“Because I want to have a fucking life too, you fucking sperm-bank reject,” Fer shouted in the front room. “I’m sick as fuck of pulling your ass out of the fire.”
Chuy answered in a low voice, the words lost to Auggie.
“Get the fuck out of my sight,” Fer said. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
Quiet steps moved along the hall, past Auggie’s room, and then the next door closed.
It took a long time for Auggie to fall asleep after that.
When he woke, he checked his phone. For months now, he’d been trying to find someone in the Ozark Volunteers who could give him a lead on Cal’s dealer. To Auggie, it seemed like simple logic: the Volunteers controlled all the drug trade, and therefore, they ought to be able to identify who was selling to Cal. Even if the dealer hadn’t had anything to do with Cal’s death, he might still be able to fill in some of the holes in the days and weeks before the murder. If nothing else, he could give Auggie a more accurate sense of how deeply Cal was involved in drugs, and why the killer had tried to stage it to look like a deal gone bad.
Unfortunately, no matter how many usernames Auggie tried, no matter how well he parroted the language on the forums and social media groups that he visited, no one had taken the bait. Either they sensed the trap, or Auggie was simply targeting the wrong sectors.
Today wasn’t any different: no responses to his requests. Nothing that might point him in the right direction.
After snapping a quick wake-up selfie, Auggie rolled out of bed and made his way to the next room. The house was silent. Fer didn’t have work, so he was either still asleep or had already left for some other reason. Their mom—well, who the hell knew anymore.
Auggie didn’t bother knocking. He let himself into the room, which had a faint smell like burnt electrical components and, of course, weed. Chuy was bundled up in a blanket. His dad—they all had different dads—had been white, and he was much lighter skinned than either Auggie or Fer. He looked awful, his skin greasy, muscle and fat wasted away until he was skeletal. But his face was still Chuy’s face, although his lank brown hair was longer than Auggie remembered.
“Chuy,” Auggie said, sitting on the mattress and shaking his brother.
Chuy groaned.
“Wake up,” Auggie said.
After some more groaning, Chuy opened one eye. “Hey, Gus-Gus. What’s up?”
“I need you to teach me how to buy drugs.”
“Cool,” Chuy said and closed his eye again.
28
The text came when Theo was driving home from his parents the Saturday of Thanksgiving break.
Found Cal’s dealer.
Theo pulled over, stared at the phone, and then swore until his voice gave out. He was still staring at the phone when another text from Auggie came through.
Did u die from a rage stroke?
Theo texted back: What are you talking about? Then, because he knew Auggie too well, he immediately started composing again: And don’t explain what a rage stroke is.
Too slow. Auggie’s reply came as Theo was hitting send: A rage stroke is when you get so angry your brain pops.
Theo glared at the phone.
I’m giving u five seconds to catch up, Auggie wrote.
Explain to me very clearly what you did.
In person.
No, Auggie. Right now.
But Theo was still typing those words when, Tomorrow. When I get back to Wahredua, came through.
Theo hit send.
Five second catch-up, Auggie sent.
Theo took those five seconds to breathe deeply. Then he texted, I’m incredibly upset right now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Text me when the shuttle is getting to Wahredua.
And so, after a sleepless night and an unproductive morning—Theo tried to work on his thesis and ended up, instead, pacing and occasionally throwing things—he was sitting on the low stone wall outside the Sigma Sigma house when the Silver Bullet Airport Charters bus pulled up to the curb. A handful of guys got down from the bus. Auggie was the last one. He smiled and waved at Theo as he waited to retrieve his luggage. Then, towing two huge bags, he headed for the Sigma Sigma house.
“Excuse me,” Theo said.
“Hi, Theo. Just going to drop these off.”
“You have ten minutes, starting right now.”
Auggie laughed.
“We’ll see if you’re still laughing in ten minutes and one second,” Theo said.
Something in his face must have communicated what he was feeling because Auggie offered a sickly smile and hurried toward the Sigma Sigma house. By the third step, he was running.
It was the last day of November, and it was practically balmy, unnaturally warm for that time of year. Theo had decided against a coat before the ride over, and now he unbuttoned his flannel work shirt, grateful he had chosen to wear a tee underneath. The bus pulled away, the engine rumbling up, the whine before shifting gears, and then the street was silent. Behind Theo, the door to the Sigma Sigma house opened. He checked his watch.
“Eight minutes, sixteen seconds,” he said without looking over his shoulder.
“I had to pee,” Auggie said, his voice drawing closer. “And some people actually like me. They wanted to say hi.”
“No,” Theo said when he saw Auggie. “Go back inside and put on appropriate clothes.”
Auggie pulled at the tank that said Slutbreaker and glanced down at the shorts that were barely long enough to cover his crotch. The little shit had changed clothes in the eight minutes and sixteen seconds he’d been out of sight. And he’d done it on purpose, the way he did everything on purpose, to fuck with Theo.
“What?” Auggie said, pulling up the tank to chew on the collar. In the process, he exposed the faintly defined muscles of his stomach. “It’s a nice day. It’s in the seventies. It’s beautiful, especially for November.”
“Do not test me, Auggie.”
More chewing. A thoughtfully arched eyebrow. Considering noises. “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable . . .”
“Get your ass back inside and put on clothes.”
“I have clothes on.”
“Real clothes.”
“These are real.”
“Auggie!”
He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look remotely close to pleased. If anything, he looked slightly hurt, and he plucked at his tank as though seeing it for the first time. But Theo knew Auggie better than he knew just about anyone, and he knew that inside, Auggie was gloating.
When Auggie came back, he was in his Jordans, jeans, and a long-sleeved tee.
“Talk,” Theo said.
“We might have to talk as we drive,” Auggie said. “I want to catch Sadie before she leaves her apartment.”
“Is Sadie the dealer?”
“I mean, she’s a person, Theo. I don’t think she identifies primarily as a drug dealer.”
Theo stood up from the wall. Auggie took a step back.
“Cut it out,” Theo said. “You’re mad at me. Fine. You want to punish me. Fine. I’ll take all the shit you want to dump on me because I know I treated you badly, and I’m sorry. But what you’re playing around with, it’s the real thing, so don’t act like we’re talking about scoring weed from a kid after gym class. If you aren’t taking this seriously, you’re putting both of us in danger.”