He shakes his head. “No.”
I don’t get it. This was his chance to show the world how much of a disaster I truly am, and nobody would have blamed him for taking it. So why didn’t he? “How come?”
Daniel sucks in a frustrated breath. “Because I didn’t know what was happening! You left me high and dry all day, and I had no clue if I’d be saying something that was going to screw you over.”
My mind spins as I stare at him. “Why…why would you care about screwing me over?” And then, before he can answer, I add, “You hate me.”
The words come out of the saddest, most insecure corner of my brain—the part of me that knows my relationship with Daniel hasn’t been the same since he became extraordinary and I became less than. I’ve never said them before; I’m not sure I’ve even thought them before. And I’m terrified suddenly about what Daniel will say in return.
His mouth twists. “You really think that?”
“You humiliated me at the talent show—”
“It was a joke, Ivy!” Daniel cuts me off. “A stupid goddamn joke. I thought you might laugh, for a change. Like we used to whenever one of Aunt Helen’s books showed up. I didn’t think you’d read the thing in front of the entire auditorium.”
“You know I’m not good at off-the-cuff speaking,” I protest.
“I know zilch about you. Because that’s what you tell me.”
We stare at one another, and is that—hurt on my brother’s face? How is it possible, when I’m the one who’s been hurting all this time? I think back to that day at Spare Me, when Daniel was showing off in front of his friends, and the satisfaction I’d felt at plotting my revenge. I ruined Ms. Reyes’s entire livelihood for that. It can’t be because I’ve been wrong about my brother all this time.
“My Sugar Babies,” I say abruptly. “You took them, you jerk. So don’t try to pretend like you haven’t been giving me a hard time for years.”
“This again?” Daniel rubs a hand over his jaw. “Can you please explain what you’re talking about with the freaking Sugar Babies? Because I do not understand.”
“The Sugar Babies that Mateo left for me on our porch in eighth grade,” I say, folding my arms. Daniel still looks blank, so I add, “Come on, you remember. He left them with a note, inviting me to go see Infinity War. You took them before I had a chance to read it, and that’s basically why Mateo and I stopped being friends. Or anything else.”
A dawning understanding flits across Daniel’s face. I feel a quick stab of satisfaction until he turns to Cal and says, “You gonna leave me hanging?”
When I look toward Cal, he’s gone pale, his hands shoved into his pockets as he stares at the floor. “Huh?” I ask. Cal doesn’t say anything, and I turn back to Daniel. “What are you talking about? What does Cal have to do with this?”
My brother waits a beat, eyes on Cal. When Cal still doesn’t speak, Daniel huffs in annoyance. “Seriously? Okay then. Well, here’s what I remember, Ivy. I came home one day and Cal was on the porch, holding a packet of Sugar Babies and a piece of paper. I asked what he was doing, and he said he was going to surprise you, but since you weren’t around, he’d give them to you some other time. And he asked me not to say anything.”
“Cal?” I feel almost woozy, my brain spinning in too many directions. “Is that true?”
Cal is pressing himself against the wall, like he’s hoping he can fall right through it and wind up in some other dimension, far away from Daniel and me. Finally, when he realizes that isn’t going to happen, he nods resignedly and says, “Yeah. It is.”
MATEO
When I get home, I step into a disaster area.
I thought I was prepared for this, but it turns out nothing prepares you for seeing your house torn apart. I hardly recognize the rooms I grew up in; it’s like someone built an alternate version for a postapocalyptic movie set. A sick sense of dread pulses through me as I survey the wreckage, and I have to remind myself that it could have been worse. Compared to what happened to Boney, we got off easy.
I close the door behind me and stand motionless for a few long minutes, listening. The house is silent, with a deserted stillness that tells me whoever did this is long gone. They probably came here right before, or after, they hit Charlie’s.
What had Charlie said? Houses get broken into all the time. Maybe, but not like this: two in a row in the same town, on the same day one of our classmates died. I can’t report this. All I can do is clean it up before Ma and Autumn get home.