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“I’m up there all by myself, waiting and waiting. You think I have nothing better to do? And why did you lock that door? I had to come around the long way. You think—?”
    He stops. He frowns. He looks at my dad, who is scowling at him. He sees the gun in my dad’s hand. He glances at me for a split second, like he’s expecting me to explain. But I don’t have to because his eyes have already moved past me to the man in the mask. The color drains from Corey’s face. I guess he doesn’t know what else to do because he puts his hands up in the air.
    The man in the mask says, “What does he mean he was waiting for you?” This time he sounds exactly like Leon.

Chapter Twelve
Daniel
    I can’t believe it. The masked man is Leon. Leon Butler, my next-door neighbor, one year ahead of me in school.
    The quiet one, his mother calls him.
    Of her three sons, Leon is the calmest, the most thoughtful. He’s the one who, when his mother broke her arm (or, rather, when Leon’s father broke his mom’s arm), went on the Internet and found a site that showed how to fold laundry properly to avoid wrinkles and then, for the next two months, folded stuff and put it away for his mother. The only one who cooked during those two months. The most the other two did was nuke what was already in the freezer or, failing that, bring home take-out food, always careful to eat when their father was not around. They were always happy to let Leon put the meal on the table and to have things thrown at him if his dad didn’t happen to like it.
    Leon vacuumed and wiped down the counters and put away the clean dishes from the dishwasher too, rushing home from school to do it and telling his dad that his mother had done it because if there was one thing his dad hated, it was a woman who sat around all day and didn’t keep her house in order.
    Leon was also the one who, when push finally came to shove, arranged for someone from a shelter to come when his father was at work and take him and his mother and his brothers away someplace where his dad wouldn’t find them. His dad never did either. It helped that he was killed in a car crash a week after they left. His blood-alcohol level was through the roof.
    The man in the mask is Leon, the non-athletic brother. The one who took piano lessons—although he was never allowed to practice when his dad was in the house—and who excelled at art. The one who actually liked poetry.
    Leon, his mother’s sweetie (her word, not mine), was wearing a mask and holding a gun and sticking up Mr. Mirelli’s store even though, for the past six weeks, he had been going out with Mr. Mirelli’s daughter Rosie. What would his mother call him if she knew about that?
    He’s staring at Rosie, although he keeps glancing at Mr. Mirelli and at Corey Dubuque, who has just stumbled into the store and is mad at Rosie. They used to go together—tough-guy Corey and drop-dead-gorgeous stuck-up Ice Princess Rosie—but, boy, he didn’t make it easy for her.
    Corey’s problem: he has a temper. But, despite everything, he somehow got himself recognized as cool. Guys like to hang out with Corey. Girls like to dream about being with him.
    Personally, I don’t understand it. Yeah, I can see that he’s not bad-looking. Yeah, I get that his sarcasm and back talking to teachers are big hits, because Corey steps up and says stuff the rest of us only dream about saying. And, yeah, I can see the appeal of knowing someone who’s as connected as Corey is. No matter what you need— party invites, fake ids, booze, smokes, you name it—Corey can get it. And besides that wicked mean temper of his, he has a sense of humor and a quick wit. You figure a guy who makes you laugh until you feel like your sides are going to split open can’t be that bad.
    But I’ll tell you what—he doesn’t look so cute and so cool standing there