Once, and only once, Cart had searched the house. Just so we can trust each other, Cart said, and Theo had smiled and nodded. He knew firsthand that if you had to search, everything else was bullshit. And Cart had been thorough. Cart was smart, even if he didn’t give himself credit, and he was a cop and good at his job. But Cart hadn’t lived with Luke Stratford.
Theo peeled the strip of tape from the back of the box. He liberated one of the pills—Percocet, plenty of refills, so Cart could take the bottle and Theo could smile and nod—and swallowed it dry. Then he closed his eyes and waited for the room to stop spinning.
But it didn’t stop. It got worse, the whole structure tilting like Theo was on the deck of the ship. He was sliding on the floorboards. Another pill might stop it, so he tried that, and then he jammed the box and outlet back into the wall and left the plate for another time. He crawled into bed. The spinning got worse. For a long time, it seemed, Theo couldn’t understand why it was getting worse.
And then it all made sense: he was still in the car. Still in the car with Ian and Lana. Still spinning. This wasn’t the bad part, not really. One bad part had happened—when the semi struck the car—and a lot of bad parts were still coming. But this, the spinning, it was an in-between. It really wasn’t bad.
Except it wouldn’t stop. And somehow Theo got his phone. Then the spinning got worse, and the only thing left in his world was spin and drift.
He came back to a warm hand between his shoulder blades and someone saying, “Get it all up. Good. That’s good, you’ve got to get it all up. Jesus, how much did you drink?”
“Auggie?”
“It’s me.”
Theo thought about this. Then he managed to say, “’m sick.”
“I know. Just aim for the bucket, please.”
When the next wave of puke came, Theo did. He thought he did a pretty good job, all things considered. Then he slept, and when he woke, the house was dark. His head was resting on a ribcage, and he could hear a heartbeat like the secret clock of the universe. He groaned.
“Any more puking,” Auggie said, “and we’re going to the hospital.”
Theo weakly shook his head.
Auggie’s hand settled on the side of his face. “Do you think you can keep down some water? I’m worried you’re dehydrated.”
Theo licked his lips, but his voice wouldn’t come. He nodded.
“Stay right here. Don’t get up.”
Footsteps moved away. The stairs creaked. The boards on the main floor creaked. Old pipes groaned. Then everything in reverse until the mattress dipped.
“Do you want me to hold it for you?”
Theo shook his head. He opened his eyes. Auggie was Auggie, except for a purple bruise like a storm cloud on the side of his face. Something like foam had buried Theo, insulating him, but underneath, embers flickered to life. Hand trembling, Theo took the glass and managed to get a few gulps.
“That’s probably enough for right now,” Auggie said as he took the glass. It clinked against the nightstand. Then Auggie stretched out on the bed, head propped on his hand. “Want to tell me what you did?”
“Drank too much,” Theo said, his voice so rough it was almost unrecognizable.
Auggie didn’t believe him; it was in his face, because he was too young to have learned how to tell all the lies people learned to tell without ever opening their mouths. But he didn’t argue about it either. The silence lasted a minute, then two, a familiar crack coming from downstairs as the house settled, the whine of the window A/C trying to keep up with the muggy Midwestern heat.
“I think I should stay the rest of the night,” Auggie said.
Theo closed his eyes and nodded. After a moment, he felt Auggie against him, one hand pulling Theo to his chest. Theo wanted to fight it because it felt so good. What an insane reason, part of him said. Fighting this feeling every day, every time they were together—it was exhausting. Why not just stop? Why not just let things be easy for once?
Just for tonight, Theo told himself. Just because I’m so tired.
He rested his head on Auggie’s chest. Auggie’s fingers combed his hair back, tickled his neck, traced his shoulder.
“I ruined your night,” Theo mumbled into Auggie’s tank top.
The hesitation confirmed it, but Auggie said, “It’s ok.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ruined your night.”
“Theo, it’s ok. You’re my friend. I want you to be ok.” Another of those pauses. “I want to know how I can help you be ok so you don’t . . . so you don’t drink too much again.”
Theo rocked his head back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut.
“It’s ok,” Auggie said, carding his hair again. “You don’t have to say anything.”
A while later, Theo could breathe normally again, and he said, “Your face.”
Auggie laughed quietly. “Turns out I’m not as tough as I thought. It’s just a bruise; I’ll be fine.”
“Auggie?”
Auggie held his breath. Theo could feel it, the way his chest stopped moving. The moment was like one of those secret doors in old movies, the wall that spun around. You stayed in place, but the whole world changed. But only if you did it right. Move a book. Pull a candlestick. Say the magic words.
And then a cat yowled outside, and thunder cracked in the distance.
“Thank you,” Theo whispered.
This was the longest of the pauses.
“You’re welcome,” Auggie said.
Then Theo slept, and in the morning, Auggie was gone.
25
Dylan didn’t answer any of Auggie’s snaps the next day. Or the next. Or the next.
Theo didn’t answer any of Auggie’s texts the next day. Or the next. Or the next. He wasn’t in class either. Auggie thought about driving out to the little brick house on the edge of the city. He even left the Sigma Sigma house a few times. Once he got as far as the Civic. Then he remembered Theo trashed on whatever cocktail he’d mixed of booze and pills, and he got so angry that he made himself go back to his room so he wouldn’t do something he regretted.
By the next Saturday, Auggie had stopped trying to contact them. He worked on a few skits. Every idea was crap. He put together the numbers for August, looking at which videos and tweets and snaps had been most successful, trying to make a plan for how to build similar content and capitalize on his success. He barely got through the initial setup for his spreadsheet. Then he just slumped over in bed and lay there, staring at the wall.
Eventually, someone knocked on the door.
Auggie closed his laptop and pulled his pillow over his head.
Sometime later, another knock came. And then more knocking. And then more.
“Go away,” Auggie shouted from under the pillow.
“Open up, Augs.”
Auggie squashed the pillow against his ears.
The door rattled in the frame. “Augs, open this door right now!”