Good as Gold, page 5
“Whatever,” Dylan mumbled under her breath, low enough so that only Fatima and I could hear her.
“So next time you accidentally leave a dollar in your pocket and put it through the washing machine, you’ll have the Secret Service to thank when it doesn’t disintegrate.”
“Like the men in black?” Pierce scratched his head, clearly confused. There were more than a few confused stares, including from me.
“Well, long before the service was used as the president’s professional security detail, the original purpose of the Secret Service was to safeguard the country’s first national currency and to ferret out counterfeit bills.” Mr. Brown’s smile widened at the murmur of wonder coming from the footballers seated on the stairs. He nodded with a hearty laugh. “I’ll teach you all a thing or two yet.”
“Okay, can we not?” Dylan drawled, looking at her phone instead of at Mr. Brown. Her eyebrow twitched—she was clearly annoyed. “Graduation is in less than three weeks. So, high school is a wrap.”
“The smartest people, in my opinion, never tire of learning.” Mr. Brown bobbed his head from side to side. “Make the world your classroom.”
“Don’t mind her.” Fatima flicked her long black hair to the side, smiling awkwardly. “It’s because she’s an Aries, and May is a complicated time for her.”
“Sorry, Mr. Brown.” I laughed at that nonsensical explanation.
“Ugh it’s just too tragic when people can’t read the room.” Dylan held her hand up, her bangles clanking as she grumbled under her breath about how no one wanted to be lectured to. She turned her back on our huddle and then froze.
A slow clap echoed down the hall, and we all turned to find the mayor at the main entrance.
“Nonsense. I found it very illuminating.”
FIVE
Her stilettos clacked against the tiled floor, the sound echoing off the lockers lining the wall. Her assistant trailed her, followed by Dev. He had his arms crossed and looked bored already.
“Madam Mayor.” Mr. Brown beamed at her and then kinda bowed his head, like he was in the presence of royalty. “What a surprise.”
“Don’t mind us.” She scrunched up her nose, looking apologetic. “Just making an inventory of some of the decorations we’re going to steal for Founder’s Day—after prom’s all buttoned up, of course.”
“Of course.” Mr. Brown looked relieved that all the hours he spent watching us after school had not been in vain. He straightened his collar, holding his chin up like he was also part of the mayor’s inspection.
“Oh, these look divine.” She lifted one of the silver chalices off the craft table, then nodded to the box beside them. “And all of these gold coins. How wonderful to incorporate town legend.”
She looked over her shoulder at her assistant, and in a clipped voice she said, “Brenna, write this down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Brenna opened her padfolio and clicked her pen. She surveyed the table then scrawled onto the open page.
“Don’t you need to scuff them up a bit—make them look like they’ve been underwater for a long time?” Dev picked up one of the coins on the table, turning it around in his fingers.
“Actually, gold doesn’t corrode,” Mr. Brown said. “So, remember that next time you’re training folks at I Dive—you should be able to see the shimmer with the naked eye.”
Mr. Brown’s smile faltered, perhaps because he’d just critiqued the mayor’s family business. She’d made a fortune off peddling tall tales about haunted shipwrecks and tycoon gold at the bottom of the lake. Mayor Hornsby shot Dev an annoyed look, then turned her attention back to Mr. Brown.
“Fascinating discussion on the origins of paper money.” She tilted her head to the side, her lips pursed in a tight smile.
“Well, not the origins.” Mr. Brown’s chest deflated, like he’d been holding his breath. “The Chinese actually pioneered promissory notes thousands of years ago, but those were made of leather.”
“Mmm, yes, fascinating,” she said in a clipped tone, not unlike the one she used when she talked to her assistant. She widened her smile, pumping up her enthusiasm again. “I hear you’re also quite a student of town history.”
“I do dabble.” Mr. Brown lifted his chin higher, clearly proud.
“Oh, don’t get him started.” Dylan rested her head against Fatima’s shoulder and groaned. It earned a chuckle from Dev, whose eyes were brighter, more awake than they had been earlier.
