr. Mandel was a little out of breath and seemed . . . I don't know . . . frazzled.

“I hate to be the one to bring you this news, I really do,” he said.

Everything inside of me wanted to cover my ears and shout, so that I wouldn't have to hear what he was about to say. When Charlie and I were little and it was bedtime, we'd cover our ears and yell “peas and carrots” over and over again so we wouldn't have to hear my mom tell us it was bedtime. If only I could have shouted “peas and carrots” right into Dr. Mandel's worried face.

“I'm afraid we have to postpone the surgery,” he said.

“Postpone?” Oscar asked. “What does that mean?”

“It means we can't do it this Tuesday, Oscar.”

“What day will you do it?”

Dr. Mandel sighed. “We have to wait and see what happens, Oscar. I've contacted the hospital board, and given the circumstances, they don't feel they're able to grant the money.”

“But they were able to grant it yesterday,” I said. “What happened?”

“It's a fifty thousand-dollar commitment from the hospital,” Dr. Mandel said to me. He was clearly uncomfortable, struggling for the right words. “That's a lot of money. It has to go to . . . to a . . . deserving . . . individual. They just don't feel that Oscar would be a good candidate at this moment.”

“Because of the fire?” Candido asked. “He didn't do anything wrong.”

“Well, Candido, we don't know that for sure.” Dr. Mandel could hardly look at Candido. “And until we do, we just have to put the surgery on hold.”

“But, Dr. Mandel,” Alicia pleaded from the backseat, “Oscar is counting on it. It means everything to him to get his foot fixed. He's waited for this his whole life.”

Dr. Mandel nodded. He seemed genuinely choked up.

“My hands are tied. All I can do is hope everything works out for the best,” he said softly. “I'm so sorry, Oscar.”

He shook his head and walked away. I couldn't even bring myself to look into Oscar's eyes. I knew the pain and disappointment I'd see there would be too much to bear. I searched desperately for some words that would be reassuring, comforting, anything.

But the sad truth was, there was nothing more to say.

A Terrible Secret

Chapter 14

“I hope you're happy,” I snapped, marching up to the table on the deck where the SF2 kids were sitting. “Oscar's surgery has been canceled.”

They were all there but Spencer, who was helping his dad record the donation checks and put them into envelopes. Ryan had joined them a few minutes before when he noticed that they were finishing off the leftover brownies. Lauren had moved from her seat next to Charlie and was trying to snuggle up on the bench next to Ryan. He was more interested in snuggling up to the platter of brownies.

“It's been canceled, or postponed?” Ryan asked, talking, as usual, with his mouth full.

“Dr. Mandel said postponed, but I think it's just a nice way of saying canceled.”

“What a drag,” Brooke said. “Now Oscar's going to be stuck wearing those creepy shoes forever.”

“Yeah, that sucks,” the General agreed.

The thing about Brooke Addison and her fake military boyfriend is that way down deep, they're shallow. I mean, in the end, it's all about the shoes.

“Poor Oscar,” Charlie said quietly. “What happened, Sammie?”

“The hospital won't pay for the operation. They think he's not a deserving candidate. And why? Because he's getting blamed for something he didn't do.”

I glared at Jared, trying to look like every tough-talking lawyer I had ever seen on TV. The difference is, when mean lawyers on TV do that, the guilty person breaks down and confesses. In my case, Jared just sneered at me.

“Whoa there, you,” Sean Patterson said to me, draping a friendly arm over his pal Jared's shoulder. “The police found the matches in his backpack. The same matches that lit the fire. How do you explain that, Little Miss Hothead?”

“Speaking of whoa there,” Ryan said, “you might want to ease up on the name calling, Patterson. I am the only one entitled to call Sammie names. It's off limits for the rest of you tots.”

I appreciated the support, but I was just getting started.

“I think everyone here knows that Oscar didn't start that bonfire,” I said. “You guys have been talking about making a bonfire for the last month. I've heard you myself. It's not exactly a coincidence that a bonfire was started when you were all here.”

“We couldn't have done it,” Lauren said. “We were watching you. And getting our picture taken with the governor.”

“And tomorrow, we'll have the pictures to prove it,” Jillian said. “Speaking of which, I hope this fire thing doesn't ruin our chances of getting on magazine covers.”

“Actually, Jilly, I think it helps,” Lauren whispered. “I can see the headlines now. Attractive teen girls help save old woman's house.”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped. “You didn't do anything to save Mrs. Ivanov's house.”

