Friend or Foe Read online

  “Somebody had to step up and take charge. I’m sure that’s what your brother would’ve done.”

  “He’s not going to be happy about the gig.” Ebony said, her voice quivering like a scared kid.

  “Did you or your parents tell Orlando about what Chase did?” I asked. But before she answered, her mom asked me again to join them. I shot Ebony a bemused look; she laughed.

  “Sure, come on in,” she said.

  I walked slowly, staying next to her, talking up my concern for her welfare and complimenting anything and everything I could think of to keep her on my good side. I knew, from Orlando, that Ebony never felt smart or pretty or successful enough compared to her mom. I made sure that she knew she was all of those things. By the time we reached the front door of the long drive, she seemed less preoccupied with worry than she had been since her brother’s arrest.

  “Ebony told me the show got cancelled,” Mr. Moore said as he greeted us in the great room. “As you could imagine, Orlando’s not happy.”

  I glance around the large house; my apartment was one-tenth the size. “It was a lot of money.”

  “But it’s more than that,” Mrs. Moore rejoined the conversation. “It is about trust. He trusted that Chase would take care of things, and then from what Ebony says, Chase got drunk and got in a fight.”

  “Trust is important, for sure,” I said, forcing back a smile. “They call me Honest Ian.”

  Ebony laughed. She didn’t know my role in the whole thing. “Now that Orlando is in long-term, he can communicate more.”

  “Long-term?” I asked.

  Mr. Moore explained that in long-term confinement, Orlando gets one extra visiting day for family. “So here’s what he wants to happen until he gets out. And trust me, Ian, he is getting out.”

  “He’s innocent, Mr. Moore, and you can trust me on that.”

  “Well, our lawyer said that doesn’t really matter in a case like this,” Mrs. Moore jumped in. “Fact is, if Orlando lived in the hood, they’d probably already have him shipped off to prison.”

  That upset Ebony. I laid my hand on her shoulder. She put her hand over mine.

  “Orlando wants Chase to run the rehearsals but you to run the shows themselves. Chase might not be happy about that, but that is how Orlando wants it. Anything else, you tell us and we’ll talk with Orlando. This summer is a big chance for all of you.”

  “Like I said, you can trust me.” The Moores smiled, and Ebony squeezed my hand. “If it was up to me,” I said, “I think it would be best if Ebony was in charge, but I’ll do whatever Orlando wants.” Good thing Ebony wasn’t one of those human lie detectors, since I wasn’t really okay with Orlando’s solution. I wanted to run it all. More than that—I deserved it all.

  “I can tell you, he appreciates your friendship,” Mrs. Moore said.

  “Ian, whatever you think is best,” Mr. Moore added.

  “Don’t worry about a thing.” Another set of smiles, another squeeze. Another step closer.

  11

  MAY 25 / MONDAY EVENING

  REHEARSAL STUDIO

  As Ebony explained Orlando’s instructions to the band, for Chase to lead rehearsals but for me to run the shows, I enjoyed watching Chase’s smile flip to a frown. Since the shows were what really mattered, Chase knew the truth: I was the head PunkFunker now.

  Right away, Chase started giving directions, acting large and in charge. I counted off the number.

  “You’re off, Ian,” Chase said as soon as the song started. “Try it again.”

  Three more times, I counted off the song like I’ve done a thousand times, long before Chase joined the band, but he seemed intent on humbling me in front of everyone. “Get it right, Ian.”

  I nodded and let him think he was in charge. The rest of the rehearsal was a near-disaster. Between Chase schooling me, Desiree and Ebony distracted, and everybody else in a funk, there was no way we’d be ready for a frat party gig at SMU on Saturday night. I waited until the end.

  “Chase, we need to talk,” I said. He walked away from me. I followed him, spun him around. “Look, this is wrong. You should be in charge of everything. We both know it.”

  He gave me a funny look, like he didn’t believe me, so I pressed on. “But Orlando won’t listen to you or me. There’s only one person who can change his mind, and we both know who that is, right?”