“Oh, I hear you do more than dabble. You’ve done a lot of work curating the library’s section on our history.” She rested her manicured hand lightly on his shoulder. “I’d love a tour.”
“I’d be honored.” Mr. Brown’s mouth fell open. “Really, any time you want to peruse, I’ll be your guide.”
“How about now?”
“Now?” He blinked rapidly, looking to the table of unpainted chalices and coins. “Well, technically I’m supervising.”
“I’m already here. Let’s go. Come on, make time for your mayor.” She tapped her foot. Clearly she wasn’t accustomed to taking no for an answer.
“It’s okay, Mr. Brown.” I stepped forward. “You should go. We’ve got everything covered here.”
“And Brenna can supervise while she catalogues.” She clasped her hands at her assistant, begging her to agree. “Won’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She nodded dutifully.
“And Dev honey, try to be helpful,” Mayor Hornsby said. Then she linked arms with Mr. Brown as they walked to the library at a brisk pace.
“Is your mom seriously that interested?” I looked up at Dev, whose brow was furrowed as he watched his mom’s retreating figure.
“Honestly, she’s taking this centennial thing too seriously. And roped me into it, too. I think it’s like the launchpad for a new campaign initiative.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. It was clear that he didn’t want to be here helping his mom, but he was on a tight leash. His frown softened as he looked at me. “But I’ll save you a seat at the Founder’s Table. And, well, I guess there’s always prom.”
And there was that look again—the one he’d given me on the dock last weekend. He wanted to go to prom with me. I didn’t know why he cared so much. We were ancient history.
“I’d honestly love to go with you again, but we all made a pact to not make a big deal about it and to go with one another.” I wrapped my arms around Fatima and Dylan and pulled them closer. “I owe it to these ladies to keep my word.”
“Right. Totally.” Dylan wiggled her shoulders, unwrapping herself from my embrace.
Just then a trickle of students with wet, glossy hair flooded down the hallway. My heart rate ticked up a bit when I spotted Tanner with a towel flung over his shoulders, walking toward his locker.
“Actually, speaking of prom.” Dylan snapped her fingers at me, drawing my attention back to her instead of at Tanner. “We need to put down a deposit on the prom limo ASAP.”
“And nail down reservations at the club.” Fatima waved her hands in the air when she saw my nostrils flare. “Or we can go somewhere else. Honestly, not married to the club idea.”
“You can use my guest pass.” Dylan blinked innocently at me, but I could feel the teeth behind her words. “You know, since you’re not a member anymore.”
Her eyes flitted to Dev, a smug smile dancing on her lips. She clearly wanted to catch his eye, but he wasn’t paying her any attention. He was still looking at me, which under any other circumstances would make me feel awkward. But I got a kick out of watching her try so hard, so I allowed it. Dylan rolled her eyes.
“Just Venmo me for the limo, and we’ll figure out the rest later.”
“How much was it again?” Fatima’s long, dark hair fell over her face as she bent over her phone.
“It’s seven hundred apiece.” She sidestepped around me and walked over to the printer, suddenly more interested in looking at the chalice’s progress than at my scrunched-up face.
“Wait.” I blinked rapidly, trying to wrap my head around the price tag. “Seven hundo apiece.”
“I know. I thought it was going to be less, but then the owner let us upgrade to the stretch Hummer for just a little bit more, and I couldn’t pass it up.” Dylan looked over the rim of the 3D printer. “What did you expect me to do?”
“I expected . . .” My voice trailed off as I struggled to find the words. There was no empathy in her eyes, and I realized that I didn’t expect anything more from her than ratcheting up the price. Clearly, I could no longer afford the price of admission into our clique.
My eyes drifted to the far lockers near the front door, where Tanner Holmes was hurriedly loading up his backpack with books. He ran his fingers through his wet curls, then flipped the hoodie of his sweatshirt over his head. I shoved past Dylan and walked in his direction.
