“Chopsticks or a fork?” Josh says.
We’re sitting in his car, which is filled with the smells of Mr. Chinese for once, overpowering the smell of the old running clothes and Red Bull. You could say it’s a no-body celebration.
“Fork.” I’ll probably spaz out with the chopsticks, stab my mouth, and choke, just like your prediction.
After the detective called, Josh texted if I was hungry and wanted Mr. Chinese. I said sure—I’ve been living on yogurt cups—and he picked it up. When he got here, he called and I came out of the house to eat it in his car. Definitely did not invite him inside, even if he is your best friend, and I’ve told him about the hoarding. People are always shocked.
He hands me the white box with sweet and sour pork. Yep, I ordered your favorite. I’m feeling a bit more optimistic now. Maybe you’ll still show up. Maybe you’re alive.
“I always like to open my fortune cookies first.” I don’t tell him that it’s something you and I always do.
“You don’t like the suspense?”
“Nah, if I’m going to get food poisoning, I like to know. And with the way things are going…”
“Good plan.”
He reaches into the bag for the cookies and we open them. Mine says: Good fortune comes to those who wait. Which is good news. I read it aloud.
“Man.” He shakes his head and sighs.
“You never know. The divers didn’t find him. No dead body, right?”
Josh winces.
I feel bad. I guess talking about a dead body is my way of avoiding the awfulness; I smash my fist up against it. But maybe, right now, I can just shut the hell up about it.
I clear my throat. “What’s yours?”
“Invest your money wisely.”
“No food poisoning.”
“I’d bet there are no fortune cookies that warn of food poisoning.” He opens his broccoli chicken and digs in with his fork.
I’m not hungry, but I take a bite of mine anyway. “I can’t believe we’re graduating on Saturday.”
“Me neither.”
Then, nope, I can’t shut the hell up. “Do you think Chris will make it back in time?”
He pauses with the food in his mouth, and then shakes his head slowly as he swallows.
I stare at him. So, what? He still thinks you jumped? “The fact that they didn’t find a body is good news.”
He doesn’t say anything right away, and then: “I keep thinking about how I shouldn’t have gone to the meet.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Josh. It’s stupid.” I can’t believe he’s saying this. “He knows you’d do anything for him.”
He nods, real fast, staring down at his carton of food.
“Seriously, Josh, he told me you’re the best friend he’s ever had.”
He looks up at me, finally, and manages a wiggly smile. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
“He’s alive, Josh,” I say. “I just know it.”
He blinks hard a couple times, like he’s struggling to keep it together. Then he dives his fork into his box and starts shoveling food into his mouth. He’s eating as fast as he drives. It’s kind of mesmerizing.
He chews. Gulps. Glances at me. “Eat.”
I shove my box on the dash. “I can’t.”
“Jessie, we just have to try not to think of it.”
My gut tightens. He doesn’t know how impossible that is for me, how every waking moment of the day reminds me of you, how I talk to you in my head, like, all the time.
“I can’t do anything but think of him.”
He nods, and I guess it’s the same for him.
His cell rings from the dash and he grabs it. “Yeah?”
Tim’s yammering away on the other end. Josh looks worried, as he stares straight out the darkened windshield. “Okay.” More talking. “You have to tell the detective,” he says.
He hangs up. Stares down at the box of broccoli chicken. The suspense is killing me. Why the hell isn’t he saying anything?
“What?” I bark.
“He says he checked the Find My iPhone app and Chris’s phone is in the Heights right now.”
“It’s on?”
“Apparently,” he says. “It’s by Johnson’s house.”
“Holy crap. We have to go there.”
He’s already shaking his head. “Detective McFerson said we need to stay away. Tim’s calling the detective. He’ll probably send a cop car out.”
“You really think they’re going to do anything? I mean, why aren’t the police tracking the phone? They should have it by now. All they’re doing is looking in the damn river.”
He’s hesitating.
“Josh! Come on.” I grab his arm. His arm hairs are extra long and curly blond. Never noticed that before. “Please?”
If you were here, you’d be smiling, even laughing at me. “That’s my girl,” I hear you say. That’s right, baby, I told you I’m not giving up.
Maybe Josh hears your voice in his head too. “Okay, fine.”
He starts up the car and shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“I have to get my purse,” I tell him.
I run back in the house and grab the large black purse on the hook next to the door, yes, with the gun. I hear your voice in my head telling me to stop. Sorry. I know you don’t approve. That’s too bad.