“That's not true,” Brooke said. “I personally walked over there and carried one of her potted geraniums to safety. And I might add, that little act of heroism ruined my new suede flats. They got all soaked from that gross fire-hose water.”

There's only one word for her. Hopeless.

“What about you guys?” I asked, turning to Sean, Jared, and the General. “You could have done it. Where were you when the bonfire was started?”

“I was with Brooke,” the General said.

“And looking cute as always,” she said.

“And you two?” I said, turning to Jared and Sean.

I didn't have proof that they were guilty, but I felt in my bones they were. Besides, I had seen them out on the beach right near that spot earlier.

“What are you, a cop?” Sean said. “Where we were is none of your business.”

“Why don't you just do the right thing and confess?” I said, getting right up in their faces.

“There's nothing to confess to,” Jared snarled. “You saw the matches in Oscar's backpack. He did it. Just because you have a crush on him and you don't think he can do anything wrong, you go around accusing us.”

“Eeuuwww,” Jillian said. “You have a crush on
him
?” Then she burst out laughing. “Honestly, Sammie, you are such a loser.”

Lily had been very quiet during this conversation, just sitting there and taking it all in. But when Jillian laughed at the thought that anyone could have a crush on Oscar, she rose to her feet.

“Jillian, did anyone ever tell you that you have a very mean streak in you?” she said, picking up her purse and throwing it over her shoulder.

“Huh?” Jillian answered. “Lil, what's got into you?”

“All of us have been so quick to judge people based on nothing but how they look,” Lily fumed. “That police officer did it, and we're guilty, too. I include myself in that. I mean, I went after Eddie because he's handsome. That was the first and most important thing I noticed. Appearances don't tell you the whole story about a person, though. It wasn't until I spent some real time with him tonight that I learned he's as good on the inside as he is on the outside. But none of us ever gave Oscar a chance.”

“Don't go all mental on us, Lily,” Jared said. “We're the same people we've always been.”

“Maybe that's the problem,” she said. “Sammie was the only one who saw that Oscar is really cool in his own way. The rest of us behaved like snobs. Personally, I'm done with that.”

I was totally surprised to hear her say that. The SF2s are known for sticking together, for being loyal to each other no matter what. This was the first time I had seen one of them break with the group and take a stand.

“Okay, listen up, guys,” Jared said. “It's really late and we've been through a lot. Let's break up this little party before we all join Lily and freak out and say things we'll regret later.”

“Fine, I'm happy to leave,” Lily said. “But I don't regret saying what I did. And I won't later, either.”

That for sure ended the conversation. The girls found Chip Wadsworth, who was inside helping my dad fill out police reports. The boys each found their own parents, who were straightening up the kitchen since GoGo wasn't there to do it. Mr. Ballard and Spencer finished counting the money and announced that in spite of everything, the evening had been a success. We had raised over sixteen thousand dollars to donate to the arts programs in our schools. Given what had happened to Oscar, raising that money felt weird to me. How could something so wonderful and so awful happen at the very same time?

All the SF2s and their parents gathered their things and headed for the parking lot. Ryan and I watched as the parade of shiny black cars pulled out onto Pacific Coast Highway and headed to Santa Monica. There must be an unwritten rule that to be a member of the Sporty Forty, you have to drive a shiny black car. I have yet to see even one measly cream-colored car in the parking lot. And red is totally out of the question.

The Wadsworths were the last to leave. Charlie hung out with Lauren, Jillian, and Brooke, leaning on the side of their car and whispering until the very last minute when Chip Wadsworth climbed into the front seat and turned on the headlights. He's president of the Sporty Forty, and I guess he felt like it was his duty to double check that everything was safe and locked up. He takes his presidential responsibilities very seriously. I hope you never have to see how furious he gets when someone has the nerve to leave a towel draped over the back of one of the beach chairs.

“I'm going to pick up GoGo at the hospital,” our dad said when the Wadsworth's car was finally out of sight. “She called to say that Mrs. Ivanov is okay, but they're going to keep her overnight for observation. Hopefully, she can leave tomorrow.”

“Where will she go?” I asked.

“Apparently she has a sister in San Diego. She's going to live with her until her house is repaired.”

“Are they going to be able to fix it?” Charlie wondered.

“Walter McCain says yes.”

“Jared's father?” Charlie asked. That seemed to catch her interest.

“He owns a construction company,” my dad replied, nodding. “He told me that front room is pretty badly damaged, and the deck is shot. He thinks the damages might run into the tens of thousands of dollars. But it's a historic house, so it's worth repairing.”

“I feel so bad,” Charlie said, tearing up. “Mrs. Ivanov lost all her pictures. That stuff can't ever be replaced.”

