“Good work, Jay,” Riley says, smiling and poking me in the arm.
I smirk at her. “Good work?” I ask. Way to patronize me. Yeah, I’m glad that I could make Mrs. Boyce feel good for a few minutes, but what about me? I’m still as lost and clueless as I was a week ago.
“Wait, you don’t get it, huh?” Riley pulls a wrapper out of her purse. The same wrapper she found in Nic’s bedroom a few days ago.
“Ugh, you actually kept that?” I ask.
“So, I did some digging,” she says, completely ignoring my question. “Tried to figure out what stores use this kind of branding. I finally found a bakery that sells cake pops. Kee Kee’s Goodies. They only have one location—in Richmond.”
I shrug. “Yeah?”
“And Kenny’s cousin lives in Richmond.”
“Oookay,” I say. Riley grabs my arm and makes me stop walking.
“Use that big brain of yours, Jay. Do you know any reason why Nic would go to Richmond?”
I pause, think about it. “No,” I answer.
“So, it’s mighty convenient that Nic just happens to have something from a bakery in Richmond. Right in the same city as someone Kenny’s tight with.”
I shrug again. “Yeah, but Richmond’s a large city and . . .” And what? Nic doesn’t have a car. It’s not like she’s driving over an hour away just to buy a cake pop. If Kenny had a reason to be there, it could mean one of two things. First, he’s bringing back treats for Nic to try. Or two . . . “They ran off to Richmond together,” I say aloud, connecting the dots.
Riley smiles at me again. “Just think about it, Jay. You’ve mentioned that Nic runs off from time to time. The Boyces said Kenny does the same thing. What better way to hide your trysts than to crash at your cousin’s condo in a large city like Richmond?”
It sounds so weird hearing Riley actually say the words, but it makes sense. The last time anyone saw either of them was leaving the party together. And it seems like they’ve been doing a lot of leaving together before I even knew about it. All those times I figured Nic was off somewhere spinning on bliss, she was cozying it up with Kenny at this Doug guy’s place. Javon must have pissed her off for the last time for her not to find her way back home yet.
“You’re a genius,” I tell Riley, then pull her toward me. I wrap my arms around her and give her a tight squeeze. Her ponytail tickles the tip of my nose and smells like baked goods. Something with honey in it. Riley smells like cake and honey. Wait, I’m smelling Riley Parker. And I’m so busy smelling Riley Parker that I don’t even realize that her arms are wrapped around me, too.
I clear my throat and pull away. Riley pulls at her sleeves and stares down at her Converses. “Good work, Detective,” she says to me.
“Right back at you,” I say. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”
Riley nods and pulls out her phone to order another Uber. I crack my knuckles and stare at the lettering of the Heritage Hint Apartments sign. Anything to avoid eye contact with her. But still, the lingering scent of honey tickles my nose.
Twelve
I FINALLY FOUND THAT SILVER LINING. RILEY AND I WERE able to get the address to Kenny’s cousin’s condo from Mr. Boyce. The Boyces had figured that’s where Kenny was lying low—he tended to do that from time to time when he wanted to feel like a man and get from up under his parents’ thumbs. I spat Mr. Boyce a few lines about heading to Richmond anyways, and maybe I could reach out to Kenny and tell him to check in on his mom. I guess it wasn’t a complete lie. Whatever it was, it was convincing enough for Mr. Boyce to give me the intel. Riley was going to see if she could borrow her parents’ car for our road trip.
Can you even drive, I text to Riley the next day.
I spot an empty staircase in one of the school halls. Plop down on one of the stairs to scarf down my chicken nuggets, my first meal of the day. Figured it would be best to avoid the cafeteria after the whole Bowie-Meek kinda, sorta smackdown. I couldn’t stand to see Meek gloat in my face, and Bowie? I figure the more I stay away from him, the more likely I won’t mix him up in all this Ducts drama. It’s bad enough I have Riley walking around here like Veronica Mars—I can’t have someone else I care about potentially getting into this mess.
Wait, does this mean that I care about Riley? Thankfully, my phone buzzes before I can even consider an answer.
Riley: Does it matter? You need a ride, right?
Me: Yeah . . . kinda want to get there in one piece, tho.
Riley: Wait a minute . . . you DON’T want to die? Let’s call this whole thing off then.
I laugh. I actually laugh. Who knew Riley could make a comment about death that almost makes me snort aloud like her. And the laugh feels good—not strained like the one I had to force yesterday for the Boyces. I think about a clever rebuttal for her, something to send her snorting in the middle of lunch or class or wherever she might be at the moment. I wonder what her schedule’s like, anyways. Not like we ever talked about it during Sunday school. Not like I gave us many opportunities to talk about anything during Sunday school. Maybe when we find Nic and the dust clears, I could ask her that question. I could find out what she wants to do when she graduates Warwick. But that’s in the future, and this is now. Now, I need to text something back to make her laugh.
My thumb hovers above my keyboard just as a pair of legs casts a shadow over my phone. I peek up and I see Camila standing over me. Hip cocked to one side along with her mouth. Hands folded tightly across her chest. She stares down at me like she can’t decide where she wants to hit me first, but rest assured, she definitely looks ready to strike. I quickly shove my phone inside my pocket.
“Hey . . . ’sup, Mila?” I ask. I push out a smile to show her I missed her, but my cheeks feel heavy. Smiling at her always came as easy as chowing down on MiMi’s homemade lasagna, but now it seems like my muscles have to put in extra work. The hell’s that about? Then it hits me: Camila and I haven’t talked, like talked talked, since forever. No late-night phone calls. No morning texts. Yeah, we had first period together, but spent that hour doing this awkward dance of who’s breaking the ice first. We both felt a wall but didn’t know how to tear it down. Hell, did we even want to? But now that I’m really seeing her for the first time in like a week, I stare at her hair tucked behind her ears and try to remember if she got it cut recently.
“’Sup, Mila? That’s it?” I didn’t even recognize her friend, Pilar, behind her. Apparently, she’s Camila’s hype woman. She never quite understood what Camila saw in me in the first place. She’s quick to cut me with her eyes and reminds Camila of all the reasons she’s better off without me.
“And what’s up to you, too, Pilar,” I say, giving her a curt smile. I turn back to Camila. “I was going to call you later,” I lie.
Camila knows it. She gives me an eye roll that’s worthy of applause. “And when were you going to do that, Jay? When you were writing papers for the football team?”
“Mila.” I raise my eyebrows at her then shift my eyes to Pilar, reminding her we’re in mixed company.
“. . . or when you were hanging out with that nerdy girl,” Camila continues, not even catching my hint.