Nate
Sunday, July 5
“We should have our half-birthday party here,” Addy says, tapping my arm.
“Huh?” I gaze around the back room of Café Contigo, where a large-screen TV has been set up so we can watch Cooper’s gym commercial. Right now it’s showing a Padres game, but the commercial is supposed to air after the fifth inning. “What half-birthday party?”
“You know how we always have a joint birthday party in March?” Addy asks.
“Twice,” I say. “We did that twice.”
Technically, Addy did it. We were both born in March, so she decided during the last semester of high school that we should throw a party on the midpoint between our birthdays. She organized the whole thing at her apartment, and I showed up, because it meant a lot to her and there aren’t many people I like better than Adelaide Prentiss. Plus, I learned a long time ago that there’s no point in resisting Addy when she’s in social-director mode. Then she did the same thing this year, although it was a lot more subdued since Brandon Weber had recently died.
“Right. So it’s a tradition,” Addy says. “But this year wasn’t all that celebratory, so I thought—what about a half-birthday party? In mid-September?”
“No, that’s too late,” Bronwyn protests, extracting the only tortilla chip untouched by any kind of topping from the platter of nachos in front of us. “I’ll be back at school by then.”
“Oh, right. And we can’t do August, because I’ll be in Peru, so…July fourteenth it is,” Addy says decisively. “It’ll be, like, a one-third birthday party.”
“That’s not a thing,” I say.
Addy ignores me. “We could invite all the usual suspects,” she says, waving a hand around us. We’re at a single table ringed with nine chairs, and all of them are filled—with me, Addy, Bronwyn, Cooper, Kris, Maeve, Luis, and Knox—except for one. Phoebe’s not here, even though we were all supposed to show up half an hour ago.
“Perfect,” Bronwyn says. “But not just us, right? I want to invite Kate and Yumiko, and Evan, maybe….” She trails off and shoots me a sideways glance. “Or not.”
“Whatever.” I shrug. I can be magnanimous about her ex when he has no shot.
She squeezes my arm. “This room might not have enough space for everybody.”
“Well, there’s always Nate’s house,” Addy says.
“No way.” I can’t help the irritated edge that creeps into my voice. “You might be able to force me to have a one-third birthday party, but you can’t force me to spend it babysitting Reggie Crawley.”
“Absolutely not,” Bronwyn says quickly.
We tried to restart the Reggie discussion with Sana last night, but even Bronwyn had to admit that we weren’t getting anywhere. Ultimately, it wasn’t the time or the place. But it pissed me off when Sana admitted she hadn’t even looked at the link to Katrina’s video that Bronwyn sent her, because that would’ve been bare minimum for taking the problem seriously.
“Okay, yeah, fair enough,” Addy says. Then she tugs on her earring—a classic Addy anxiety move—as she gazes at the beaded curtain that separates the back room from the main restaurant. “Last night was a mess, wasn’t it? And not only because of Reggie.” She tugs harder. “You guys, do you think Phoebe’s coming? I was kind of hard on her.”
“You were upset,” Bronwyn says.
“I was, but…” Addy bites her lip. “I keep thinking about what I said to her when she said she didn’t thank Jake for changing her tire. I was super mean and sarcastic. And the thing is—that’s almost exactly how Jake treated me, way back when I tried to apologize for cheating on him with TJ. He said, That’s all right, then. As long as you’re sorry.” From the way she says the words, I can tell they’re imprinted on her brain. “You have to give people a chance to explain, right? But I didn’t.”
I grasp the edge of the table to keep myself from making a cutting remark about Phoebe that I know, deep down, she doesn’t deserve. Letting someone change your tire isn’t the end of the world, except…it’s Jake. Walking around town playing the good guy, like the past never happened. Anyone in Bayview who’s ever been caught up in this town’s sick dynamic shouldn’t give him anything except a punch to the face.
“The situations are in no way similar,” Bronwyn says, which is a more polite way of saying the same thing.
“Yeah, they’re different because what I did to Jake was worse,” Addy says. “Or it would’ve been, if he was a decent human. I tried texting Phoebe earlier, but she left me unread.”
Knox, who’s sitting beside Maeve on the other side of the table, twists in his chair. “Wait, are you guys talking about Phoebe?” he asks. “She hasn’t texted me back either. I gave her a ride to the party last night, and she just, like, disappeared.”
“Didn’t she leave with Jules?” Maeve asks.
“No,” I say. Everyone stares at me, probably because this isn’t the kind of thing I tend to notice. “That loser boyfriend of hers was too wasted to drive, so Crystal took his keys and made them leave with someone else. Phoebe wasn’t there.”
Addy digs her fingernails into her palm. “I hope she got home okay. I wouldn’t worry so much, but Ashton’s gotten me all worked up about that billboard….”
“Guys!” Luis calls from the other end of the table. “Pay attention! That was the second out; the inning might be over soon.”
Addy ignores him. “I wish we knew what those revenge forum guys are up to now,” she says, looking pointedly at Maeve. Who doesn’t notice, because she’s doing the supportive-girlfriend thing by staring at the television screen almost as hard as Luis is.
“Maeve’s working on it,” Bronwyn says. “Give her time.”
“The billboard’s gone back to the dancing energy drink,” I say. I’d noticed it on the ride here with a sense of relief. “Guess they fixed the hack.”
On the TV screen, the capacity crowd roars with disappointment when the batter hits a foul ball into the stands. “This guy’s timing is way off,” Luis says, leaning forward intently. “He’s gonna pop up any second, just you wait.”
