Drew Leclair Gets a Clue by Katryn Bury Alessandri

Author:Katryn Bury Alessandri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2022-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

15

MY MIND SWIRLS WITH POSSIBILITIES. Maybe Lita was wrong about the Junipero Valley Killer, and he (or she) is here to get me!

Nope. Lita is never wrong.

Could it be Ella Baker Shade? Our address is listed in the school directory, which goes home with every kid.

Wait. It could be Mom. Maybe she’s coming home early from Kauai because Dustin fell into a volcano. The thought of Mr. Clark getting chucked into hot lava makes me smile for a second. As I stand frozen at my door, I wonder: who would I rather be faced with right now? A murderer, a bully . . . or my mom?

The floor creaks under the weight of whoever is standing by my door, and I realize the obvious answer: a murderer is worse. Way worse.

I’m frozen in place on the bed, absolutely sure that the doorknob is going to start twisting in that super-creepy “the killer is coming inside!” way. My heart hammering in my chest, I stare at the doorknob. My stinging eyes finally manage to blink when the footsteps resume, plodding further down the hall.

“Dad?” I yell again, louder this time.

“Uhhhh-um. Yeah. I’ll be right there, okay?” Dad calls back in a strained voice.

My stomach is a roller coaster, rapidly spinning me from fear to relief to worry. Why does Dad sound weird? Instead of waiting, I creep down the hallway and peer through his cracked door.

“Dad?” I ask again, more tentatively.

He doesn’t seem to hear me, so I push the door open.

When I see him, I stop in my tracks. He’s crying again, but it’s the way he’s crying. It’s not a few stray tears, or wiping at wet eyes. He’s sobbing. Uncontrollably.

It reminds me of when I was little and didn’t want to go to bed. He’s crying in a way I didn’t know grownups could cry.

A sting at the corners of my eyes tells me I might be in danger of crying too. But I don’t.

If I cry, he’ll just cry harder, and it’ll be my fault. Instead, I move toward his hunched form on the bed and rest a hand on his back. He jerks up fast enough that I jump. Then he crumples back into his bent-over position. I know I should be strong right now, but the way he’s crying scares me to the point where I feel like I’m standing on a ledge without a rope or an anchor. Like my person—the one who’s supposed to pull me back—is gone.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he chokes out. “You don’t need to see me this way. I’ll be right out, okay?”

Part of me is so freaked out by this that I want to do what he says. But I can’t leave him. I sit down and wrap my arms around him tightly—like he used to do when I would get the medicine-induced shakes.

Dr. Miyamoto says that sometimes running out of options can lead you to the answer you’re seeking. Maybe it’s like that with hugs. The energy that’s trying to get out has no choice but to settle when your body is squeezed too tight to move.

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