Page 11

Chapter 11

James

What a joy, I thought upon leaving English. What a pure joy that I would be visiting Principal Unger again today. “You’ll get this back once classes end,” Mr.Henderson had said after repossessing my phone, as if I didn’t already know the drill. “Just stop by the front office.”

Before or after detention? I wanted to ask, but kept my mouth shut.

The last thing I needed was another detention.

Ryan, Caleb, and I met up in the hallway to head to history together. They were making bets on the outcome of today’s Phillies-Mets game. My dad and I watched baseball, but man was it dull. “Try excruciatingly dull,” he agreed, more of a football guy. “But Mara and Jesse—” He dropped off to cough, and I felt a twinge. My dad and Everett’s dad had been friends since third grade. “Mara knows her stats,” he resumed, “and I want to keep up with her.”

Argh, my phone. I’d been so close—three more seconds and I would’ve known where Grace and Isa were. Was my sister actually sick? Or had she been faking it this morning?

I’d only gotten a glimpse, but that vomit had looked pretty legit.

Did she boot and rally? I wondered, because I still didn’t believe Grace and Isa were sitting at our house painting their nails while rewatching Gilmore Girls for the hundredth time. It would’ve taken something big to convince Isa to skip school. “James, I can’t,” she’d said the one time I’d tried this past winter—just to spend some time alone with her, away from Grace and my friends and everyone else. I wanted to see if our casual flirting was something. “You know my parents. If they found out, I’d be grounded for life.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

I’d given it a beat, then said, “Are you really?”

Something flashed across her face, like she hadn’t expected me to challenge her. “What?”

“Are you really sorry?” I asked. “Or is this your way of blowing me off?”

Our eyes locked, and we’d stared at each other for a good minute. Isa’s eyes were deep brown, soft but strong. They had the unique ability to either set you ablaze inside or eviscerate you outside. Even her “death stare” made my heart ignite.

It wasn’t until I raised an eyebrow that she blinked. “No,” she told me in a sort of breathy voice, “I really am sorry— truly. ”

And before slipping out of my room and returning to Grace’s, she took my hand and quickly kissed me. It was sweet and burned and wiped my mind totally blank. All I could think to say was “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She grinned, squeezed my hand, and then was gone.

Now I wished I could time-travel back to that moment instead of dumping my textbook, binder, and pencil case on my desk and flopping into its chair. Next to me, Ryan had already started yawning. “Hello, everyone,” Mr.Goldberg said in his monotone voice, and I sighed. How lucky was I that I had him for both homeroom and history?

“Gum?” Caleb offered me a piece of spearmint.

I shook my head, worrying that Isa would soon be gone again—for good this time. Five seconds after hanging up the phone last night, I’d thrown it across my room so I didn’t call back and retract my ultimatum-like request. It was such a slimy move, but whatever fuel was left in my tank had burst into flames. I was tired—it had been months of whispered soons and somedays, and Isa and I’d only gotten closer under this CIA-level secrecy. An ultimatum had felt like my only option; I didn’t know how else to express how serious I was about our relationship. I wanted Isabel Cruz to be my official girlfriend.

She still has time, my inner optimist encouraged. You gave her a day; it’s not even lunch.

Mr.Goldberg took attendance and then we handed in our homework before he began deconstructing our country’s government. And holy shit, that drone. Fifteen minutes was my breaking point today. “Yes, Mr.Barbour?” Goldberg asked after I’d raised my hand. “Question?”

“May I go to the nurse?” I said. “I’m not feeling so great.”

My teacher didn’t answer; he just adjusted his glasses and gave me a look. The thing was, visiting the nurse was sort of my MO in this class. It was just so brutally boring.

“Mr.Goldberg,” Leah Brennan said when he still hadn’t spoken. “I’m sorry, but you have to let him go! His sister’s in the hospital. Who knows? He could be sick, too.”

“Yeah!” the class agreed, and thanks to some other passionate pleas, Mr.Goldberg begrudgingly wrote me a hall pass. “I hope it’s nothing too serious,” he told me, then muttered something that sounded a lot like “Damn senioritis.”

