Stubs nodded, looking troubled. I knew he was wishing we had a better plan. With a wave he said, “I’ll text ya later,” and then he was gone.
I sighed, fighting the feeling that I’d let him down, and poked at my drink with the plastic stirrer, when all of a sudden I heard a voice I’d recognize anywhere, and I felt a jolt of adrenaline stiffen my spine. Slouching down in my seat, I leaned out slightly and saw Aiden standing at the counter joking with two buddies while they waited for the barista to take their orders.
Immediately, I looked around for an escape route, but the only exit was the entrance at the front of the Starbucks. I knew I didn’t look my best: I hadn’t made a big effort that morning. My hair was pulled back, I wasn’t wearing any makeup besides a little mascara, and my hoodie was drab and dark. But I was trapped at the back of the store; all Aiden had to do was turn his head to the right and he’d see me.
Thinking quickly, I bent over and retrieved my backpack from the floor. I dug through it and pulled out the biggest textbook I had—chemistry—and opened it up on the table to partially conceal my face behind it. Listening intently, I heard Aiden’s somewhat husky voice rise and fall as he discussed a chemistry test he’d had that day. He and the two other guys were comparing answers. I smiled when I realized that he and I were basically studying the exact same section of the periodic table.
Then I heard a much more feminine voice say, “Hey, Aiden!”
I stiffened. Gripping the sides of the book tightly, I snuck a peek. A girl with long blond hair stood to the side of the three boys. Twirling a few strands between her fingers she said, “Can I add a caramel macchiato to your order?”
There were a lot of customers waiting behind the guys, and it was obvious the girl was cutting the line. The way she was staring at Aiden made me wonder if they were more than friends.
Aiden looked back at the line, offering an apologetic look to the person behind them before replying, “Sure, Kendra. What size?”
“A tall. I’m watching my weight,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm and swish her hips.
I stopped breathing. My insides felt gripped by a vise. The girl was pretty. Very pretty. Her hair was hanging loose in long blond waves, she wore lots of makeup, and her clothes looked soft, stylish, and oh-so-touchable.
I stared at Aiden intently. He added her drink to their order, and then he paid for everything—including hers. I didn’t quite know what to make of that. Was he just being generous?
Kendra kept on flirting with Aiden while they waited, and he smiled and nodded as she talked. It was impossible to tell if he was into her or only being polite.
But then, I couldn’t think of a reason why a guy wouldn’t be into someone as pretty as her.
The barista called Aiden’s name, and he and one of his buddies gathered the drinks. Aiden handed Kendra’s tall macchiato over to her, and in exchange she handed him a cardboard drink sleeve. I was confused—Aiden already had a sleeve attached to his cup—then I noticed a hint of black scrawl on the one she wielded, and realized she’d given him her phone number.
After touching his arm one last time, she was gone. I wanted to die. I felt so queasy and dizzy that I wanted a hole to open up in the middle of the floor and swallow me. But shortly after Kendra left, Aiden tossed the sleeve aside and motioned to his buddies to go.
They were out the door a moment later. I sat up, counted to ten, and left my chair to hurry over to the counter to retrieve the sleeve before someone either used it or tossed it in the trash. Sure enough, Kendra’s name and phone number were written in curly script across the middle.
I shut my eyes and held the small bit of cardboard to my chest, so relieved he’d tossed it and any interest in her aside. “Did you need something?” I heard, and my eyes flew open. The barista was leaning over the counter looking at me. She was close enough so that her deathdate read clearly: 3-30-2070. “No,” I said quickly, feeling my mouth lift into a jubilant smile. “Thanks, though. I was just leaving.”
The next couple of days passed in a bit of a blur. Stubby and I didn’t talk again about warning Payton, but that didn’t mean we were both happy about how we’d left it. I’d stayed up almost the whole night before trying to come up with a better idea than the birthday card, but nothing came from all that thinking. By Tuesday morning, I decided to let it alone and hope we’d done enough.
As of Wednesday, there were no updates in the Tevon Tibbolt case, and there was no story about a car accident involving Payton Wyly or about her sudden death. I called Stubs the minute the news was over. “I think we did it!” I said the second he answered. “Nothing on the news about Payton.”
“I know! I saw it too, and I think you’re right! We saved her!” But then he seemed to sober as he added, “We should go to the next Jupiter football game, you know, to make sure she’s okay. I’ll look online and see who they’re playing, but it’s probably going to be one of Grand Haven’s teams, and since they played us last week, it’ll be a home game for them. I’ll ask Mom if I can have the van for the night.”
“Awesome. I’m in,” I said. I was tingly with relief. I couldn’t believe we’d actually changed Payton’s numbers—I wanted to go to the game to see it for myself. And of course there’d be the added bonus of seeing Aiden again.
Donny called me later on that night to let me know he hadn’t heard anything more from the feds, which he thought might be good news, and sure enough, on Thursday when I rode up into my driveway, the familiar black sedan wasn’t behind me, and it wasn’t parked on the street, either.