“She ripped it!” Stacey cried.
Mentally, I berated myself. I should’ve been keeping a closer eye on Bailey, especially knowing that Stacey liked to keep snacks in her purse. I’d been so distracted worrying about Spence that a lot was starting to slip my mind and my notice.
“Oh, Stace,” I said squatting down in front of her and taking a look at the two-inch tear in the fabric along the handle. “Please don’t worry. My mom can mend that no problem.”
Stacey’s eyes were watering, and I hoped she didn’t start crying. I couldn’t take it when Spence’s baby sister got upset. The guilt was twofold because I’d promised to watch her while Spence mowed his Tuesday-night lawns, and his mom was on the other side of town cleaning some big house that always took her hours to finish. Stacey was only eleven and had spent too many afternoons home alone for my taste.
“I promise we can fix it,” I said gently. “And I know Bailey’s really sorry.”
Stacey swallowed hard and glared at Bailey.
“Tell you what,” I said. “If my mom can’t mend that good as new, then I’ll buy you a new one.”
Stacey wiped at her cheeks and tried to put on a brave front. “It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to. I know you’re saving for college.”
My heart melted with love for Spence’s little sister. True, I had been saving for college, but it wasn’t my college I’d been saving for. Spence had gotten word that his SAT scores were much improved from his first two tries, but weren’t anywhere near what he’d scored a few months back, and the coach and UCLA, suspecting strongly that Spence had cheated, had pulled the scholarship. UCLA hadn’t denied Spence admission, thank God, but now he had no way to pay for school, and the coach had told Spence that the best he could do for him was allow him a shot as a walk-on.
Because of the break-in, Spence now had no more than a few hundred dollars to his name. Even if he worked all summer, he still wouldn’t have enough for the tuition at UCLA, let alone books, room and board, and other living expenses.
I’d promised him all of my savings, which was only eight hundred dollars. Not much, but it was a start, and I hoped that with the two of us working overtime this summer, we’d come up with enough for the first semester.
And yet, when I looked down at Stacey’s freckled face, I couldn’t resist trying to make her feel better with a treat. “Come on,” I said. “The shop where I got you this one should be open for another hour if you’re up for the long walk.”
“Really?!” she said, jumping with excitement. “Really, Amber?”
I took Bailey’s leash from her hand and said, “Yes, sweetie. Let’s get you something pretty.”
Stacey and I stayed at the specialty shop until closing—mostly because she couldn’t decide which pattern she liked. The store had dozens and dozens of wooden-handle Bermuda bags, and I even caught myself fawning over a blue-yellow-and-peach plaid purse with a light wood handle. At last, Stacey picked one that was mint green with little hot pink hearts, and it suited her. I parted with the twelve dollars a bit guiltily and we headed back to her house, which was a mile and a half away.
As we approached, I saw an unfamiliar car parked in front of the Spencers’ house.
“Who’s that?” Stacey said, pointing to the porch.
In the dim light I could just make out Spence and a man with his back to us, standing close to each other. The hair on the back of my neck rose. There was something tense about the way they were facing off.
Gripping Stacey’s hand and tightening my hold on Bailey’s leash, I quickened my step toward the house. All of a sudden the man gripped Spence by his shirt and shoved him hard up against the house. I was so surprised I stopped in my tracks. “Oh my God, isn’t that—?”
“Why’s he doing that?!” Stacey yelled as she squeezed my hand. “Amber! Don’t let him hurt Spence!”
“Hey!” I shouted to get their attention and began trotting down the street with Bailey and Stacey. “Hey!”
But neither of them paid me any attention. Instead, Spence shoved back against the man, who was his equal in height, but not nearly as muscular. “Get off me, Bishop!” Spence yelled. I stopped again as Spence shoved hard and the man let go. We were three houses away.
“You tell anyone, you little shit-ass punk, and I will end you!” his assailant roared.
With that he turned and rushed down the stairs, over to his car, and drove away, all before we could reach the front steps to Spence’s house. For his part, Spence simply stared angrily at the departing car, his face red, hands balled into fists.
“Spence!”
He either didn’t hear me, or he was intent on ignoring me, because he continued to stare down the street, working his jaw, and clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Benny?” Stacey whimpered. “Are you okay?”
The call from his sister seemed to break the spell, and he finally glanced over, as if noticing us for the first time.