He glanced toward the house and saw the fire spreading, the yard dancing with light as the flames grew. Diego grinned. Then he started the car, shifted into drive, and peeled out. Ricky turned around to look out the back window.
“Oh my god!” he said.
Diego caught one last glimpse in the rearview mirror before they took the corner. His final impression was of a ball of flame, floating above the yard.
“Someone’s going to call the fire department,” Ricky said, already sounding panicked. “What if they saw us?”
Diego checked the clock on the dash. “Think there are still people hanging out at school?”
“Maybe,” Ricky said. “Why?”
Diego grinned, gripping the wheel tighter in satisfaction as he pushed down on the gas pedal. “Because I have experience with this sort of thing. We’re going to need an alibi.”
CHAPTER 25
May 15th, 1993
Anthony was lying on his back while in bed, listening to Depeche Mode’s latest album through his headphones. The music had been in frequent rotation since coming out in March. While it didn’t quite reach the same heights as Violator, the aptly named Songs of Faith and Devotion felt like it was written by someone in the throes of passion. Which made it the perfect soundtrack for the endless love coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes and pressed the headphones even closer as “In Your Room” began to play and thought about being wrapped in Cameron’s arms. Soon enough he would be. They were going to have lunch together, and maybe afterwards, Anthony would suggest they go back to either of their rooms so he could do anything and everything that his boyfriend wanted.
He was just getting into the fantasy when he felt the bed shake. He opened his eyes in confusion and saw his older brother Mike kicking the mattress with a socked foot. Anthony reluctantly pulled the headphones away from his ears to ask, “What?”
“You tell me!” Mike demanded.
Anthony took the headphones off completely. “Huh?”
“The police are downstairs. They wanna talk to you. So what did you do?”
“Nothing!” Anthony said, sitting up in shock. “For real!”
Mike studied him a moment before shrugging. “Maybe someone died.”
He thought of Cameron and was on his feet in a split second. He pushed past his brother, who followed him downstairs. Their parents were standing in the living room while talking to a balding middle-aged man with a tidy brown mustache. Anthony wouldn’t have assumed that he was a police officer, because instead of a uniform, he wore dark slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie.
His mother saw him first, her face lined with worry.
“Is everything okay?” he asked. “Did someone get hurt?”
The stranger pounced on these words. “What makes you think that?” he asked.
“I told him someone probably died,” Mike explained. “So did they?”
“That’s enough,” their father said. “Go clean your room or something.”
Mike rolled his eyes and disappeared into the kitchen. If he was anything like Anthony, he’d linger there to listen in.
“Okay,” Joe said. “What’s this all about?”
The man studied Anthony a moment before smiling and offering his hand. “Hey, bud! My name is Detective Truman. Do you know why I’m here?”
“No,” Anthony said while shaking his hand. “Is it about Cameron?”
“Who’s that?”
Anthony looked to his parents. Brenda nodded. “My boyfriend,” he explained.
Detective Truman raised an eyebrow at this, his attention lingering on Anthony’s pink hair, before he made a note in a small pad of paper. “Where were you last night?” he asked casually.
“Here,” Anthony answered.
“On a Friday night? You didn’t feel like spending time with this uh… boyfriend of yours?”
“He had a school play. Cameron builds the sets.” And never wanted Anthony to be there on opening night, since it would make him twice as nervous knowing he was in the audience.
“Uh huh. And did you come home right after school?”
Anthony looked at his parents again, who seemed just as confused. “No,” he replied. “I stopped by the record store.”
“Which one?”
He explained that he had hung out with Silvia before coming home. The detective wanted to know her full name, which seemed odd.
“And when exactly did you get here?” Truman asked.
“Around six, I think.”
“You think?”
“Why are you giving our son the third degree?” Joe interrupted.
“We’ll get there,” the detective replied. “I just need to establish some basic facts.” He addressed Anthony again. “When you got home, who was here?”
“Nobody.”
Truman raised his eyebrows at this. “No one at all?”
“We went out for dinner and a movie,” Brenda said. “Although it’s possible that Mike was here.”
“I wasn’t,” they heard him say from the kitchen. “I was on a date.”
Joe rolled his eyes at this. “Anthony was here when we got home. We talked to him.”
“When was that?” Detective Truman asked, sounding interested.
“I don’t know… Ten or so?”
Brenda nodded. “I believe that’s right.”
“Okay.” Detective Truman finished jotting down his notes and lowered the pad of paper. Then he smiled, like everything was going to be all right. “Let’s sit down and have a chat,” he suggested.
Anthony’s anxiety skyrocketed while he waited for everyone to get settled. He couldn’t understand why his whereabouts were of such interest to the police.
“I talked to your principal,” Detective Fowler said from one of the accent chairs. “Sounds like you and Graham Fowler don’t get along.”
“You mean the guy who picks on me all the time?” Anthony spat. “The one who spraypainted ‘fag’ on my locker? If you’re here because of him, I can tell you all sorts of things. Like how he knocked me down the other day, or tried beating me up because he didn’t like an article I wrote.”
“Son,” Joe said warningly.
“No, it’s okay!” Detective Truman said. “This is important. It sounds like you and Graham have quite the history.”
His mother shifted on the couch. “People have been picking on him since he came out.”
“That must be very upsetting,” the detective said. “I know it would make me angry.”
Anthony shrugged. “I try not to let it bother me.”
“But maybe you felt like getting back at him a little, huh? A harmless prank to make him pay for putting you through all that?”
Anthony shook his head. “I just avoid him as much as possible.”
“Uh-huh. Have you ever toilet papered a house?”
Joe scoffed. “Is that what this is all about? You’re playing twenty questions with our kid because someone’s house got TPed?”
“I’m afraid it goes a bit further than that,” the detective said. “Arson was involved. On that note…” He turned toward Anthony’s father. “I have testimony from two witnesses who said you made the following threat to a Mr. Richard Fowler when called to the school for disciplinary reasons involving your son. And I quote, ‘Don’t call the fire department the next time your house catches fire.’ Do you remember saying that?”