Risking It All Read online

  “Anyway, I think we need to see what it is before we call the police,” she said.

  He hesitated and then nodded. She retrieved the scissors and he started to cut and unravel the package. When he had peeled off the last piece, they locked eyes one last time. She swallowed. He took a deep breath and opened the box.

  “Oh shit,” he said.

  “Oh no,” she cried.

  Wrapped loosely in dirty paper, nestled on the bottom of the box, was a small black gun.

  31

  When Danny left for school that morning, he had no idea where he would go. He stood in front of his building and reviewed his options. He knew he was in big trouble and he knew he had to get some help, but he didn’t know where to turn. He thought of Dr. Benson, but he didn’t really trust him—he figured that as soon as he’d finished talking to him, whatever he’d revealed would be relayed straight to Marcia before he even closed the door on his way out. He tried to picture his teachers to see if any of them might be sympathetic, even partly on his side. He hadn’t had time to build any relationships in his new school and when he pictured those he knew at Claremont, it didn’t take long to realize there was no one there he could turn to. He thought of Raul, but knew that would be the first place they’d look for him and besides, he might even run into Julio there. He bit his lip. He never wanted to see Julio again. He wondered if he should take the package Julio gave him and just drop it in the big garbage can on the corner of his street, but the thought of how mad Julio would be scared him so much he knew that wasn’t a good idea. All these thoughts whirled around in his head as he started walking. Before he realized what he was doing he realized he was on his way to school, more out of habit than choice. As he entered the building he felt hopeless, just trying to go through the motions of his normal life, all the while knowing that his life would not be normal ever again. In a few minutes they’d come for him. Maybe the police would arrest him. Would he go to jail? He tried to think what his mother would have told him to do and he knew she’d say to trust Marcia. He was beginning to think he didn’t have any other choice.

  He was in his social studies class and as he was going over all the possibilities in his mind, he heard snickering. He looked up, confused. Mrs. Huntington was talking to him. She acted like she’d been talking to him for a while.

  “I said, where is your homework, Danny? I’ve asked you three times. I assume you don’t have it. Is that right?”

  He managed to focus enough to answer. “Oh. No.” She stared at him. What did she want him to do? He’d said he didn’t have it. “Sorry,” he added.

  “You’re being sorry isn’t enough. Why don’t you have it?” He couldn’t think of an excuse she would accept.

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not an answer,” she said.

  She was getting mad and the kids were laughing at him. He had to do better but he couldn’t. He knew he was in trouble again, but it seemed so mild compared to the trouble he was already in. Okay, he didn’t have his homework and he wasn’t paying attention in class—maybe she’d keep him after school or send him to the principal but so what, he thought, he had bigger problems. He needed to figure out where to go and what to do to keep out of jail. He didn’t look up or respond. Mrs. Huntington was talking to him again.

  “Danny, are you with us?” she asked, irritation coating her voice. He could hear the kids in the class whispering.

  “You didn’t take the trouble to do your homework so I assume you already know the answer to the question it asked. Let’s hear it.”

  He looked up blankly.

  “I’d like you to explain why you think the group of current Republican politicians took the name Tea Party. What historical event that we’ve studied were they basing their name on?”

  Danny froze. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

  “We’ve been talking and reading about this event for a week. Do you have any ideas?”

  “No.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know where you are today, Danny, but it isn’t in this classroom.” She looked at the girl waving her hand in the second row. “Okay, Tracy, you tell us.”

  The whole day went more or less like that. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but his predicament and the more he thought about it the more hopeless it seemed. He figured he would have to run away, but he didn’t know where.

  As he was leaving the building after school he was still preoccupied with his worries when he saw a figure in a hoodie across the street. The body was familiar. With a start, he realized it was Julio. Julio was looking the other way and hadn’t seen him yet, so Danny ran back into the school, his heart pounding, frantically trying to figure out what to do. There was only one door out and Julio was right there across from it. How could he avoid him? He remembered that there were a few after-school clubs. Maybe he could drop in on one of them and Julio would think he just hadn’t come to school that day. He wandered down the hallway trying to think where he should go and ran into Mr. Coles, his gym teacher.

  “Hey, Danny. Still here? Are you staying for after-school activities?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His teacher smiled. “I’m afraid if you haven’t signed up for anything, it’s too late. You might have to wait till next year.”

  Danny thought fast. “I just wanted to see what they did in them so I’d know which one,” he said.

  “Well, what are you interested in?”

  Danny said the first thing that popped into his mind.

  “Baseball.”

  “No, sorry, Danny. There isn’t a baseball club. There’s baseball practice, but that’s not today. What else?”

  “Spanish,” Danny said.

  “I thought you already speak Spanish.”

  “Yeah. But I don’t ever do it anymore. I don’t want to forget.”

  Mr. Coles smiled approvingly so Danny knew he’d said the right thing.

  “Well, that’s a good idea,” Mr. Coles said. He pointed down the hall. “The last door on the left is the Spanish club. I know Mrs. Rodriguez will be happy to see you.”

