Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(87)

“Here,” I say, passing the slip back.

She smiles and starts typing into the computer system. I focus on the sound of footsteps and doors slamming in the background.

The tapping stops; it’s replaced by her clicking and then complete silence for a few long moments.

“Were you visiting anyone today?” she asks, drumming her long nails on the desk and looking up at me.

There goes my focus.

I nod. “Yeah, a friend.”

“Good friend?” she asks.

The best, I think. “Yeah,” I say instead, chest tightening.

I hate small talk, especially this kind of small talk. I just want to know when I can see my pa again.

“I’m sure it means a lot to him that you came to visit. You’re a good kid,” she says.

I nod slowly, watching her computer impatiently.

“Sorry, did you find anything?” I ask.

She looks visibly uncomfortable. “Yes … the Malcolm Richards that matches our records—he passed away quite a while ago. I’m sorry,” she says.

Passed away?

“My pa is dead?” I ask, feeling numb when she nods. “When?” Not sure how asking this helps me.

She looks back at the screen. “About seven years ago; September 9.” She pauses and looks at me, as if trying to see what my reaction is before she continues.

That was the day I saw him. When I was ten years old. It was the last time I saw him.

I’m still, quiet. But my limbs feel like they could give out any moment now. My face feels hot and I feel like screaming, but I don’t. If I start, I won’t stop.

I’m in so much pain, but at the same time I feel nothing. Nothing at all.

“You knew he was on death row, right?” she says cautiously. “We usually try to inform family members beforehand, so they can come and speak to them on the day. We usually give them a room … some time to say goodbye.”

I didn’t get that. I didn’t get to know it would be the last interaction I’d ever have with him. I didn’t get a room, I didn’t get time. He was here, and then he was gone. If I knew, I wouldn’t have spoken about me so much, would have asked him everything I needed to; asked him if he was okay, if he still loved Ma, if he loved me.

But I know the answer. Of course he didn’t.

If he loved me he would have been there, wouldn’t have gotten himself locked away. Wouldn’t have let me think he didn’t want to see me.

I wouldn’t have spent all these years on him, thinking he was coming to rescue me from the bullies at school, and the bullies in my head. The ones that tell me I’m not enough, never will be. The ones that make me feel like drowning to be at peace; letting the ocean take me, forever.

“Are you okay?” the receptionist asks.

I nod. “Thank you,” I say.

“This must be really upsetting, I’m so sorr—”

I shake my head, cutting her off. “I’m good. Was never close to him anyway, didn’t care about him. Was just curious,” I tell her.

Everything hurts.

She nods, looking unconvinced. “Okay. Well, look after yourself,” she starts, but I’m already walking out of the building, wanting to escape, disappear somewhere far, far away.

I’m walking so fast, it’s almost like I’m running. I can feel the tears fall freely, as cries slip out and my chest gets tighter and I can’t breathe.

I feel so lost and out of control.

Andre, my pa, Niveus, Aces. All of them, and the memories I have with them, strangling me.

“Hey!” someone shouts, and I turn. It’s the receptionist. I suddenly forget about being unable to breathe, the panic falling away a little.

She’s holding my phone, my keys, and the fake ID I used to get in here since I’m a minor. “You forgot your things…,” she says, handing them over to me.

I can’t bring myself to speak, so I just take them.

She looks like she wants to say something, so I wait.

“Look after yourself, okay?” she says.

I watch her walk back inside.

When I look down at my phone, I notice my fingers are trembling, so much it’s like my phone is vibrating even though it’s off. I turn it back on and I’m immediately met with messages from Chiamaka.

We’re supposed to go to my place and talk about next steps.

I’m not sure why I agreed to it; I never have anyone over. The only person I ever let inside was Jack, and he was basically family. With everyone else, I never felt comfortable enough showing them where I live.

Going to Niveus made me feel worse about it.

I text Terrell as I start walking out of the parking lot, heading toward the bus stop.

Hey, you at school today?

Everything is still aching, but I remember my promise to Chiamaka and myself to find a way to stop Niveus.

No—T

You mind if I come over and bring Chiamaka? I ask, selfishly hoping he’s not with his sister.

Sure—T

Wiping my face with my sleeve again for the millionth time today, I pocket my phone and I sit down at the bus stop. I told Chiamaka to meet me at this ice-cream joint in my neighborhood so she didn’t just turn up at my house. I push away all the feelings that keep coming back, sealing them shut in one of the boxes in my mind for later, when I have the time to think about my pa and Dre.