Suddenly, she burst into tears, which I thought was very strange. Charlie and I, being identical twins, often share many of the same feelings. We cry at the same movies, get choked up when we see moms and babies together, and even get all emotional if we see someone kill a spider. But thinking about Mrs. Ivanov's loss didn't make me want to cry at all. It made me mad, fuming mad.

“You're overtired, Charlie,” my dad said. “That's why you're so emotional. You girls get right to bed. You have to be rested for your tournament tomorrow. We'll leave at ten, but I want you warming up at nine.”

“We can't go, Dad,” I announced matter-of-factly.

“Of course you can. Why can't you go?”

“Because I have to be at the police station tomorrow at ten. I have to be there to support Oscar.”

He sighed deeply.

“Sammie, Oscar has made his own bed. He has to lie in it.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that he has to accept the consequences for whatever he's done. And while you can feel bad for him, those consequences are his and cannot affect your life in a negative way.”

“Wait, wait, Dad. Are you saying you believe he's guilty?”

“I'm saying they found matches in his backpack, Sammie. I think there are reasonable assumptions that follow from that.”

I flopped down on the living room couch and watched him grab his car keys and leave. For the first time that night, I began to question myself. Was I the only one who believed Oscar was innocent? Why was I holding on to that? I mean, I hadn't actually seen Jared and Sean set the fire. And they truly did find those matches in Oscar's backpack. But Oscar had said they weren't his. He looked me right in the eye and said they weren't his. He was a Truth Teller. I felt that deep in my heart.

Charlie was still very teary as we got ready for bed. She stayed in the bathroom a long time, blowing her nose every thirty seconds. When she came out, her eyes and nostrils were all red.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She shrugged, then climbed into her bed and rolled over with her back to me. I could see her rubbing little circles on her face with the satin edge of her blanket, something she's done to soothe herself to sleep since she was a baby. 

“I feel bad for Oscar,” she said as I turned out the light. “It's so sad.”

“It's not sad, Charlie. It's tragic. Flat-out tragic.”

She was silent. After a long while, she asked, “Do you really think they're not going to do the operation?”

“They won't if they think he set that fire. Even if Dr. Mandel would do it, the hospital people won't allow it.”

“But it was an accident. I'm sure nobody meant for Mrs. Ivanov's house to catch on fire.”

In the dark, I could hear that Charlie was crying again. I sat up and turned on the lights.

“Charlie, look at me.”

“What?” she said, her back still to me.

“Is there something you know? About the . . . um . . . accident? Something that would help Oscar?”

“Don't make me do this, Sammie. Please.”

“Charlie. If there is something you know that you're not saying, something that would help prove Oscar's innocence, then you have to say it. This is no small thing we're talking about. This is something that will affect him every day for his whole life. Do you want that on your conscience?”

Charlie turned to face me and started to cry again.

“I just don't know what to do,” she said, weeping.

“What is the problem here, Charles?”

Her lip was quivering as she spoke. “They told me I couldn't double-cross them.”

“Double-cross who, Charlie? I don't understand.”

“Lauren and the girls. They said that I couldn't tell anyone. Out by the car . . . they made me promise. They said that SF2s don't double-cross each other. That we stick together. And that if I told, I couldn't be one of them anymore.”

She held her head in her hands and cried so hard her shoulders were shaking. “I don't want Oscar to be crippled his whole life. But I don't want to be a double-crosser, either.”

I got out of bed and sat on the edge of hers. I tried to look her in the eyes, but she dodged my look.

“Charlie,” I said softly. “This isn't about Oscar or me or the SF2s. It's about doing the right thing. You know what that is. We both do.”

“But what if they won't be my friends anymore? What if Spencer hates me, too?”

“Spencer seems like a decent guy,” I said. “I bet he'll stand by you. And as for the others, true friends help you do the right thing. If they can't do that, then they're not really your friends.”

She sat up on her bed and gradually stopped crying. I didn't say another word, just silently hoped and prayed that this was the sister I knew, the sister I loved, had always loved ever since I could remember.

“It was Jared and Sean,” she said in a voice so full of emotion that it cracked when she spoke. “They started the fire. Then Jared found Oscar's backpack and put the matches in there so he'd get blamed.”

“He planted those matches?”

“Yes.”

How could he?
Her words filled me with rage, an anger so wild I thought it would blow up in my chest.

“What kind of person does a thing like that?” I exploded.

“I don't know, Sammie.”

“Well I know one thing, Charlie. I know what kind of person does what you just did. A brave person. A strong person. A good person.”