  Pause. “Desiree,” Chase said.

  “You need to get her alone and convince her. She can write him, and also have Ebony tell him when he calls home,” I said. “Trust me, your only shot—and the band’s only shot—is Desiree. Agreed?”

  “Why are you suddenly acting all friendly?” Chase asked. I faked a look of hurt and worry.

  “Look, this band for me is it,” I said. “You, Orlando, Desiree, you have great opportunities for college and careers, but that’s not me. If the band gets noticed, I get noticed, and maybe that’s my break. But this is best for you too. Do what’s best for you. Talk to her. Do it now.”

  Chase smiled and didn’t stop to think before he yelled her name. Desiree turned, and Chase walked up to her as everyone else filed out the room. I left last, except I didn’t close the door behind me. I left it open a crack and took out my phone to capture the images of them together for Orlando to see.

  12

  MAY 26 / TUESDAY LUNCH HOUR

  FRISCO HIGH SCHOOL

  “I thought you should know,” I told Ebony. “It just looked like he was coming on pretty strong.” The ninth graders eat a period after the juniors, so I skipped class to see her. She stared at the photos on my phone. “I printed two of them out.”

  “Why?” Her facial expression darted between angry and confused. Also known as vulnerable.

  “I read that Orlando can have two pictures in his room,” I said. We stood by her open locker. Inside of it were lots of pictures of her and her friends, but few with her family, none with her brother.

  “I’m sure he already has pictures of Desiree,” Ebony replied. I sensed an edge in her voice. I’d seen her and Desiree interact, or rather not interact, at rehearsal. It was pretty clear they both wanted to be the most important female in his life.

  “That’s why I think he should see these.”

  “Chase has a girlfriend—Tonya. So why would he? You’re not just trying to stir up trouble?”

  “The opposite,” I protested. “I’m trying to make peace between everybody. I’m trying to get everything together so we can do some great shows and people can discover how talented you are.”

  “Really?” She looked skeptical.

  Like the other day at her house, I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. She didn’t knock it away. “If it was my band, I’d give you all of Orlando’s vocals, but right now that’s Chase’s call.”

  “He wants Desiree to—”

  “That’s just it, I think. Chase wants Desiree, period.”

  She paused, unsure what to say. I showed her the photos again.

  “Right, because Desiree is just so perfect, everybody wants her,” she said. “I bet even you.”

  I laughed and took a step closer. “Not me, I have my eyes elsewhere.”

  She giggled nervously.

  “Trust me, Ebony, it’s the right thing. Orlando needs to know what’s going on. Maybe he kicks Chase out, and I give you all the vocals. Do what’s best.”

  “Thanks, Ian.”

  “Maybe I could call you later, if you weren’t too busy hanging out with your friends?” She eyed me for a second like she wasn’t sure if I was serious. Then she grabbed my phone, put in her number, and moved herself in front of Orlando to number one.

  13

  MAY 27 / WEDNESDAY LUNCH HOUR

  FRISCO HIGH SCHOOL

  “Again, Ryan, I’m sorry.” I’d found Ryan in the library. “I don’t know what got in to Chase.”

  “From what he smelled like, a whole bunch of booze and—”

  “No impulse control,” I said. “That’s a bad mix.
How is your head?” I point to the Band-Aid.

  “Chase fights like he plays bass: weakly.” We laughed out loud, earning a stare from the serious lunchtime studiers, AP-overload types. They sneered at us with disdain. Right back at ya, I thought.

  “So I heard the gig got cancelled. Orlando hear about that?”

  “I’m sure his sister told him or Desiree wrote him.” I enjoyed the helpless look of lust on Ryan’s face when I mentioned Desiree’s name. “She asked about you.”

  “Who? Desiree?” Ryan seemed surprised but hopeful.

  “She wanted to know if you were okay. She seemed concerned, but I think she’s afraid to ask you directly.”

  “Do you blame her, knowing Orlando?”

