Earliest convenience? How about never?
Darla frowned when I told her about the message. She was busy trying to put impossibly tiny sneakers on one of the twins. “Your dad and I both have to open the shop today,” she said. “I know you’re eighteen now, but I don’t like the idea of you dealing with those guys alone.”
“I’ll be okay.” I kept my voice casual, like it was no big deal.
She dodged a kick from Ji Hyun. “If you’re sure,” she said dubiously. “I’ll call the school when we get to work and let them know you’re going to be late.”
Ben appeared from the kitchen wearing black surf shorts and a T-shirt from last year’s Malibu Open. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a doughnut in the other. “Christ, Darla. It’s his birthday. Just let him stay home.”
“Could I?” I hadn’t slept well, and crashing on the couch all day sounded like an excellent idea.
“I guess it’d be all right,” Darla said. “And then we can all go out to eat tonight, okay? Unless you’ve got plans with your friends.”
Not likely, since one of my friends was MIA and the other wasn’t allowed to hang out with me. “Dinner sounds good,” I said.
Darla looked forlornly at the tiny pink sneaker in her hand. Sprawled on her back on the sofa, Ji Hyun squealed and kicked her legs as if she thought being dressed by force was a really fun game. Nearby, Jo Lee sat on the floor trying to fit one of her own sparkly sneaks into her mouth. I pinned Ji’s legs against the sofa’s threadbare fabric one at a time, and she pouted as Darla wrestled the sneakers onto her tiny feet.
“I think she might need a bigger size already.” Darla shook her head. “I can’t believe how quickly kids grow up.”
Ji Hyun kicked at the sofa and started wailing. Immediately, her twin sister joined in.
“Not quick enough for me.” Ben winked at Darla to show her he was kidding. He chugged down the rest of his coffee and set the mug on top of the TV. With half a doughnut dangling from his mouth, he picked up Jo Lee and spun her around in a circle. Immediately, she quit crying and made a little cooing sound.
Amanda peeked out from the entrance to the kitchen. “Happy birthday, Max.” She held out a box wrapped in snowman wrapping paper.
I ruffled her hair. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Mandy.”
“I made it,” she said proudly.
“Seriously?” That could be good or bad. I ripped through the paper and prepared to gush over whatever was inside the box. Folding back a few squares of toilet paper that she had used as tissue paper, I uncovered a coffee mug painted with brightly colored surfboards and coated with a shiny varnish. It was actually pretty awesome.
“You made this?” I asked.
“Well, I painted it,” she clarified.
“It totally rocks.” I leaned down to give her a hug.
“How come you’re not dressed yet?” Amanda asked. “You get to skip school because it’s your birthday?”
“Yeah.” I smiled.
“Are you still going to give me a ride home?”
“Of course.” Darla didn’t baby Amanda because of her cystic fibrosis, but she hated the thought of her having to ride home on the crowded, dirty bus, so I always picked her up.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do I get to skip school when it’s my birthday?”
“You can on your eighteenth birthday,” Darla said, shooting me a grateful look. I didn’t know if it was because I was picking Amanda up from school or because I didn’t say anything about the FBI dropping by later. Amanda was already a little too obsessed with death and detectives for a eleven-year-old. If she found out Preston was missing she’d want to help investigate.
“Mom, can we put the tree up tonight?” Amanda bounced up and down on her toes. “My friend Clara said her mom put their tree up the day after Thanksgiving.”
“Sure,” Darla said. “We’ll do it after we get home from dinner.”
Not exactly my dream birthday, but if I couldn’t be with Parvati then tree-trimming with my little sis wouldn’t be too bad. I twisted the mug around in my hands to check out the painted surfboards one more time. Amanda was actually pretty cool for a kid. I hoped she would rub off on the twins as they got older.
After everyone headed out, I relaxed in front of the TV. There was still no word about Preston’s disappearance, not even on the local news. I knew I should call Agent McGhee, but he probably didn’t expect me to skip school. The twins would be at the babysitter’s and my parents would be at the shop until sunset. I could give McGhee a call an hour before I had to pick up Amanda from school. That would be a convenient excuse to cut the “routine follow-up questions” short if things got tense. I couldn’t leave my chronically ill little sister without a ride home, could I?
Slouching down on the sofa, I flipped through the channels. I heard Senator DeWitt’s name mentioned on a local news show and paused, thinking maybe people were finally talking about Pres. Nope. It was just a couple of analysts speculating about who the new president would appoint to his cabinet.
I sent Preston another text—Seriously dude. Please call or text someone—and when that went unanswered I tried to call him. The phone rang four times before going to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message. As I clicked the red disconnect button on my phone, I thought of something. Preston’s phone couldn’t be dead. If it was, it would have gone straight to voicemail with no ringing.
My stomach churned. Pres and his phone were never separated. To my knowledge, he had never lost it. For the first time, I thought that maybe the feds were right. Maybe something terrible had happened, and I was making it worse by covering things up.
TWELVE
I DOZED OFF FOR A couple of hours, and when I woke up I flipped through our measly fifteen channels again, but every show seemed to be about kidnappings or disappearances. I flicked off the TV with a sigh of disgust. Then I slapped together a salami sandwich and plunked down at the kitchen table. My stomach was growling, but my mouth was dry, my throat closing up as I tried to choke down bites of bread and meat.
It was hopeless. I needed to just get dressed, call McGhee, and get it over with. Otherwise I was going to sit around all day and worry about what he and Gonzalez wanted. I pushed my hair out of my face and headed for my bedroom. As I turned the corner into the living room, I skidded to a stop on the rug.
Parvati was sitting cross-legged on the sofa. I hadn’t even heard the front door open or close.
“Jesus.” I swiped at my mouth quickly, hoping there weren’t any breadcrumbs stuck to my lips. “Ninja much?”