Missing Pieces (4 page)

Chapter 12

Sam was on his way out
the door to buy a new mailbox when the phone rang. He handed it to me.

“Hi, Bryce,” Skeeter said. “Guess what I saw going home on the bus? A bunch of bashed mailboxes.”

Skeeter lives closer to the mountains in Red Rock, on the other side of the railroad tracks. The police were right—this wasn’t just happening in our area.

“How many?”

“I counted a dozen. They stopped before they got to our house.”

“Okay,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”

Skeeter didn’t say anything.

“Did you want something else?” I said.

“Uh . . . is . . . is Ashley home?”

She was at the table taking her medicine. I thought about saying she wasn’t available, but I figured this might take her mind off her doctor’s visit. “Hang on,” I said, and I handed her the phone.

She covered the mouthpiece. “Who is it?”

“Your friend,” I said, smiling.

I heard only her end of the conversation, but I could imagine what Skeeter said. Before she hung up, I ran upstairs to my room.

“Bryce!” Ashley screamed through my door. “Why did you have to tell him?”

I was right. For the next half hour I don’t think Ashley thought about her doctor’s visit once. She was too busy yelling at me about Skeeter.

Finally, I opened the door and explained that the news just slipped out. She threatened to tell Marion Quidley that I wanted to marry her. Marion is an okay girl as girls go, but I’d rather have bamboo shoots jammed under my fingernails than have that rumor spread.

I headed downstairs to get away from Ashley, but she followed me outside. I stopped in the driveway near Randy’s truck. He was over studying with Leigh for some big test.

“Look, I don’t know how many ways to say it,” I said. “I know you don’t like Skeeter, and I’ll never tell him anything about you again.”

Ashley wasn’t listening. She was staring at something in the back of Randy’s truck.

I turned and looked. In the back was a metal softball bat. I picked it up. It had scratches all over it. On one side I noticed different colors of paint. Just like the paint we had used on our mailbox.

Chapter 13

I didn’t sleep well that night,
worrying that my brain might do weird things. When I had my first seizure, my dad found me in Bryce’s closet, staring at the ceiling. When I woke up, I knew my name, but I couldn’t remember I had a twin brother or my mom’s name or our phone number or anything. It was the scariest night of my life.

Now I kept thinking about Randy’s bat too, but Bryce said he would look for more clues. Neither of us wanted to get Randy in trouble or to hurt Leigh, but we both knew we had to find the truth.

The next day was Friday, which made me feel better. Something about a weekend helps if you’re having a problem. You have time to do stuff you really want to, rather than what everybody says you have to do.

Bryce paid back Mrs. Garcia, the lunch lady, and it went fine. But as I watched her, something seemed wrong. She’s mean to kids, snapping at them and giving them looks, but something was different that day. She usually read a book at the cash register, but today she just stared off.

I started toward her when there was no one around, but my friend Hayley got my attention and told me a new family was moving in across the street from her. “And they’ve got this cute boy who’ll be in eighth grade with us next year.”

Lunch was almost over when I noticed Mrs. Garcia closing up. I threw away my brown bag and turned, but someone blocked my way.

“Hi, Skeeter,” I said.

He was trembling. “I’m really sorry about your sickness.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay now?”

“Yeah . . . I’ll be all right.”

He held out a square envelope. “I couldn’t make it to the store last night.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I gotta go now. Hope you like the card.”

“I’m sure I will.” I turned and saw Mrs. Garcia was gone. “I’ll read it in my next class.”

I walked by Skeeter into the hall and could feel him still looking at me. When I got to my locker, I opened the card. On the front it said
Happy Birthday!
But there was a line through it, and Skeeter had written
Get Well Son.
I guessed he meant
soon
. Inside was a birthday poem, and at the bottom
Love, Mom and Dad
was scratched out and he had signed his name.

Sweet. Low budget, but sweet.

Chapter 14

Randy has a younger brother
named Derek in sixth grade. He’s short with dark hair and glasses that make him look like a computer geek. I found him outside after lunch and sat beside him.

“I’m Bryce. My sister and your brother are—”

“I know,” Derek said.

“How do you like her?”

He shrugged. “Okay for a girl, I guess.”

My thoughts exactly. “Who else does Randy hang out with?”

Another shrug. “I guess some guys on his team. He plays in a softball league.” He finally looked up at me. “You should come to one of the games. There’s one tonight.”

“I don’t think Leigh would like that.”

“Dad makes Randy take me. We could hang out. It’d be fun.”

I wasn’t so sure, but the chance to snoop around Randy’s friends and his house was too good to pass up. “Suggest it to Randy,” I said. “Maybe he can talk Leigh into it.”

Derek smiled.

Chapter 15

I told Bryce to go home
without me after school. The teachers park in the back near the Dumpsters, and the door the cooks use is back there too. As I’d hoped, I found Mrs. Garcia lifting heavy bags of trash.

“Can I help with that?” I called, taking off my backpack.

She scowled, then realized it was me. “It’s okay, Ashley. I have it.”

I hadn’t realized how strong she was. She lifted the bulging bags into the green bin and slammed the lid.

“Any plans for the weekend?” I said cheerily.

She sighed and leaned against the bin. “Just my other job. I work Saturday and Sunday this week. Then it’s back here on Monday.” She headed toward the kitchen, her head down.

I had to ask now or I’d chicken out. “Mrs. Garcia, is something wrong? It’s none of my business, but you seemed really down today.”

She stopped and turned, like someone was pulling her around with a chain. “How’d you know that?”

I shrugged. “Just seemed like it.”

She focused on the ground, and at first she didn’t say anything. Then, “Well, you’re sharp. I’ll give you that.” She pulled the hairnet from her head. “Today is sad for me. An anniversary I’d like to forget.”

“An anniversary of what?”

“I said I’d like to forget it,” she snapped.

Sometimes people say they don’t want to talk about things when they really do. But I could tell Mrs. Garcia
really
didn’t want to talk about it.

“Okay, have a good weekend,” I said, walking away.

She hesitated at the door, then went inside.