Trouble is a Friend of Mine

And it all becomes clear. Sort of.

‘Tell him what I said about the computer and be clear you turned me down, but emphasize that I offered.’

‘O … kay?’

‘And, obviously, put him down as coauthor even though he isn’t technically a student at this school,’ he says. ‘Just so there isn’t any confusion about getting his credits.’

‘Not a student at this school? What are you talking about?’

I climb through the window and past the wads of insulation into Digby’s garage. I rifle through the stuff on his table and go through the contents of the car. Nothing. Which leaves just one place. One disgusting place.

I dump out the trash can and wearing shopping bags as gloves, I root through Digby’s trash. I find a surprising number of disassembled padlocks. I recognize two that had gone missing from my locker. Finally, stuck to a gigantic wad of chewed gum, I find a clue that both explains Digby’s wardrobe choices and tells me where he might be going.

‘The student has surpassed the master,’ I say. It’s a pamphlet for the Edgar Allan Poe Appreciation Society’s annual conference in Baltimore. Inside, the title of one of the lectures is highlighted. ‘Bon-Bon and the Man in the Black Suit: A Conversation with the Devil Himself.’ I say, ‘Story of my life.’

Then a rustling in the corner tells me I’m not alone. With only Digby’s disgusting shovel as defense against whatever animal is building a winter den in that garage, I get the hell out.

While I’m climbing back over the fence, I see something and the penny drops. In fact, the piggy bank breaks open and dumps pennies all over my brain.

Digby’s mom’s on the lawn, swigging a magnum of champagne and cackling as she pours kerosene onto the sign that says FORECLOSURE FOR SALE BY BANK. She pitches a book of lit matches and the sign goes up in a mini explosion.

‘The money,’ I say. ‘He paid her mortgage?’

I arrive at the Greyhound station in time to see the 6:15 to Baltimore pull out.

‘Dammit.’

I ask a guy to check the bathroom. Nothing. I’m about to concede defeat, when Digby walks into the station wearing a giant backpack and finger-lickin’ from a bucket of chicken in the crook of his arm.

‘Hey, Princeton. Original or spicy? I got both,’ he says.

‘You weren’t even going to our school? What the hell?’

‘I never said I was.’

‘You can’t Sixth Sense me. Of course you did. You signed us up for independent study. You pretended to be in a bunch of my classes. You went to art with me and made a mobile.’

‘Okay, maybe I did.’

‘You definitely did.’

‘So,’ he says.

‘So … you could’ve told me what you needed the money for.’

‘No, I couldn’t. You would’ve …’ he says. ‘Oh, puke. You would’ve done that.’

Despite myself, my tears well up.

‘Are you going to cry and kiss me all over because you pity me? Then better put some French in that kiss, or you shouldn’t bother,’ he says.

‘You paid your mom’s mortgage?’

‘I paid off a chunk so the bank’ll stay off her back for a while. Also the limo bill. Felix’s dad was not happy when he got that invoice.’

‘That was our weed you put in Dominic’s locker. But where’d the gun come from? And wasn’t that a little much? Getting him thrown in jail for making Felix write his papers?’

‘There was nowhere near enough weed in that bag to get him actual time, but that gun was already in there when I broke in. I did a public service planting that weed.’

‘That’s why you signed your work? The stickers are a little … Zorro.’

‘People need to know Felix has a guardian angel. Seeing as how I have to take off for a while,’ Digby says. ‘No one messes with my crew.’

‘I don’t get it. Does that mean you’ve been AWOL from your school in Texas?’ I say.

‘Musgrave told you?’ Digby laughs. ‘How was he when he told you? Still trembling?’

‘He apologized. Actually, he groveled. At one point, I thought he was going to call me ma’am. What did you do to him?’

‘I found out he bailed on an intervention meeting he’d scheduled with Marina two days before she disappeared,’ Digby says. ‘It would’ve been his third strike on the job.’

‘He told me to ask you where to send the transfer credit papers.’

‘Don’t need it,’ Digby says. ‘I’m homeschooled. I’ve finished all the material for this year. And next year’s, actually.’

‘What? Are you supposed to be some kind of genius? Then why …’

‘You see how people treat Felix. No way.’

‘Your mom didn’t know you were here, but did your dad? You talked to him on the phone! Shouldn’t he have issued a tangerine alert or … something?’

‘I don’t see my dad even when I’m in the same house. All he cares about is that my chores are done,’ Digby says. ‘I kept my Texas phone and paid some kid to do the chores. He never even realized I’d left town.’