Page 2

Chapter 2

James

You’d think that once my sister had been elected student body president, she would want to be chauffeured to school as if she were the actual president. Able to zone out instead of paying attention to the road, able to think those important thoughts or make last-minute notes, and maybe even sometimes DJ.

No, wrong.

Grace insisted on driving all the time, everywhere, and kept hold of those keys in case I got any wild ideas. Never were they hung on the mudroom hook or tossed on the kitchen island. So fine, sure, I might’ve gunned it up our street after narrowly missing the mailbox while leaving the driveway this morning. A few early-morning runners, bikers, and dog walkers shouted at me, some even gave me the finger, but it felt good. I was driving after ages of not driving.

But then I remembered the stop sign at the end of the street. “Shit!” I said, and slammed on the brakes at the last second. Even with a seat belt, I pitched forward before my head banged back against the headrest. If I wasn’t awake yet, I definitely was now.

Payback’s a bitch, I imagined the runners saying.

Today was off to a great start.

Nobody was behind me, so I mounted my iPhone on the dashboard and quickly queued up a Spotify playlist…until a text popped up onscreen, sent to both me and Grace. You mind grabbing me? it read.

I sighed but flipped my left blinker instead of turning right toward town. His house was only a few streets over from ours, and when it came into view, someone that resembled Everett Adler was waiting in the driveway. He sort of looked like a ghoul gone missing from a Spirit Halloween store, complexion six-feet-under-pale with grayish-green bags under his eyes. “Miss the bus?” I asked as he slid into shotgun.

“Very funny.” Everett rolled his eyes before glancing around for Grace. I wondered how long he would hold off on asking where she was. “No, my battery’s dead.”

“Didn’t have time to jump it?”

“Couldn’t.” He buckled his seat belt. “The cables are in the trunk of my mom’s car, which is sitting at the dealership because it’s—”

“Due for its annual inspection,” I finished, shifting the Subaru back into drive. “Right, I remember her mentioning it on Saturday. She’s busted out your dad’s Bronco.”

“Unfortunately,” Everett mumbled, and while I wanted to ask what his deal was, I couldn’t. Because that was it. The conversation ended.

And I felt bad—not for him, not for me, but for our parents. They had tried so hard over the years, pushing the two of us together in the hope that we would become best friends. We’d been on the same youth soccer team, we’d trick-or-treated together—we’d even had sleepovers. Plus, our family game nights endured. Just this weekend we’d been over at his house playing Telestrations (if you aren’t in the know: Telephone meets Pictionary on steroids).

But it wasn’t happening. It wasn’t ever going to happen. They’d gotten lucky with Isa and Grace, who were so close that sometimes they walked through the hallways with their arms linked. Meanwhile, Everett and I mostly exchanged nods. “I know you have plenty of friends, but why don’t you like him?” my mom asked now and again, and I always shrugged. The truth was I didn’t dislike the guy, but after everything that went down with Isa…

“Where’s our commander in chief this morning?” Everett caved after a few minutes of silence. We couldn’t even talk about the weather.

“Sick,” I answered. “Blowing chunks all night.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Jeez, I can’t remember the last time she had the stomachflu.”

“Probably because it was when you were still friends,” I said without thinking, too focused on pulling into the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.

I glanced over to see Everett low-key glaring at me.

“Dude, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” I asked. Everett had never been the confrontational type. It really was like some miserable spirit had taken over his body today.

“Grace and I are still friends,” he answered.

“Really?” I deadpanned. “I wasn’t aware.” I maneuvered the Subaru in between two fellow coffee-drinking cars and put the car in park. “Is she aware?”

Next to Isa, Everett had once been my sister’s best friend. They were the natural Adler-Barbour pairing, no pushing from parents needed. It was all joyriding until they screeched to a stop; for the last three years, they barely spoke to each other outside family stuff.

No, our parents couldn’t suspect what I, a humble bystander, secretly called the Freshman Year Fracture.

Everett whistled. “You’re brutal,” he said, then noticed where we were. His eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t think you drank coffee?”

(Note: You might not be friends with a person, but if your families were friends, you ended up learning a lot about each other.)

“I don’t,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt. “This stop isn’t for me.” I paused before turning to him. “But since we’re here, would you like anything?”

