Missing Pieces Read Free Page A

whether there’s a little bit of Leigh that actually likes Ashley, Dylan, and me. I haven’t decided yet. Sometimes she’s sweet as cotton candy, smiling and giggling at us. Other times she’s moody, distant—like a dog that can’t make up its mind whether to let you pet it.
    I tried to stifle a smile but couldn’t. “He wants me to come?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Be ready at six or we’ll leave without you.”

Chapter 17

    As Mom drove me to the school in Memorial for my tutoring job, I asked her about Mrs. Garcia. Mom is in a group of parents who pray for teachers and staff, so I thought she might know something.
    “I don’t know as much about the cafeteria workers,” Mom said, “but I know someone who does. Why?”
    “Just wondering.”
    I used Mom’s cell phone to call her friend Mrs. Wilson. She chuckled. “It’s nice to hear someone who’s not complaining about Mrs. Garcia. Some kids don’t even want to go into the cafeteria because of her. She started working here this year. I see her at the bakery on the weekend sometimes. That’s her other job. Other than that, I don’t know what to tell you.”
    Mom sends me to the bakery every now and then. I planned how I could run into Mrs. Garcia as Mom parked.
    The elementary school was set on the side of a hill with a nice playground in the back. Memorial is an old town the railroad used to run through. There’s a lighted star on the side of the hill at Christmas and patriotic days and a big fireworks show there every Fourth of July if it’s not too dry.
    About 20 little kids and the same number of volunteers showed up, and I got paired with a girl named Angelique. She had big brown eyes and a smile that could melt butter. We played a few games inside, then went to the playground. She said she couldn’t read too well and had problems with numbers, so I promised I’d help her.

Chapter 18

    Derek and I sat behind Leigh and Randy in Randy’s pickup.
    I looked around, but I couldn’t find anything suspicious. I was hoping to discover a video camera or any clue that Randy was involved in the mailbox vandalism. But would he smash his own girlfriend’s mailbox? Maybe someone had borrowed his truck.
    “I hear you’re still a Cubs fan,” Randy said, looking in the rearview mirror. “Think they’ll make it to the World Series in our lifetime?”
    I chuckled. “Any team can have a bad century.”
    A sports complex north of us has 10 softball fields, two for soccer, and some playgrounds. Randy carried his cleats and walked in his white socks. A black fence ran around the backstop and dugout area.
    Some of the guys on his team were older, and I finally realized this was a church team. “I didn’t know Randy went to church,” I said to Derek.
    “He doesn’t. Players have to go at least twice a month during the season, so Randy goes to a Sunday school class where they give you stuff to eat.”
    A few other players as young as Randy slapped him five. The older guys mostly had bellies Santa would be proud of. They laughed a lot as they threw the ball around.
    “Let’s go to the concession stand,” Derek said.
    Leigh dug into her purse and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Bring me a snow cone.”
    On the way, I said, “Does Randy let people borrow his truck?”
    “Who’d want to?” Derek said, laughing. “I don’t think he’d let anybody drive it except Leigh. He treats that thing better than he treats me, even though it’s falling apart.”
    I asked Derek a few more questions, but I soon realized that he didn’t know any more about Randy than I did about Leigh.
    When the game began, I could have sworn these were two motorcycle clubs playing each other rather than two churches. Guys threw equipment, yelled at the umpire, and one even broke a wooden bat over his leg.
    Every time Randy came to the plate, Leigh yelled and clapped for him. I’ve seen enough baseball to know a good swing. Randy had one right out of a textbook—short step with