Axle’s Secret Read online

  Seb jumps to his feet. “Are you leaving already?”

  “I was only supposed to take him for a short walk while Mom and Dad spoke to the social worker. We’ve been gone for nearly an hour. They must be wondering where we are.”

  Kolby holds my hand as we say goodbye to Seb’s mom. He hides behind my legs when she tries to hug him and I offer a quick apology as a hurt flickers through her dark eyes.

  “Sorry. He’s not used to strangers yet.”

  “It’s okay.” Mrs. Trent forces a smile. “I think what your parents are doing is admirable.”

  “Uh, thanks?”

  She bats her thick eyelashes. “If Jill ever needs a baby sitter, tell her to give me a call.”

  I thank her again and lead Kolby to the living room where my friends are waiting. Seb and Corey follow me outside and surround me in a sober circle. My little brother served as a suitable distraction, but none of us truly forgot the situation we’re in.

  “Keep me updated,” I say in a low voice.

  Corey nods. “My dad should be back from the station by now. Even if he’s not, I can call him and ask about it.”

  “Be subtle,” Seb warns. “We don’t need any unnecessary heat on our backs.”

  Sensing that we’re not leaving immediately, Kolby skips away to inspect the birdhouse on Seb’s front lawn. I keep one eye on him while I focus on our conversation.

  “Seb, I get that you’re hoping for the best case scenario, but what do we do if Corey’s dad confirms Diandre died in that lake?”

  “He won’t.”

  “But what if he does?”

  Seb shuts his mouth. Licks his lips. Stares into space. “Then we deal with it.”

  “How?” Corey shuffles his feet. “Do we confess?”

  “To what? Until we know more, I stand by the facts. The truth is we didn’t do anything wrong. Got it?” Seb trains his gaze on me.

  I swallow. “Alright.”

  “Deal,” Corey adds.

  “We’re in this together,” Seb says. “We protect each other.”

  I feel uneasy, but I can’t voice my thoughts after a speech like that. Seb and I have been friends since I can remember. Back when I was a shy kid with braces and a bad haircut, he stood by me and dared anyone to make fun of my appearance.

  The bonds of our friendship are deeper and stronger than any I’ve seen, but this? Murder?

  “Axle?” Seb pierces me with his stare. “You in?”

  I glance at them and notice their hands, one on top of the other like a football team in a group huddle. Corey’s sweating and he uses his free hand to slide it over his reddening forehead.

  “Well?”

  I inhale a deep breath, step forward and place my hand over theirs. “I’m in.”

  Something inside of me shifts then. A million excuses and justifications swirl around my brain. No matter what happens, no matter what Corey reveals from the police reports, it has nothing to do with us. Nothing to do with last night.

  The truth is a secret I’ll take to my grave.

  4

  Ember

  I stare at my brother’s grave. Newly unearthed dirt sits in a packed mound above his buried casket. My heart is trembling, screaming, crying. But on the outside, my face is free of any expressions.

  My emotions have no outlet. Why? Because I’m clamping those feelings down, allowing the numbness to spread through my entire body so that I don’t have to accept the facts.

  Fact 1: my brother is dead.

  Fact 2: I’m standing beside his grave.

  But it’s all relative, isn’t it? Until I allow that reality to pierce the haze in my head, I don’t have to accept that it exists. My mind is stuck on the past. Where Diandre is alive and well.

  Twigs crunch beneath impatient feet and, a moment later, someone grabs my hand. I jump and spin to face Bridgette Weller, my mother’s youngest sister, better known as Aunt B.

  Her brown eyes are ringed with thick black liner that smudged during the funeral and has dried on her brown cheeks. She looks like a raccoon. A pretty one. Because even with her makeup a mess, she’s stunning.

  Her long black hair is pulled back into a ponytail so the waning sunlight hits her cheekbones. Her body strains against a tiny black dress. Thick thighs fall down to shapely legs and feet strapped inside sensible black pumps.