“Oh God.” Cooper, who’s sitting up front with Kris, rubs both hands across his face. “I’d just like to remind everyone that I am not an actor. And I wouldn’t even have done this except my car’s on its last legs, so…”
“Cooper, you work harder than anyone I’ve ever known, and you deserve to be recognized for that,” Kris says. “And paid for it. Don’t you dare apologize.”
“You say that now,” Cooper mutters, but his shoulders relax a little. I know he’s been worried about taking any kind of sponsorship, afraid that companies want him only because of lingering Bayview Four notoriety. And yeah, maybe that’s part of it—none of us can ever rule it out fully—but he had a phenomenal freshman year. More than ever, he seems destined for a huge career, and he might as well start getting paid for it.
“I wish Nonny could’ve come. I love watching her cheer Cooper on,” Addy says wistfully. Her phone starts buzzing on the table then, but before she can reach for it, Bronwyn snatches it up and puts it facedown.
“Don’t answer,” she says. “Luis was right—inning over.”
The screen fades to black, and Luis calls, “Here we go!” Maeve shushes him as a sleek gym interior appears, with a huge logo for FiredUp Fitness on one wall. Heavy bass music kicks in as the camera pans to workout machines, lockers, a bunch of weights, and then—Cooper, running on a treadmill like his life depends on getting away as fast as possible.
The room erupts into cheers, so loud that we can’t hear anything else for a few beats. Which is fine, because the commercial is just one shot after another of Cooper working out, barely breaking a sweat while looking like a superhero. “So far, I am loving this,” Kris says as Cooper squats with a barbell across his shoulders on screen.
Then the music fades as Cooper puts down the weights, reaches for a towel, and turns toward the camera. “Nothing gets me fired up like fitness,” he says.
There’s a moment of stunned silence in the room, because that was easily the most wooden line that anyone’s ever delivered. Cooper sounded like a robot programmed for English by someone who’s never actually heard it spoken. But then we erupt into even louder cheers, because Cooper still rules and that was weirdly iconic.
“Oscar! Oscar!” Luis yells. “Or whatever they give for commercials!”
“You looked hot,” Kris says, pulling Cooper toward him for a kiss.
“I hate working out, but you almost convinced me,” Maeve says.
“Y’all are full of it,” Cooper says, blushing. But he’s smiling too.
After the excitement dies down and the game comes back on, Addy reaches for her phone. “I wonder if that was Phoebe calling earlier,” she says, before narrowing her eyes at the screen. “Huh. No. It was her mom.”
“Phoebe’s mom has your number?” I ask as Knox turns in his seat.
“She was Ashton’s wedding planner, remember?” Addy says, lifting the phone to her ear. A frown crosses her face as she listens to the message. “Okay, this is weird. Ms. Lawton is asking if Phoebe’s still with me because she’s not answering her phone, which, I mean…she was never with me, exactly. We didn’t go to the Fourth of July party together. Did her mom call you?” she adds, turning toward Knox.
He pulls out his phone, brow furrowed. “No. You should call her back.”
“On it,” Addy says. She swipes at her phone and lifts it again, plugging one ear. “Hi, Ms. Lawton,” she says after a few seconds. “Phoebe’s not…what?” Her voice gets strained. “No, she didn’t. That was never…She what?”
“What’s happening?” Knox asks urgently.
Addy waves him away. “No, we were definitely at the party together, but we didn’t make plans for her to stay over. I haven’t seen her since last night. Did you try Jules?” Her expression turns grave as she listens to whatever Phoebe’s mother is saying on the other end. “Yeah, for sure. Keep me updated, okay?” When she lowers her phone, her face is ghost pale. “Phoebe didn’t come home last night,” she says, staring around at the ring of concerned faces. “She texted her mom late to say she was spending the night at my house. Why would she do that?”
“Because she was staying someplace else and didn’t want her mother to know?” Maeve suggests. Her eyes flick toward Knox, who has the same look on his face that he used to get when his dad—who’s my boss at Myers Construction—didn’t notice that he’d stopped by the office: like he’s crushed and pretending not to be.
“I don’t think Phoebe would do that,” he says tightly.
“If she did, I messed things up for her,” Addy says with a grimace. “But why hasn’t she checked in with anyone yet? She missed the commercial.”
“Try calling her,” Bronwyn says.
Addy does, but she’s barely lifted her phone to her ear when she frowns and says, “Straight to voice mail.”
Maeve has her phone out now, stabbing at the screen. “I wonder if…Okay, her Snapchat location is on, and it says she’s…” She enlarges her screen and blinks at it a few times, before holding it up to me. “She’s at your house, apparently.”
“Really?” I ask. “She wasn’t there when I left. At least…I don’t think she was.”
I slept late, since I had a rare day off today, and didn’t leave my room until it was time to come here. Crystal and Sana were gone, and Jiahao and Deacon were watching TV in the living room like usual. Reggie was…I don’t have a clue where Reggie was, but his door was shut because at some point last night, he’d managed to undo Sana’s sheet contraption.
“Oh no,” Bronwyn says, like she’s reading my mind. “She couldn’t be…she’s not with Reggie, is she?”
“No way,” Maeve says. “Phoebe would never.”
“She was drinking a lot, though,” Addy says worriedly.
“Not that much,” Maeve says, though she looks less sure. “But even if she were…um, hanging out with Reggie at any point last night, she would’ve left by now.”
“Unless he’s not letting her,” Luis says. Maeve punches his shoulder, like she thinks he’s making a bad joke, but there’s not a trace of a smile on his face.
That got dark, fast. “We better check on her,” I say.
