Free Blackwater by Eve Bunting

again.”
    Raoul squinted down at me, same brown leathery face, same eyes crinkly and friendly.
    I waited for the question.
    “You heard that Mrs. Rand saw Pauline and Otis go into the river? There are a couple of loose ends. She says there was someone over on this side, someone standing up to his ankles inDinkins Pond. She said she didn’t know who it was, somebody small she’d never seen before. But then, it’s a long way across the river with the rock in between and all. And her distance sight’s not all that good, she says. It could have been somebody from the town. But nobody’s come forward.”
    She’d seen Alex, I thought. And it was the way Alex had said. Mrs. Rand hadn’t been able to see me in the water. I tried not to let my face show the thoughts that were chasing each other around inside my head.
    “It would be good if we knew who that somebody was,” Raoul said. “Because frankly, what Mrs. Rand saw Otis do, or what she thinks she saw, is making things even tougher for Otis’ mother. So I’d give a lot to be able to say she was wrong.” Raoul stuffed his hands in his pockets, looked down at his shoes. “Now, I know you two boys were over on this side. But you never went on to the beach or into Dinkins Pond, right?”
    “Right.”
    “And you didn’t see anybody else? Somebody your age? Or size?”
    “No.”
    And I realized I was standing here lying to a police officer, even if it was only to our friend Raoul. For sure now there was no turning back.

CHAPTER 11
    W hen Alex came home, he said I’d missed a great performance. Mrs. Rand had come out and made a statement. So Alex now knew all about the person she’d spotted on the other side of the river.
    My heart quaked. “Did she recognize you?”
    “Naw.” Alex flopped onto the couch. “And I was standing right there in front of her. She dropped a Kleenex, and I even picked it up and gave it back to her and she said, ‘Thanks, son.’ Don’t worry. She wouldn’t recognize me in a million years.”
    I told him Raoul had been here and that’s how I knew.
    “Don’t worry about him either.” Alex got up.“Want something to drink? It’s hotter than heck outside.”
    I heard a car pull into the driveway and knew Mom and Dad were back from seeing the Generos. “How about something to drink?” Alex asked them when they came inside. “Aunt Jenny? There’s still some of that lemonade.”
    “I’d love some,” Mom said in a tired, defeated kind of voice.
    “Me too.” Dad didn’t sound any better.
    I’d turned on the Giants game, and Dad asked, “Are you watching?”
    “Not really.”
    He switched it off.
    “Brodie?” Something in the way he said it, something in the way Mom was looking at me made me tense up.
They
know, I thought, and my mouth went dry.
    “Brodie,” Dad said. “Mr. and Mrs. Genero are arranging Pauline’s funeral for Friday. That’s tomorrow,” he added, as if I didn’t know.
    I didn’t.
    “It’s a little soon, especially since Mrs. Genero’s still weak. But Pauline’s uncle is leaving for Chile on Saturday.”
    More was coming. Something bad.
    Alex had come back from the kitchen carrying four glasses of lemonade. He stopped at Dad’s words or maybe at the feeling in the room.
    “The thing is…they would like you to give the eulogy, Brodie.”
    “The eulogy? What’s that?” Alex asked, and then he said, “Brodie? Would you come and get two of these before I drop them?”
    I took two of the glasses and set them carefully on the table, while my mind scuttled around as if it were caught in a net. They wanted
me
to give the eulogy.
    “The eulogy is…making a little speech at the time of the service. Saying something about the person who died,” Dad told Alex.
    “Wow! Would you want to do that?” Alex took a sip of lemonade and licked his lips.
    “I couldn’t do it. I’d die before I’d do it.” I heard my voice rising. “Talk about Pauline—I—”
    Mom interrupted. “You don’t have