Needy Little Things(26)

This offends him enough that he drops his foot and gapes at me. “I do too! I wasn’t born yesterday. No mom wants their kid to disappear, but I still don’t like her.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s mean. She was a substitute in our class. It was right before Christmas and she made us go on silent lunch.”

“There’s a difference between mean and strict, Josiah. Y’all were probably bad.” I’ve heard stories about some of those wild behind kids in his class. They probably traumatized her.

I stare at the TV, trying to shake the uneasy feeling Jojo’s comments left in my gut while he’s busy defending his class’s honor.

My phone rings. A FaceTime call with Jude and Malcolm. I answer. Malcolm’s sitting on his bed with Miss Doretta tucked under his chin. Jude’s in his kitchen, a Pop-Tarts package dangling from his mouth.

“Did y’all catch it?” I ask.

“Barely,” Jude says, briefly setting his phone down and showing us his ceiling while he opens his sad breakfast.

“Did Deja ever say much about her relationship with her mom?” I ask, looking at Malcolm.

His eyes shift away from his TV and to his phone. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because Ms. Jasmine is mean!” Jojo yells.

I shove the remote deep between the couch cushions just to annoy him and go to my room.

“Your little brother putting you on to conspiracy theories?” Malcolm asks.

“No. And why would it have to be a conspiracy? You think it’s unheard of for a teen not to get along with their parents?”

“I don’t, but what are you saying? You think Ms. Jasmine had something to do with her disappearance?”

“No. I don’t know. I just think it’s important to know what all was going on with her.”

Malcolm runs his hand down his face. “Sariyah, we went over this yesterday. Getting Deja’s name out there is a better use of our time than trying to piece together little clues to figure out what happened. One viral post will do way more than you finding out the last thing she and her mama fought over. Only we’re going to need more than local news reports to get her the kind of exposure she needs.”

“This segment is proof that people are paying attention though, right? That they want to know more?” Jude asks.

“It’s proof my family has money and connections and empathizes with Ms. Jasmine’s situation,” Malcolm says. “The real question is if my family has enough money and the right connections.”

I prop my phone up on Tibby so I can pick out some clothes while I talk. “Exactly. Not sure how much weight we can give these reports. They run one or two non-primetime, thirty-second stories. Get their missing person diversity plug for the month and then they let everyone forget.”

“And not saying those stories aren’t a privilege,” Malcolm says. “It’s more than most people get, regardless of race. But I’ve seen what didn’t work for Tessa, and what did work for Casey. We need to do more.”

I perk up, put my face back in frame. “How about a rally at the school?”

Malcolm perks up, too. “I’m listening. When?”

“A couple of days from now. Wednesday? Hopefully she’ll be home before we even have to go through with it, but if not, it’s enough time to plan and spread the word.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jude says.

“It doesn’t have to be some fancy thing with speeches and political statements. We can get people from the school and community to pass out flyers and get Find Deja trending.”

“Let’s do it,” Malcolm says.

We end the call and I get dressed, still thinking about what Jojo said about Ms. Jasmine. Still thinking about her strange behavior. Dredging my mind. Trying to recover anything I can from the conversation Deja and I had in the media center the day before the festival. She’d talked about her mom and stepdad. She’d said he didn’t want her to go, that her mom was going to have something to say after. That she wouldn’t be listening when she did. Was it because she knew she’d be gone? Or am I clinging to that idea to make myself feel better? Because I feel like shit. I feel like a horrible friend. I am a horrible friend. She never should have set foot in Hyde Park and I knew that. So it’s my responsibility to do everything I can, to explore every angle possible to bring her home. I couldn’t do it for Tess. But I’m going to do it for Deja.



* * *



I ride the bus to Hyde Park. Jude would have driven me, but I never got around to telling him what Danny and I talked about and I wasn’t in the mood to answer twenty-one questions. The bus drops me off right where the security check for the festival was. It’s bizarre knowing I existed in this exact spot less than two days ago under entirely different circumstances with entirely different feelings. I picture little holograms of the four of us, laughing and carrying on. Me thinking I could circumvent whatever fate had in store.

Phillip’s house is right around the corner, all rotting wood and chipped butter-yellow paint. It looks harmless enough, sitting on a big open plot of land, but just in case, I take out my phone and share my location with Jude. He immediately sends me a text.

Jude

What are you doing at the park?

Me