  I shook my head, acting knowing and understanding. “But you know, I think you have one chance with Desiree, and that would be if Orlando broke up with her.”

  Ryan nodded, smiled, and laughed, and then got all serious, intrigued it might be possible.

  “But they’re all in love,” I continued, “so I don’t really see it happening. I don’t know. What do you think it would take?”

  Ryan tapped his fingers on the side of his school-issued laptop. “If she cheated on him.”

  I raised an eyebrow, pretending to connect the dots. “You mean like this.” I showed Ryan the photos of Desiree and Chase. “If I sent these to you, do you think you could get other people to see them online? I don’t want Orlando to think I was following Desiree. You know how he gets.”

  Ryan smiled and started typing away. I looked over his shoulder as he opened the message with the pictures attached. He opened Instagram and started typing. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Creating an account called Chasing Desiree.” Type. Click. Type.

  “It’s a shame there are only these two pictures of them together,” I mumbled.

  Ryan laughed, earning more sneers and stares from other students. He went to the band’s page, clicked on photos of Desiree, some of Chase, and then went to both of their personal pages and did the same.

  “What’s up with all those?” I asked.

  “Ian, you ever heard of Photoshop?”

  14

  MAY 28 / THURSDAY LATE AFTERNOON

  COLLIN COUNTY JUVENILE PROBATION OFFICE

  “Have you decided what to do, Ian?” the probation officer asked. It was a different guy than I had talked to last time, but still the same small office, bad suit, and worse haircut. “Time is running out.”

  “What’s the big rush?” I asked. I knew, because I’d read about all of this online, but I wanted him to tell me. That would let me know what he thought was important. He seemed sweaty and in a hurry.

  “Next week is the announcement hearing where the state will decide if they’re going forward or not with the case against Orlando. They have a strong case, but they’ll need your testimony and Chase’s to seal it.”

  “Do I get a lawyer? Because Lord knows I can’t afford one.”

  “No, Ian, you’re a witness, you’re not under arrest.”

  “But you are threatening me with the probation, so it seems to be that I should—”

  “That’s not how the system works.”

  I looked over my shoulder at the lobby of the probation office; it was like the lobby of the JDC. I was once again the only white face. I knew exactly how the system worked. “What did Chase say?”

  The guy leaned in closer, like he was trying to tell me a secret or be my friend. “He said the right thing, that’s all I can say.” If Orlando did serious time, then the band would be Chase’s, and he knew it.

  “So you need to do the right thing as well,” he said. “You don’t want a juvenile record to—”

  “I read up on it,” I interrupted. “Most juvenile records are sealed. And if I just get probation or house arrest, big deal. I don’t go anywhere except school and my job anyway, so that’s not much of a threat.” He backed away from me. He wanted to be my friend when he thought I was scared and stupid; wrong and wrong.

  “Okay, so just tell me when you need me to be here. And trust me, I’ll do the right thing.”

  He looked at me, unsure, before messing around on his computer while I stared at a Cowboys Cheerleaders calendar on the wall. Orlando had been in for ten days; it probably felt like ten years being away from Desiree. He’d run through a brick wall for her; I’d make sure that wall was built and securely in place.

  15

  MAY 29 / FRIDAY MORNING

  FRISCO HIGH SCHOOL

  “Ebony, I need a favor,” I said as my greeting to her at her locker before school. A couple of her friends giggled, as freshman girls tend to do. I found it all very annoying.

  Ebony didn’t say yes or no. She turned, told her friends to be quiet, and then motioned for me to join her down the hallway. With the seniors getting out two weeks before the rest of us, the whole school seemed less crowded.

  “You can totally say no.”

  She looked over my shoulder to see if her friends were out of sight before she spoke to me, “I’m sorry, Ian, some of my friends can be obnoxious.”

  I shrugged it off like I’d hardly noticed.

  “What can I do for you?” Ebony asked. Her voice wasn’t just soft, it was seductive. What would Orlando think if I got involved with his sister? If I pitched it as protecting her, he’d buy it as pure fact.