  Danny breathed a deep sigh of relief as he moved on. He wondered if Julio was still there, but he was afraid to look. The longer he took before he left the better, he figured, so he opened the door to the Spanish club and hesitantly walked in.

  He managed to delay his departure by an hour, even though it meant trying not to look bored as the rest of the group learned, and often mispronounced, simple Spanish phrases he had learned when he was a baby. By the time the club broke up he felt pretty sure Julio would have given up and gone away. He gathered his books and walked out of the classroom with the rest of the group. When he got to the outside door he hung back and cautiously peeked out. He checked the place he’d seen Julio before, and he wasn’t there. He looked right and left and didn’t see a trace of him. Feeling marginally reassured, he slipped out with a few other kids and started walking as fast as he could to the bus stop. Half a block away someone walked up to him and put his arm around his shoulder.

  “Hola, amigo,” Julio said. “Keep walking. Don’t turn around.”

  Danny did as he was told. Julio steered him past the turn to the street that led to his apartment—Danny’s heart sank as he left it behind—to a parking garage a few blocks away. He led him down the entry ramp to a corner of the garage. The attendant knew him, and waved. Julio waved back. He looked around quickly. “Listen, I don’t have time. I just want to know if you still have the package I gave you.”

  Danny nodded.

  “Have you told anyone about it?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Make sure you keep it a secret. It’s important. I don’t know how I can protect you if you don’t.”

  Danny swallowed. Should he tell him the cop came looking for him? No, better not. He didn’t say anything.

  “I gotta go. Keep that package safe. Don’t tell nobody nothing, you understand?�
�� Danny wondered why he said it like that. Like in a gangster movie. But he just nodded.

  Julio took a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and slipped it to Danny. “This is for you. Now go home and keep your mouth shut.”

  When he left, Danny stood still watching him go. He looked for the attendant to see if he was watching, but he couldn’t see him anywhere. He was alone. He stood for a while holding the hundred-dollar bill, crinkling it in his fist. Then he opened it and looked at it. He’d never seen that much money before. He thought about using it to buy a bus ticket somewhere. But where? And what would he do when he got there? Finally, he stuffed the money into his pocket and headed for home. He’d wait for Marcia. Then he’d show her the package and tell her everything. He didn’t have a choice.

  32

  In those first minutes after they discovered the gun, Marcia and Jeff just stared at each other. Then Marcia started to reach into the box, but Jeff stopped her. “Don’t touch it,” he ordered sharply. She withdrew her hand quickly, as though shocked by an electrical charge. Neither of them said anything else. Then Jeff pulled out his phone and punched in 911.

  “No, Jeff, please, don’t call the police, let’s talk about this first.” She tried to pull his arm down but he shook her off and moved away. She continued to tug at his arm. She heard the phone ringing at the police precinct. She talked quickly, urgently, her hand pulling at his sleeve.

  “Jeff, I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this but please let’s decide how,” she begged. “Just hang up for a few minutes and hear me out. You can always call when I’m done.”

  “Police department,” she heard through the phone.

  Jeff hesitated and then disconnected the call. “I’m listening,” he said.

  “I know how serious this is. I know we have to report it. I understand that. But maybe instead of calling the precinct and getting some random cop, we could talk to the officer that came here. He knows Danny. He seems like a sympathetic guy.”

  Jeff took a deep breath. “I don’t know what good you think that will do. He will do his duty no matter how sympathetic he is.”

  “Please, Jeff. I’d like to give Danny this one last chance. He might even be more likely to cooperate if it was someone he knew.”

  Jeff’s voice rose in frustration. “This one last chance? How many chances have you given him? I wish you were as careful about the chances you gave to us, to our marriage, to our family. This whole goddamn experiment, taking a big kid like him from another culture and bringing him here, was crazy to begin with. You wanted it blindly because of your guilt. You think it’s because of your responsibility, your kind heart, but you have been willing to sacrifice your family, your own son, to nothing more than your guilty conscience.”

  She bowed her head and closed her eyes, speaking softly. “You got me, counselor. I admit I felt guilty. I admit I still do.” She looked up at him. “Don’t you?”

  “No. I feel bad about what happened, but I’m not going to let it ruin the rest of my life.”

  “Jeff, I’ve said it before and I still believe it. I know this has come between us, this huge rock we haven’t been able to push out of the way. But sometimes life just throws challenges at you, bad things happen and you kind of have to step up to face them.”

  He rolled his eyes and turned away. That lecture again. Her belief in her moral superiority, her certitude, infuriated him.

  “Please don’t roll your eyes. This is important.”

  “I’ve heard all this before.”

  “Well, maybe it didn’t penetrate. Maybe you need to hear it again. You need to realize that sometimes the nice neat life you planned and thought you were entitled to doesn’t pan out. So you do the right thing, the honorable thing, and try to move on. You have to change your dream. Don’t you think I’ve had to do that? Do you really believe this is what I ever imagined or wanted? You think this is my dream? You know it’s not. Not even close. But sometimes you get something else in return. I know I was motivated by guilt, especially at first. Then I felt pity—he was so alone and so helpless. But now I feel…” She paused, looking for the right word, then she shrugged and gave him a half smile. “I feel love.”

