Needy Little Things(71)

There’s some rustling, laughter, and muffled voices before Jude pokes his head into my room. His expression drops right away. “Hey, what happened to your face?” He takes a few quick steps over to my side and gently runs his thumb across the scabbed-over, but puffy, scratch under my eye.

“She ran into a tree,” Jojo says casually as he passes by my room.

“Sounds fake, but it’s the truth,” I say with a reassuring smile, not wanting to get into everything that happened before and after that.

“Looks like it hurts,” he says, face still contorted with concern.

“It’s fine. Promise. Can you close the door?”

He pushes the door until it’s as close to being closed without actually being closed as possible and I love that he automatically knew that’s what I meant. His mom must not play that game, either. There are no mothers present right now, but old habits die hard.

He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “I brought you some tacos, but Josiah snatched them and ran.”

Of course he did. “I don’t have much of an appetite anyway. Thanks for bringing it, though. He was probably minutes away from destroying the kitchen trying to make himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” I sit cross-legged on my bed.

“I’m sorry,” we say in unison.

“I overreacted,” I say.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to do it in the first place.”

I shake my head. “No. I struggle with … what I do. Is it good? Is it bad? You know. Malcolm said I meddle too much earlier, and it’s true. I meddle every time I fulfill a need, and I’ve seen amazing things come from it. But I can’t help it—the bad is what stands out in my mind.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Me too. And the thing with your aunt and my mom. I think maybe it’ll turn out good for both of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my mom had an interview for a job she’s really excited about. It’s part-time and doesn’t start for a while and she needs that kind of flexibility right now. I don’t know if she’ll get it, but the opportunity put a little life back into her, I think. Maybe that wouldn’t have happened if she never got fired.”

He gives me a hesitant smile. “I hope she gets the job.”

“Me too. It’ll be even more motivation for me to graduate on time or else we’ll be in the halls together next year.”

“Oh, shoot. It’s a job at the school?” He unzips his book bag. “Should we make this a study session?”

“Yeah, we should. But first, I need to catch you up.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is. It’s about Deja.” I pull up her Instagram and pass my phone to Jude. “Malcolm said her captions are Lizzo lyrics, but I still feel like she was trying to communicate something about someone she was seeing.”

Jude scrolls up and down her page, clicking photos here and there. “Wait, what?” He laughs. “These aren’t Lizzo lyrics.”

I look over his shoulder, as if I’d actually be able to tell the difference. “Those are her own words?”

He laughs again. “No. You know she’s got quirky taste. They’re Willow Smith lyrics.”

“Willow?” My heart rate skyrockets as I recall the last conversation I had with Fitz. “Give me. Pass me—” I gesture wildly at my laptop.

He passes it to me, eyes wide as saucers. “What’s wrong?”

I’m so worked up it takes me three tries to hit the F key and get Facebook to autofill in my browser. I hit enter and go straight to Jed’s profile. I click his “friends” tab and type “Willow” into the search bar. One result pops up.

Willow D. Nelson.





CHAPTER 30





“We can’t know for sure this is her,” Jude says. “The profile is blank.”

“Willow. D. Nelson. Jude, what more evidence do we need? Jed cheated on his girlfriend with someone called Willow. Deja posts mushy Willow Smith lyrics on her Instagram, where she just happens to be following Jed. Now this?”

“You think Deja is hanging out in your hometown with Jed? Wouldn’t she have been seen by now? Hasn’t your dad been hanging posters?”

I shrug, frustrated by questions I can’t answer.

“How well do you know Jed? Would he…” Jude pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Is he dangerous?”

I shrug even harder. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know him well, but I’m friends with his best friend and I don’t think he would hurt her. But he knows something.” Maybe something valuable enough that he’d pretend to be a hacker on his own Facebook account. He could have ignored my message. That he didn’t proves he’s trying to write his own narrative. Best-case, that narrative is all about convincing Ella he didn’t cheat and winning her back. Worst-case is something I don’t want to think about.

“What do we do? Call the detective?”

“I’ll update him, but I’m not holding my breath waiting for them to do anything. Malcolm said he’d go with me to Deja’s tomorrow. I want to check her room one more time. See if there’s anything related to Jed we might have missed. And if it comes to it”—I stand and rest my hands on my hips, contemplating if I really mean what I’m about to say—“I’ll go down to Chefly.”