Frisbee Read online

TWENTY-FIVE

  The others had outrun me and were already inside the cool canopy of the Tree when I finally arrived, sitting on old crates and boxes, Jason on a low thick branch four feet from the ground. I had given up after a few shouts of ‘Wait for me,’ when Steve started the race. I knew how competitive each one was and I also knew I stood no chance in beating them so instead followed the trail of smashed grass they had left in their wake.

  Once inside, the difference in temperature was immediate. It was sublime compared to the heat in the field. They were already tearing into their oranges, pitching the peels every which way.

  “So how come you didn’t bring Jackie with you,” Jason asked Steve.

  “My mom actually got a day off from work, for the holiday,” Steve explained, throwing an orange peel at Cory and missing. “Her and mom are staying in and making ribs and coleslaw for the party tonight. A cake too, I think.”

  “Ooh. Tell her to save me a big piece,” Cory said.

  “Tell your mamma to save you a piece,” Steve countered and threw another peel in Cory’s direction. Cory blocked it with his hand. “What is your guys’ mom making?” The question was directed at Jason and me.

  I plopped down on a sheet of cardboard, tired from the walk and went to work on my own orange. Jason swung down from his perch and squatted next to me.

  “I think she’s making lasagna and potato salad. I don’t know if she’s making a dessert or not, though. She tell you, Ricky?”

  “I asked her to make a strawberry pie. But all she said was well see,” I answered sticking a piece of the sour fruit into my mouth.

  “What’s your mom making, Cory? Margaritas and screw drivers?” Steve asked sarcastically with a laugh. It looked as if it might have stung Cory a bit. We all knew how much his parents liked to drink and gave him crap about it sometimes, but he knew how to take it in stride. He had admitted to us a couple times that he had snuck some of his parents booze and had gotten drunk on it. We didn’t doubt him.

  “Shut up. My dad’s got to drive the limo tonight so he won’t even be there. My mom will be home but she’s staying inside. I don’t think she’s making anything but she told me and Christy that we could hang out in the front yard and watch the fireworks.”

  Steve looked a little embarrassed that he had made the comment and said, “Hey, I was just joking.”

  “Yeah,” Jason jumped in. “Just tell your mom that you’re hanging out with us. Our mom’s not going to care if you eat our food. I think everyone in the neighborhood’s sharing what they made with everyone else anyway.”

  “You can have some of my mom’s ribs, too,” Steve offered.

  “Gee. Thanks guys,” Cory said with a fake sob, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.” He looked up at us, cracked a grin and rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, probably be a lot better off.”

  We all threw orange peels at him this time. He didn’t stand a chance in blocking any of them.

  “Alright, cut the crap,” Cory said. “What got you so excited this morning? Obviously it’s something in that newspaper there, so tell.”

  “Yeah, what is it, Steve?” I asked.

  Steve only looked at each of us. We didn’t know if he was trying to build suspense-which he was good at-or if he was just thinking of how to start. Finally he took the paper, unfolded it and opened it up and showed us the front of the local section. In big bold letters, it read: SEARCH FOR MISSING GIRL ENDS IN TRAGEDY

  Underneath the caption, and to the left, there was a picture of a young girl with brown eyes and brown hair wearing a flowered sun dress. The picture was black and white and was probably a school photo.

  We stared back at the girl who looked out from that colorless picture. In it she smiled. Her two front teeth were missing. She was an everyday ordinary girl. But a girl that would never flash that toothless grin again.

  It was Jason that asked, “Who’s that?”

  Steve put the section of paper in his lap for the moment and rested his chin on his folded hands. “You guys remember the other day up in Cory’s playhouse when I read the article about that little girl that was found dead by the train tracks? Her name was Amy Garret.”

  “Yeah,” Jason answered as Cory and I nodded.

  “The girl that you knew,” I said.

  “Right. Well, at the end of the article,” he continued, “it said that there was another girl that was missing. Her name was Melissa Brown. It also said that the police hoped that the two cases weren’t connected.” He paused there, picking the paper back up. “Well, when I got up this morning and got the newspaper from the driveway, I did what I’ve been doing for the last couple of days. I took it in to my bedroom and opened it up to the local section. And this is what I found.” He tapped the black and white picture of the girl. “This is her. This is Melissa Brown. And now they do think that the two cases are connected. They think that the same person killed both kids.”

  And as a feeling of dread sunk into me and probably into Jason and Cory as well, Steve read us the article.