You'll Be the Death of Me(55)

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine. I’m Mateo Wojcik, we spoke earlier? And this is—” He catches himself before he says my name, and I wave while ducking my head. “This is my friend. You said I had to come in person to get my cousin Autumn’s schedule.”

“Yes, that’s right. Can you show me some identification, please?”

“Sure thing.” Mateo reaches for his wallet. “I really appreciate this. We’ve had a family emergency, and Autumn’s not answering her phone.”

“Oh dear. Was it the car accident?” Mr. Sorrento asks.

“Ah, no,” Mateo says, handing over his driver’s license. “Different emergency. Everyone’s okay, I just need to talk to her.”

“Of course.” Mr. Sorrento takes Mateo’s ID and holds it up to the light. “Your family must be very worried. Someone else called right after you.”

Mateo goes rigid. “Excuse me?”

“Another gentleman,” Mr. Sorrento says. “He sounded rather urgent as well. Wouldn’t leave his name, though. This looks fine, thank you.”

He tries to return the ID, but Mateo is too frozen to take it. I grab it for him, my heart pounding as I think back to the wreckage of Charlie’s house. And oblivious Autumn, not answering her phone while she drives, having no idea what’s been happening all day. “So can we get her schedule?” I ask. “Has she checked in at all?”

    “I got an alert that she left her last customer about ten minutes ago,” Mr. Sorrento says, wiping his hands on his apron. “I’ll need to log into our system to get the rest of her route.” He makes a sweeping gesture up the hallway. “The computer’s in the main office. Would you like to wait here, or come along? We have coffee made.”

I look to Mateo for guidance, but he’s still not moving. “We’ll wait here, thanks,” I say.

“All right. Be back soon,” Mr. Sorrento says. I watch him disappear around the corner, then give Mateo’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

“See, she’s fine. She’s doing her route like normal.”

“She’s not fine.” Mateo starts to pace. “Someone’s after her.”

“You don’t know that. Whoever called could have a totally innocent reason for wanting to find her. Maybe it was…” I search my brain for a comforting alternative. “Your dad.”

“Yeah, right,” Mateo snorts, his strides lengthening. He curls one hand into a fist and slams it repeatedly into his palm. “Like he’s gonna suddenly start giving a crap.”

“Well, Mr. Sorrento didn’t give whoever it was any information, did he? So they won’t be able to track Autumn down.” I clutch Mateo’s arms to hold him still. “Look, I realize I’m the last person to give this particular piece of advice in a crisis, but—letting yourself spiral will only make things worse. Trust me on this.”

That startles him enough that he huffs out a near laugh. “Well, you’re the expert.”

Mr. Sorrento appears at the end of the hallway then, waving a piece of paper, and I release Mateo’s arms. “See? He has her route. We’ll find her. Everything will be okay.”

    “I’ll believe that when I see it,” Mateo says, but his tense expression softens. Then, unexpectedly, he brushes the edge of my hoodie away from my face, and leans down to kiss my cheek. “Thanks for talking me down,” he says, tugging the hood back into place before heading toward Mr. Sorrento.

“Anytime,” I say, resisting the urge to touch my fingertips to my cheek.

Mateo turns to give me a fleeting smile over his shoulder. “You know what? You’re cute when you’re incognito.”

Despite everything, something that feels a lot like happiness starts to bubble through my veins. But then I watch Mateo confer with Mr. Sorrento in the hallway, and the emptiness of my earlier words hits me hard. Everything will be okay, I said. I’m praying that it’s true for Autumn, but I know it’s not true for Mateo and me.

The buzzing joy recedes as fast as it came, replaced with the same five-word drumbeat that keeps ruining the only bright spot in this disastrous day.

You have to tell him.





YOUTUBE, CARLTON SPEAKS CHANNEL


Ishaan and Zack are in the Carlton High parking lot.

ISHAAN, panning to the crowd of students behind him: This is Ishaan and Zack coming to you live from Carlton High, getting in-person reactions from fellow students to our Hawkins Report segment about the deadly feud between Boney Mahoney and Ivy Sterling-Shepard. Hey, Carmen! (The camera focuses on a pretty brunette walking past.) Do you have any comment?

CARMEN, stopping: My comment is, You suck.

ISHAAN: Come on, now. A kid died. We’re just trying to get at the truth.

CARMEN: How about you let the police do that?

(Two boys appear over her shoulder, one in an athletic jacket and one with a buzz cut.)

BUZZ CUT: Ivy Sterling-Shepard, people. The classic story of a good girl gone bad.

ATHLETIC JACKET: Remember when she read porn at the talent show? Good times.

     ZACK: Look, I think we can all agree that we’re raising some important questions here, but this is getting a little off topic.