Chapter 6
Marcus didn't say we were going to search my room. He just looked at me and asked if I was okay with it.
We were still standing in the living room. Tara hadn't moved from near the hallway. She had her arms crossed over her black shirt and her gold necklace caught the light from the window. The pendant was so small I could only see it when she breathed.
"You want to check the living room first?" Marcus said to me. His voice was low, like he was trying to keep it between just us.
I nodded. I didn't trust my voice yet. My eyes still felt wet from before.
He knelt by the couch first. Our couch was gray and low to the hardwood and the cushions were heavy. He lifted the left one and I lifted the right one. We didn't talk while we did it. The underside of the cushions showed crumbs and a bobby pin and a LEGO piece I didn't know was missing. No money. No green at all. Just dust and the dark fabric underneath.
"Hold it up," he said.
I held my cushion while he ran his hand along the seams and into the corners where the frame met the cushions. His silver watch clicked against the wood when he leaned in. He checked under the couch too, lying flat on the hardwood and reaching his arm all the way to the back wall.
"Nothing here," he said, and he wasn't saying it to Tara. He was saying it to me, so I would hear it.
Tara made a small sound. "She wouldn't hide it in plain sight," she said from the doorway. She didn't come closer.
Marcus didn't answer her. He stood and brushed his palms on his brown trousers. "Maya, pockets?"
I knew he meant my sweater. My cream sweater had those ribbed sleeves that stretched when I pulled at them. I had two side pockets that weren't real pockets, just slits in the knit. I turned them inside out. The yarn was warm from my hands. There was nothing in them except a little lint. I held them out so he could see.
He nodded. "Thank you, sweetheart."
That was the moment I felt the heat in my face. It wasn't about the pockets. It was that I had to prove empty. I had to show that I had nothing. I stared at the lint on my fingers and my lip started to tremble again and I bit it hard.
He saw it. "I know this feels bad," he said quietly. "I know you didn't ask for this. We're doing it so there's no question left."
"I know," I whispered. It was the first thing I'd said since we started.
Next was my room. We walked down the hallway together, our socks silent on the hardwood. Tara stayed in the living room but I could hear her footsteps follow us to the doorway. She didn't come in.
My room was small. Bed against the wall, desk, closet with the door half open. My backpack hung on the chair. Marcus stopped just inside the door and looked at me.
"Tell me what's okay to look in," he said.
"You can look anywhere," I said. I wanted it to sound sure and it came out thin.
He started with the desk. He opened each drawer slow, not dumping anything. Pencils, a check from my grandma I'd taped to my mirror for my birthday, loose paper. He lifted my notebooks. He checked under the desk and behind it where the cord from my lamp ran. Nothing.
Then the closet. He slid my shoes aside, checked the pockets of my jeans hanging there. He didn't touch my hamper. He asked, "Hamper okay?"
I nodded. He lifted the lid just enough to see the top layer of clothes, then closed it.
My bed was last. He knelt again and looked under it. He pulled out the storage bin I kept drawings in and opened it. He lifted the blankets, felt along the mattress seam, checked between the pillow and the headboard. The whole time his hands were careful, like he was trying not to mess up how I'd made things.
Tara leaned against the doorframe. "You're not checking thorough enough if you're asking permission for every drawer," she said.
Marcus glanced at her. "I'm checking where a kid could hide money quick. This is thorough enough."
He looked back at me. "Maya, your backpack?"
I unzipped it myself. I turned it upside down over my bed. My folder fell out, my water bottle, a library book with the plastic cover. No envelope. No folded bills. The bottom of the bag was empty and I shook it so he could hear it was empty.
We stood there in my room for a second. The light from my window made a warm square on the hardwood. Everything we'd checked was open and empty and exactly where it had been.
Marcus put his hand on my shoulder. His palm was warm through my sweater.
"Nothing in here that shouldn't be," he said. It was loud enough for Tara to hear.
Tara didn't say anything right away. She pushed off the doorframe and looked down the hall toward the living room.
"So it's not hidden in her room," she said. "That doesn't mean she didn't take it."
I felt my eyes sting again. I hadn't taken anything, and now everyone had seen inside all my places and still it wasn't enough.
Marcus squeezed my shoulder once and let go. "It means she didn't hide it in here or out there in the common area," he said. "If she took fifty dollars and had to hide it fast while I was gone, it would be in a cushion or under furniture or in her pockets or her room. It's not."
May you like
He closed my backpack zipper for me and set it back on the chair, straight.
We walked back to the living room together. The cushions were still off the couch, the hardwood underneath exposed, my pockets still turned half out. The house looked searched and still empty.
