Mom, holding Sammy on her lap, nuzzles his neck.
“I don’t understand who would do something like this,” she says. “Tear the place apart but not take anything.”
As far as we can tell, no jewelry, money, or valuables were stolen. It’s as if someone came in just to fuck with our things like trolls.
“You know who did it,” Alec seethes, pacing in front of us. “Our ‘friendly’ neighbors. Thugs with nothing else better to do than cause trouble.”
Don’t know why he’s all upset; none of his stuff was messed with. He and Piper are walking out of this unscathed.
“We don’t know that for sure. It could’ve been anyone.”
“You know what, I don’t blame the Foundation for not trying to help these people,” Alec carries on. “They don’t even help themselves. Robbing and vandalizing their very own community. Why should anyone help them?”
Mom shoots him a look. “Alec, you have no idea what these people have been through. You, as a white man, couldn’t possibly imagine.”
Alec opens his mouth and shuts it quick, realizing he’s gone too far.
“I don’t get it,” Sammy says to him. “Why did they leave your stuff alone?”
Alec shrugs. “Maybe the police drove by.”
“Down this block?” I roll my eyes. “Yeah right.”
Alec blows out some pent-up air and sits down on the steps, facing the street, Piper quickly joining him. What no one else can see is the way she seems to be holding in an amused laugh.
And I desperately want to know what’s so funny.
Eleven
“IT WAS SUPER weird, Dad.”
Standing on the corner in front of the same house we snuck into, I give Dad an update.
“It’s like they had it all planned out and ready to go. It looked like a totally different Cedarville, with strip malls and stupid fountains. And they acted like all these people are going to leave tomorrow and as far as I can tell, no one is in a hurry to pack up around here.”
“Well, that’s what happens in cities that are controlled by investors. But I want to hear more about the break-in. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Dad. For real. Aside from my computer, I didn’t have much they’d want.”
“I would’ve thought they’d try to pawn off the computer,” he muses. “Could’ve gotten a few hundred for it, easy. Why destroy it? And what’s this I hear about you not wanting to join the track team?”
I glance at the house on the corner, the curtain waving hello again. Didn’t want to tell Dad that this wasn’t just a regular robbery. That it seemed calculated and targeted, like someone was trying to send a message. And I definitely didn’t feel like talking about track.
“Yeah,” I mumble, voice trailing off. “Hey, does Aunt Natalie still work for that nonprofit?”
“Yup. Still at it.”
“But she always complains about needing to fundraise. How can a nonprofit like the Sterling Foundation afford to buy up a whole city?”
Dad laughs. “Ha! That’s my girl. Always thinking through people’s schemes. We couldn’t even trick you into eating veggies.”
“And look at me now,” I chuckle. “Surviving on granola, tofu, and a prayer.”
“You always get to things in your own time. But, Mari, I wouldn’t worry too much about the people in Cedarville. It’ll be a long time before they can push them out of their homes. However, to satisfy your curiosity . . . I would follow the money.”
“Follow the money?”
“Yup. Once you know where all the money is coming from, you’ll know who the real players are behind the scenes pulling the strings. It all may not be what it seems. What’s the first rule of chess that I taught you?”
I take a deep breath, staring inside the broken window of the house.
“Every move is a setup for the next move.”
After we finish cleaning up and Mom locks herself in her office, attempting to hit her deadline, I try calling Tamara for the sixth time. She hasn’t answered any of my texts or FaceTimes. What kind of best friend leaves you hanging during a major life crisis?
“Going for a run!” I scream before slipping out the door, first making a stop at the secret garden. It’s only been a few weeks, but the seeds are starting to show some life. I give them a good shower and check the room temperature. You can smell fall in the air. Change of season means change of sunlight, so I pull the bins closer to the windows. It’s a risk, since someone could spot them while walking by, but seeing how no one comes down our block to begin with, I feel cool chancing it.
Except for that weird truck I keep seeing late at night. Maybe it’s canvassing the place. Maybe they’re the ones who trashed our house. But they didn’t touch Piper’s or Alec’s stuff. Which is probably why I keep hearing Piper’s words echo through my head.
“You’ll be sorry.”
With the garden tended to, I take off for my run, keeping to my routine to avoid raising any red flags about my whereabouts, Piper still in my forethoughts. Could she really have something to do with the break-in? I mean, she’s just a little bratty kid. How much power could she have? She doesn’t even have a phone.
“You’ll be sorry.”
I consider telling Mom about the car parked outside those few nights. But when you’re known for being “the girl who cried bedbugs” at every crumb or red spot you see, you’re not considered the most reliable narrator.
Deep in the groove, I don’t even notice I’ve already made my regular lap around the park and am back in my neighborhood just as I hear a familiar voice.
“Damn, girl, who you running from?”
I spot Erika ahead, sitting in a broken lawn chair at the end of a driveway.
“Dude, are you cooked already?” I laugh between pants, slowing to a stop in front of her. “It’s not even noon.”
She gives me a glistening smile and checks the time. “It’s that late already. But yooo, you’re fast. You like the female Usain Bolt or something. You should try out for track team!”
I swallow back the acid threatening to erupt. “Eh. Not interested in school-run extracurricular activities.”
She nods. “Don’t want to work for the man? I feel you. Here, have a siesta.”
She points to the chair opposite her and I take a seat.
“Want a pop?” she asks, digging inside a mini red cooler.
“Sure,” I say, even though I should probably drink some water after the miles I just put in. “Thanks.”
I take a swig of the crisp ginger ale and glance back at Erika’s house, its white shingles dripping off the side, rips in the screen door, an old fridge turned sideways in the dead grass. Inside, I hear Scott Clark.
“The Lord will send a blessing on your barns and on everything you put your hand to. The Lord your God will bless you in the land. . . . The seeds that blossom will bring anointing to your life and you will experience great abundance in areas you pray for. All you have to do is call the number below, place your order, and I will send you one pack of seeds absolutely free. Just follow the instructions in the detailed letter I will send to you.”