Needy Little Things(25)
CHAPTER 10
The alarm on my phone blares the most jarring jingle I could find in the sounds list. It’s spring break and I’m up at six thirty in the morning. There’s no real reason, other than an all-encompassing fear that I’ll miss something while I’m dreaming, or that I’ll dream of someone I’m missing—and have to wake to the reality that they still aren’t here. I should be laid up in the bed for at least three more hours. And then I should laze around the house without a care in the world, deciding whether I want to spend my first day of vacation chilling or getting into something fun with my friends. But my life never really gave a damn about should. Somehow my life has become a horror movie with unnecessary early mornings. With stabbings. With missing girls.
Both Malcolm and Jude gave me choppy responses when I asked about their meetings with the detectives while we put together Deja’s posters. They said enough to prove they weren’t on the brink of crisis, but not enough to settle the twitching in my stomach. The feeling that won’t let me sit still. The feeling that drove me to visit Danny yesterday, and the one that’s guiding me to Phillip’s today.
I look in the mirror and prep myself for a battle against my now-frizzy twists, which broke free of their bonnet last night, but the sound of cartoons draws me to the living room before I can get started. Josiah sits cross-legged on the couch, a blanket draped across him like a cape, a big Tupperware filled with cereal milk in his lap. Without making eye contact, he moves the Miles Morales pillow he dragged from his bedroom out of the way to make room for me to sit. A casual assumption that I intend to join him. A reminder that, at nine years old, the world could be falling down around you, but it’s no excuse to miss SpongeBob reruns.
Maybe Phillip Irvine can wait. It’s super early anyway. I detour to the kitchen, grab the carton of almond milk and a bowl, then take a seat next to my brother. “You seen Mama this morning?”
“She came home from work a little while ago and went straight to her room.”
“She’s tired. She didn’t get to sleep much before her shift last night.”
He downs his milk, burps and places his bowl on the coffee table. “Want to play some video games with me?”
“I don’t know if I’m up for games, Jo. But you can turn up the TV and pass me that box of cereal.” I put on a pleasant enough face for my brother, but on the inside it’s all panic, worry, and dread. An ugly contrast to the bright, cheerful sounds coming from the TV.
The cereal is overly sweet and goes soggy too quickly, setting off my gag reflex. I double-check the box to see what abomination my brother convinced Mama to buy—some off-brand thing called Poppin’ Pogo Puffs. I put my bowl down and nudge it away from me. Jojo snatches it up and begins to devour the mushy remains.
“That’s disgusting.”
He smiles, proud of himself, then watches an hour and a half of cartoons while I stress over how early would be too early to show up at Phillip’s house. Josiah groans when the SpongeBob marathon ends and a show he doesn’t like comes on. He reaches for the remote with his foot. He’s got some impressively fingerlike toes, but all he manages to do is knock the thing to the floor. I pick it up and flick through the channels while he climbs all over me, trying to snatch it away. I’m holding it high in the air, completely out of his reach, when I see Deja’s mom on the news. Josiah whines and I shush him.
He drops back onto his bottom and looks at the TV. “Who’s that?”
I grab my phone and hit the group chat with Jude and Malcolm—the new one Malcolm made that doesn’t include Deja. I’d wondered what he thought when he made it. If it felt like some kind of betrayal. It’s not that I don’t get why he chose to—it was weird talking about her in the other one, knowing she wouldn’t be chiming in. It was weird to imagine her reading through all of it once she comes home. But I know it was also weird to start a new chat without her. People usually do that when one friend is annoying or can’t keep a secret. Deja isn’t either of those things.
Me
Are y’all aware Ms. Jasmine is on the news right now??
Jude
What?! This is big, right? This is what we want?
“Who’s that?” Josiah asks again.
“Shh!” I turn my phone face down so I can pay attention. “It’s Deja’s mom.”
“She looks different.” He squints at the screen. “She get a haircut or she forget to put her wig on?”
I shove him as Ms. Jasmine wipes her eyes and speaks to the reporter outside of the police precinct. They must have recorded this yesterday.
“Deja baby, if you see this, if you hear me, come home, love. Come home. Please, if anyone has any information. If you were at the festival that day and saw her. Photos. Anything. Please come forward.” She breaks down into sobs and the reporter gently pats her shoulder.
“She’s fake crying,” Jojo says, picking at his toenails.
“What?”
“Look,” he points with his chin. “There aren’t even any tears coming out.”
“Josiah, that’s rude.” He’s not wrong, but I don’t know. She’s probably cried herself dry.
“I don’t like her.”
“You don’t know her, Jo. You don’t understand what she’s going through.”