There were only a few people in the hallway, but I kept my head down to avoid any inquiries about Grace. She could address them herself when she was back at school on Monday, since storytelling was apparently a new talent of hers.

She’s playing us, my gut was telling me. She is not sick.

But I was about to be.

“James, honey,” Mrs.Emerick said when I walked into her office. She smiled, and the crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes deepened like my grandmother’s. “I was wondering if I was going to see you today.”

My spine straightened. Yes, I was what you’d call a frequent flyer at the nurse’s office, but not that frequent. Only to get out of history…sometimes bio…and occasionallygym.

“Because of Grace,” she continued, rising from her desk. “I worried that you’d take a turn as well.”

Phew.

“I felt fine before school.” I sagged into my usual chair. “But now my stomach’s queasy and I’m getting a little lightheaded. I’m seeing spots, too.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs.Emerick said. “Let me get my thermometer.”

“Okay,” I softened my voice a little, and once her back was to me, I bent over and licked my palms like an overly friendly dog before rubbing my face with saliva. My fail-safe cover for clamminess.

“Well, your temperature’s normal,” Mrs.Emerick announced when the thermometer beeped ninety-eight degrees.“No fever.” She also pressed the back of her hand against my forehead. “Although, you do seem a little too sweaty in my opinion….” She paused. “You said you felt nauseous?”

I nodded.

“Why don’t you go lie down while I get you some Tums?”

Tums: a school nurse’s cure for any illness in existence.

“Orange or grape flavored?” Mrs.Emerick asked once I was settled on one of the cots in the adjacent room.

“Mixed berry, please, if you still have it,” I replied, and popped a couple pink tablets before she offered me a cool compress. It’d be perfect to wipe the spit off my face.

“Now you get some rest,” she said. “I’ll just be at my desk if you need me.”

“Thanks so much, Mrs.Em,” I said, because really? A cool compress?

The woman was, in all seriousness, a saint.

Maybe I fell asleep at some point, maybe I didn’t, but either way, I thought about Isa. Her too-tight ponytail, specifically. All I wanted to do whenever I saw it was tug off those silk scarves that tied it back so her smooth hair would fall down her back. I hoped that her stress would fall away with it. “Have you ever seen Isa with her hair down?” I once randomly asked Grace, and she’d given me this you-are-a-weirdo look. “Of course,” she said. “Everyone has. She used to wear it down in elementary school, always with a bow. Each day was a different color. Monday was pink, Tuesday was yellow, Wednesdaywas—”

“That’s not what I meant,” I’d mumbled, and again was treated to the you-are-a-weirdo expression. Half of me then wanted Grace to ask what I meant, but the other half didn’t. Explaining would be too awkward.

Why did Grace and Isa have to be so close? Why were they always texting or FaceTiming or Snapping or hanging out together? Why had our families nicknamed Isa my second sister?

It made things so fucking difficult.

I used to wonder why she wouldn’t go out with me. First, I thought I’d misread everything entirely—the stopping by my room more often, the new late-night texts and phone calls, and privately calling me “J.” I figured I was nothing more than a brother-type to her.

That theory had been debunked once she kissed me in January, and after I returned the favor in February. An inadvertent romantic rendezvous at the gas station. “James!” Her face had gone scarlet but soon melted into a smile.

From then on, we snuck kisses whenever we could. They never lasted long enough.

So I moved on to her not wanting a boyfriend. Isa had dated a few guys throughout high school, but none of those relationships had lasted very long. A couple months, give or take. Something always got in the way, something was always a dealbreaker. It usually had to do with time. “Well, of course he dumped me!” I’d overheard her telling Grace last year. “We haven’t gone out in three weeks. My aunt and uncle were visiting from Buenos Aires, we’ve had a ton of homework, and you know I’m trying out different ACT tutors….”

And as far as I could tell, she was never bummed about the breakups either. One week later, she had recalibrated and was Isa again.

