From the Desk of Zoe Washington(46)

It was a lost cause. “Okay,” I said, wiping more tears from my face. “Sorry for bothering you.”

The way Professor Thomas looked at me, I could tell she felt sorry for me. “That’s all right. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

I turned toward the door and took a couple of steps toward it.

But Trevor didn’t follow behind me. “Excuse me,” he said to Professor Thomas. “I’m Trevor, Zoe’s friend. Can we give you Zoe’s email address again? In case you remember Marcus?”

I turned to see Professor Thomas’s reaction. She appeared surprised by Trevor’s question, but then she reached for a notepad and pen on her desk and handed it to Trevor. “Sure, write down your email address or phone number and I’ll let you know if I remember anything. Can I see the picture again, before you go?”

I walked to the desk and showed the picture to her again. While she stared at it, I wrote down my email address and cell number on the notepad, which Trevor handed to me. When I looked up at Professor Thomas again, she was shaking her head. “Gosh, I really wish I could help you more.” She handed the photo back, and I gave her the notepad. She glanced down at my contact information. “I’ll be in touch if I happen to remember something.”

I nodded and said thank you.

“Good luck,” she said as Trevor and I left her office.

We walked down the stairs and out of the building, both of us at a loss for words.





Chapter Thirty


My shoulders slumped as I stood outside the science building and stared at the students walking around, going to and from class. While they went about their day like everything was normal, all I wanted to do was cry and scream and throw something.

Marcus had told me not to look for Professor Thomas because he didn’t want me to get my hopes up. Probably because he knew I wouldn’t find anything, because his alibi was all a lie. Grandma had warned me about the same thing, because maybe deep down, she knew the truth, too. Why didn’t I listen to them?

“I’m so stupid,” I mumbled.

“You’re not stupid,” Trevor said. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“I never should’ve trusted Marcus. He’s guilty, that’s the end of it. He’s a big fat liar, and I never should’ve wasted my time. I’m done with him and his letters.” Tears stung behind my eyelids, but I blinked them away.

“Um,” Trevor said, his voice tentative. “I know you’re sad and angry, and I get it, but we should probably run for the T. My mom is going to pick us up from Davis in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay,” I said, even though the last thing I wanted to do was run anywhere. But I knew that day would get a million times worse if we didn’t get back to Davis Square in time, and our parents figured out that we weren’t where we said we’d be.

I followed Trevor as he jogged out of Harvard’s campus and back down the street toward the T station. Harvard Square was still crowded, even though it was after the lunch rush. By the time we got to the street, we couldn’t jog anymore without going into the road, so we did our best to quickly dodge around people left and right.

Half a block from the station, a cab pulled over on our side of the street and let out a passenger—a woman wearing a patterned sundress. I gripped Trevor’s arm and pointed to it.

“Do you think a cab would be faster than waiting for the next train?” I asked.

“Maybe. We have to decide right now, because it’s about to leave.”

Without a word, I ran to the cab and knocked on the window before the driver could pull off. Trevor was right behind me. The cab driver rolled down the window.

“Can you take us to Davis Square? I have cash,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t ignore me because I was a kid.

“Hop in,” he said, and Trevor and I got into the back of the cab.

I buckled my seat belt and relaxed into the seat, happy we’d at least get back to Davis in time.

But a couple of minutes into the drive, I realized we might’ve made a big mistake.

“Should it be taking us this long just to get out of Harvard Square?” I asked Trevor as the cab crawled through traffic.

“I don’t know,” Trevor said. “Maybe the train would’ve been better after all.”

“We’re going to be late,” I said. “And then our parents will find out we weren’t at the movies, and I’ll be grounded for life.” Now, more than anything, I wanted to be home. I wanted this day to be over.

“We might still make it,” Trevor said. “Maybe my mom will be running late. She runs late sometimes.”

When Trevor mentioned his mother, I remembered something. I sat up straight and looked at him with wide eyes. “Weren’t you supposed to text her when we got out of the movie?” I made air quotes when I said the word “movie.”

Trevor’s mouth formed an O. “I totally forgot.”

“We’re so dead.” I buried my face in my hands.

Trevor took out his phone. “I don’t see any texts from her. She would’ve texted me if she was really mad,” Trevor said. “Maybe she forgot about it.”

“I hope so.” I stared out the window.

It took another fifteen minutes for the cab to get us to Davis Square, which meant we were ten minutes late to meet Trevor’s mom. We had the cab driver drop us off down the street from J.P. Licks. We paid him as fast as we could, jumped out of the cab, and started walking toward the ice cream shop.