Page 27

Chapter 27

James

I was buzzing by the time I made it to Rittenhouse Square. That iced vanilla latte had breathed new life into me. How many shots of espresso had my barista said were in a venti? Two? Four? Everything was so electric.

This, friends, was why I didn’t drink coffee. I didn’t like the taste, and caffeine also really affected me. If I had a soda with dinner, forget about it—I would be up all night bouncing off the walls and listening to music so loud that Grace would barge into my room and scold me like a child. I admit, sometimes it was fun provoking her. “I have a huge presentation tomorrow!” she’d say. “Shut it down and sleep!”

Admission to the festival was free, so when I walked through its entrance…wow, what a sight. The streets were lined with all types of vendors, and the road was filled with more people than I could count. I suddenly wished I were here to genuinely enjoy myself, not to track down my diabolical sister and her two friends.

Although I couldn’t resist buying some cotton candy. Because sugar was obviously what I needed right now.

Caffeine and sugar, what a trip.

I tore off a hunk and stuffed it into my mouth as I opened Find My Friends on my phone. The jig is up, I thought when I saw the three dots on the map, and from there, I kicked off a game of Hot or Cold.

Right now I was cold. Grace, Isa, and Everett were much farther down the road, having wandered deep into the street fair. Various booths tried to invite me to check out their wares, but I shook my head, only looking up from my phone to make sure I wasn’t about to collide with anyone.

Or to rip off another piece of cotton candy.

Soon, I was getting warmer, warmer, warmer. My heart rate quickened, and I stopped in my tracks for a second. I’m going to get them, I realized. I’m actually going to get them.

And how was I going to say “gotcha?” I hadn’t totally figured that out yet. There was neither the time nor resources for a parade float appearance…

I blinked away my brainstorm when someone tapped insistently on my shoulder.

Unger! was my first thought. Unger and her high-maintenance macchiato!

My stomach scrambled, but when I turned around, a brunette woman stood behind me. She was older than my mom, but much younger than my grandmother? I don’t know, I’m not good with ages. Let’s just use the broad “middle-aged” category.

And she was also holding a microphone, with a small camera crew surrounding her. “Hello, sweetie,” she said, which was so not cool. Only Mom (and Mrs.Adler) called me that. “I’m Sloan Peterson, from Channel Six.”

Well, the mic and cameras made sense. Channel 6 was the Philly area’s local news station, and their meteorologist was a legend: Cameron “Hurricane” Frye. He always wore a bow tie during broadcasts.

“I’m James,” I said, and held up my spun sugar. “From the cotton candy cart.”

Sloan smiled and looked at her crew. “He’s perfect.”

He’s perfect.

Oh.

Oh, no. She wanted to—

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” Sloan said when I started to protest. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions about the festival. What brought you here, how you’re enjoying it, and so on and so forth.” She tilted her head and smiled. “Okay?”

I sighed. It didn’t look like I was getting out of this, even though the voice in my head was screaming at me to bolt. What if someone at home was watching and called my parents? Mrs.Adler, for starters. Abigail was home sick. What else was she supposed to do? “Okay.” I nodded, reluctantly agreeing. “Sure thing.” I glanced around for a trash can to ditch my cotton candy.

“No, keep it,” Sloan said. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

I smirked to myself. Isa would not have appreciated that comment, and definitely wouldn’t want this woman smoothing my hair. Stop it! I could almost hear her saying. Just let me do it!

Then she’d magically produce a comb from her purse or something. She and Grace carried the smallest bags yet somehow had everything and anything on the planet stuffed insidethem.

I was deemed “camera ready” a few minutes later; then someone positioned me next to Sloan. “Five, four, three,two…”

“Hello, everyone!” she said, an even wider smile now spreading across her face. “I’m Sloan Peterson, reporting live from Rittenhouse Square’s annual spring festival.” She gestured around us, then at me. “With me is a first-time attendee! James, what brought you here today?”

“My sister,” I replied with no hesitation. “She’s been looking forward to this day for months….” Knowing Grace, this plan had been cooking for a while. “I decided to follow herhere.”

“Oh, your sister is with us?” Sloan asked, pretending to search for someone. I took a big bite of cotton candy. “Where is she?”

“I’m not sure at the moment,” I said, “but we’ll find each other.” I winked at the camera. “We always do.”

Sloan laughed, and from there, she threw me softball questions that I hit out of the park (not to brag). “Do you think you’ll be back next year?” she asked.

“Of course,” I told her. “This has been an extremely memorable day, one for the books.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, James,” she said, and put a hand on my shoulder.

I politely shrugged it off. “Sorry, Sloan,” I said. “I have a girlfriend.”

At least, I hoped I did.

“This has been Sloan Peterson for Channel Six news,” she said through another giggle, then nodded at the camera. “Back to you, Ferris!”

