“HEY, DON’T START WITH ME, SPENCE!” I heard Jamie yell from outside. “I came over here to clear the air, not get into it with you.”
“Dammit, Jamie!” Spence replied, just as loudly. “I told you we were gonna get caught!”
Nervously, I moved to the front window at Spence’s house to peek through the curtains. Jamie had come over just a few moments before, and Spence hadn’t even let him through the door. Instead he’d put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder and barked, “We need to talk.” He’d then practically shoved Jamie out onto the porch, and followed him outside, shutting the door firmly in his wake.
As I peered through the curtains, I saw Spence standing threateningly close to his best friend while he jammed him in the chest with a finger. He was as mad as I’d ever seen him.
“Hey, take it down a notch, dude!” Jamie protested, knocking Spence’s hand away. “Come on, man! I’ve got as much to lose as you do!”
“Oh, you’ve got as much to lose? You, Jamie? You?!”
“Hoss, I didn’t say anything. And I didn’t go through your shit! If somebody got into your room and messed around with your stuff, it wasn’t me!”
“See, I’d believe that, except that you’re the only one who knew where to look!” Spence roared.
I wrung my hands together. Even though Spence hadn’t told me anything, I knew what’d happened. I’d pieced it together over the past week, and it’d killed me to know what my boyfriend had done—the lies he’d told and the fraud he’d committed. But I hadn’t said anything because I was desperate not to leave him behind. Living in this house any longer than he had to would kill him. The responsibility…the pressure…the constant criticism—it was too much for anyone, even someone as strong as Spence.
I knew that if I left him here, we wouldn’t survive as a couple. And I knew that the dark places Spence’s mind would sometimes go when he was really stressed-out would become his every day. It’d kill him. I was certain of it.
So when he refused to call the police about the break-in at his house, and he hadn’t even told his mom that his room—and only his room—had been burglarized, I knew Spence had something to hide. There’d been something in that strongbox that he didn’t want anyone, even me, to know he had, and whatever it was had been taken.
In the moments following the discovery of the robbery, after Spence had collected himself, he’d only denied my repeated requests to call the police, and instead he’d hurried through the house looking to see what else had been stolen. But the other rooms were untouched.
When he came back to his bedroom he’d looked stricken, and perhaps even panicked. He’d then begun to go through the mess, and that’s when we realized that nothing else in Spence’s room had been stolen, either. Not his grandfather’s watch. Not the color TV I’d given him for Christmas, or the expensive gold chain I’d given him for his birthday. Nothing but whatever had been in that strongbox.
Around nine thirty that night, after we’d put the room back together, and while I was still trying to convince him to call the police, we’d heard Stacey and Mrs. Spencer come through the back door. Spence had put a finger to his lips and walked me over to the window to help me sneak out. “Please, don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”
“Spence,” I’d said softly. “What was in there? What don’t you want me to know?”
He’d shaken his head, his lips pressed tight. “Just a few bucks, Amber, nothing else very special.”
But I’d known better.
“How much?” I’d asked. If it was money, then we could find a way to replace it.
Spence had shaken his head, and he’d looked away as if ashamed. “Close to two grand,” he’d whispered. “Everything I had saved for UCLA.”
“Oh my God,” I’d said.
Spence had looked back at me then and he’d forced a smile and stroked my hair. “It’ll be okay,” he’d said. “It’s just money. I can always take on more lawns this summer.”
I’d looked into his eyes and I’d seen the lie there, and it’d broken my heart. I had no doubt that Spence had managed to put away that much money. He saved every tip he got, and the money from any extra lawn he could fit in on his weekly schedule went straight to his college savings, rather than to the household. But he wasn’t telling me what else had been stolen—what had him so anxious and upset.
It’d been an awful ten days since. Spence had been edgy, distracted, and quick to temper. It was as if he knew something terrible was coming, and, sure enough, that very morning he’d been called to the principal’s office.