Now it’s time to tackle Torie and Jeff. If I can get one of them to agree, the other might cave. I decide Jeff will be first.
He flips around the music channels, MTV and BET, all afternoon. Usually with a plate of nachos or potato chips on his lap. The rest of them stay out of his way because if you get between him and the screen, you get yelled at or kicked at.
I sit down on the couch.
He looks over, surprised. No one except Torie ever joins him.
I watch TV with him for a while.
“Can you imagine what people would say if they knew about this?” I ask finally.
Jeff snorts. “Who cares?”
“Think about it. One billionaire, eleven kids, a house full of toys…They’d be killing each other to get camera crews in here.”
“Yeah,” he says. “It’d be wild.”
“Katie Couric would be, like, salivating to get your number,” I say. “Diane Sawyer would be sending you chocolates. Everybody wants an exclusive, right?”
Jeff doesn’t say anything this time. It’s a good sign.
“Geez, you think life is sweet in here, imagine what it would be like if you were on the cover of People, telling your story.” I blow out a breath. “Sheesh.”
“People magazine is lame,” Jeff snorts.
“Of course, you wouldn’t want to say too much, because there’s the book deal, too. Or the TV movie. They always want to do a TV movie.”
He looks at me. “What are you talking about?”
“Who do you think they’re going to interview—weird Tate?” I say. “Eli? Ruthanna the mouse? No, they want the smart one. The one with charisma. The one who can tell the story so people will listen. The one who’s telegenic.”
This gets him thinking. He likes that he’s telegenic. His gaze is shrewd now. “What’s going on with you?”
“I have a way to get out,” I tell him.
He laughs. “You have a death wish.”
“It’ll work. And once you’re out, do you think you’re going back on the streets? Into the system? I don’t think so. You’re going to be famous. The media can’t leave this stuff alone. You’d have to play it right, not overexpose yourself. You’d have to be the spokesman of the group, say things right so that you’re the one they want to interview. Do you know what a sound bite is?”
“Do you think I’m stupid? I know what it is.”
“Sure you do. That’s why you’ll be the one they want. You know how to feed them the lines.”
He drums his fingers on the couch. “What do you think you’re going to do? Knock him out? Kill him?”
“We don’t have to,” I say. “We’ve got two things on our side. One: There’s eleven of us and one of him. Two: He’s crazy.”
Jeff sniggers. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Then he is quiet for a minute.
“So what’s your big plan?” he asks casually, and I know I’ve got him.
Torie is flopped on a couch in the living area playing a Game Boy.
“Get lost,” she tells me.
I sit. “I have a plan.”
“Good for you. Get lost.”
“I know how we can get out of here.”
She slowly lowers the Game Boy. Her gaze is murderous. “You are so dead.”
“Everyone else is in. Jeff, too,” I say deliberately.
I see the tiniest vulnerability in her gaze. Jeff’s defection hurts her.
“He wants to be on the cover of People magazine,” I say.
She laughs. “Yeah. Good luck.”
“Here’s the insane part,” I say. “He will be on the cover of People. So will you. If you want.”
She returns her attention to the Game Boy.
“Everybody’s scared,” I say.
“Everybody’s stupid.”
“I think your mom was scared,” I say.
Her thumbs stop.
“I think she’d finally found a safe place, and she couldn’t give it up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why she didn’t support you when you said that about her boyfriend? About what he did. I think if you’d just hung around just a little more, she would have realized what was true.”
She lowers the Game Boy. “I didn’t tell anyone here about it. How…”
“I just know,” I say. “I know the way I know that Jonah is cracking up. That Friday is the day he’s been planning for a long time.”
“What?”
“You didn’t just leave your mom,” I say. “You left a life. Friends. Your dad. You didn’t even ask him to help.”
“He’s never helped me before,” she mumbles.
“Maybe because you told him you hated him for leaving.”
“How do you know this? Did you talk to my dad?”
I shrug. “I’m just telling you. He’ll help you.”
“What do you know?” she yells. Her eyes are dry, but I know the tears are there.
“Living on the street wasn’t any better. And no matter what you think, living here isn’t, either.”
She looks away, biting her lip.
“There’s one way to get through,” I say. “Tell your story.”
“I told my story. Nobody believed me.”
“Tell it again,” I say. “Till someone hears you.”
“What if no one does, genius?”
“Someone will,” I say. But that is something I can’t see, no matter how hard I try.