Souls in Peril (48 page)

All the stuff she needed was in a grocery bag on the counter. “I stopped at Wegman
’
s and did some grocery shopping. My dad hates Mexican food
,
so we didn
’
t have anything I needed. He
loathes
the smell of garlic.”  She held up a white bulb of garlic and wagged her eyebrows.

As she browned the meat and added several cloves of garlic to it, Max chopped the lettuce and tomatoes. “Where are the knives again?” She pointed to an impressive display of knives on the counter next to the fridge.

“Is this a coffee bean grinder?” He pointed to a tall black device with a plastic cap on top next to the knives.

“Yup. Daddy
’
s pride and joy. Don
’
t touch it. I think he dusts it for finger prints when he gets home at night. No one touches
the precious.
The moron paid a fortune for it.”

“We should touch it just to bug him.” Max smiled mischievously.

“Be my guest.”

Max wrapped his hands around the body of the machine, making sure to leave smudges. Izzy laughed.

“You won
’
t get in trouble, will you?”

“Nope.” She turned off the burner. “Ready. How about you?”

“Almost.” Max quickly finished chopping up a tomato. They ate at the bar
,
mostly because her father hated anyone eating at the bar. “
Civilized people eat at a table, not a bar, Isabelle
,” Izzy said, imitating her father
’
s voice perfectly.

After their spicy meal, they went into the family room and put their feet up on the couch,
another
big no-no, and laughed at her gurgling pouch while trying to watch Pride and Prejudice, Izzy
’
s favorite movie. Max, not being a huge Jane Austen fan, was glad she chose the two
-
hour one with Keira Knightly and not the six hour Collin Firth version.

When the
movie
ended
, Max tried help
ing
Izzy clean up the mess. “JD, don
’
t worry about it.”

“This is a big mess, Iz
zy
. It won
’
t take that long if we work on it together. I
’
d hate for your dad to come home and see this.” Max opened the door to the dishwasher.

“I
’
m serious. Don
’
t worry about it. He won
’
t be home until four
or five
tomorrow afternoon.” She closed the door. “You forget. I won
’
t be at school tomorrow. Come on. I have some errands to run. I
’
ll give you a ride home.” She pointed to a padded envelope and a rolled up canvas with a purple ribbon tied around it.

“
That
’
s alright.
I have my bike.”

“Thank you for coming over today, and thank you for worrying about me. You
’
re the best friend, JD.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

“L
ove ya, Izzy.” When she pulled back, Max saw her wipe her eyes.

“I
’
ll see you tomorrow,” he said out of habit. “Oh yeah, I guess I won
’
t.”

Max got on his bike,
glancing
at her smiling face one last time before riding away. He went straight home and called Em to let her know.

“She seems to be doing pretty good, though she
’
s dropping out of school. Can
’
t say I think that
’
s a great idea.”

“Me either. Do you think I should call her?” Em asked.

“Yeah. Try and talk her into staying in school.” After he finished talking to Em, he thought about his evening with Izzy. He
’
d enjoyed himself. He loved her quick wit and her dry sense of humor. Her artistic abilities were impressive.
T
he ne
w skyline on the beach painting was the perfect touch. He never would have thought to add a sunset.

“Izzy says she
’
s not going to let her dad bully her anymore, yet she
’
s going to give him that beautiful painting. I don
’
t get it, unless she hopes to use it as a guilt trip.” Max liked that idea. He went to the kitchen
for a snack
and found a note Mel left him tacked to the fridge with a magnet.

“Hi, sweetie. There
’
s some
leftover
pizza in the microwave. Don
’
t wait up for me. Going out with friends from work and I
’
ll be home late. Love, Mom.

Having Mel gone was a two-edged sword. The good part; she wouldn
’
t be sitting around moping about Tim. The bad part; Max enjoyed the few times she
’
d been around
. H
e liked spending time with her. But those days were few and far between. He warmed up
some of
the pizza and ate a slice while finishing his homework.
He
went to bed at one a.m.
,
and
still no Mel.

In the
morning, Max grabbed a slice of the leftover pizza and ate it while he loaded his backpack. He darted out the door and almost ran over Em.

“Hey.” She smiled and handed him a Heavenly Bagel sack. “It
’
s an
everything
bagel with onions and chive flavored cream cheese. Very un-Max like. He hated onions.”

He grinned and took the sack. “Thanks, Em.” He admired the effort she took with JD. Not many people would. Max put the bagel in his backpack when he got in the car. He
’
d throw it away in the locker room during first period. She had it right, he
hated
onions.

“You don
’
t like onions?” she asked,
appeari
ng slightly hurt.

“Oh, I
’
ll eat it later.” He patted his backpack. “I just had some leftover pizza for breakfast. I
’
m stuffed.
”
He opened the car door for her. “Hey, I thought you weren
’
t allowed to drive?”
he asked as he went
around and got in.
“And you no longer have a sling.” Though she still had a cast on her arm.

