Double-Crossed (14 page)

She held up her shaking hand and pointed a finger at them. Sean slunk down low in his chair, but not Jared. He looked defiantly at her.

“Says who?” he asked.

“Lauren Wadsworth,” she answered. “And Brooke Addison. The General told Brooke that you planted the matches. And Brooke told Lauren and Lauren told me.”

“That's preposterous,” Mr. McCain said. “Sergeant, these girls are making this up. My son is not capable of that kind of behavior.”

“Sit down, Mr. McCain,” Sergeant Turrisi said. “Let your son speak for himself, please. Tell me, Jared. Is any of this true?”

“Not a word,” Jared answered. “They're making this up to protect him.” He pointed at Oscar. “They just feel sorry for him, so they accused me. Us. Because we don't have anything wrong with us.”

“That's not true and you know it,” I shouted. “And besides, there's plenty wrong with you.”

“Young lady, that's enough,” Sergeant Turrisi said. Then she directed her attention to Charlie. “You've made some powerful accusations here. Do you have any proof of your claim?”

“Yes,” Charlie answered. “I already told you. The General told Brooke, who is his girlfriend. And then Brooke told Lauren. They have no reason to lie.”

“That's called hearsay,” the sergeant said, “which is information gathered by one person from another person. It's not evidence. It's just hearsay.”

“I don't care what you call it,” Charlie said. “It's true. I swear it.” She was practically crying.

“It's nothing more than teenagers gossiping,” Officer Porter butted in. “Not worth a thing. You have no proof, honey. Face it.”

Jared smiled smugly. Even Sean was sitting straighter in his chair, the old confidence returning. Suddenly, we heard someone knocking on the glass wall of the room. All eyes turned to see who could be interrupting this meeting. It was Tyler Frank, pounding on the window to be let in.

“Does anyone know that man?” Sergeant Turrisi asked.

“He's Tyler Frank,” my dad answered. “The photographer hired to shoot pictures at the event last night.”

Tyler stuck his head in the door.

“Excuse me for making such a rude entrance,” he said. “I went to the club to find you guys, and a lady named GoGo told me you were here. I want to show you some photographs.” Then he glanced over at Oscar and gave him a big smile. “How's things in Gotham?” he said.

“Very bad,” Oscar answered. It was the first time he had spoken all morning.

“Not to worry, my man. They're about to get better,” Tyler told him.

“Mr. Frank, we are in the middle of an investigative hearing,” Sergeant Turrisi said. “I'm afraid your photographs will have to wait until some other time.”

“But they pertain to this investigation,” Tyler said. “You see, Sergeant, after the party I was at my studio reviewing the shots like I always do, picking out which ones I was going to send to the papers and magazines. And I found these. Just take a look. I printed them big so you could see them clearly.”

He reached into his camera bag, pulled out about fifteen eight-by-ten photographs, and spread them out on the table.

“These are shots of the Truth Tellers performance,” he said, “just after the governor arrived. Most of the images are of her or the kids. But as I was flipping through them, I noticed that some of them included the beach in the background. No magazine cares about seeing too much beach, so I enlarged the shot in order to remove most of the background. And while I was photoshopping it, I noticed this.”

He held up a couple of the photographs, and there in the background, you could see two hazy figures hunched over a spot on the beach in front of Mrs. Ivanov's house.

“I enlarged those, and then I got these images.” Tyler held up two more photographs. “As you can see, there is clearly a hole in the sand in which these figures have placed a pile of driftwood. The preparations for a bonfire.”

He held up the next two photographs.

“And here are those same two figures lighting the driftwood. One of them is holding the match, the other is fanning the flames.”

Everyone leaned in close to examine the photographs. And there they were in living color—Jared and Sean. Jared held the match. Sean was fanning the flames.

Oscar broke out into a smile as big as all of California. I wanted to stand up and hoot, but I was sure if I did, Officer Porter would arrest me for creating a public disturbance. Sergeant Turrisi picked up the photos and studied them for a full minute.

“Now this,” she said, turning to Charlie, “this is not hearsay. This is called evidence. Proof.”

Tyler held up his hand and high-fived Oscar.

“Batman to the rescue,” he said. Oscar laughed. Man, oh, man, was that ever good to hear.

Sean slumped over and put his head on his knees. Jared shot a sidelong glance at his father, who had turned bright red in the face and looked like he was going to blow his top any minute. Finally, finally, finally, that cocky grin disappeared from Jared's face.

Sorry, Mr. McCain, looks like you're going to have to cancel that court time.

“Young men, do you have anything to say for yourselves?” Sergeant Turrisi asked, looking sternly at Jared and Sean.

“It was an accident,” Sean said weakly. “We were just having fun.”

“Accidents happen,” the sergeant said. “But blaming someone else for damages that you caused, that is not an accident. That's just plain wrong.”

“What's going to happen to us?” Jared asked. Boy, it was good to see him sweating this out.

“Of course, your families will have to pay for the damages.”

