“My God, Son, I can’t believe I’m finally talking to you. I’ve wanted to. I’ve tried.”
“You did?”
“Every time I try to call, I think . . . Well, I don’t know. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
Everett’s body felt strange. Limbs heavy but also tingling and numb. His chest felt constricted, as if he were strapped down. He couldn’t think, and his throat had squeezed itself shut. He closed his eyes and heard a slow sigh in his ear.
“You probably don’t even want to talk to me.”
“No,” Everett rasped. The tight knot of his heart eased a bit, though it hurt more now, as if the lightened pressure had let pain in. “I do want to talk to you.”
“You know that means you can’t tell anyone, right? It’s a big secret for a twelve-year-old. I’m still . . . Well, I did some bad stuff, and I guess you’ve heard all about it.”
“Yeah.” His dad was on the phone, and Everett felt like all he could get out were caveman grunts. But he’d never thought about what he might say if they talked, because he never thought he’d have the chance. It seemed . . . not real. Like a dream where something weird happened and everyone carried on like it wasn’t weird. Including Everett.
“I’m sorry, little man. Though I guess you’re not so little anymore.”
Everett’s eyes started blinking again, this time to stop the burning of tears. “Dad, where are you?”
“I can’t really talk about that. But maybe you could tell me about your life. Do you like school?”
“It’s fine.” He couldn’t believe they were finally speaking and they were talking about school. He didn’t care about school. He wanted to know a hundred things about his dad. Wanted to know everything. Yet he couldn’t think of one single question.
“Play any sports?” his dad asked. “Do you still have that glove I got you?”
“Yes. I have it,” Everett said quietly. “It’s too small.”
“Maybe I can send you a new one.”
“Oh, sure.”
“Do you have a special girlfriend?”
He frowned hard at that. “No.” An engine started somewhere outside, and he jerked in shock before racing to the living room to look out the window. He heard voices somewhere around the corner. “I think my mom’s coming back,” he said, nearly panting the words.
“Okay, all right, it’s fine. Just give me your cellphone number, and I’ll call again.”
“I don’t have one.” Now he really was crying, afraid this was their last chance and they’d only talked about the dumbest stuff like school and sports and girls, of all things. “But I want to talk to you, Dad! Can you use Discord? It’s an app. We can text there. We can even do calls on it. I can—”
“I can get Discord,” his dad said quickly. “Absolutely.”
Everett gave him his username, then repeated it, just in case. “You promise?” he asked. “You’ll find me there?”
“Absolutely, little man. I won’t let you down.”
When he heard his mom’s voice outside the window, talking to someone just before the gate squeaked open, Everett couldn’t catch his breath. “She’s here,” he whispered.
“Okay, we’ll talk soon. Bye, Son.”
“Goodbye,” he stammered. “Bye, Dad.” He didn’t want to put the phone down, and he held it to his ear even as he heard the office door open. He held it there until it made a strange sound before going quiet. Then he finally sprinted to his mom’s room to put the phone back on its charger.
After tumbling back out to the living room to close all his windows and wipe his search history, Everett retreated to his bedroom, closing the door tight behind him.
His stomach ached. His throat burned. Because now he had more secrets. Bigger ones. And he couldn’t tell anyone, not even Josephine.
He changed his mind at the last moment and jumped from his bedroom to the bathroom just as he heard the knob on the apartment door turning.
Everett turned on the shower, sat down on the toilet, and cried. But they were happy tears. Mostly.
CHAPTER 15
Lily scowled at the missed call from Detective Mendelson. It was Saturday, her busiest day of the week, and she could not deal with his bullshit right now. Every time a car approached, her head jerked up to see if he was back. The audit was enough for her to worry about. One damn crisis at a time.
Not that the audit had gone badly. It had gone fine. She and Gretchen had even clicked a little, she thought. Or maybe Gretchen was extra nice to people who might be losing their job.