  Aunt B’s just a couple years older than I am so most people confuse us as sisters. She hates it. Thanks to high metabolism and a genetically ‘innocent face’, she’s been struggling to seem ‘more mature’ since she puberty.

  I, on the other hand, take the comparison as a compliment. I wish I were half as beautiful as Aunt B.

  She swipes a tear that leaks from her eye. “Ember, where have you been? Your mom went crazy when she didn’t find you back at the house.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Where’s your phone? Didn’t you hear us calling you?”

  I dig in my pocket for my cell phone. When I press the screen, it remains blank. “My phone died.”

  Aunt B lets out a long sigh. “You can’t just run off like that. You have to consider your mom’s feelings. She just lost a child.”

  “I know.” I wince. All I can offer is a paltry apology. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She trots closer to me and wraps her hand over my arm, inviting me to rest on her shoulder. “How you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Head tilted and brown eyes narrowing, Aunt B frowns. “If you’re fine, why are you standing in front of your brother’s grave looking like a lost puppy?”

  “Do I look that pathetic?”

  “Only because I can see past the armor.” She squeezes my shoulder. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just know that I’m here.”

  I nod.

  “Do you want to stay a little longer?”

  I nod again.

  “Alright,” Aunt B says. “I’ll call your mother. Let her know I found you. Stay as long as you like.”

  As Aunt B walks off, I let my gaze drop to the stone etched with Diandre’s name and the dates of his birth and death.

  Death…

  I still can’t believe it.

  When the police called us a few days ago to identify the body, Mom didn’t allow me to go into the morgue. She said she didn’t want that image of Diandre to be the last memory I had of him.

  Still, I snuck as close as I could and took a peek. All I could see was a piece of Diandre’s forehead and his coarse hair that he kept high in the middle and shaved at the sides.

  From what I could tell, he looked pretty normal. Almost like he was sleeping. But no matter how much I begged her, mom insisted that I couldn’t step inside the room.

  Maybe I should have. If I’d slipped into the morgue that day, if I’d seen the body of my older brother lying on the white cot, still and lifeless, maybe it would be easier to let him go.

  Instead, I’m stuck with memories of him smiling at me. Laughing at me. Full of life and energy.

  Dead? Diandre? That doesn’t make any sense.

  For all I know, this could be one huge conspiracy that Diandre and Aunt B concocted. I know they wanted to get back at me for avoiding my yearly trips to America. For the past three summers, I came up with excuses to remain in Belize and Diandre was vocal about his disappointment.

  This is a brilliant revenge plan.

  Any minute now, my brother will pop out from behind one of those spindly trees and rake his fingers through my curls the way he does when he wants to get a rise out of me.

  But it never happens.

  Instead, Aunt B approaches me again, a sober look on her face. I know what that means.

  “Mom wants me to come now, doesn’t she?”

  “I hope you understand. You’re the only child she has left. Losing Diandre has made her want to cling to you more.”

  My hand dives to my throat. I don’t like people clinging to me, hovering around me. Unless they’re an adorable six year old
with brown skin.

  Or a handsome boy with grey eyes.

  I shake my head. I shouldn’t be thinking of Kolby and Axle right now. What’s wrong with me?

  Aunt B clicks her tongue as she stares at the grave. “It’s so sad. He had so much to live for. Why would he jump into that freezing lake?”

  “It wasn’t a suicide.” The words are heated, even though I’m talking to Aunt B, who’s more like a friend than an aunt.

  “O-of course.”

  Aunt B doesn’t believe me. No one does. As usual.

  I was there when the police gave Mom the rundown. Circumstantial evidence pointed to self-harm, but there was no way the Diandre I’d known this summer was thinking of ending his life.

  When I mentioned how sunny and warm Diandre had been before that night, the counselor argued with me. She said his chirpy persona was a sign he’d decided on suicide.

  That could be true for some cases, but I knew her explanation was total nonsense. Diandre was not depressed.

