The Kindest Lie(93)

The summer after fourth grade, Mr. Cunningham had spent a lot of money on a new pitching glove that Corey bragged about constantly. To break it in, Mr. Cunningham baked it in the oven like a steak and ran over it with his car. Corey carried that stupid glove everywhere and wouldn’t stop talking about how soft the leather was. When Midnight couldn’t take it anymore, he’d slipped the glove out of Corey’s bag one day and nuked it in the microwave for five minutes, until the rawhide melted. After that, Corey had to play baseball with a regular glove like everybody else.

Now, Midnight had another big idea. Blood rushed through him just thinking about it. He took out his phone and began dialing when Corey called out to him.

“Boom and you’re dead,” Corey shouted from up the river, the barrel of the gun aimed right at Midnight.

“Quit pointing it at me. If you hit me, you’ll be dead.”

“Sorry! Look at me! Did you see that?” A black-capped chickadee skidded across the river when Corey fired a pellet close to it.

“911. What’s your emergency?” Midnight had been so caught up watching his friend that he didn’t realize the call had connected already. The lady operator sounded calm and official, just like the ones on TV.

He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t planned this part. Lowering his voice a few octaves, he tried to sound like Daddy. “Um, I’m calling to report a guy with a gun at the river.”

“Wabash River?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your exact location?”

“Um, the Overlook area.”

“Okay, are you in danger right now, or are you in a safe location?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. I’m safe.”

“A unit is on its way.”

Midnight’s heart raced, fear and thrills rushing through him at the same time. Corey had never gotten detention at school and the Cunninghams hardly ever grounded him, but this time he’d get in trouble, for sure.

The popping sound rang in his ears.

Corey ran toward him laughing with the pellet gun. “Do you want to take a turn now?”

Shaking his head, Midnight said, “No, that’s okay. I get to play with it all the time.”

“Okay.”

Corey raced back to the river’s edge, sliding on the ice, still firing the airsoft.

It felt like barely a few minutes had gone by when he heard tires screeching, the sour smell of exhaust filling his nose.

Excitement curled in Midnight’s belly as he anticipated what might happen next. In school, if a kid screwed up really bad, the school officer pulled him out of class while everyone stared and echoed, Oooh, you’re in trouble.

Suddenly, a man’s voice yelled, “Drop the weapon and freeze!”

Two men appeared dressed in black. Badges on their belt buckles shining like searchlights. The cops had come fast.

They ran up to where Midnight was still sitting on the ground. Both had their guns drawn and pointed at Corey, a few feet away.

Corey didn’t blink. He just stood there motionless, his arms wooden, holding the pellet gun out in front of him.

“I said drop your weapon, now.”

Midnight’s belly flip-flopped and his mouth went dry. He waited for the police officers to tell Corey he was in trouble and they were calling his parents.

But they never did.

They just kept their guns aimed at his best friend.





Thirty-Four

Ruth




Seeing the Wabash River resurrected Ruth’s childhood, all those summers here by Papa’s side, his hands—rough and scraped raw from hard work—guiding hers along the fishing pole. She’d always felt safe here.

Warning signs along the riverbank urged caution and in bold red letters on white placards said, Thin Ice. Keep Off. No Skating. That still, glassy river, so immense and beautiful, could be deceptive. Midnight’s text had asked her to come to the river, but it didn’t sound dire, thankfully.

She hoped they hadn’t wandered onto the ice. Every worst-case scenario flooded her brain.

She got out of her car and picked her way through the brush toward the water. Each footstep she took thundered in her ears. The crunching sound she made on a patch of ice caused her to jump.

Something rustled nearby and then she heard a man’s voice. Her head jerked in the direction of the sound. In the distance, she spotted two small figures under the spotlight of the rising sun. Corey. He and Midnight were together. Two larger figures that had to be adults faced them. A patrol car nearby. She almost sobbed with relief. Police officers had found the boys and they were safe. She ran toward them.

“Hey!” Ruth yelled, stumbling over the rocky terrain.

When she got within a few feet of the officers, she saw they had their guns pointed.

At Corey.

Dread gripped her and her legs wobbled. A strange noise escaped from Corey’s lips like his voice had gotten trapped in his throat and was trying to break free. His outstretched arms, holding a gun, appeared stuck in that raised position. Why did he have a gun? It didn’t make sense.

Her primal need to protect him overrode everything. Her body lurched forward in front of Corey, placing herself between him and the cops’ guns.

“Get out of the way, lady, before you get yourself killed!” shouted the white cop.