Fifteen minutes before the bell, I swung into a prime front-row parking spot with a sign reading RESERVED FOR STUDENT BODY PRESIDENT.

Everett snorted. “Nice.”

“Why not?” I said. “If you have the connections…”

We headed into the building together, climbing the concrete front steps among a swarm of students. “Thanks for the ride, Barbour,” he said once we reached the lobby, giving me a perfunctory nod before walking off toward his locker.

Instead of doing the same, I looked up at the ceiling, counted to ten, and then pushed into the front office with my cardboard coffee carrier. “James!” Mrs.Flamporis looked up from her computer to smile at me. “Good morning!”

“Good morning.” I smiled back and handed the secretary a coffee from the tray. “Vanilla oat milk latte.”

She gave me a bemused look. “How did you know?”

“Intuition,” I joked before moving down the row of desks to our school’s IT manager. “Black for you, Mr.Cowan,” I said. “Two sugars.”

I chanced a quick look to the right and caught her watching me from behind the glass wall of her private office.

Excellent.

“Oh, James,” Vice Principal Navani said as I held out her cup. “You’re so sweet, but I actually don’t like—”

“It’s black tea with lemon,” I said. “If you’d prefer green next time…”

I even handed a coffee to the gym teacher, Mr.Murphy, because he was always hanging around; the whole school knew he had a thing for our vice principal.

By the time I walked into Principal Unger’s office, the Dunkin’ Donuts carrier was empty. Nope, sorry, no more. I made a big show of dumping it in her trash can before dropping down in the chair across from hers. This face-to-face meeting was routine. Well, not even routine—more like a requirement. Because of all my absences, pranks, and inevitable detentions, Principal Unger had red-flagged me. I couldn’t tell you what it achieved, but it was the highlight of my day.

Obviously.

“Hello, Mr.Barbour,” Unger said now. She was dressed in a god-awful pink pantsuit, an oversized bow on her shirt. “Playing coffee boy this morning, are we?”

“Yeah.” I suppressed a smirk. “Sorry, I would’ve gotten something for you, but I don’t know your order.”

The principal didn’t comment. “I see Mr.Henderson has given you detention today,” she said instead. “Care to sharewhy?”

“Gladly.” I sat up straighter, feigning excitement. Unger would never embarrass me. No way in hell. “I moved his car.”

“You what?”

“I moved his car,” I repeated, and when that blank expression wasn’t wiped from her face, I backtracked. “The other day in English, he realized he’d forgotten some lecture notes in his car, so instead of leaving the class unsupervised, he gave me his keys and asked me to retrieve them.”

Principal Unger pursed her lips. “Keep going.”

“Well, you remember how sunny it was,” I said confidently. “I thought I’d move his car to a shadier section, under the trees. That way the leather seats wouldn’t get too hot.”

“How considerate of you,” she deadpanned.

“Thank you,” I replied. My buddy Ryan and I had stayed after school to film our dazed and confused teacher looking for his ride, since the shady side of the parking lot was forty yards away. The joke had gone over really well on Snapchat. Grace called me an asshole but thought it was hilarious, and Isa had texted a ton of crying-laughing emojis.

Even Mr.Henderson gave credit where credit was due. “Detention is nonnegotiable,” he’d said yesterday, “but well played, James. Well played.”

Unger did not agree. In fact, she looked like she could use some coffee. “You can go,” she said. “Straight to your locker, then straight to homeroom.”

“Hold on,” I said. “One more thing.”

“What?” She was pinching the bridge of her nose.

“My sister’s out today,” I said, reaching into my back pocket for a crumpled piece of paper. “Here’s a note from our mom.”

It was written on the back of a lengthy CVS receipt, and my mother had raced out of the house with it before I could speed away in the Subaru. “James Robert Barbour, you wait a moment!”

Principal Unger was not impressed. “You didn’t actually think I’d believe this, did you?”

I cocked my head. “Pardon?”

The woman laughed. “James, this is absurd.” She cleared her throat and read: “Principal Unger, Grace out today. Very ill.” She tossed the note on her desk. “And the signature is all but illegible.”

“Well, she was in a rush—”

“What’s going on, James?” She eyed me. “What’s your angle here?”

