Dead Wrong by Kristi Belcamino

Author:Kristi Belcamino [Belcamino, Kristi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kristi Belcamino
Published: 2019-01-21T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Working at the pool is not as great as I had envisioned.

For instance, the shift I work sucks. I start at noon, which is awesome because I can finally sleep in every day, but it ends at nine and my mom pretty much has decreed that I come home straight after.

The lifeguards and swim instructors have it made. But me, not so much.

I sit there, sweat dripping down my brow and watch Curtis and some of the other lifeguards roughhouse during safety breaks, tossing each other about in the water or shooting a few balls into the basketball hoops set up in the pool.

This first week of summer, I’m mainly dealing with frustrated parents trying to sign up for swim lessons that were full months ago. Occasionally, I have to deal with a kid with a bloody nose or something while the lifeguards find his parents. I’m pretty isolated in my little office. Unless someone comes up to my window, I answer phones and do paperwork.

Yesterday, I spotted Danielle’s brother, Darren, across the pool. His friends were laughing and shouting and he seemed like he was trying to join in, but an air of sadness surrounded him. It made me cry. I ducked my head and wiped my tears before the next person came up to my window.

The work week drags. I’m so tired at night I fall right asleep. I can’t wait for the weekend. I’m anxious to head to Uptown and find Raven and try to find out what he knows about Danielle’s death.

He must have some answers about Danielle. I need to steel myself to ask him.

On Thursday night, I’m in my underwear and a long tee shirt when my mom calls up to my room.

“Emily, your friend is here.”

My friend?

My heart pounds and I race to the mirror to check my hair and then look frantically around for something cute to wear. I strip and throw on a striped maxi dress, stuff my sketchpad under my bed, and race down the stairs.

It’s not Raven.

“You left this in the break room,” Curtis says, thrusting my Joelle Charbonneau book at me.

“How’d you know where I lived?” I can’t help but be a little embarrassed for him to see my shitty neighborhood.

“You wrote your name and address inside the cover,” he says, rolling his eyes.

I laugh. “Dorky habit from being a kid.”

We stand staring at each other. Today he’s wearing a fake fur vest with tight green and gold lizard-print pants.

“Emily, why don’t you invite your friend in? I have some cinnamon rolls I can throw in the oven for a snack.” My mom’s simpering voice makes me realize she thinks Curtis is here because he likes me — in a boy-likes-girl way. My cheeks instantly feel hot.

Curtis notices and winks and turns to my mom. “Yes, please, Mrs. Dawson. That sounds wonderful.”

My mother starts bustling in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around.

“We’ll just be up in my room,” I say. All the noise in the kitchen stops.

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