Page 82 of Paranoid

“No.” Rebellion flared in his eyes.

“Well, you’re going to or I’m going to expect the worst.” She emptied the sock and dropped it and the damning bills onto the coffee table. “Talk.”

“Geez, Mom, it’s not what you think.”

“Which is?”

“That I’m selling drugs, right? Isn’t that what you think, why you brought up the Xanax?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not that stupid.”

She resisted asking, “And just how stupid are you?” Instead she said as she sat in a nearby chair, “Convince me.”

He hesitated, looked out the window, and sighed through his nose as Reno trotted into the room to take his spot in the bed near the fireplace.

“You said you were broke, that you needed money to pay off the kid that was hassling you?”

“Schmidt,” Dylan supplied.

“Right. You borrowed a hundred dollars from me because you owed him some ‘gambling debt.’” For emphasis, she made air quotes.

“Yeah! And I’m paying it back! Geez, Mom, didn’t I help you with the security system? Didn’t I say I’d mow the lawn and do whatever stupid job you have?”

“But you already had money. More than enough. This money.” She pointed a finger at the uneven pile of small bills. “Where’d you get it and don’t . . . don’t even say anything about saving it from your birthday or whatever. Everything you take in goes to some kind of equipment for either your computer or your game system or something.”

“It’s my business.”

“And mine.” Trying to cool off a little, she said, “So what’s going on, Dylan? What’re you into?”

“Not drugs!” he yelled, then more calmly, “Okay?”

“Then what? And don’t try to convince me that you’re into some online betting, because I’m just not buying it.”

Arms folded, foot bouncing nervously, he didn’t answer.

“I’m not the enemy, you know,” she said.

“Then why are you acting like it? Interrogating me?”

“Because I’m scared, Dylan. You’re doing something behind my back, something you don’t want to talk about, something you want to keep hidden. So I’m worried that you’re in trouble.”

“I’m not.”

She hadn’t heard Harper come out of her room nor walk down the hall, but she showed up and stood half in the hallway, half in the living room. “Tell her,” Harper said, staring at her brother.

“What?” He was shaking his head, his eyes round.

“Tell her that you help kids on the side, y’know, with computer stuff.” She was staring directly at her brother. “Admit that you’re a geek, probably the best one in school.”

Dylan was as white as a sheet.

“So you do what you did this afternoon for Mom or for Mr. Tallarico after school—you fix computers and kinds of electronic stuff. For other kids.” She came into the room, stood near the fireplace.

“But—”

“Tell her, or I will,” Harper said, her gaze still firmly holding his. “Well, fine,” she said and finally turned her attention to Rachel. “He’s kind of got this side business going; it’s not that big of a deal, but word is getting around, and he helps kids get their gaming systems or computers or whatever working again.”

This didn’t sound right.

“He’s done stuff for me, with my phone when I couldn’t figure out an app, and he’s helped Lucas and Xander, and my friend Julie, lots of kids.” She waved a hand as if to include the entire student body of Edgewater High. “Sometimes it’s behind the parents’ backs. Like a kid got a cell phone from a friend or whatever.”