“My angle ?”

“Yes, clearly you wrote this.”

This time it was me who laughed. “Principal Unger,” I said, “why would I write a fake absence note for my sister?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer,” I told her. “Grace loves school. You know her—she smiles all day, every day. She wouldn’t stay home unless she was sick. Which she is. ” I gestured to the receipt. “Our mom really did write that note.”

Principal Unger picked up her office phone. “We’re goingto see about that.” She looked at me, ready to dial. “Your mother’s cell phone, please?”

I rattled off the number but made sure to add, “She won’t pick up, though. She has a huge pitch at the ad firm today.”

Her pursed lips twisted. “Grace, then. Please call Grace, and put her on speaker.”

Are you fucking kidding me? nearly slipped out of my mouth. Because really, was she fucking kidding me?

But I did as instructed.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four.

On the fifth and final ring tone, we heard a click and a feeble voice. “Hello?”

“Gracie!” I said overenthusiastically with gritted teeth. “I’m here with Principal Unger. She wanted to see how her president was doing.”

“Oh, Principal Unger, hi,” my sister said faintly. “I’d, um, rather not give you too many details if that’s okay. There’s a bucket involved.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Barbour, I don’t need them,” Principal Unger said while I heard what sounded like a muffled voice in the background. Was she watching Netflix or something? “Like your brother said, I only wanted to see how you’re faring.”

“Thank you, Principal,” Grace replied with a drained sigh. “I really appreciate that.”

Then, being my sister, she asked if I could stop by her classes to collect any assignments she’d be missing. “Sure thing,” I lied, knowing Isa would be on the case.

I felt a twinge in my ribs and fought the urge to wince. Isa…

Principal Unger and I stared at each other after she suggested Grace get some rest and I ended the call.

“May I be dismissed?” I asked, already half out of my chair. “Locker? Homeroom?”

“Yes,” she said mildly, still side-eyeing me. “I’ll see you later, James.”

Somehow word had spread like wildfire that Grace was sick. I skidded into Mr.Goldberg’s classroom right as the bell rang, and everyone sprung up from their desks. “How serious is it?” Grace’s ex-girlfriend Steph asked me. (Grace had broken up with her nicely enough that Steph still cared.) “Because last night at the library, I did overhear Leah Brennan telling Ty Wallace that when she swung through Chick-fil-A, she heard from Connor McCallister and Erin Magee that earlier at tennis practice, Grace said she was feeling a little woozy.”

“All right, I didn’t follow any of that,” I said, trying to find an open desk but also looking around for Isa. We needed to talk about last night. “But yep, she’s probably hacking up a lung as we speak.”

And watching Netflix, I thought, remembering that other voice I’d heard on the phone. Watching Netflix and hugging that bucket.

I ended up in the back row, searching for Isa’s too-tight ponytail among the heads in front of me. Since Grace was sick, David Morales—her vice president and ex-boyfriend—led the Pledge of Allegiance over the loudspeaker. “And last but certainly not least,” he said after making the morning announcements, “let’s all keep President Grace Barbour in our thoughts today. It’s been made known that she is currently in the hospital with food poisoning…”

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” I muttered, keeping my head down while Mr.Goldberg started taking attendance.

“Aaronson?”

“Here!”

“Adler?”

“Here,” Everett said, and it wasn’t until our teacher hit the Cs that I sat up and scanned the classroom for the third time.

“Cruz?” Mr.Goldberg said in his monotone drone. “Cruz…? Cruz…? Cruz…?”

Isa didn’t answer.

My stomach spun.

Something’s off, I thought. Something’s weird.

Because while Grace was rarely absent, Isa was never absent. I was pretty sure her perfect attendance record dated back to kindergarten. “It’s not healthy, Scott,” I once heard Mom say to my dad, back when Grace and I’d been in fourth grade. “She caught strep from Everett, yet James said she was on the school bus this morning. She told him she couldn’t miss their quarterly math exam.” She sighed. “She’ll burn out if Luis and Pilar make this a habit…”

Izzy, where are you? I snuck a text under my desk and watched the gray typing dots appear. But then they disappeared, with no message ever appearing onscreen.

She’d ignored me.

Closing my eyes, I couldn’t help but think: You gave her a good reason to…