There was only one breakup that had really wrecked her, and still wrecked her to this day. Nobody ever spoke about it, so of course I had to ask—on Valentine’s Day, of all days.

“J, are you kidding me?” Isa had said over the phone, laughing. She’d literally cracked up when I’d asked. “No, I am not in love with Everett!”

“Then why are you still so…”

“Hurt?”

“Mmm,” I said noncommittally, a bit nervously. Because it was so obvious she was. Hurt—maybe even scarred.

“Because he fucked up,” she replied, voice so dead-serious that I got goose bumps on my arms. “You don’t dump your girlfriend outside a dance, in a parking lot full of people, and then act like everything’s all chill when your families have dinner three days later. You just don’t.” She went quiet. “I don’t shut Everett out because I’m still heartbroken, James. I shut him out because he was my friend first, and that night, even though he was breaking up with me romantically, he still could’ve been my friend.” She paused. “He was an asshole when I could’ve used a friend.”

Friend.

The word hit me.

The issue hit me.

Isa tried to play the moment off, laughing again. “Do you feel threatened by him?”

“No,” I told her as I shut my eyes. It was no secret that Isa’s parents compared every guy she dated to the almighty Everett Adler, but that only slightly intimidated me. I didn’t feel threatened by that. Never had, never would.

Although the true threat became clear during that conversation. Isa wasn’t hesitating because of Everett, but because of my sister. She didn’t know how to break the news to Grace.

I mean, I did. Simply and straightforwardly, no need for nuance.

Grace, Isa and I are going to start dating.

There. Done. Band-Aid ripped off. Onward we go.

But we agreed Isa would tell her. For some girl-code reason, us being together was a Big Thing and she wanted to tell Grace when she felt ready.

I shifted on my sickbed. My sister would most definitely be shocked, but her blood pressure would return to normal. It had to, right? She loved Isa, and I was fairly sure she liked me. And last time I checked, Grace had never been one for holding grudges. Isa had to know that nothing could do permanent damage to their friendship. It just might take some time.

And then Isa’s ponytail, I thought, feeling myself drift out of consciousness. I’ll be able to pull out her ponytail, see her hair cascade down her back, run my fingers through it…

Someone gently shook me awake a while later. “James,” Mrs. Emerick whispered. “I just wanted to let you know that the period is almost over—no, no, honey, don’t worry about getting up. You can stay as long as you want, but I need to run to the main office quickly, okay?” She took the damp washcloth off my forehead. “Let me freshen this up before I leave. Again, I should only be gone a few minutes.”

I nodded, a bit disoriented from my nap, but by the time Mrs.Emerick had refreshed my cool compress and toddled out of her office, I realized what she’d left behind on her desk.

A phone.

Not her cell phone, but her school landline.

I ripped off the washcloth, basically fell off the bed, then jumped up and snuck through the dividing curtains into Mrs. Emerick’s office. Thankfully, it was deserted. No one was waiting for a temperature test and their ubiquitous Tums.

I picked up her phone and listened to the dial tone for a moment. My problem now was that I didn’t know anyone’s cell phone number by heart. Grace had a two-one-five area code while Isa had a two-six-seven, but beyond that? I only knew my parents’ numbers off the top of my head.

Ironically, I still had our old home phone memorized, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. It had been disconnected since landlines were now all but obsolete. Besides my grandparents and this blessed institution of learning, there was only one residence I knew who still had one. “Memorize the Adlers’ phone number,” I remembered Mom saying to Grace and me years and years ago. “Everett’s mom and dad are your emergency contacts.”

If anything, calling the Adler household might help suss out where Everett had gone. I sighed, knowing it was my only option unless I wanted to call my parents and convince them to go home and check on Grace. Not to mention, the nurse would be back soon.

Two-one-five, I started dialing, three-two-one…

Crap.

What were the last four digits?

Something with two eights?

Come on, I thought, squeezing my eyes shut as if that would help. Come on!

And suddenly, they came to me. The eye-squeezing technique had worked.

I punched in the rest of the number, then waited. Three rings passed before I heard a click, and a little voice say, “Hello?”