  “I have a letter I wrote Orlando, but because I’m involved in his case, I’m not on the cleared list for him to communicate with. Can you see him yet?”

  Ebony shook her head no. “But he can call the house.”

  “No, he needs to read this. Could you write him a letter and maybe include it?”

  The slight smile she carried fell away. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  “Trust me, there’s nothing in there about the case.”

  The smile returned, but it was followed by a look of concern. “What are you going to do?”

  “The right thing, so that my best friend is free before the end of school. I get deposed next week, but I think Chase already spoke to them. I think he lied. I think that he—”

  “He’s no good. I knew it, as soon as he joined the band, that he was greedy and wanted to—”

  “And that’s why you can trust me.” I put both of my hands in front of her, palms open, and waited for her to put her hands in mine. “Because I don’t want to take over the band or whatever it is that Chase wants. There’s one thing I want, Ebony. You.”

  Pause. “Me?”

  I answered her question with a kiss on the cheek.

  16

  MAY 30 / SATURDAY NIGHT

  FRAT PARTY / SOUTHERN METHODIST UNIVERSITY CAMPUS AREA

  “They want an encore!” I shouted, making sure nobody left the makeshift stage in the frat house garage. There’d been one police call, two bottles thrown at us, and three people falling down drunk in front of the stage, but the PunkFunkers were in four-four time, tight, and grunge-funking up the frat.

  “What should we play?” Parker asked.

  I turned toward Chase. I ran the shows, he the rehearsals. I needed to give him something. “Chase, your call. You and Desiree have been steaming all night, so I’d suggest maybe—”

  Chase cut me off. “Gutter Groove.” One of his songs, of course. I didn’t argue. I shouted out to everyone in the band and we took the stage. Even without Orlando’s Jimi-Hendrix-meets-George-Clinton-meets-Kurt-Cobain solos, the song shook the house. Whatever our differences off stage, on stage Chase and I laid down a rhythm track more powerful than an F5 tornado.

  As we left the stage, I motioned for Ebony to join me. I said, “Okay, I need another favor.” She’d yet to complete the first one, so I thought best to double down. Even if she refused one, she’d have to do the other.

  “Sure,” she spoke up to be heard over the party sounds behind us.

  “Look, you’ve been helping me out so much, even though I know things must be hard at home.” She nodded. I held her lef
t hand. “I want to get you a gift. Something special. Something—”

  “Ian, you don’t need to do that.”

  “Maybe I don’t need to, but I want to. You know that necklace that Orlando got Desiree for prom?” She nodded and a smile dawned on her face. “Do you think you could get it for me from her? I want to see what kind it is. I’ll get it back to her fast—I know she’d freak out if—”

  “Done.”

  “Ebony, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

  “Show me.”

  We kissed as naturally as I had delivered my lines to ensure that Desiree’s necklace was soon to be in my possession.

  17

  MAY 31 / SUNDAY MORNING

  MOORE HOUSE

  “You have the necklace?” I asked Ebony as she greeted me at the front door. She leaned forward to kiss me, but I backed away.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “Ebony, I’m sorry—I’ve been thinking, with everything going on, with Orlando’s trial on Monday, I just don’t think your parents need one more worry on their plate, like knowing about their ninth-grade daughter involved with a junior. Even if it is someone they know. It might make them not trust me, and that’s not good. Maybe we should keep it quiet.”

  She looked at me, silent and confused, but then glanced at the floor. “I understand, Ian.”

  “Thanks. Besides once Orlando gets out, everyone is going to be so happy. That will be a better time to get their approval.”

  Ebony nodded and then reached into her front pocket and pulled out the necklace. “You won’t believe how I got this—”

  “I don’t want to know,” I cut her off. “If Desiree asks me, the less I know, the better.” I took the piece of paper out of my pocket. “Now, about the letter. You’re sure you okay with this?”

  From her back pocket, she pulled out an envelope addressed to her brother. She took my letter and put it inside of her letter. “I’ll give it to my parents. They’ll give it to him.”