Abandon - Meg Cabot [50]
Could he demand a DNA sample from me? Not without a warrant.
But even if he could, so what? I’d been in the cemetery lots of times — starting as far back as a decade ago. He couldn’t prove I’d been in there last night. And I certainly hadn’t done anything to the gate! How could I? I’m just a debutante from the Westport Academy for Girls.
Or at least I would have been if I hadn’t been kicked out for assault.
“Speaking of old habits dying hard,” Tim said. “Congratulations, Pierce. One day down, no ISSes or OSSes. Keep up the good work.” He opened a drawer and pulled out my cell phone, presenting it to me with a flourish.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from his outstretched hand. Director of the New Pathways program, Tim was closer to my mom’s age than to Jade’s, which meant he didn’t tend to use words like epic or have any noticeable tattoos. Instead, he said things like ISS — In-School Suspension — and OSS — Out-of-School Suspension — and wore a tie.
“So can we go now?” Alex asked so impatiently that Jade, who’d been leaning against her office door with her jar of red licorice whips cradled in her arms, burst out laughing.
“What’s the rush, dude?” she asked, tilting the licorice jar in his direction. “Can’t wait to get started on all that homework?”
“We’re going to the Queen,” Kayla explained, digging her hand into the jar after Jade passed it to her, Alex having shaken his head. “And we want to get there before the teeming hordes.”
“Oh,” Mom said, with a look I recognized. It was the same look she’d worn when Jade had mentioned Coffin Night, whatever that was…Mom’s look of dewy-eyed nostalgia for happier days gone by. “Do kids still go to that place across from Higgins Beach after school to get ice cream?”
“Yes,” Alex said shortly. “Which is why we have to hurry. I need more than just fat-free licorice to satisfy my three-fifteen sugar fix.”
Everyone laughed…except Cemetery Sexton Smith, who laid down his magazine, then climbed to his feet.
“I wouldn’t joke about fixes if I were you, young man,” he said to Alex gravely. “Especially considering how much time your father served in jail, and for what.”
The laughter stopped as abruptly as if it had just been swept away by one of last night’s forty-mile-an-hour winds.
“I beg your pardon,” Mom said tensely, turning towards Cemetery Sexton Smith. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Deborah Cabrero, and this is my daughter, Pierce. Alex is my nephew. Christopher Cabrero — his father — is my brother.”
“I know,” Cemetery Sexton Smith said. He didn’t look uncomfortable at all. He looked like standing around in the New Pathways offices in his linen jacket and bow tie, making trouble, was all he had on his agenda for the day.
Which, considering he worked in a cemetery that now kept its (broken) gate locked 24/7, probably was all he had on his agenda for the day.
“It’s a shame what happened to your brother. Unnecessary, too. I’d hate to see this one go down the same path.” Mr. Smith’s dark-eyed gaze settled on Alex, who flushed angrily all the way to his jet-black hairline.
But before Alex had time to respond, Mr. Smith turned to look at my mom over the tops of his gold-rimmed spectacles and said, “Things turned out very differently for you than they did for your brother, didn’t they, Deborah? I used to play bocce with your father before he passed. He was very proud of you. What a shame you couldn’t seem to visit more often while he was still alive.” I didn’t miss the reproach in his tone and didn’t see how Mom could, either…but you never knew with her. A lot of times, her head was off with the spoonbills. “But you’re back in Isla Huesos for the time being, I see. I hope you’ll be able to show a little more support for Christopher now than you did back then.”
Mom’s eyes were as wide as quarters. I was pretty sure