“Interesting. No other living relatives at all?”
Was he trying to rub it in? “No.”
He nodded. “Just that ethnic guardian, then?”
The way he saidethnicmade the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Her name is Mrs. Alcaraz.” I stood up. “I’m sorry, I have to get back inside.”
“You know, I’ve heard a lot about you, Brooklyn.”
I stopped. There was only one reason why this man would have heard about me. I only had two friends at Empire High. And this definitely wasn’t Kennedy’s dead father. “Are you Felix’s dad?” Unlike his son…this man was not funny. If anything, he was socially inept.
He smiled again. It still failed to reach his eyes. “You really don’t know who I am?”
I slowly shook my head. Was I supposed to?
“Have you ever picked up a paper?” he asked with a laugh.
I just stared at him. Thinking about the paper made me think of crossword puzzles. Which made my eyes tear up.
“No bother. I’d like you to come with me. I’ll fill you in on the car ride.” He gestured to the town car behind him.
“What? No.”
He reached for my hand, but I stepped back.
“Right now, Brooklyn.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You have ten seconds to get into the car by will.” He glanced down at his watch. “Or I’ll have you put into the car.” He snapped his fingers and two large men stepped out of his town car.
“What?”
“Seven seconds, Brooklyn,” the man said.
“Mr. Pruitt?” Matt asked.
I turned around.
Matt was standing there with his suit jacket in his hand. “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Pruitt?I looked back at the man standing on the front steps of the church. I saw the resemblance now. The fake smile for starters. He was Isabella’s dad.
“None of your business, Matthew,” Mr. Pruitt said. “Run along.” He swished his hand through the air like Matt was a child that should go play ball or something.
“Isabella isn’t here,” Matt said as he joined me by my side. “She wasn’t invited.”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” Mr. Pruitt said. “Two seconds, Brooklyn.”
I felt like my heart was about to beat out of my chest. What did Isabella’s father want with me? My stomach twisted into knots.
“Two seconds for what?” Matt asked.
“Matthew, if you’ll please excuse us, this is a family matter. I’m here to retrieve my daughter from the slums. Times up, Brooklyn.”
The two large men lumbered toward me.
Matt stepped in front of me. “And I told you Isabella isn’t here. This is a funeral. Show some respect.”