I made a quick escape from Sloan and the news team so I could get back on the trail. Okay, cold. I focused on my phone. The temperature is dropping, looks like I’ve taken a wrong turn—

Then all of a sudden, the Find My Friends map disappeared with the incoming call notification popping up in its place. Dad , the screen announced.

I didn’t panic, but my caffeine-sugar high instantly dissolved. The smart thing to do would be to let the call go to voicemail. Because based on the time, I was about to be bored out of my mind in bio. It was the last period of the day.

My parents didn’t know we weren’t allowed to use our phones in school, though. They weren’t oblivious by any means; they just gave Grace and me a nice stretch of leash. They had their jobs, and we had ours. Grace and I handled our homework, what we were going to eat for lunch, and any disagreements with teachers.

The only reason they had a clue about my…humble attendance record was because Unger had called them. “I told her she was unequivocally mistaken,” Mom had said at the dinner table. “I said I know you have probably been sick more than most of your classmates, but then she…” She put down her fork and gave me a look. “What is going on here, James? She said you’ve been absent upward of nine times this spring?”

God, Unger. Could there be a bigger thorn in my side? It was too bad I didn’t have her on Find My Friends. That would’ve been extremely useful today.

I ended up answering Dad’s call, but not before winding my way through the street fair and into Rittenhouse Square’s center plaza. The green space was much quieter, any background noise much less suspicious. “Hi, Dad,” I said, dropping down on a bench near the reflecting pool.

“James, buddy, hey,” he said. “I have something to ask you.”

“Okay.” I swallowed. “It needs to be fast, though. I only have a couple minutes before bio.”

The line went silent.

“Dad?” I said after a beat. “You still there?”

“Yes…,” he said slowly, then cleared his throat. “You’re at school?”

“Uh, yeah,” I lied. “Only for the next hour, though. Biology is the big finale for the day.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “Well, all right. I just thought…”

I waited, stomach now spinning.

“I thought I saw you on TV,” he said.

“TV?” I asked.

“Yes, TV,” he answered. “The local station is covering today’s spring festival in Rittenhouse Square. We have it on mute in the office—I just walked out of a meeting and could’ve sworn you were being interviewed.”

I tried to laugh, tried to ignore the sweat beading on my back. “No way, really?”

“Yes, really. It’s been such a long day that I must be seeing things…or this kid was your doppelganger.” He chuckled. “It’s funny, actually. Your mom and I thought about going to the festival ourselves. Let you and Gracie miss school for a ‘family day.’?” He sighed. “But that was before we got slammed with these projects and remembered that you need to keep up your attendance—or else that pit bull principal of yours is going to pay us another phone call.”

I was suddenly hit with two realizations. First, that I loved my parents. They might’ve checked out from some parts of our lives (which I wasn’t complaining about), but I loved them. Once this whole “selling the house” thing was out in the open, everything would be smooth sailing again.

Second, that I missed Grace. I might’ve been on a witch hunt to track her down (one I fully intended to see through), but I was beginning to realize that our nonexistent relationship was not cool anymore. I didn’t know how she felt, but we needed to have it out before we went to college—otherwise, I worried the only time we’d talk was on breaks.

“Hey, do you know how Grace is doing?” I asked casually. “The tennis team won’t stop bombarding me; they’re wondering if she’ll be ready for Monday’s match.”

Dad laughed. “She seems to be sleeping it off,” he replied. “Your mom checked on her over lunch, and she was passedout.”

I smirked and mentally gave myself a pat on the back.

“I’ll be home at six,” he added, “and we’ll figure out dinner. I’m thinking chicken Parm. Sound good to you?”

I smiled. “Sounds great.”

“All right, it’s a plan. Now go have a good class.”

Go have a good class?

Oh, right—shit. I was supposed to be heading into bio.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “See you later.”

“See you later, James,” he replied, and then we hung up.

I let out a deep breath.

A red flag went up after I ventured into the festival again. Grace, Isa, and Everett’s dots no longer overlapped; the GB was moving in one direction, the IC in another, and the EA in a third. And they were moving quickly.

What the fuck? I wondered. What is happening?

It looked like all hell had broken loose, so I gave up on the app and shoved my phone in my back pocket. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. “Excuse me, excuse me!” I shouted as I darted through the mob scene. “Sorry, sorry!”

I twisted and turned through the festival, until finally catching sight of a baseball cap on the run. Not the Phillies’ red, white, and blue, but navy and orange.

The Mets.

Everett, I thought, and began to tear after him.

“Hey!” I called out after closing the distance a little. “Hey, Mister Mets fan!”

Everett glanced back, and though a few people stood between us, I saw his eyes widen and face pale. He shot me a terrified look before pulling down the brim of his hat and ducking into the nearest booth.

I soon realized why, because I bet you could legit see that pink pantsuit from outer space. Unger was here, only ten or twelve paces away.

Shit, I thought, and after spinning on my heel and accidentally colliding with a man holding a tray of beer samples, I made a break for it.

JB was on the run.