Catch You Later, Traitor by Avi

Author:Avi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2015-01-07T19:53:10+00:00

24

On Saturday, I got to the library a little before nine. Kat hadn’t arrived. Soon as the doors opened, I went in and headed for the front desk, glad to see the young librarian there.

“How can I help you?”

“I need to know how to get somewhere in Brooklyn.” I showed her Al Depaco’s address.

“That should be no problem,” she said, getting up. “Let’s go over here.” When she added a crinkly-eyed smile, I decided Kat was right. She was nice.

She led me to a section labeled “Reference,” and pulled out a book called Brooklyn Street Maps. After flipping through some pages, she put a finger down as if pinning a bug. “Here’s where you’re going.”

“How do I get there?”

She pointed to a thick red line. “That’s the BMT subway line. The address you want is near the Graham Avenue station. Then a bit of a walk. Doesn’t look too hard.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I studied the map, writing down names of subway stations and streets. I was sure Kat and I could find it.

When Kat arrived an hour later, I was sort of reading a large book about old-time baseball players. Mostly I had been worried about Kat. Wasn’t she coming? Had something happened?

She plopped down in the seat next to me. “You’re late,” I whispered.

“Sorry.”

“Getting ready for Suzy’s party?”

“Not going.”

“How come?”

She shook her head.

I looked at her. Her face was dirty, as if she had climbed out of a hole. “You okay?”

“No.”

“What is it?”

When she didn’t answer, I said, “The librarian showed me how to get to Al Depaco’s place. It’s not hard.”

“That’s good.” Her voice was flat.

“Yeah. Maybe he’ll give me some answers. And . . . I want him to be the informer.”

“How come?”

“Then I won’t have to think it’s Bobby.”

She stayed quiet, resting her hands on the table, squeezing and rubbing them as if they hurt.

I said, “Something bad happened, right?”

She nodded.

“What?”

She wouldn’t look at me. A tear slid down the side of her cheek. She took off her glasses and smeared the tear away. Another one came and she smudged that one too, leaving streak marks up and down her face so it seemed as if she was peering out from behind a cage.

“Tell me,” I said.

She picked at a fingernail. “Remember last week when we were here, a red-haired lady made us keep quiet?”

“Yeah.”

“And I told you it was my mother’s friend. Well, she told my mother she saw me here. You know, not at the movies. And said I was with you.”

I waited.

“My mother told my father.” Another tear slid down her cheek. “He’s . . . he’s sending me away to a girls’ boarding school.”

“You serious?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“He said you’re not a good friend for me. You being a boy . . . and a Commie. He said, ‘I don’t know which is worse.’ You don’t know how suspicious he is.”

“He’s sending you away . . . because of me?”

She nodded.

“What did your mother say?”

An angry shrug. “Daddy’s boss.”

I felt sick. “Sorry,” I managed to say.

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