Tim Green - The Big Time

"It's okay, Tate," he said. "Don't worry. I think all this stuff is just going to turn out however it was meant to be. My mom says that all the time and it drives me crazy, but I'm starting to think it's really true. Some things are just meant to be."

"So, what do we do now?" Tate asked.

"My house," Troy said, and they followed the familiar path to his front door.

When Troy swung the door open, he could tell by the look on his mom's face that something had happened-and it wasn't something good.

" TROY, HONEY," HIS MOMsaid, rushing to him and hugging him tight.

"What happened, Mom?" he asked, separating from her.

"You're okay," she said. "That's the important thing."

"Of course I'm okay," he said, nudging Tate so she wouldn't give away the fact that they'd been chased. There was no reason to worry his mom.

"They sent an agent after you, but I guess he didn't catch you," she said.

"Agent?" Troy said, glancing at Tate. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

"From the FBI," she said, taking the cell phone back from him and dialing as she spoke. "It happened fast, Troy. They called to tell me. They wanted me to let them know if you got back. The FBI got what they needed on tape right after Tate dropped the quarter. The agents rushed right in, but a couple got away. I guess it was hectic, and they wanted to make sure you and Tate were okay."

"A couple of who?" Troy asked, but his mom was on with an FBI agent, explaining that she had Troy and Tate and that they were fine. Then she hung up.

"Those men," she said, her attention now fully on Troy. "Your father was one of them. G Money had a tunnel the FBI didn't know about. It goes between the main house and a guesthouse behind the pool. From there they got away into the trees. The FBI has a helicopter on its way. Tate must have interrupted their meeting at the perfect time, because the FBI said that the minute she was gone, the men kept right on talking about a money-laundering deal."

"But that's good," Troy said. "I did what they asked me to do, and now they have to help my dad. They got what they want. What's wrong? Why do you look like that, Mom?"

"Well," she said with a pained expression, "it's the money, Troy. The plan was to take it."

"What do you mean?" Troy asked. "What money?"

"The five million dollars from the Jets," she said. " Your money. Your father was going to take it, Troy. He was going to give it to those men. He was taking their cash to pay back his investors, then giving them your clean money in return. I'm sorry."

"That can't be," Troy said, the look on his mom's face making him sick because he knew she believed it to be true.

"I blame myself," she said, shaking her head. "People don't change. I know better."

"You can't just take someone's money, Mom," he said, studying her face for the punch line.

"I thought the same thing," she said. "I was going to let him handle it-sign the contract and set up an account for you. I trusted him. I'm sorry I have to tell you this, Troy, but I just think you need to know."

Troy's mom took a deep breath. "He told them he would wire your money into an offshore account. That's how they do it, these criminals. It's as fast as pushing the right button on a computer. The FBI can't stop them. Everything happens too fast."

"He wouldn't do that," Troy said, his voice weak and pathetic. "Not to me."

"I'm sorry, Troy," she said, rubbing the back of his head. "He was, but he's going to pay for it now. That wasn't part of the deal."

"But I did this to help him," Troy said, glancing back at Tate, who nodded vigorously. "Mom, don't you get it?"

He stared at her, searching.

"I don't want him to go to jail," he said, the word dying on his tongue.

"You're a good boy, Troy," she said, touching his cheek. Then she turned and bolted out of the living room. Troy heard her bedroom door rattle closed, and he turned to Tate.

"Sorry," he said.

Tate shrugged. "It's okay. I understand."

"I wish I did," Troy said.

"She loves you, Troy," Tate said. "A lot. Everything that happened she feels bad about. I think she feels guilty."

"Why?" Troy said, his face screwing up with frustration.

"I think it's a girl thing," Tate said. "It's hard to explain."

Troy grabbed two handfuls of hair and twisted. "I'm going crazy, Tate. This whole thing is a nightmare."

"I'm sorry, Troy," she said in a whisper. "I wish I could help."

Troy let his hands fall to his sides and said, "No one can help."

"Maybe you should call him, Troy," Tate said. "I know this all looks really bad, but maybe there's a reason. I know my mom is pretty extreme with her religion and all that, but she always says God has a reason, and things always work out the way they're supposed to."

Troy looked at her big brown eyes.

"You think my life was supposed to turn into a complete disaster?" he asked quietly. "Famous for something that gets everyone around me acting crazy? My father finally showing up, but it would have been better if he never had? Why would all that happen, Tate?"

Tate shrugged and looked at her feet. Her voice came in a whisper. "I don't know. Maybe it will still be okay. Things happen."

The phone on the kitchen wall rang, and Troy ran to snap it up before his mother could answer from the bedroom.

"Hello?" Troy said.

"Troy? It's me, your dad."

TROY COULDN'T SPEAK.

"Are you there?"

"Yes," Troy said in a whisper.

"Did you hear?"

"Yes," Troy said.

"I can explain, Troy," his dad said. "I want to. That's why I ran. I need to see you. I need to tell you. Not the police, not your mom-me. Please, Troy."

"Were you really going to take it?" Troy asked.

There was silence before his father said, "I need to talk to you about that. Can you meet me on your bridge?"

"The FBI are looking for you," Troy said. "There's a helicopter."

"I know," his father said. "But I need to see you first. I never wanted things to be this way. You have to believe me. Will you meet me?"

Troy looked at Tate. She shook her head slowly, no.

"Yes," Troy said. "I'm coming."

He hung up, and his mom appeared in the hallway, asking, "Was that the FBI?"

"No," Troy said, looking directly at her, the words slipping out of his mouth like snakes slithering out of a plastic bucket. "Wrong number."

"I thought you were talking," she said.

"They wanted to know what number they called," he said, the words still slipping past his lips, "and if a Robert lived here. I thought maybe they were looking for Gramps or something."

His mom blinked at him, then said, "Oh. Well, I'm going to lie back down. I've got a migraine coming on, and I want to try to beat it. I'm sorry I just walked out. This whole thing is so…"

"It's okay, Mom," Troy said. "I'm okay."

She smiled weakly and put a hand to her forehead. "Good."

When she disappeared, Troy held a finger to his lips and motioned with his head for Tate to follow him outside.

Back through the pines they went, the distant chop chop of a helicopter now in the air. When they hit the train tracks, Tate grabbed his arm.

"You think it's safe?" she asked.

Troy took her hand and gently freed it from his arm.

"It's my dad, Tate," he said.

"And others, too, maybe," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I thought you said they were dangerous."

Troy turned on her and said, "Don't worry, Tate. I have to do this alone anyway."

"I'm not saying I won't go with you," Tate said, but he could hear the fear in her voice.

"I need to do this alone," Troy said.