“Sugar Babies?” I ask as she disconnects.
“Mateo left them for me,” Ivy says, a pink tinge washing over her cheeks. I glance at Mateo, who’s suddenly very interested in the doughnut menu. “At my house, after we, um. Briefly hooked up. I just found out about it on the train when you…said what you said.”
“Ahh,” I say, swallowing hard. When I threw a hissy fit, she means. I’d rather not revisit any of that right now. “So Daniel doesn’t have Charlie’s number, right? And Charlie took off anyway?”
Mateo frowns. “Took off?”
“Emily said he walked out of school,” Ivy says, her tone businesslike once again. “It must’ve been right after Cal answered Boney’s phone.” She bites her thumbnail. “I wonder if he went home? Maybe we should try to talk with him in person. The St. Clairs live in our neighborhood, a couple of streets over.”
“It’s as good a plan as any,” I say. Lara hasn’t checked in since I left the café, even though she’s had plenty of time to figure out…what had she said? Where we land.
Well, it looks like we’re landing with Charlie St. Clair. If Lara wanted something different, she could’ve let me know before now.
“I’m starving. I need more food first,” Mateo says. “Real food,” he adds, giving me a look like he was expecting me to recommend a doughnut. Which, to be fair, I was. “There’s a McDonald’s across the street. You guys want something?”
“No thanks,” Ivy says.
My stomach is way too knotted to eat anything else. “I’m good.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you outside.” He stands and picks up Boney’s phone from the table. “We should probably shut this down until we figure out how to get it to the police. They might be tracking it.”
Jesus, I hadn’t even thought about that. Something new and fun to worry about. “Maybe we can leave it with Charlie,” I suggest, glancing at Ivy. She’s absorbed in reassembling everything she took out of Lara’s day planner, with the single-minded focus of someone who can’t deal with another piece of stressful information.
“Yeah, maybe,” Mateo says. He leaves as Viola returns from the back room with a cloth in one hand. She starts wiping down the counter, sending the occasional thoughtful look our way. I’m debating whether I should go over and make small talk, like I would under normal circumstances, when my phone rings for the first time all day.
It’s Wes, because of course it is. Who else would call me?
I briefly consider letting it go to voicemail, but my dad wouldn’t call during a school day unless he either knows I skipped or knows about Boney. Neither of those will get better with age. I swipe to answer and say, “Hey, Dad.”
“Cal, hello.” His voice fills my ear, rich with concern, and my throat tightens. “I heard about your classmate. What terrible news. Your father and I are both devastated.” Wes must’ve given Henry a heads-up before he called me, because no way would Henry come across this news on his own. He’s the opposite of plugged in, and still uses a flip phone. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. Just kind of in shock, I guess.”
“It’s such a tragedy. I can only imagine what his poor parents are going through. How are your friends?”
“Oh, you know.” I glance at Ivy, who’s slung her bag over her shoulder and is perched at the edge of the booth, watching me. “As well as can be expected.”
“Does the school have resources set up for you? Are there people you can talk to?”
“Um…” Up to this point, I haven’t directly lied to him about being at school, which for some reason feels like an important distinction. “I don’t need to talk to anyone, Dad.”
“But you should, Cal. Even if you don’t think you need to.”
“I’ll just talk to you when you get home.”
“I could come home early. I have a donor meeting, but I can move it.”
“No!” I practically yell the word, then force my voice lower. “I mean, thanks, but I think a normal routine is best right now. I’d rather talk tonight.”
“But we’ve got that award ceremony,” Wes says.
Oh Christ. The Carlton Citizen of the Year Award, where Ivy’s mom is receiving the town’s highest honor. I’m sure it won’t come up at any point during the festivities that half my classmates think her daughter murdered Boney Mahoney. “After that is fine,” I say.