A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(30)

“Please don’t be sad if you don’t find me. According to my dream, you don’t. Nobody does. And I doubt anything will change that, no matter what you do. But I’d be stupid not to try, I guess.

“Sincerely, Sybil St. Aubin

“P.S. Please thank Auri for being my friend for a whole week. I’ve never known anyone like her. We were hoping we would have at least one class together, like first period, but just in case we didn’t, we came up with a way to pass notes to each other like spies sending secret messages. Maybe we can still do that someday. I hope she liked me as much as I liked her.”

Sun forgot how to breathe after she finished the letter. It took her a few minutes to remember how again. She kept reading it over and over as her deputies stood or paced or stared at the floor, waiting for her to take the lead. Waiting for orders. Some way to put a stop to this.

“Are we taking this seriously?” Price asked, breaking first. “I mean, doesn’t this prove that it’s a stunt? No one can predict something like this. Sybil St. Aubin is probably at her boyfriend’s house eating pizza and bingeing on Netflix.”

Quincy pinned him with a scowl. “We have no choice but to take it seriously, Price. Stunt or not, it’s evidence.”

“I find it odd that Marianna said something similar,” Sun said at last. “She kept saying we were running out of time. We had to hurry. Maybe she does believe her daughter, after all.”

“Where do we stand on it?” Quince asked her, his voice tender with understanding.

She filled her lungs in thought. “Too early to tell. Can you make a few copies of this? And bring one with us.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to talk to Sybil’s mom. I have a few more questions.”

Since Quincy was the only other person wearing gloves, she handed the letter to him and then made her way to the restroom before she vomited in front of her posse.





8


How to Twerk:

Step 1: Don’t



—SIGN AT DEL SOL MIXED MARTIAL ARTS AND DANCE STUDIO

The rest of the morning was like a blur to Auri. Though some of the students did seem to be warming up to her, she couldn’t stop worrying about Sybil. She may have gotten her looks from her father, but she definitely got the analytical side of her brain, the curious and driven side, from her mother. A fact that made her tingle with pride.

She thought back to that night at the New Year’s Eve party. Sybil had walked up to her and introduced herself, a feat Auri admired. The girl seemed painfully shy.

“You’re Auri,” she’d said to her right before she’d handed her a bottle of water.

“I am.”

Both freckled and bespectacled, the girl held out her hand. “I’m Sybil.”

And they sat talking by the campfire the rest of the night. Or, well, until the cops came. Every so often, Auri’s gaze would wander to the quiet kid whom she now knew was Cruz De los Santos, but other than that, Sybil had her complete and undivided attention.

She was easy to talk to. Auri especially loved the way her eyes lit up when they discussed astronomy or books or boys. Mostly boys. And she liked how her glasses made her eyes look a little bigger than they actually were. She looked like an American Girl doll.

“You just started this year?” she’d asked her.

“Yep. In August. We moved here this summer to start the vineyards. My dad has a couple in Illinois, but my mom wanted to open a winery in New Mexico, too.”

“Why here?” Auri asked, baffled.

“She told me she came to the Balloon Fiesta when she was a kid, and she’d dreamed of living here ever since.”

“Weird.”

Sybil laughed. They clinked their water bottles and toasted to new beginnings and red hair and boys. Mostly boys.

Sybil St. Aubin was the first girl in Del Sol she’d felt that bond with. That deep connection that told her they’d be more than just friends. They’d be best friends.

And now this. Auri needed to help. She had skill. She’d been investigating certain events of her life since she was seven. Unbeknownst to her mom, Auri had mastered the art of surveillance when she was eight from watching her. From listening.

She’d learned how to investigate. What to take note of and what to discard. She’d deciphered her mom’s universal password when she was nine, which wasn’t difficult once she realized the woman had had a mad crush on Levi Ravinder since she was, like, two and his birthday was in her calendar. In bold letters. With a tiny heart dotting the i.

All that aside, she could be helping with the investigation instead of sitting in class, listening to a lecture on eye color and dominant traits, a concept she’d learned years earlier when she realized none of her coloring had been passed down from either of her parents.

Not only that, who knew teenage girls better than other teenage girls? Who better qualified to search for her friend?

She almost cheered aloud when the bell rang for lunch.

She hurried out the door and texted her mom for an update. But before she could hit Send, someone making a mad dash for the lunchroom crashed into her from behind.

She lunged forward, dropping her backpack and her phone, and plowed into some poor soul in jeans and an army jacket.

Thankfully, that someone had long arms and catlike reflexes. He caught her a microsecond before she face-planted on the tile floor. Then he lifted her effortlessly to her feet.