face had been seared by the forest fire, proof that I’d been with Hoop. So I had to tell them. I didn’t even hint that I was suspicious about how it had happened, though—that would have kept them there longer, and I just wanted them to go away.
I found myself wishing our room were neater, as if that would convince the officers that we were fine, upstanding citizens. Then again, a perfectly neat dorm room would probably have made them even more suspicious.
“I imagine your friend, the basketball player who was injured in the park fire, hurts a lot worse than you do,” the older officer said sternly, moving forward, small notebook in hand. “Could we ask you about that, please?”
That’s when I realized that we’d made one big mistake when we decided on the “story” we’d be telling. We had decided that we would say Hoop had lost his temper and run off in the direction of the state park.
But what we hadn’t discussed was what we were supposed to have been doing when the fire started, and where, exactly, we were doing it. How could we have neglected to come up with those very important details?
Those were the first questions we were asked.
Nat and I looked at each other as if someone had just asked us to describe the Pythagorean theory.
I began stammering an answer before she did. “Well, uh, we were … we were here when Hoop took off. Right … right here, in this room.”
“And after that?” the officer asked, his eyes never leaving my face for a second. “Where were you the rest of the night?”
I couldn’t think. With him looking at me like that, my brain balked. Count me out of this one, it said, and promptly ceased to function. Suddenly brainless, all I could manage was, “Here. We … we stayed here.”
His eyebrows rose sharply. “You stayed here in the dorm room on a night when everyone else was out celebrating Salem’s win in the semifinals?”
“Well, we didn’t stay here the whole night,” Nat said, coming to my rescue. “We thought you meant where were we when the fire started. We were here,” she lied easily. “But then we went out.”
“To?” His eyebrows were still arched, fat, furry caterpillars inching toward his hairline.
Instantly, I felt Nat’s dilemma. If she said we’d gone to Vinnie’s or Johnny’s, or any one of a dozen other hangouts, the police would make the rounds, asking if we’d been there.
“Down by the river,” she said. “We took some sandwiches and went down and sat on the riverbank.” She’d thought fast enough to substitute sandwiches for our hot dogs. Hot dogs required a fire. It was absolutely essential that we not be associated with fire in any way.
“Anyone see you there?” the state police officer asked. He was big and burly, could have used a uniform one size larger than the one he was poured into, and his tie was crooked. But his voice was gentle as he asked the question.
“Gee, I don’t think so,” Nat said, pretending to think about it for a minute. “We didn’t see anyone, did we, Tory?”
“No. Not a soul.” I looked directly into the eyes of the policeman who had asked me the first question. “We wanted to have our own private celebration. That’s what we argued with Hoop about,” I added, improvising as I talked. “He wanted to go where the crowd was, and we didn’t.”
Mistake. I thought I was being so clever, volunteering information that would fortify our story. But I was underestimating the intelligence of our questioners.
“He wanted to be where there was a crowd, so he opted for running alone in the state park?” the state police officer said skeptically. “Seems to me he’d have gone on into town to find his crowd.”
“Not without Mindy, he wouldn’t have,” Nat said hastily. “That’s his girlfriend, Mindy Loomis. And she was here, with us.”
My elbow made its way into Nat’s ribs. She shouldn’t have mentioned Mindy. Mindy was so shaky. Liable to say almost anything.
“So what
I found myself wishing our room were neater, as if that would convince the officers that we were fine, upstanding citizens. Then again, a perfectly neat dorm room would probably have made them even more suspicious.
“I imagine your friend, the basketball player who was injured in the park fire, hurts a lot worse than you do,” the older officer said sternly, moving forward, small notebook in hand. “Could we ask you about that, please?”
That’s when I realized that we’d made one big mistake when we decided on the “story” we’d be telling. We had decided that we would say Hoop had lost his temper and run off in the direction of the state park.
But what we hadn’t discussed was what we were supposed to have been doing when the fire started, and where, exactly, we were doing it. How could we have neglected to come up with those very important details?
Those were the first questions we were asked.
Nat and I looked at each other as if someone had just asked us to describe the Pythagorean theory.
I began stammering an answer before she did. “Well, uh, we were … we were here when Hoop took off. Right … right here, in this room.”
“And after that?” the officer asked, his eyes never leaving my face for a second. “Where were you the rest of the night?”
I couldn’t think. With him looking at me like that, my brain balked. Count me out of this one, it said, and promptly ceased to function. Suddenly brainless, all I could manage was, “Here. We … we stayed here.”
His eyebrows rose sharply. “You stayed here in the dorm room on a night when everyone else was out celebrating Salem’s win in the semifinals?”
“Well, we didn’t stay here the whole night,” Nat said, coming to my rescue. “We thought you meant where were we when the fire started. We were here,” she lied easily. “But then we went out.”
“To?” His eyebrows were still arched, fat, furry caterpillars inching toward his hairline.
Instantly, I felt Nat’s dilemma. If she said we’d gone to Vinnie’s or Johnny’s, or any one of a dozen other hangouts, the police would make the rounds, asking if we’d been there.
“Down by the river,” she said. “We took some sandwiches and went down and sat on the riverbank.” She’d thought fast enough to substitute sandwiches for our hot dogs. Hot dogs required a fire. It was absolutely essential that we not be associated with fire in any way.
“Anyone see you there?” the state police officer asked. He was big and burly, could have used a uniform one size larger than the one he was poured into, and his tie was crooked. But his voice was gentle as he asked the question.
“Gee, I don’t think so,” Nat said, pretending to think about it for a minute. “We didn’t see anyone, did we, Tory?”
“No. Not a soul.” I looked directly into the eyes of the policeman who had asked me the first question. “We wanted to have our own private celebration. That’s what we argued with Hoop about,” I added, improvising as I talked. “He wanted to go where the crowd was, and we didn’t.”
Mistake. I thought I was being so clever, volunteering information that would fortify our story. But I was underestimating the intelligence of our questioners.
“He wanted to be where there was a crowd, so he opted for running alone in the state park?” the state police officer said skeptically. “Seems to me he’d have gone on into town to find his crowd.”
“Not without Mindy, he wouldn’t have,” Nat said hastily. “That’s his girlfriend, Mindy Loomis. And she was here, with us.”
My elbow made its way into Nat’s ribs. She shouldn’t have mentioned Mindy. Mindy was so shaky. Liable to say almost anything.
“So what
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