  “Love?” Jeff’s face flushed with anger. “That kid doesn’t love you, Marcia. He didn’t even trust you enough to tell you the truth about any of this. He put you and me and Griff at risk when he decided to hide a gun in our home. That’s how grateful he is for your pity and your love.”

  This produced a deep sigh, a combination of sadness and frustration.

  “I know he doesn’t love me,” she said softly. “I was talking about my feelings for him.”

  She paused. He didn’t say anything, and she continued, “He’s mixed up and he doesn’t know what to feel and I’m sure he didn’t understand the seriousness of what he was doing. I doubt he even knew what was in that box. Or maybe he did. Maybe that’s why he’s been so upset and acting out during these past weeks. I don’t deny he needs more help than I’ve been able to give him.”

  “How do you know that gun wasn’t used to shoot someone?”

  “I don’t. But I believe if it was, he didn’t know about it.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t even know that. But even if that’s true, he has implicated himself by hiding it.” He watched her waiting for an answer, but she was silent. He lowered his voice and spoke more gently. “You really do understand we have to talk to the police, don’t you?” he added. “The gun is in our house and we can’t get rid of it.”

  “I understand.”

  Jeff closed up the box and put it back on the shelf. He paced around the room a bit and then walked toward the door, grabbing his jacket as he left.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to look for that cop, this area is his beat. He’s always hanging around somewhere nearby.”

  She had followed him to the door and she reached out to squeeze his hand, but he pulled it away. “Thank you,” she said.

  Half an hour later, Jeff and Officer Mick Kellicut walked in. Jeff had obviously already explained the situation to him and he led him to Danny’s room. Marcia stood in the doorway, peering anxiously into the room as Jeff took the box from the shelf and handed it over. The officer opened it, glanced at the contents, and closed up the box. “Maybe it’s not a real gun?” Marcia asked hopefully.

  “No, ma’am. It’s real enough. I’ll bring it to the lab and see what story it tells us. Have either of you touched it?”

  “No,” Jeff said quickly.

  “Good.” He paused, looking thoughtful, and they both wondered what would happen next. “Is Danny at school?” he asked after a while.

  “Yes,” Marcia said. Then, anxiously, “Are you going to get him from there?”

  “No. I don’t think I need to drag him out of his classroom. I’ll drop off the gun and come back when he’s home from school.”

  Marcia was so glad Jeff had listened to her and not called the precinct. “Will he be arrested?” she asked softly, looking at the floor.

  “That depends,” the officer answered.

  “Really?” she blurted, surprised. She had pictured Danny dragged off to jail. “On what?”

  “On what he tells me when I talk to him. And on you.”

  “On us?” Marcia felt a flash of hope. “We’ll do anything we can to help him,” she said quickly, talking fast and making some of it up as she went along. “We had already realized he has bad judgment and issues with impulse control and trust. We had decided to send him to a therapeutic community that his therapist suggested, even before this incident. We were going to wait until the end of the school year, but now, of course, we would want to send him immediately.” She rushed into her study and came back with the brochure Jeff had brought home, hoping to convince the officer that they could take care of this without legal action against Danny. Mick gave the brochure a cursory look and nodded. “Let’s see what he has to say for himself,” he said. “I’ll do what I can.”
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br />   “I’m so grateful for the interest you’ve taken in him,” Marcia said. “You know his story, what happened to his mother?”

  The officer nodded and walked to the door. “What time does he get home from school today?”

  “Around three-thirty or three forty-five,” Marcia answered.

  “I’ll see him then.”

  After he left, Jeff was the first to speak. “Well, it just might work out a little better than I thought. But he can’t protect Julio anymore. I hope he’s smart enough to realize that.” He looked quizzically at Marcia. “I was surprised to hear we had decided to send him to a therapeutic community. I had this strange idea you had opposed that.”

  She couldn’t resist a small smile. “Thank God you brought that home.”

  “Are you ready to part with him?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice. If we’re lucky and that cop lets us do this without bringing him in and getting him charged with something, I will count him, count myself, very, very lucky.”

  Officer Kellicut arrived at three-thirty, but Danny wasn’t at home. Marcia offered him coffee, which he accepted, and they waited awkwardly around the kitchen table, making small talk. At 3:45 Marcia mentioned that sometimes the bus was late and the cop just shrugged. Like Marcia, Jeff had taken the day off and he paced around the living room nervously, coming into the kitchen from time to time to apologize for taking up so much of the officer’s time. By four he walked briskly into the kitchen again and addressed Marcia. “Do you think he’s run away?”

  She looked up sharply, angry that he’d suggest that in front of the police officer, even though she had been worrying about the same thing. “Where would he run?” she asked simply.

  “Kids don’t think that way,” Mick said. “Especially a kid who has trouble controlling his impulses, especially a kid who’s scared out of his mind.”

  “I just think there’s another explanation. I know this kid. I don’t think he’d just take off like that,” Marcia insisted. Jeff snorted. Marcia looked at him and spoke softly, confidently, “He may not love me, Jeff, but he loves Griffin. He’ll come home.”