Real Bad Things(50)

“Believe what you want, I guess,” Angie said. “It’s our word against Georgia Lee’s. Maud Proper against Maud Bottoms. You know who will win.”

“Sounds like something we watched in the ’80s.” Jane hummed the Rocky theme.

Angie laughed. “I never liked those movies.”

“You still watched them.”

“Only because I felt sorry for you.” Warren had refused to pay for cable. Angie breathed in deeply. “Look. Georgia Lee may live in the Bottoms now, but she’s not from here. She only wins her election every year because no one runs against her. Once the foreclosures started, the developers swooped in. Her husband helped all his friends and their friends buy their McMansions. The ones who could stomach it. But they’re closer to Maud Proper, so . . .” She scowled. “People up there may not like her or vote for her, but they’ll believe her over any of us. Like sticks with like. And Jason and I—even though I have nothing to do with it and won’t be involved—don’t look like you or Georgia Lee. You do the math.”

That was why Jane had confessed that day. She had seen the way they looked at Jason, the way they focused all their questions on him. Nonwhite teenage male. Murderer. Obviously.

“None of this would be happening if you hadn’t turned yourself in.” Angie looked at Jane in that precise Angie Pham way. “But you just had to save the golden boy.”

“Why d’you call him that?”

“What? Golden boy?” She laughed. “You know why. Like, how many times would you let him get away with murder?”

Jane scrunched her nose and mouth in complaint. “I never let him—”

“Please. You saw him swipe that pocketknife and M&M’S from the gas station. And then he turned around and went back after that to use the restroom and stole that camo hat! Kid had some nerve. I’ll give him that.”

“When?”

“When? When was he not stealing shit right out from under your nose? And anytime I mentioned it, you said, No. No. He must’ve used the money I gave him for lunch to buy those things. He would never. Heh. You’re such a sucker. He was always pulling one over on you.” Urged on by memory, she continued, “Remember when Warren had his back to him, and Jason spit in his drink? Like, really spit.”

“I don’t remember any of that.” Jane felt like Angie was recalling a friendship with someone else.

“Are you kidding me? We laughed for days.” Angie smirked. “You gotta get your head checked. But then, you’ve always had a selective memory when it came to him.”

Maybe Jane had been too protective of Jason. She’d acted out of love. That’s what older siblings were supposed to do. All the boys did for their younger brothers. Why couldn’t she? She glanced at the crumpled, not-quite-white-anymore bag of conciliatory fudge. How could she not remember any of this?

The heat suddenly felt more unbearable in the shade. Jane pushed away from the bench and stood.

“Where are you going?” Angie asked.

“Nowhere.” She had wanted to run away. Get some cool air. Think on what Angie had said about Jason a bit more. “Why are you trying to shame me for protecting Jason? You would do the same for your little brothers and sisters.”

“Um, no. If they commit a murder, they’re on their own. I’m not going to get rid of the body or hide the evidence or confess that I did it. One hundred percent no.”

“Then why’d you do it for me?” Jane asked.

“I didn’t do it for you. I was stupid and confused and scared of getting caught with a dead body. Like, how do you even explain that to a cop? As a teenager?” She shook her head. “The whole thing was stupid. So stupid. I should go to the cops now. Spare us the pain of waiting.”

“So go.” Jane swiped the fudge off the bench and threw it into the trash.

Angie rolled her eyes. “Sit down. You’re making a scene.”

Jane swung her hands out at the empty course. “There’s no one here!”

Angie reached out to pet Jane’s arm, like she would a petulant child. To be fair, she felt like one. The heat made her cranky, along with trying to get arrested alone, which really shouldn’t be that hard. But Maud had a way of making everything more stupid and complicated than it needed to be.

“Sit down,” Angie said. “Please.”

Jane plopped onto the bench. “By the way, I didn’t hide evidence. That was your job.” Which she and Jason had done stunningly well. The cops hadn’t found shit.

Angie stopped talking when a customer appeared behind the chain-link fence on his way to his car. When he left the parking lot, she continued, calm as could be, as if there’d been no interruption. “I didn’t hide any evidence.”

“Um, yeah, you did,” Jane said. “That’s the whole reason why you left and didn’t get in the boat.”

“Um, no, I didn’t. It was already done by the time I got there.”

No way Jason had cleaned it all up. Even with the storm. There would’ve been something left behind. Some little bit of shirt or blood or skin. Recognition or something like it crossed Angie’s face. She focused on the waterfall and bit down on her bottom lip.

“What are you not saying?” Jane asked.