My common app essay. “Oh, no. I’ll do it right now.”
I pulled out my phone, keenly aware of Andrew’s presence on the bus; he walked past us, nudging Kacey’s shoulder with his, on purpose. She smirked, pink creeping into her cheeks. I forced a swallow and finished up sending her the essay.
“Hey,” I said. “So I’m going to check out Madison the last weekend in October. You should come.”
“Madison the school?”
“Yes, doofus, the school.” I don’t want to go to school in Wisconsin, never have, but my parents are making me visit Wonder Brother’s school. Ben loves it there. Ben also loves grimy sports bars and Kanye West and boobs.
Kacey’s eyes were on the ring around her thumb; she gave it a twist. “I would never get into Madison.”
“I probably won’t get in either. Just come. It’ll be fun.”
“I don’t know if I could get off work. But I’ll ask.”
The bus door shuttered, and the engine coughed to life. Mrs. Gonzalo whistled—once to get our attention, another time to get us to shut the hell up—and began reading off our group assignments for the park.
“Group A: Bailey Hammond, Valerie Diamond, Eliot Butler, and Thomas Alonzo.”
My stomach clenched. Fucking Val. I pictured her cringing in her seat at the back of the bus. I was so distracted I almost missed Mrs. Gonzalo rattling off the next group: “…Andrew Kang, and Kacey Young.”
My skin felt hot; the heat made its way to my head, muddling my brain. Andrew and Kacey. Kacey and Andrew. When we hopped off the bus, one by one, drifting into our groups, I couldn’t tear my eyes off them.
Our group’s assignment was pulling weeds; Kacey’s group and another one were tasked with painting the gazebo at the center of the park.
Val and I worked in silence; I knew she wouldn’t say anything. She never does. She just looks at me like some wounded bird, like she’s the one who was wronged.
Meanwhile, the painting group was having a hell of a time.
That was when I saw it: Andrew, brush in hand. Coming at Kacey, flicking the tip across her nose. She shrieked. Laughing. I felt like I’d been sucker-punched. If I had balls, they would have shriveled up into my stomach.
I turned my attention back to the weeds. Val was watching me; I knew she saw it too, how gross Andrew and Kacey were being.
So I said: “Are you supposed to flirt with your stepsibling?”
Her voice was small. “You think they’re flirting?”
I leaned back on my butt. Brushed dirt off my kneecaps. “Look at the way she looks at him.”
Val lifted her eyes, hands still tearing at the root of the dandelion. She didn’t say anything for a beat. Then: “Wow.”
A thrill rippled through me. The sun was hot on my back. I absorbed the full weight of what I’d done. I’d passed the seed of suspicion to someone else; soon it’ll spread as quickly as a virus. Kacey Young wants to fuck her stepbrother.
Because Val can’t keep her mouth shut. She’s never been able to.
Later, before we got back on the bus, Jade met up with me while Kacey was using the porta-potty. “Why were you talking to Val?”
I opted for total deflection. “Do you think there’s something weird going on between Kacey and Andrew?”
Jade’s mouth formed a line. “Seriously?”
I told her what I’d seen. Reminded her of that night we ran into Andrew and Kacey and Lauren at Culver’s, and how Kacey had looked at us like we’d interrupted something. I thought of all the excuses not to chill at her house—My dad is sleeping. My sister will want to hang out with us—and felt heat come to my face.
She’s trying to keep Andrew to herself.
I studied Jade’s expressionless face. “What are you thinking?” I asked.
“I think…you’re kind of fixated on her.”
I didn’t know what to say; it’s moments like that when I think Jade knows about my night drives to Andrew’s house. I’ve thought about telling her, on those rare nights where her dad was working a double and we tapped into the stash of weed in his sock drawer. Just blurt it out in a smoky haze: I go to his house. I never get close enough to see him; I just like knowing he’s there.
But I never say anything. Because there are things that are just too fucked up to tell even your best friend.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Andrew lied to me. The police didn’t want to talk to him about me—they know he called Bailey right before she left the party.
I stare at the screen. The phone calls are only twenty seconds each. Barely enough for a real conversation.
But short enough to decide to meet somewhere.
But why? Bailey and Andrew rarely ever spoke; I didn’t even know Andrew had her phone number. I’d thought the only thing they even had in common anymore was me. Those days in the pictures hanging in the hallway—Andrew and Bailey, trick-or-treating as the red and pink Power Rangers—they’re long gone. There was no rift between them, no cataclysmic event: they just grew up and grew apart.
At least, that’s what I thought.
I have to confront Andrew. Ream him out for not telling me about the phone calls. Demand to know where he went Saturday night and why he gave me a bullshit excuse about picking up his prescription when I asked. My steps are purposeful, angry, as I head upstairs and bang on the door of his room. I don’t care if Mrs. Lao can hear.
There’s no answer.
“Andrew,” I hiss. I give it five seconds before opening the door.
His room is empty; I look out the window overlooking the driveway. His car is gone, too. I turn to go, and my gaze lands on his phone, waiting on his nightstand. Wherever he went, he forgot it.
Fuck it. I cross the room and grab it, slide my finger across the screen. Andrew’s passcode is his birthday, easy.
I scroll through his calls until I reach last Saturday night. Bailey, Bailey. Where’s Bailey?
But there’s no record of him ever calling her. Though, how easy is it to just delete a call from your phone. Like it never happened at all.
When I get downstairs, Mrs. Lao is still entranced by the blender demonstration on TV.
“Where’s Andrew?” I ask over the grinding blasting from our surround-sound system.
Mrs. Lao mutes the television. “Tyrell’s. Studying for physics test.”
I’m rooted to my spot. There’s a tight feeling, low in my stomach.
Because there’s no way Andrew has another physics test already—we just took midterms two weeks ago.
—
On Sunday morning, it’s not snowing, so Broken Falls and Pleasant Plains law enforcement are joining together to do a massive ground search for Bailey. At least, that’s what the news says. The weather is still barely above freezing; I think of all those police officers in their heavy parkas, heat warmers shoved into their gloves, and let my body give in to a shiver.