The Book of Lost Friends - Lisa Wingate Page 0,144

she looks too cute in it. Teenage pheromones thicken the air like smoke from a spontaneous combustion about to burst forth in full flame. I’ve seen the sort of mischief that goes on under the bleachers at the football stadium. I know where this could be headed.

Don’t assume the worst, Benny Silva.

“Yes, we’re okay.” But I have a feeling the activity along the road means we might not be. “You guys were incredible. I’m really proud of you…most of you, anyway. And the rest, well, you guys help each other out, and let’s get this thing in shape.”

“Yeah, who’s jammin’ now?” Lil’ Ray says and struts away in his top hat. LaJuna picks up her skirts and trails along behind.

Sarge, passing by with a box of tea light lanterns, leans close to me and whispers, “I don’t like the looks of that.” She motions toward the street, but before I can answer, her attention veers to LaJuna and Lil’ Ray, fading into the night together. “Don’t like the looks of that, either.” Then she cups a hand to her mouth. “LaJuna Rae, where do you think you’re off to with that boy?” She strikes out in hot pursuit.

I watch as the audience fades away, parents leaving with their kids and uninvited bystanders idling down the street in their vehicles one by one. Redd Fontaine hangs around long enough to write some poor parent a ticket. When I try to intervene, he advises me to mind my own business, then asks, “You get permission to have all them kids hanging around here after hours?” He licks the end of his felt-tip pen, then goes back to writing in his ticket book.

“They’re not hanging around. They’re working on a project.”

“School property.” All three of his chins wiggle toward the building. “This field’s for school activities.”

“It’s a class project…for school. And, besides, I see kids playing sandlot ball here all the time after hours and on the weekends.”

He stops writing, and both he and the unfortunate driver—one of the grandparents who showed for parent-teacher night—look my way. His eighth-grade granddaughter slinks in the passenger door and melts into the seat while the officer’s attention is diverted.

“You tryin’ to argue with me?” Officer Fontaine shifts his bulk in my direction.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You gettin’ smart with me?”

“Absolutely not.” Who does this guy think he is? “Just making sure all my kids get to where they’re supposed to be.”

“Why don’t you make sure you clean up that field?” Fontaine grumbles, then goes back to his work. “And put out them candles before you set a grass fire and burn down the whole place.”

“I think, with all the rain, we’re pretty safe,” I bite out and give the grandparent an apologetic look. I’ve probably just made things worse for him. “But thanks for the warning. We’ll be extra careful.”

Sarge is waiting for me when I return to the sidewalk by the school building. LaJuna and Lil’ Ray frown in tandem nearby. “Well?” Sarge asks.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “Really, I have no idea.”

“Doubt we’ve heard the last of it. Let me know if you need me.” Sarge nabs LaJuna to take her home. That’s one less thing to worry about, at least. Lil’ Ray wanders off into the night in his top hat, solo.

At home the house is too quiet. The windows seem dark and eerie for the first time ever. As I walk up to the porch, I reach through the oleander and touch the saint’s head, give it an extra rub for luck. “You’d better go to work, pal,” I tell him.

The phone is sounding off when I come in the door. It stops on the fourth ring, right as I grab the receiver from the cradle.

“Hello?” I say. No one’s there.

I dial Nathan’s number before I can rethink it. Maybe that was him. I hope that was him. But he doesn’t answer. I blurt out an abbreviated version of the evening’s story, the thrill of victory, the agony of Redd Fontaine, then I finish with, “Well…anyway…I was hoping