The Big Splash by Jack D. Ferraiolo Page A

Santini’s, he did an abrupt one-eighty, becoming aloof and standoffish. When I was over at his house, he would mumble a halfhearted greeting, then retreat to his office. I thought I had done something wrong. It took me a while to realize it was Mom he didn’t like.
    Mr. Carling seemed to hold a grudge against her, scheduling her for every holiday, calling her in to work on her days off, giving her the most disgusting and time-consuming cleaning jobs. My mom never gave him the satisfaction of being upset. Whenever he’d get on her, she’d just smile and say, “No problem.” She would take all the holidays and extra shifts, saying, “Great! We could use themoney.” Mr. Carling never saw her come home at two in the morning, dog tired, mentally ticking off the hours before she had to get up to go to her office job, knowing that the sleep she would get wouldn’t be enough.
    There was definitely something between them, something from their past that I wasn’t privy to. Whatever it was, neither of them was talking. I never got a chance to ask Mr. Carling, as my friendship with Kevin was going downhill at the time. I doubt he would have given me a straight answer anyway. I did ask my mom about it a couple of times, but each time she just shrugged her shoulders and changed the subject. I had no leverage on her, no way to make her talk. Plus, she had an annoying ability to see right through all my tricks, the ones that made my peers open up to me even when they didn’t want to. I had reached an impasse with her, which as a detective was hard for me to accept. I had no other evidence, no other leads to follow, and I knew that the worst thing you could do on certain cases was to try to force it. So I let it lie. Along with my dad’s disappearance, it was the case that was always in the back of my mind.
    I picked up the ten-dollar bill Mom had left and brought it into her room. The ugly, ceramic pineapplewhere my mom kept the rest of her emergency fund was on top of her dresser. I put the ten back inside, then added ten more from the money that Vinny had paid me. It looked like I was taking the case.
    I showered, then got dressed, making sure to grab the little surfer girl from out of the pocket of the jeans that I wore the day before. Then I grabbed a quick breakfast and headed out to school.
    The place was abuzz with a weird energy, almost like the day before vacation. People walked around with dazed expressions, wide and wild grins pasted on their faces. Everyone wanted firsthand accounts. The number of witnesses tripled as stories flew back and forth. Speculation as to who pulled the trigger was rampant. The odds were five to one on the betting boards that Nikki would show up to school like nothing had ever happened. Whoever set those odds was a criminal; whoever took those odds was an idiot. Nobody showed up to school the day after they were put in the Outs. Nobody. And nobody would know that better than Nikki.
    A few people approached me and asked what happened. I put on my best “don’t talk to me” face and made my way to my locker. I put the History book that I had neglectedthe night before on top of the Math book that never even made it home. I grabbed my Spanish book and prepared to make myself invisible for class. The less prepared you were, the less it seemed to work. I closed my locker, turned, and almost ran smack into Liz Carling. She was wearing dark maroon tights and a dress as black as her hair.
    â€œHe was a mess last night,” she said, as if we were continuing a conversation instead of just starting one.
    â€œWho was?”
    She shot me an impatient look. I knew who, and she refused to waste time verbalizing it.
    â€œSo? That’s not my problem.”
    Her eyes narrowed into slits. “He’s your friend, Matt.”
    â€œNo, he
was
my friend.”
    She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Can’t you just forget all that and help