“My dad's a builder,” Jared said. “You can fix up that house, can't you, Dad?”

“And who do you think is going to pay for that?” Mr. McCain said. His jaw was clenched in anger. “You and Sean are going to be working this debt off for a long time.”

“Don't expect to see any more allowance,” Mr. Patterson said to Sean.

“I'm afraid that's not all,” Sergeant Turrisi went on. “There will be other consequences for these young men, as well.”

“You're not going to send us to jail, are you?” Sean said. His voice was shaking.

“Not jail,” the sergeant said. “But it is illegal to set bonfires on the beach, so you will definitely be doing many hours of community service.”

“Like picking up litter on the freeway?” Jared said, turning up his nose. He practically spit out the words.

“Exactly,” Sergeant Turrisi said. “And many other tasks you may not like, either. I'm going to set up a meeting with Ms. Stern, a social worker who will oversee your community service. She'll be available to meet with you and your parents on Monday, that is, if . . . if you gentlemen can spare a few minutes from your tennis schedule.”

“Of course,” Mr. Patterson said. I felt bad for him. He looked truly disappointed in Sean.

“As for now, I see no reason to continue to ruin these folks' Sunday,” Sergeant Turrisi said. Then looking at us and at all the Bermudez family that was gathered there, she said, “You may go. And thank you all for your cooperation.”

We got up and left, getting out of there as fast as we could. Outside the building, we jumped up and down like crazy idiots. Everyone was so relieved and happy, except for Charlie, who still seemed pale and shaken.

“You did the right thing,” I said, putting my arms around her and giving her a big hug. “I'm proud of you.”

“Yeah. Just wait until the others hear about this,” she said. “I wonder what they're going to say.”

“That you're a hero?” I suggested.

“No way,” she answered.

I had to agree with her there. Charlie had definitely taken the unpopular road, and she was going to have to suffer the consequences of that, whatever they might be.

Eddie came up to us, a huge smile on his handsome face.

“Thank you,” he said. “I am so happy you told the truth. And Lily, she will be happy, too.”

Then he reached out and gave Charlie a big hug, which set off a complete hug fest. Candido hugged my dad. Charlie hugged Candido. Tyler hugged Eddie. And yes, I hugged Oscar. Not once, not twice, but three times.

It was pretty nice. Actually, it was very nice. Very, very nice.

Which is all I'm going to say about it.

Victory at Last

Chapter
16

“If we hustle, we can still make the tournament,” my dad said as we pulled out of the Santa Monica City Hall parking lot.

“I thought you canceled our match,” Charlie said.

“Well, I tried to. But Anna Kozlov and Marjorie Shin were already on the road up here. So let's just say, I left the door open. Told them due to unforeseen circumstances beyond our control, we might be a few minutes late.”

“Dad, I can't play now,” I protested. “I'm all pumped up from everything that just happened there in the police station.”

“
Pumped up
are two words I like to hear before a tournament,” he said.

“We don't have our stuff,” Charlie said.

“Already took care of that. GoGo is meeting us there with your clothes and gear.”

“But I promised Oscar we would go out and celebrate,” I said.

“Already took care of that, too. Candido is dropping Alicia and the boys off at the Sand and Surf.”

“You're kidding?!”

My dad actually laughed. “I figured those nice collared shirts shouldn't go to waste.”

As we walked into the lobby of the Sand and Surf Club, GoGo was waiting for us with our tennis bags in hand. Right in back of her, the two old guys in their navy blazers were sitting on the red velvet chairs behind the huge mahogany table. Mr. I-Don't-Have-Much-of-a-Mustache was none too pleased to see us. Well, I don't know how he felt about Charlie, but I can tell you this, he was none too pleased to see me.

“Here comes the little tennis player with the big temper,” he said. “Do you remember her, Ted?”

The guy named Ted straightened his red striped tie and looked at me over the top of his glasses.

“Yes, indeed,” he said. “That was quite a tantrum you threw the last time you were here. We don't approve of tantrums at the Sand and Surf Club.”

“Seems like there's a long list of stuff you folks don't approve of,” I said. “I know collarless shirts are high on that list.”

“We believe in the elegance of traditional country club wear,” Mr. Pathetic Mustache said. “Someone has to maintain the dress standards or else who knows what might happen.”

“Yeah, next thing you know people are going to run around in red shorts or—heaven forbid—yellow polka-dot skorts,” I said, faking horror at the thought. “That will lead us directly down the path to ruin.”

“I think you made your point, Doodle,” GoGo whispered. “Enough is enough.”

Charlie grabbed my arm.

“We don't have time for this, Sams. Let it go. We have to be changed and on the court in less than five minutes.”

“You go in the bathroom and get started,” I said to her. “I just want to make sure Oscar and Eddie get in okay.”