“What?” I heard her whisper to Fatima and Dev, her dulcet tone feigning innocence. But she knew I couldn’t afford to spend that kind of money on a limo, especially since my family lost all its money. I couldn’t even afford Barnard’s tuition to school next year.
“Casey, I’ll pay for your share.” Dylan yelled after me, loud enough for every single person in the whole damn hallway to hear—completing my humiliation. That’s exactly what Dylan wanted. She was no friend of mine.
“Hey,” I said, leaning against the locker next to Tanner’s. I smiled widely, trying to act nonchalant. “I was hoping to run into you.”
“You’re talking to me. At school.” His eyebrows shot up. “That’s weird, right?”
“Don’t make it weird.” But he was right—it was weird to be close to him here, under the watchful gaze of my friends. I was breaking the firewall we had between work and school. “I need to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, Case. I’m really in a hurry to get to work.”
“Actually, that’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about. I overheard you talking about working at the shop and wondered if I could come by.”
“You wanna play poker?” He shifted his backpack strap farther up his shoulder, his face incredulous.
“God, no!” I snorted a laugh, shaking my head.
A smile crept across his face, softening his features. He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. “Then why would one of the charmies be interested in my family’s sketchy shop?”
“This is awkward.” I hung my head low, suddenly feeling too vulnerable to look into his eyes. “I’ve never done this before, but I have some things to sell, and I figured if I went somewhere with a familiar face, it might seem less weird than going to some random place. But I don’t want anyone to know, so . . .”
“Don’t worry.” He crouched down, turning his face to the side so that his green eyes could look into mine. He wasn’t exactly a friend. Hell, I barely knew him. But there was genuine empathy behind his eyes, and that’s more than what I’d gotten from my friends lately. He lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
And then he winked at me.
SIX
My car purred, idling outside of the Holmeses’ storefront as the sun dipped below the horizon. It had the marquee signage of the small shopping center. A large green sign emblazoned with red letters read: PAWN SHOP. CHECK CASHING. A smaller sign, posted against the frosted glass entrance said: WE HAVE HEALING CRYSTALS.
I was glad I knew someone who worked here. Otherwise, I’d never go in.
I’d been able to dip into my house to retrieve my jewelry box and a couple designer scarves and a pair of Ferragamo flats—anything I could sell—without being seen. I pulled the ring off my finger then laid it on the maroon velvet lining of my jewelry box, next to the rest of my little treasures.
“Okay, Casey.” I took one last deep breath then turned the car off.
I tucked the small leather jewelry box underneath my arm, grabbed my backpack, and shoved the car door open. My feet faltered across the parking lot, then stopped completely at the smoky glass door. I knew I was about to cross a line, about to sell a family heirloom—something I could never get back.
But the alternative was having my family fall apart even more than it already had. We needed all the help we could muster. No one was coming to rescue us. So, I’d do it myself.
I pushed through the door, dinging a bell hanging from the top hinge. I wiped my feet on the doormat, which was embossed with the picture of a five-petaled black flower being held up by two brown hands. I stood awkwardly, then breathed a sigh of relief when I saw B and Squid playing cards in the corner.
“Hey guys,” I said with a wave. They didn’t wave back—just scrunched up their faces, looking confused. I expected this from B. She’d never really warmed up to me. But I didn’t think Squid would ice me out like this. Maybe he was still embarrassed about his encounter with Dev last weekend. I cringed, remembering the way he tossed the wet towel at Squid’s back.
“You lost?” B eyed me through a thick veil of black bangs. I could barely see her eyes, but the way her lip curled into a sneer, I got the feeling like I wasn’t welcome here.
“I’m meeting Tanner.” I held my chin up. “Is he here yet?”
She didn’t answer my question. Instead she shoved out of her chair and lifted a flap in the store counter. I wondered if she worked here too, because she clearly knew her way around the store. She rounded the corner of the counters, then disappeared behind a metal swinging door.