  Sure, he was annoyed with his father. Unlike my dad, who shared custody with Mom, Diandre’s dad didn’t care about him or send money for his care. That hit him pretty hard.

  He was also worried about his grades and the fact that his coach threatened to kick him off the football team if he didn’t straighten up.

  But would he kill himself over that?

  No way. I didn’t buy it.

  “There has to be a witness. Someone who saw him going to the lake. Diandre wasn’t crazy. Why would he go to a scary place like that so late at night by himself?”

  “I don’t know. Nobody knows. The police say there were too many signs of traffic to tell one from the other.”

  “What about his friends? Maybe they dared him to—”

  “Ember, listen to me.” She grabs my shoulders and digs her fingers in. “Diandre’s gone. He’s gone. And no amount of explaining and investigating can change that.”

  My eyes well with tears. “But we have to try. We have to…”

  “It’s okay, honey.” Aunt B hugs me.

  I wind my arms around her and let the tears fall, but at the back of my mind I’m still thinking about the police reports. Diandre’s friends saw him at a party until eleven o’clock. They said he was dancing with a girl then he had a few drinks and left.

  What happened between the hours after he left the party and was found floating in the lake?

  Aunt B pulls back and smoothes my hair. My curls have started to frizz and now look like a giant, crimpy marshmallow on top of my head.

  “Let’s get you home,” she says.

  I climb into her car and stare out the window as she takes me back to my mother. The apartment is cramped and filled with family, just as it was before we got the news that Diandre’s body was found floating in the lake.

  This time, instead of loud mutterings, laughter, and squeals, there’s just… muted tones and whispered conversations.

  The moment I walk in, I regret it. I should have stayed in the graveyard. At least the quiet there isn’t so oppressive.

  “Ember!”

  I glance over. My mother emerges from a corner, leaps toward me and wraps her arms around me. I’m overcome with the scent of cocoa butter and coconut oil. She pulls back, her massive head of brown curls tumbling down her shoulders.

  Her brown eyes are glassy, like she cried for three hours straight or smoked a pot of weed. Both options are in the realm of possibilities.

  “Ember, Lord, you scared me.”

  “Sorry.” I ease out of her hold and glance around at the somber eyes staring my way. “I’m fine, everybody.”

  “She was with Diandre,” Aunt B explains.

  Mom twists her mouth, but says nothing.

  I clutch my stomach. “Do we have any more food?”

  “I’ll fix you a plate.” Aunt B smiles at me and then leans over and whispers tenderly to her sister, “She’s fine, Nina. Relax and try to eat something too.”

  As Aunt B walks off, Mom leads me into her bedroom. I stumble along, not really caring about the fact that she’s separating me from everyone else. It’s been a long day and all I can think about is eating and falling into bed.

  Mom whirls on me, her fitted black dress with capped sleeves and a wide hem flying around her thick legs. She’s a tall, big-boned, Afro-Latina. A lot of people would call her ‘intimidating’ just by her appearance, but I know she deserves the title because of her intense personality.

  “Don’t you ever sneak out of this house again, do you hear me, Ember?”

  I shrink at the fire in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I needed some air.”

  “Then you alert me or one of your aunts and uncles. You’re only fifteen. This is a dangerous world and you shouldn’t be roaming around unattended.”

  I stare at my scuffed tennis shoes. Mom tried to force me into heels for the funeral, but I resisted her. The service was a small, intimate crowd of close friends and family members. Diandre would understand if I didn’t dress up.

  Mom sighs. “I’ve talked to your father.”

  My head whips up. My parents don’t get along. I mean sure, they got along well enough to create me but after that it all kind of blew up. Mom’s still upset that Dad won the custody battle, and she’s done her best to make sure he regrets it.

  “What did Dad say?”

  “He offered his condolences about Diandre. Of course. Even though you have different fathers, you two are still siblings.”

  I dip my head. I guess my parents put their differences aside in the wake of a tragedy. How mature of them.

  “And?” I ask. “What else?”

  “And… I want you to stay with me.”

