Wunder put the letter in his pocket the next morning. Then he took his time getting ready. He wanted to be late because he was worried about the questions that would be waiting for him at school. Because by now Tomás would probably know about the town hall break-in.
And he did. When Wunder slipped into his seat in first period English right before the bell rang, Tomás swung around to face him.
“Wunder!” he whispered. “What’s going on?”
But then Mr. Groves—who was known for giving detentions for even the slightest infractions, like sneezing without covering your nose—started taking roll. Tomás frowned, flipped his hair, and turned back around.
At the end of class, Wunder rushed from the room while everyone was still packing up. He saw Davy watching him leave, front teeth chewing on his lip. He thought about asking what Davy had been doing in the woods, but then he didn’t. It would be easier to avoid him.
All day, he dodged his old friends. He ate lunch in the stairwell, then told Ms. Shunem he had a stomachache and needed to go see the school nurse, because her science class was small and informal and Tomás would have plenty of time to talk to him there. When the last bell rang, Wunder was relieved that he had made it through the day without having to explain himself to anyone—
But Tomás was waiting for him at his locker. And when Wunder tried to walk right past, Tomás stepped in front of him.
“So did you really do it?” he asked.
“Do what?” Wunder went to his locker and focused on spinning the combination dial.
“You know what,” Tomás said.
“Your dad isn’t supposed to talk about police stuff with you,” Wunder said. He pulled his earth sciences book out, put his English composition book back in. “It’s confidential. That’s the law.”
Tomás snorted. Wunder wasn’t looking at him, but he was almost sure he could hear the sound of hair being flipped.
“Come on, Wunder,” Tomás said. “If I robbed the town hall and your dad knew about it, you’d know about it too. My dad thought I might have been with you. I almost got in serious trouble!” Wunder didn’t say anything. He knelt to shove his books into his backpack. “Hello? Wunder? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“I’m sorry you almost got in trouble,” Wunder said.
Tomás snorted again, but this time more forcefully. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
Davy came up then. “Wunder, I heard—” He stammered to a stop, blinking back and forth between Tomás, who had his arms raised in disbelief, and Wunder, who had stood and was glaring at his friend. “Snack Shack?” he finally squeaked.
“All I’m going to say?” Wunder said. “Me? I’m not the one who doesn’t want to talk about anything!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tomás demanded. “I’ve been at your locker every day, and I’m always asking you to hang out, even though you hardly talk now and you never smile and you don’t want to go anywhere. It’s not like I don’t have better things to do! It’s not like I don’t have other friends!”
Wunder reeled at these words—but because Tomás was right. They always used to meet at Tomás’s locker, never his. And Tomás had been asking him to do things. Wunder’s anger started to die down.
Then, with one thought, it flared up again. “That may be true, but you haven’t said anything—not one thing—about my sister. You haven’t mentioned her once, neither of you! You’re both just pretending like nothing happened!”
“What are we supposed to say?” Tomás cried. “If you wanted to talk about it, you should have brought it up. And anyway, it’s not like it was your dad or someone you really knew. She was alive for what—a day? Two days? What’s the big deal?”
It seemed like the hallway went silent after these words. If there was noise, Wunder couldn’t hear it. All he could hear was the sound of his blood rushing past his ears and the sound of his own breathing, fast and tight. He saw Davy’s face, hands pressed to his mouth, aghast.
“Eight days,” he said. He might have been screaming or whispering, he couldn’t tell. He could hardly hear his own voice. “It was eight days.”
Then he left.
As he went out the front door, he felt someone touch his arm.
“Wunder. Wait.” He turned to see Davy following him. He looked like he was about to burst into tears.
And Wunder never would have thought that he would make Davy cry, not Davy, who had been his best friend his whole life, who brought him newspaper cuttings of miracle stories, who would do anything for him. Never, ever, not in a million years.
But he did.
“Just leave me alone!” he yelled.
He ran to the bicycle rack, where, of course, Faye was waiting for him. She watched impassively as he unlocked his bike chain and yanked it off, as he jerked his bike free.
“Wundie,” she said. “We need to talk.”
Wunder didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to keep asking himself question after question. He didn’t want to keep trying not to ask himself question after question. He didn’t want to wander around his house, the cemetery, his town like a ghost, angry and lonely and confused.
He was ready for some answers.
He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the letter.
“Not now, Faye,” Wunder said. “We need to deliver this.”