The Girl Is Trouble by Kathryn Miller Haines Page A

to straighten and tried to think of a story that could get me out of this predicament.
    But it was no teacher calling out to me. It was Benny Rossi.
    *   *   *
     
    “NO, STAY DOWN,” he whispered. He waved me his way and I continued my strange half crawl, half walk until I was past the office. We turned the corner toward the upperclassman lockers and I was finally able to stand up. “You should’ve seen your face,” he said.
    “That would’ve required a mirror.” I tried to continue on my way, but he stopped me.
    “Relax. I’m not going to sing. I’m skipping classes, too, dig?”
    “I know. It’s just I’ve got places to be.”
    “You sore at me?”
    Were we really having a conversation about this now? “Actually, if memory serves, you’re the one who’s mad at me. I’m the detective’s lying daughter, remember?”
    “If Suze can forgive and forget, so can I.”
    “Thanks.” Any other day I would’ve been thrilled to hear this. Any other day standing alone with him, leaning in close so we could hear each other’s whispered words, would’ve thrilled me. But this was the day I needed to find out what happened to Mama.
    “So what’s your story?” asked Benny.
    “I have to use the restroom.”
    “Tell me another one while that one’s still warm.”
    “I’ve got to be somewhere.”
    He seemed to understand that this wasn’t something he should continue to bug me about and dropped the eager beaver act. “Well, you can’t go that way.” He nodded at the exit I was headed toward.
    “Why not?”
    “There are poindexters at every entrance. Principal DeLuca’s got it bad for tardies and truants.”
    “I thought that door only opened from the inside.”
    “Somebody figured out how to make it open from the outside.” He winked at me. If he wasn’t the someone in question, I’d eat my hat. “But don’t worry, there’s another way. Come on.” He took me by the hand and, before I could register where we were going, pulled me into the boys’ restroom. As the door closed behind us, he put his finger to his lips and gestured for me to stay where I was. Then he checked the stalls and the long trough against the wall that I thought was a sink until I saw that there were actual sinks in another part of the room. “The coast is clear.”
    “Great, but your plan isn’t. Am I escaping through the sewer?”
    He pointed toward a small window above the radiator. “It’s a tight fit for me, but you should have no problem getting through. It’s a rough drop on the other side, so I’d better go first to catch you.”
    Before I could respond, he climbed onto the radiator and pulled himself through the tiny opening. He was right about it being a tight fit. As the window reached his waist, he turned and wiggled with the ease of someone who had done this many times before. His legs slithered through the opening and I heard a thump as he landed outside.
    “Okay,” he said. “The coast is clear.”
    I didn’t think about what I was doing, or how I’d reverse the process when I wanted to return to school later that day. I just climbed up on the radiator and pulled myself through the window, hoping someone wouldn’t choose to come into the restroom as my skirt-clad rear headed north.
    Benny waited on the other side, reassuring me that he’d catch me and help me to the ground. It wasn’t a long drop, but it was an awkward one. A door opened behind me, and I slid through the window and into Benny’s arms just as someone entered the restroom.
    “What the—?” said a voice. With me still in his arms, Benny flattened against the side of the building so anyone looking out the window wouldn’t see us. It worked. Whoever it was retreated back into the bathroom and Benny gently set me on the ground. He took two steps to the right, then stopped himself. I saw the problem at the same time he did: there was a police car curbside. The officer inside would spot us for sure. Rather than risk it, Benny