  My jaw drops. “For the rest of the year?”

  “Forever.”

  I suck in a deep breath. “Dad would never—”

  “He said yes.”

  My eyelashes flutter. I’ve been avoiding America this summer because Mom and I don’t always get along. She can be overwhelming. Overprotective. Insane.

  But it’s not like I have a choice. If Dad already decided without consulting me, it means Mom got to him.

  My mother throws her arms around me. Something wet seeps onto my back and I realize she’s crying. Her voice is hoarse when she says, “I’m never letting you out of my sight.”

  At her words, my heart shrivels in my chest.

  Diandre died and I… I’m going to suffer for it.

  5

  Axle

  Ten years Later

  My palms are slick on the steering wheel. The air conditioner is on, but sweat gathers on my temples and peppers the collar of my shirt. I glance up, noticing my hometown’s ‘welcome visitors’ sign. They must have renovated. The old one didn’t look that nice.

  My tires roll against the concrete as I speed down the highway and officially enter city limits. There’s the clock at the old town center. The shopping district. The hills topped by extravagant mansions.

  And the lake. The water shimmers in the sunlight. Green. Calm. Tight-lipped.

  I grit my teeth and force myself to focus on something, anything, rather than the familiar landmarks. I’m back in town. But only for a week. I can suck it up, live with the extreme discomfort. Just for a few days.

  My phone chimes. I keep one hand on the steering wheel and feel around the passenger seat until I find it and set it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Bro, where are you?”

  I smile. “Kolby.”

  “Are you here yet?”

  I clear my throat. “Sorry, man. Something came up…”

  “Come on, Axle. You promised!” Kolby’s voice is a keening whine. “It’s my first art exhibition. It’s a huge deal.”

  “I’ll send you a card.” I flick the indicator and turn down the lane that leads to my old neighborhood.

  “I don’t want a card. Having you there would mean more than any present.”

  “Is that a knock on all the presents I’ve sent you?”
>
  “No,” he says quietly, “I just… wish you were here.”

  “Good. Because I’m almost there.”

  “What?” Kolby yells.

  “I’m…” I glance out the window at the trees lining a playground, “passing the park near our house.”

  “That’s awesome!”

  I laugh at the excitement in his tone. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “Bro,” he says hesitantly, “since you’re at the park, could you stop by the food truck and bring home a couple tamales? Mom’s on a teacher’s retreat, but she left a casserole in the oven—”

  “Say no more.” I chuckle, remembering how dry and tasteless our mother’s casserole could be. “I’m on it.”

  “Thanks, Ax. See you soon.”

  I hang up and swing the car around, parking near the food truck. It’s a boxy vehicle set on a cement ramp that’s crawling with customers. The heat is sweltering and the prospect of joining their ranks exhausts me, but I catch the back of the crowd.

  Thankfully, the line moves along at a brisk pace. Five minutes later, I grab my bag filled with fragrant tamales and leave.

  Instead of rushing back to the car, I take the long route. It’s a beautiful day and the park is filled with families enjoying picnic lunches, playing Frisbee, or just strolling the grounds. The sound of laughter and chatter rides the gentle breeze.

  The knots in my chest loosen as I walk. I’ve been back for a solid twenty minutes and nothing’s happened yet. This isn’t too bad. If all goes well, I can survive this week and head out no worse for wear.

  As I draw closer to the bench where Kolby and I met Ember, a vision of her flashes in my mind. Ten years have passed, but I’ve never forgotten her.

  She was little more than a random stranger. A flash in the pan. One more face in a world filled with them. Yet she left an impression.

  It was more than her incredible beauty. Ember was like the last ray of a brilliant sunset. The light’s final song before darkness took over. A few hours after I met her, my entire world exploded, went cold, but for those few precious minutes, I was warm.

  I wonder what she’s doing now. If she achieved her dream of becoming a teacher. If she still draws. I hope, wherever she is and whatever she’s doing, that she’s happy and fulfilled.