Ghost Time

said, and I could feel him smiling. Then he just sat there, with his hands folded on top of the table—I could see his hands, touching ourtable, and it grossed me out. I could feel him watching me, studying me, like he did in the conference room. So I had him in front of me, and behind me, I could feel the Elders staring at him, right through me, and they didn’t like him, either. No, I could feel their stares like a furnace blowing behind me, and sitting there, between them, I felt like I was caught in a cross fire, until Sharon brought Foley his coffee. Then she came over, blocking his view. Fill ’er up, darlin’? she asked, looking at my glass. I shook my head no and looked up, smiling at her, so grateful for her protection, and I practically grabbed her wrist when she stepped away, hearing something drop in the kitchen, leaving me, like a sitting duck.
    In all that time, I bet you no one blinked. It was so tense, and when it was clear that neither side was backing down, the old men started talking, like Foley was invisible. They were upping the ante, see, staring right at him, but really, looking right through him, just daring Foley to speak. I knew he knew what they were doing and he wasn’t going to fall for it, but that wasn’t the point. Territory, that’s what you have to understand about people around here, the way they look at the whole world is about territory, and Silver Top belongs to the Elders.
    I heard it was clean, too, said one of the old men. It was Del, I think, and they were back to talking about the school flag again, about the missing stars. I hear it looks like a seamstress cut them out, one by one, all fifty stars, but sewn up so there wasn’t one loose thread, he said. What do you make of that? he asked. Dunno, why go to all that trouble? said Frank, who was the tallest and had the highest voice of the bunch. Did you see it? Delasked. I saw it, Frank said, Everyone’s seen it. School might as well charge tickets, don’t have any money in their budget. Well, there you go, Del said.
    I almost jumped out of my skin when my phone rang. I mean, I tried to play it off, because everyone must’ve noticed, it spooked me so bad. The strange thing is—I mean, aside from the fact no one ever calls me, and thinking it’s Cam every time my phone rings—when my phone rang, just then, I felt it in my bowels. Gross, I know, but it just twisted me up and made me so nervous for some reason. And I tried to play it off, checking, but I didn’t know the number, so I ignored it, sighing, like, whatever. So I put my phone away again and acted like I was too busy to care. But Foley was smiling—I could feel it, and to be honest, between the phone call and the vibe he was giving me, I started sweating. My hands got all clammy, and I was afraid I’d smudge both pages of my sketchbook. So I pulled my phone out again, acting like I was texting someone, just to keep my eyes busy, but then my phone rang again. I thought maybe it was the same number, the same person calling back for some reason, but it was a New York number, 212. I don’t know anyone in New York, but I was curious.
    So I waited for both voice mails to come through, and then I turned to the window, looking away so Foley couldn’t see my face, listening to the two messages, both from reporters. Can you believe that? Both calls were from reporters; one was a man, and the other was a woman, and they both said they wanted to speak to me. I couldn’t imagine why some missing teenage kid would be big news, seeing as he’s a legal adult, and no one hadany information. I mean, people go missing all the time, right, so I nodded my head, looking at my phone, like, Really?
    Foley knew—I could tell he thought he knew something about the calls or maybe he even knew who was calling. But I just ignored him and turned to look for Sharon, give her the sign. I caught her eye through the short-order window, and she put her hand up, so I left my money on the table and grabbed my books, trying not to look like I was running out. It’s just beginning, you know, Foley said, speaking to me, but loud enough for everyone to hear, and I knew it then. They smell blood, he said, and hearing that word, the Elders stopped talking, and it was like the scene in a movie where there’s the popping and cracking of shotguns and pistols, and everyone’s got their finger on the trigger. I couldn’t see either side, but who needs to see a gun to feel a trigger being