One minute later, they came cruising up in Candido's red truck. The brakes screeched as the truck pulled to a stop in front of the etched glass lobby door. Mustache Man stood up and peered out, casting a disapproving look. Oscar climbed out of the front seat, and Eddie and Alicia slid out of the back. They waved good-bye to Candido and he drove off across the parking lot, attracting quite a bit of attention from the other members. GoGo once told us that the people at Sand and Surf are wound up so tight, they make the Sporty Forty members seem like hippies.

Oscar walked in first and came right up to the two men at the desk. He had his old personality back, bouncy and full of fun.

“We're here to see our friends play,” he said. “And we have very big collars on.”

“Indeed you do,” Ted said to him. “Court thirteen, sir.”

Oscar took Alicia's arm and strode across the lobby. He looked so happy and confident that for a moment, I forgot all about his clubfoot. The person I saw was walking tall, proud to be there.

Charlie was already changed when I got to the bathroom. Quickly, I threw on my clothes and got out my racket. There was going to be no time to warm up. We were going to have to face Kozlov and Shin just the way we were.

As we hurried down the path to court thirteen, we bumped into our dad and GoGo.

“I want you to concentrate out there,” Dad said, falling in step with us. “Focus. Center down. Don't let anything distract you. Especially you, Charlie.”

“Me?” Charlie said. “I always focus. It's Sammie who's the flake.”

“Well, there are some special circumstances on the court that might distract you. I'm just saying to ignore them.”

The announcer was calling our names over the public address system, so there was no time to ask what special circumstances he was talking about. But as soon as we hurried onto the court, I saw immediately what they were. Lauren Wadsworth was sitting in the front row of the stands, sipping Frappuccinos with Brooke and Jillian. She didn't look pleased to see us. Actually, she never looks pleased to see me, but she gave Charlie a particularly dark look.

All the color drained from Charlie's face. She looked like someone had punched her in the gut.

“Lauren looks really mad,” she whispered to me.

“Don't talk to her now,” I said to Charlie. “Remember what Dad said. We have to focus.”

We shook hands with Kozlov and Shin, and then went to the bench to put down our gear. Before anyone could stop her, Lauren was out of the stands and courtside, marching right up to Charlie and getting in her face.

“I heard what happened this morning,” she said. “Everyone knows.”

“We just left the police station a half hour ago,” Charlie said. “How do you know?”

“Sean called the General from the bathroom,” she said. “The General called Brooke, and she told me.”

“It's all hearsay,” I said.

“I have no idea what that is, Sammie,” Lauren said. “And besides, this is none of your business. My conversation with Charlie is only for SF2 ears.”

“You better put some diamond studs in them then,” I said.

Okay, maybe not the funniest joke in the world, but I'm pretty pleased with it.

“You double-crossed us,” Lauren said to Charlie. “That's not the SF2 way.”

“Please don't be mad at me,” Charlie begged. “I had to tell what I knew. Otherwise, Oscar wasn't going to get his leg fixed. I couldn't have that on my conscience.”

“Who cares about your stupid conscience?” Lauren snapped.

“I do,” I snapped back.

“I thought I made it clear this wasn't any of your business,” Lauren said, curling her lip at me. The official was motioning to her to get off the court so we could begin the game. But no one tells Lauren Wadsworth what to do.

“I thought you were a friend, Charlie,” she went on. “We took you in and made you one of us. We trusted you. And now look what you've done. Sean and Jared are going to have to do stupid community service. And they're not going to have any spending money for at least a hundred years. All to protect your little Mexican friends.”

That took my breath away. I looked at Charlie to see what she was going to do. Once again, I hoped and prayed that she would act like the sister I knew, the sister I loved.

And thank goodness, she didn't let me down. Lauren had crossed the line, especially the part about Oscar and Eddie being “our little Mexican friends.” I could see Charlie's attitude shift right there in front of me, the minute Lauren said those words. It was like she instantly transformed from a scared kid to a strong, confident grown-up. Just like nerdy little Clark Kent does when he runs into a phone booth and changes into Superman.

“Lauren, that is a terrible thing to say,” Charlie said without flinching or batting an eye. “First of all, Oscar and Eddie are not Mexican. They're from El Salvador. And second of all, it doesn't matter where they're from or whether they wear cool clothes or what color their skin is. Oscar was innocent and he didn't deserve to be punished for what Jared and Sean did.”

“Well, aren't you Little Miss Perfect,” Lauren said. “Since when did you get so goody-goody?”

“You can call it what you want, Lauren. But I know that I've been a good friend to you. And I didn't do what I did to hurt you. I did it to help Oscar. I'd like you to be able to understand that.”

“Well, I have news for you,” Lauren said. “I don't understand it at all. In fact, after what you did, I don't want to be friends with you. No one does.”

She waved to Jillian and Brooke. They came trotting over like the good little followers they were.

“What's up?” Brooke said.

“We're leaving,” Lauren answered. “We have better things to do with our time than watch a couple of jock girls play some stupid game.”

Just like that, the three girls with the bounciest hair on planet Earth marched off the court without so much as a backward glance.