18

I LEAP UP FROM THE chair, leaving Audrey behind.

“I … I work here,” I say to Theo.

Guess Filipe didn’t say anything to him. What are they doing here, anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen Filipe in the library since we were in second grade.

“Wait, really?”

Filipe heads straight for the computer area, plops down on one of the swivel chairs, and connects his phone to the computer with a small white cord. It’s Theo who walks over toward us.

“Well, I don’t get paid, exactly …”

“Then you don’t really work here,” Filipe says under his breath.

Jeez. What crawled up his butt? Is he still upset about me being too quiet or whatever when we were playing Crash Landing yesterday?

“That’s kinda cool, though.” Theo picks up one of Mrs. Eisenberg’s glass paperweights and tosses it casually in the air. Like it’s not completely breakable or anything. “At least this place has air-conditioning. Unlike my house.”

“Heh.” I manage a little laugh.

He clunks the paperweight back down on her desk right before I have a small heart attack.

“You got it working okay?” Theo walks over to Filipe.

“No. Ugh. I think it really died this time.” Filipe checks the connection on the cord and his phone.

“Can I help?” Audrey asks.

Before I have a chance to say it’s a terrible idea, Audrey’s already jogging over there. I’m caught between following her and staying right where I am. Both of them seem like the wrong choice.

“Your phone?” she asks.

“Yeah.” Filipe glances over at me, raising his eyebrows. Oh, right! I told him about Audrey. It was only a few days back, but man, it feels like forever ago. “It was working just fine, but then the screen went all black.”

“Did you try a hard reboot?”

“A what?”

“Let me see.” Audrey takes over his chair and grabs his phone, which is still plugged into the computer’s USB port. “Yikes, this screen is really cracked. You know they make protective cases, right?”

“No way.” Theo chuckles.

“Are you like some tech expert?” Filipe leans back in his chair, putting his feet up on the table. Where does he think he is? Back in his living room?

Audrey ignores the question. “All you have to do is press these two buttons and hold down until … see? Did you hear that?”

“Maybe?” Filipe shrugs.

“Hey, it’s working! She fixed it.” Theo raises his hand for a high five. Audrey cautiously reaches out her own palm and gives him a little tap. “That could use some work.”

Audrey keeps her head down as she retreats to Mrs. Eisenberg’s computer.

“So, you’re gonna text Sophia? See if she wants to meet us at the park?” Theo’s sitting on the computer table now, thumping the metal leg with the back of his foot.

Who’s Sophia? Some eighth grader from soccer camp?

“Yeah, yeah, I said I’ll do it, all right? Just … I need a sec. It’s still booting up.”

“Dude, your phone is ancient.”

“I don’t see you using your phone to text her. At least I didn’t drop mine in the toilet for, like, the fifth time.”

“It was only three times,” Theo says, sliding off the table. “Jeez.” He scans the wall with the chart tallying the hours the kids have read each week, the one I helped Mrs. Eisenberg make back when school let out.

“They still have these things? Like with prizes and everything?”

“You mean … summer reading?” I ask. “Yup.” I gesture to the prize drawer.

“That stuff is junk,” Filipe says, peeking at it. “I won this yo-yo, right? Thing broke the first day I brought it home. Come on, Theo. Let’s go.”

“See you later, Drew,” Theo says.

“Later.” I raise my hand to wave goodbye, but when it’s halfway up, I realize how absolutely stupid and unnecessary it is and try to lower it before anyone notices.

The door has barely closed behind them when Audrey pipes up, “So, who were they?”

“My friend Filipe and Theo.”

“Wait a second. Friend?”

“He lives across the street from me.”

“Okay, that I believe. But friend? He didn’t even acknowledge your existence. His friend Theo was kind of okay. Not, like, going to be winning genius awards anytime soon, but—”

“Audrey, just—can you stop? It’s not like you’re exactly popular.”

Audrey’s smile disappears in an instant. The color drains from her face and for a second, I think she’s going to cry. She goes quiet, reaching up to adjust her glasses. “At least I’m new here,” she spits out.

Without saying another word, she heads straight for the restroom, the door slamming shut behind her. Across the room, the nanny pokes her head up, like she’s checking to make sure everything’s okay.

Real nice, Drew.

It was one thing to think it, but another to actually say it to her face. Especially after how helpful she’s been. I wish I could take it back. Rewind and do over the last minute. Or maybe rewind even further back, and start over again when Filipe and Theo came down here. Maybe it’s impossible to make Filipe think the library is cool, but I was definitely not doing the place any favors.

Why is it that all of a sudden I can say hardly anything to Filipe? Maybe he wasn’t so wrong yesterday when he called me out for being so quiet.

Across the room, the nanny is still sitting with the baby. Pointing at the pictures, showing her all the tiny details that she probably can’t even understand because she’s just some dumb little baby.

It was Dad who used to take Filipe and me to story hour when we were little. Mom was pregnant with Xan and she had such bad morning sickness she couldn’t even work. Dad’s office assistant must have known not to schedule any root canals for that hour right before lunch. We’d sit downstairs on the carpet, Filipe and me, and listen to Mrs. Eisenberg’s stories before heading off to afternoon kindergarten.

Dad must’ve gone upstairs to browse because he’d come back down with a big bag of books every time. Back then I couldn’t believe he read so many pages—without pictures.

What would Dad think if he could see how Filipe had come down here and pretended he barely even knew me?

That’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to be able to talk to your dad about. If your dad didn’t desert you.

I mean, Filipe. Of all people.

When I returned to school after Dad died, Filipe was the only one who treated me like I was normal. For the rest of third grade, I didn’t get invited to a single birthday party. Not even one. Did they think they were going to catch something from me? That suicide was contagious? The only one who didn’t back away was Filipe.

Until now. Maybe now that we’re older, Filipe’s having some of the same questions I am. Worrying that maybe I am like Dad, or I could be. If he is my real dad, I mean. That someday I could do what he did. Maybe that’s why he’s keeping his distance. Maybe that’s what he was trying to say about me being too quiet.

Suddenly I hear a stampede of footsteps coming down the stairs. The zoo program must have ended and the kids are as amped as ever. I close all the windows Audrey left open on Mrs. Eisenberg’s computer and head over to the tables, already set up for this afternoon’s craft: paper-chain snakes with googly eyes.

I’m helping Mrs. Eisenberg get the kids settled when the door to the women’s restroom finally opens. Audrey’s face isn’t red, but for how long she’s been in there, she must have been crying. I want to apologize, but she won’t even make eye contact with me. She beelines for Mrs. Eisenberg’s computer and immediately pops in her earbuds.

Were we really just moments away from creating a believable fake-sounding person and requesting the yearbook? So much for that.