I stood awkwardly in the long room, which was divided into three distinct sections. To the right was the consignment portion of the store, with mannequins dressed in the finest dresses the south side of the lake had to offer. Crammed over in the far-left corner was the healing crystals shop—although I doubted the plastic glowing rock figurines and lava lamps possessed any healing energy. The center counter, with glass display cases at waist level and tall ones along the back wall, must have been the pawnshop.
I waved at Squid, still sitting at the card table near the front window, but he folded his arms.
“How’s your friend doing?” He leaned his elbow lazily against the card table, his head propped up by his hand. “The one with the good aim.”
“He shouldn’t have done that.” I took a step forward, hoping to take B’s seat. “It was a dick move. I’m sorry.”
“It’s honestly not the first time something like that has happened to me.” He shrugged and looked at the floor. “But it’s the best gig in town, so I guess I gotta learn to live with it.”
“Please, don’t be mad at me.” I sank to the chair, willing him to look me in the eyes.
There were some people in this world that were truly nice and inherently decent, and Squid was one of them. I’d never talked to him before working at the club, even though I’d seen him during peak seasons, folding towels and helping out on the docks. Yet he was the first to offer me friendship when I started working alongside him. Squid was good people.
“I can’t stay mad at you.” He waggled his finger at me, breaking out in his toothy grin. “You’re one of us now—a downstreamer.”
“Yeah.” A laugh rumbled through my chest, but then my breath hitched. I was a downstreamer only if I could save my family’s house.
“Anyway, that dude is in deep shit with his dad, so I feel like in some way the universe is on my side.”
“What do you mean?” I leaned forward, interested in why Dev was in even more hot water. He’d looked stressed out after school today, but I’d just chalked that up to frustration with his mom for dragging him into the centennial preparations. “What did he do now?”
“It’s too good.” Squid sank to the table, and his forehead landed with a thud. He peeked up at me through his ink-black shaggy hair. “He lost a diver—like a whole human being.”
Squid covered his face with his hands and howled.
“That dude isn’t lost. He obviously sold the gear and is probably halfway to Mexico by now.” B leaned against the glass countertop. “How much does gear like that cost?”
“Not enough to make it to Mexico.” He snapped his fingers. “Plus, he left his license as collateral when he rented the equipment.”
“Oh, never mind. He’s not going far,” B said, snapping her fingers back at him. “That dude’s gonna get pulled over before he gets out of Georgia.”
“Really? You’re gonna fold that easily? Plenty of people drive without a license.” Squid waved his hand dismissively.
“Check your privilege, bro.” B rolled her eyes.
“She’s right.” I shrugged, looking away from Squid. Driving without a license was easy to do if you were white. My sister forgot her wallet at home once and got pulled over. She later told me that her hands were shaking the whole time. She ended up getting off with a warning, but still—driving while Black wasn’t a laughing matter. So honestly, I didn’t think the missing diver could get far without a license, unless he looked like Squid and not like me and B.
The door behind the pawnshop’s glass cases swung open, and a man stepped out. He yawned and stretched his arms wide, before nodding to me. He lifted the rim of his baseball cap, which had the words NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH written in large white letters.
“My stepson’ll be out in a sec.” He tucked a tuft of red hair behind his ear then tilted his head, studying me. He gestured to the center countertop. “You can lay your stuff out here.”
I took a cautious step forward, then my feet stopped working again. They stayed firmly planted to the spot. But the door swung open again and Tanner walked onto the floor with a large box in his hands. He set it on the edge of the counter, unlatching the left side of the counter, likely on his way to replenish some of the floor displays.
Then he looked up with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I was unloading a shipment.”
“It’s cool.” I laughed nervously. “I was just catching up with Squid.”
Tanner’s stepfather motioned for me to approach the counter. Tanner’s smile faltered and a blush crept across his cheeks. He turned to Mr. Neighborhood Watch and flicked his head toward me. “Ron, mind if I take this one?”
