Trouble is a Friend of Mine

At first, all I see is the swirl of Felix’s cape. My ears are clear enough to hear people screaming when Felix flies out of the ambulance and lands atop Ezekiel on the gurney. Felix is holding defibrillator paddles and from the way Floyd jerks, goes rigid, and then collapses, it becomes clear that Felix has defibbed him in the face.

Felix turns to zap Schell, but Schell sees it coming and swipes Felix away. The gurney, with Felix and Ezekiel on it, rolls away. Schell grabs the money, climbs into the ambulance’s cab, and peels away.

The cops on the scene gawp, too confused to do more than jump out of the way. Schell doesn’t get far, though, because a limo – our limo – accelerates past us, chases down the ambulance, and hits it hard from behind. Schell loses control, plows across a yard, and smashes into one of the houses. The limo’s door opens and Henry tumbles out of the driver’s seat. The cops swarm him, bend him over the hood, and cuff him.

Still straddling Ezekiel, Felix says, ‘Hey, is this a corpse?’ He touches Ezekiel’s neck, but is disappointed. ‘Nah … there’s a pulse.’

On his gurney, Digby’s on a call, fighting off the paramedic trying to take his phone away. As they wheel me into the ambulance, old Mrs Preston peers into my face and shakes her head. There goes the neighborhood.

It’s a huge relief when the ambulance door closes and we finally leave for the hospital. Only then do I realize how much pain I’m in. I scream until I pass out.





TWENTY-NINE


The first thing I see when I wake and look past the machines that go bing is Digby, sitting on a wheelchair with his arm in a sling, eating the tray of food left for me.

‘How are you less hurt than I am?’ I say.

‘Oh, I hurt, Princeton. But it hurts a lot less when you pretend it doesn’t,’ he says.

I guess I knock off some sensors when I sit up, because a concerned nurse run-walks into the room. She’s peeved when she sees me sitting up.

‘Don’t pull out your IV. And why are you out of your bed, young man? You kids need to settle down.’ She replaces my electrodes. ‘Explosion … what were you two up to?’

‘You know … shenanigans,’ Digby says.

Just as I’m thinking that the nurse’s look of disapproval reminds me of Dad’s shame-on-you stare, the door opens and the devil himself walks in.

‘Dad?’

Dad’s more bloated than usual. Not even his new tan can hide that he’s working too much, eating too crappily, and not sleeping enough.

‘An explosion? My God, what the hell’s been happening here? Explain yourself,’ he says.

I try telling him, but the story’s so long and strange and I’m so battered that I end up spewing gibberish. When I finally not so much finish my story as just stop telling it, Dad turns to Digby. ‘And you’re her accomplice in this?’

‘Me? Accomplice? No,’ Digby says. ‘Mastermind.’

Digby rolls his wheelchair until one of his wheels is up against Dad’s shoe.

‘We haven’t been introduced. I’m Digby. You must be Dick.’

Dad ignores Digby’s proffered hand. ‘Mr Webster. Only my friends call me Dick.’

‘Well, with friends like that, am I right?’

‘I suppose I should thank you for bringing this farce to an end. It’s because of you that the judge finally realized my ex-wife can’t be trusted.’

‘There was a custody hearing?’ I say.

‘No, but he agreed to schedule a new one.’ Dad passes me a document and a pen. ‘Sign this. It’ll expedite the process.’

‘What is this?’ I try to read it, but the fine print makes my head swim. ‘Does Mom know?’

‘Your mother is no longer a factor in your upbringing. It’s clear she’s an incompetent parent,’ Dad says.

‘May I?’ I’m grateful when Digby takes the paper out of my hands and reads.

‘Do you even understand what you’re looking at?’ Dad smirks the way most adults do before they realize what they’re up against in Digby.

‘I’ve had some experience with these Child Affidavits for Custody. They tried to get me to sign one too.’ To me, Digby says, ‘This says that in light of recent events, you don’t feel safe in your mother’s custody. You sure you want to say that?’

‘I thought I couldn’t choose who to live with anyway,’ I say.

‘You can’t. Your dad’s probably hoping to break your mom’s spirit when he shows her you signed it. Or maybe he’s hoping to exclude you from the decision process later. I mean, if you sign this and then later say you want to live with your mom, you’d look like a flake and the court wouldn’t take you seriously,’ Digby says. ‘I don’t think that’s what you want to do, Zoe.’

I don’t know if it’s because Digby uses my real name for the first time or if it’s because I’m furious at my father trying to trick me into signing a document like that while I’m in a half-sedated haze, but I start shivering.

‘Of course, you could just accuse your father of sexually inappropriate behavior and the court’ll get you out of there in no time,’ Digby says.

‘You’re a very troubled young man,’ Dad says.