Abigail Adler, Everett’s little sister.

“Abigail, hi,” I said, cautiously adding, “it’s James.”

“Yeah, I recognize your voice,” Everett’s sister said bluntly. I loved how direct she was. “I’ve known you since before I was born!”

I smiled. True.

“Why are you calling?” she asked.

“Why aren’t you in school?” I deflected.

Did the elementary school have off today?

“Because I’m sick,” Abigail informed me. “I had a really bad stomachache, so my mom just picked me up and brought me home. She’s in the kitchen making chicken noodle soup and getting me some ginger ale. I’m not usually allowed to have it, but she said it’ll make me feel better.”

“Yes, it will,” I said as I tried to figure out how to bring up Everett. “It always does.”

“Is Grace drinking ginger ale?” Abigail asked. “My mom says her stomach hurts, too.”

Of course, I thought, because word travels like light speed in The Moms’ group chat.

“I’m sure she is,” I told Abigail. “I poured her a big glass before I left for school.”

Abigail gasped. “You’re at school ?”

Shit.

“Everett says he’s not allowed to use his phone at school.”

“Well, I have a free period right now,” I lied. “So it’s okay for me to use it.”

“But Everett says he leaves his in his locker all day. He never uses it.”

I reached up to rub my eyes. Everett says this, Everett saysthat.

Where was Everett?

I couldn’t outright ask; knowing Abigail, she would go straight to Mrs.Adler. In fact, I was one hundred percent expecting her to report that I’d called, but that wouldn’t be too difficult to explain to my parents. Oh, you had your important meetings today, so I didn’t want to distract you….

“Did someone take a picture of Everett?” Abigail blurted.

“Huh?” I asked.

“A picture,” she repeated. “My mom said he won the Phillies contest, and that the Phanatic picked him up from school. I want to see a picture.”

The Phanatic picked him up? I thought vaguely, the gears in my head turning before grinding to a very abrupt halt. The. Phanatic. Picked. Him. Up.

Not to be super dramatic, but that scene in Hercules where Hades’s cool blue hair flames into a furious red? Yep, that was me right about now. My sister’s name was on the tip of my tongue, ready to be screamed at the top of my lungs.

Grace!!!

“Yes, I think someone took a photo,” I told Abigail calmly, because I was positive someone would’ve. Mrs.Flamporis, if I had to guess. “I’ll text him to find out.”

“And can you tell him that I miss him?” his little sister asked. “We always watch National Treasure together when I’m sick, but today I have to watch it with my mom.”

“Sure, Abigail,” I said. “I will absolutely tell him.”

“Okay, thank you,” she said. “Bye.”

“Bye,” I replied, and then leaned back in Mrs.Emerick’s chair like a boss. A seriously pissed-off boss, but a boss nonetheless. Everett was not in school, and he was not at home.

Which meant he was with Grace and Isa. Because thanks to TikTok, I knew a Pennsbury High School student had won the Phillie Phanatic contest earlier this month—she’d vlogged her entire day. And the only person who knew I’d stashed Uncle Jeff’s old Phanatic costume in the attic was Grace. “Do I want to know?” she’d asked while watching me heft it up the ladder (it weighed way more than expected). Almost out of breath, I’d answered, “Only if you want to ruin the surprise.”

The surprise was still in the planning stages, but in short: a harmless, if not slightly childish, prank on Everett’s mom.

Something stitched in my side as I mentally summarized what I’d pieced together of Grace’s day so far: pull off an elaborate fake illness plot, successfully convince her best friend to skip school, and then steal my mascot costume to fool the administration and break her other partner in crime out of class.

But this is my area of expertise, I thought. She didn’t want my help?

Clearly not.

Teeth gritted, I dashed off a quick note to Mrs.Emerick that I had made a miraculous recovery and was returning to class (or something to that effect). Thank you for always caring so much about my well-being, I wrote, totally sucking up.

I had to admit, Grace was good.

Now I just had to figure out where she was.

Where they all were.