“
Nope. And t
he doctor
o
kayed
me driving
. My dad wasn
’
t too happy
about it
.”

“Sweet.” That meant no bus for him. “
Did you have a chance to call Izzy?”

“Yes, like four times. She never answered, but I did leave a message. I told her I didn
’
t tell anyone about her surgery, and that I would find out who was behind the revolting
prank and personally hire a hit
man to take care of them.” She turned into the school parking lot. “I need to stop at my locker. Are you still hauling all your books around to help build up muscle?”
S
he giggled.

“You laugh, but it
’
s working.” He flexed.

“If you say so. See you in journalism.”

As Max walked the halls, and during his classes, he paid close attention to everyone and everything around him. He wanted to know who left the package for Izzy. By the end of the day he
’
d learned nothing, but he was
surprised by
the way people acted around him since the incident. Several smiled and nodded, and one girl, a shy tenth grader from Izzy
’
s art class, asked him if she was okay.

“Yes. She is. I
’
ll tell her you asked. What
’
s your name?”

“Mindy.”

“Mindy,” Max repeated. She nodded. “Thanks, Mindy.” She walked away, head down, shoulders scooped forward. Max made a mental note to find out more about her. She reminded him of Izzy with the downcast eyes and sunken posture. Well, the old Izzy anyway. The new Izzy didn
’
t hide from anything or anyone. He looked forward to getting to know this one.

He hoofed it to his locker after school. Em had cheer practice so he
’
d have to ride the bus home. The school laid down the law forbidding the cheerleaders from performing any and all stunts. Now they had to come up with a new che
er, fast, since the championship game was in two days.
Em, being the captain, wanted to help choreograph it even if she couldn
’
t perform.

Max set his backpack between his feet and quickly spun the combination, opening JD
’
s locker. A small red heart cascaded out
,
flutter
ing
down to the ground. Max scooped it up and turned it over
a few times. It was blank. He tucked it into his backpack as he retrieved his biology book to put into the locker. Only there was no room in the locker.

A letter, taped to the door, fluttered in the mild breeze. It caught his attention first. He
work
ed it free. Before opening it, he noticed a large padded envelope inside the locker, along with a rolled up canvas tied with purple ribbon. “Why would Izzy put this stuff in here? Why not give it to me in person yesterday?” He tucked the
letter
into his biology book and wedged it on top of the other books in his locker. Carefully, he removed the painting, untied the ribbon, and unrolled
it
. Two young, innocent faces lying in a field of golden dandelions smiled up at him. Izzy
’
d signed it in the bottom right corner.
For my best friend. Love, Izzy.
Smiling, Max rolled it back up and retied the ribbon
, slipping it carefully back into his locker.

Why would she give this to JD? She told me it
’
s her favorite.
Then he remembered the red heart and put two and two together.
Izzy
’
s in love with JD.
“Way to go, buddy.” Max grinned from ear to ear
.
He grabbed the
letter
from
the book
and eagerly slid his finger under the edge. Tugging the letter out, he began reading.

JD,

Don
’
t be mad. Please. It would break my heart if I knew you were disappointed in me. You
’
re the best friend I
’
ve ever had. You
’
re pretty much the only friend I
’
ve ever had, but you know that already. You
’
ve helped me th
r
ough it all. The loneliness, the mean
,
hateful things other have done to me, and my father. You are the one and only constant in my life. Not even my own mom cared enough to stick around.

But I
’
m tired, JD. Tired of the cruel things people do to us every day, tired of living in pain all the time, and, well, just plain tired. I tried to see things like you wanted me too, really I did. I tried trusting people, and what did it get me? Humiliation.

Em left a message. She swears it wasn
’
t her, but I don
’
t really care anymore. The pact is back on, at least for me. I was going to wait until the day of the game, but my dad will be home then and I wouldn
’
t be able to do everything I needed to do with him around.

I dug the pills out of the trash compactor after you left, just in case
.
I guess you should have flushed them after all. I
’
m going to use my dad
’
s very expensive coffee grinder to grind them into powder since I
’
m afraid the pills would just pass into the pouch un-dissolved. I
’
m not sure they would, but it
’
s not like I can asked anyone. Besides, I want my dad to remember me every time he makes coffee. I
’
m leaving
a few other gifts for him too.

Speaking of the perv,
Wanda broke
it off with
my dad
last week.
T
hen
, of course, he
decided my pouch wasn
’
t
completely
disgusting to him anymore. But that
’
s okay, because in the padded envelope
addressed to the Port Fare Police
is my journal. Please give it to
them
. I kept a record of every disgusting thing he
’
s done to me. I don
’
t know if they
’
ll believe it
.
H
e
’
s done a pretty good job of setting me up to be a liar, but at least there
’
ll be doubt in people
’
s minds, if nothing else.
Maybe, i
f I
’
m really lucky, his high-profile law firm will fire him, not wanting to have someone with a tarnished image working for them. I can hope.