Grown(62)

“Take this,” she whispers, stuffing something in my pocket, then passes by quick. Too quick for Mom to notice before I’m whisked away to the elevator, and up to our room.

Mom is on the phone with Dad, hysterical, and I slip into the bathroom to retrieve the ripped notebook paper.

Meet at 421 Broadway for a KA meeting. Friday, 10 a.m. There are others.

You’re not alone.





Chapter 79


Funeral




Rain roars hard against the roof, lightning sparking through the gray fog. A flash flood warning sounds off. Every phone in the diner wails of it.

Including Derrick’s.

“Thanks for risking your life to come visit me.”

He chuckles. “Anything is better than being home right now.”

Derrick and I sit in a booth in the town’s staple diner, sipping chocolate milkshakes. The place is classic with a bar counter, mini jukeboxes on the tables, and decor they haven’t changed since the eighties. I don’t come often, but their fish sticks and sweet potato fries are pretty on point. I’ve had them here with Gab after school. The very Gab they say is a figment of my imagination.

I glance outside at the rain pummeling the fresh spring flowers, puddles turning into lakes.

The perfect day for a funeral.

“Figured you’d want some company today,” Derrick says, hinting at the box TV mounted above the pumpkin-haired woman at the register, set on CNN. No sense in asking to change it. Almost every news station is showing the same thing.

Korey Fields’s funeral is a massive A-list event being held at Madison Square Garden, the largest convention center in the city. Lines started forming before five a.m.

“I heard he got a gold casket. Like Michael Jackson,” Derrick quips.

“Kinda fitting, right?”

“Ouch. Too soon.”

I chuckle, throwing a fry at him. “You didn’t want to go to the funeral?”

“My dad wanted me to. But . . . I’d rather stick glass in my eyes. Ain’t no way I’m going to celebrate the life of that asshole.”

“We are of the minority.”

He shrugs. “Fine with me.”

“So you’re cool hanging out with an alleged murderer?”

“Man, if you really did kill him . . . I wouldn’t blame you. I saw you in that house. No one else did. But I saw.”

We stare at each other.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” he admits.

“Why?”

“He hurt you. He hurt those other girls. He hurt . . . everybody.”

Derrick bites into a juicy cheeseburger deluxe. Gab loved the burgers here too. The thought of her makes me lose my appetite, our memories playing on repeat. Who could make up a laugh like hers? Her smile? I want to walk around to every person we ever met to say Don’t you remember her? But I don’t have one picture to prove she’s real.

“Everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

“Well, are you?” he asks.

I stir my milkshake. “I keep having these moments . . . where I’ll remember things so clearly and know exactly what I’m talking about, only for people to tell me I’m wrong.”

Derrick gives me a faint smile. “Reminds me of this picture my mom has in her office. It’s fire. Maybe I’ll show you someday.”

“Don’t think your dad would like it if I came to your house.”

Derrick’s face goes dark. “Well. He ain’t living with us right now.”

“Why?”

“Can’t keep his dick in his pants. Ever.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever. He still comes by to get his shit every now and then. Still gotta be nice to him, ’cause he’s really my only shot at breaking into the business after college.”

Reminds me of Korey. How I felt there was no way I could make a name for myself without him. Now I have a name, but not the one I wanted.

“I bet you can find another way,” I offer.

“He came over after he found out what happened, all broken up and shaking. He was just with Korey that day,” he says, eyeing his burger before glancing at the TV. “Speak of the devil.”

On the screen, Richie is onstage, dressed in a dark gray suit with black glasses, giving some kind of speech. I can’t tell since it’s on mute. I almost turn away when the light hits his wrist at a certain angle . . .

“Oh my God,” I gasp.

“What?”

I jump to my feet, moving closer, and I’m right. It’s his watch. It’s Korey’s watch.

“What’s up?” Derrick asks. “What’s wrong?”

My mind runs full throttle, remembering Korey’s words.

“There’s only one like it . . .”

Derrick is by my side, worry in his eyes. But I can’t tell him. As mad as he is . . . I’m not sure where his loyalty lies.

“Um, it’s nothing.”

When Richie steps off stage, he sits next to Jessica. And something strange passes between them. They clasp hands for a few seconds too long before releasing.

I look to see if Derrick notices. “What do you know about Jessica?”

He shrugs, paying the bill. “Jessica has probably been around the longest. She used to sing. My dad found her at some talent contest in Texas and introduced her to Korey. Always says he would do anything for her.”