I'll Stop the World (72)

I highly doubt that’s true.

“I haven’t made any progress either,” he said, not meeting her eyes. It took her a second to remember what they were talking about: their investigation, right.

Not where her brain was, still dwelling on her hypothetical boyfriends.

“I couldn’t find Stan,” Justin said. “I couldn’t find any clues at the bridge. Mrs. Hanley doesn’t know anything.” He shrugged, his hand slipping out of hers in the process. The motion was almost casual enough for her to convince herself that maybe he hadn’t even noticed the hand-holding, which must have felt electric only to her. “Oh, but I did accidentally take some kid’s bike?”

“You did what?”

“It’s a long story,” he said. “I don’t know his last name, but his first name’s Karl, he’s in seventh grade, he has an older sister—oh, I think she knows you—”

“I know who it is.” Rose sighed. How on earth had Justin ended up with Karl Derrin’s bike?

“Great, then you can help me get it back to him. I mean, what else am I doing with a kid-size bike?”

“I’m sure you could get creative.”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “How creative do you mean?”

She nudged him playfully, her cheeks growing hot. “I was thinking like a science experiment, you pervert.”

“I’m the pervert? You’re the one talking about all the dirty bike stuff.”

She laughed, dropping her head so that her hair covered her rapidly warming cheeks. She knew if she looked in a mirror, they’d be glowing red. When she glanced up at him, he was grinning at her, his smile stretching across his typically dour face like the sun breaking through the clouds.

Something did a little flip in her stomach, but she ignored it. If everything went right, he’d be here only a few more days. And then she’d never see him again.

She cleared her throat, forcing her mind to stay focused. “I’ll ask Noah to return it. He’s got a bike rack on his mom’s car already. I can ask him whenever he gets home.”

“Great. So I’ll see you back at Mrs. Hanley’s?”

Rose nodded. “Now you’d better leave before Diane chases you off with a broom.”

“She didn’t strike me as the chase-you-with-a-broom type.”

“She’s the do-what-I-say-or-else type.”

“I’ve always kind of liked that type,” he said with a wink. “Come to think of it, you kind of resemble that type . . .”

“Go,” she laughed, shoving his arm.

He gave her a salute, then obediently turned and ambled down the sidewalk, back toward Mrs. Hanley’s house. “Never mind, nothing bossy about you at all,” he called over his shoulder, tossing her one last grin.

She smiled as she watched him go, pretending there wasn’t a part of her that wished he could stay.





Chapter Forty-Two


LISA

“Now isn’t a good time,” Mrs. Derrin said coolly when she answered the door. “You should have called first.”

“I’m sorry,” Lisa said. Charlene’s mother had opened the door only a crack, and was filling the space with her body, barring Lisa’s view inside. “But since I’m here, can I just talk to Charlene for a minute? I won’t take up much of her time, I promise.”

Mrs. Derrin sighed, her long artificial eyelashes fluttering theatrically as she rolled her eyes. “All right. Wait here.” She shut the door in Lisa’s face, leaving her standing on the wraparound porch.

Lisa took a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration that surged inside her every time she had to interact with Charlene’s parents. They had never been the biggest fans of Charlene and Lisa’s friendship, and their frostiness had seemed to double when Lisa’s mom announced her campaign for mayor. Although they’d never come out and said it, Lisa got the impression that they were offended at the very idea of a Black woman running for office. They seemed to think Gibson deserved to be mayor simply because he wanted it.

That was one of the many reasons why she and Charlene preferred to hang out at Lisa’s house. Or at least they had, until everything changed on Saturday. Since then, Charlene hadn’t exactly been ignoring her—she still sat with their group at lunch—but there was a distance between them now that hadn’t been there before. She definitely wasn’t coming over to Lisa’s house anymore.

Which was why Lisa was now standing at the door of the Derrins’ enormous mansion, being treated like a servant trying to crash the ball.

The front door opened again, and Charlene came out, still in the aqua blazer that she’d worn to school. “I’ll just be a few minutes, Mom,” she said to her mother, who hovered behind her in the doorway, her bright-red lips puckered like she’d licked a lemon.

Mrs. Derrin exhaled a disapproving puff of air through her nose, but turned and went back inside, shutting the door behind her just a smidge too hard.

Charlene’s eyes briefly met Lisa’s, then slid off, down to the whitewashed boards of the porch. With one hand, she absently fiddled with the thin gold chain around her neck, which held the locket Lisa had given her for her birthday that summer. At least she hadn’t taken it off. “Why are you here?” she asked quietly.