Flan Flood looked concerned. “I’m getting worried about Patch.”
We were holding hands and walking up Fifth Avenue. She’d said her hands were cold, and when I took one, it was. It was Thursday afternoon and I’d spent one very dull school day text-messaging people and having those messages go unanswered. Arno was back from Florida, I knew, but only because I’d heard from my mom that Kelli had had a really good interview at Sarah Lawrence earlier in the day.
“What?” I asked. I wanted to pay attention to Flan, I really did, but it was hard to do because I was so worried about my friends.
“Patch!” Flan said, and punched me in the shoulder.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “Right. I haven’t had a chance to think about him. Where is he?”
“I don’t know and I’m getting sick of covering for him.”
“When was the last time you saw your parents?”
“I don’t know that either.”
Flan blubbered a little. She was only about an inch shorter than me, but she seemed very small just then. I looked both ways and put my arm around her. The sun was really bright, but it was a little cold. I had on a new Andre Longacre zipup cashmere sweater and Flan was wearing what was probably her father’s button-down and jeans and red Sigerson Morrison high heels and white socks.
“Your sweater feels good,” Flan said. So of course I took it off and gave it to her.
“Who’s been taking care of you?”
“February,” she said. She wrapped herself up in my sweater. I only had on a black T-shirt and black jeans, but that was cool.
“Seriously?”
We began to walk in the direction of the Flood house.
“Well, Patch said he’d be around, and it was just supposed to be for a couple of days at the end of last week, but then my mother went down to St. Lucia and my dad stayed up in Connecticut in that tower of his where nobody is allowed to go, and Patch was gone that whole time, so I guess I’ve been taking care of myself. I order sushi or Thai food sometimes for me and February, when she remembers she’s hungry.”
“Wait … Patch has been gone since last week?”
“Last Wednesday.”
“Wow,” I said. “And meanwhile, everybody else is in trouble, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Arno’s chasing after my cousin and making an ass of himself, Mickey got suspended and maybe kicked out of school, and David broke up with his girlfriend and can’t stop crying in public.”
“And Patch is gone.”
“Right,” I said. “That, too.”
We walked quietly for a little while, and then we were in front of her house. I took a quick look up and down the street. I still had my arm around her.
“Do you want to come upstairs and watch School of Rock on the big TV in my parents’ bedroom?”
I took a deep breath. I knew what would happen if I did that and though I’m not a big fan of fighting with my own impulses, I knew I had to this time.
“I always fall asleep during that movie,” I said, and moved away from her. But we were still holding hands.
“Well, we could … nap together.”
“No. I think I shouldn’t.”
“Jonathan, I can’t wait for you much longer.”
“You shouldn’t. What I said the other day—it’s true. I just like hanging out with you in a friendly way. That’s all.”
“But then that night, you called.”
“Yeah. I know those two things are totally contradictory, but still,” I said. And I knew that sounded pretty lame. I was still holding her hand and I let it go. Because she was totally too young and everybody was laughing at me about hanging out with her, and stupid as it may sound, I knew that just because I was feeling something, it didn’t mean it was the right thing to feel.
“Look, I’ll call you later and we can figure out what to do about Patch.”
“Whatever,” Flan said. She was all frustrated-looking, suddenly, and she opened the door and went into her house without saying goodbye to me.
I wandered home. I thought I’d see how my mom was doing. We hadn’t talked in a couple of days. But when I got in, she wasn’t around. Kelli was in my room, lying on my bed, actually.
“You’re still here?” I asked.
“Yeah, we’re not going back till Sunday morning. Or I might just take a different plane back than my mom. I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ve got a lot of stuff to take care of here in the city.”
“Um,” I said. I dropped into my desk chair. “Don’t you have to go to school?”
“The stuff I’m doing here seems more important.”
“I don’t get it. Your interviews are over. What are you still doing here?”
Just then her cell phone rang. She stood up and smiled at me like I was nine years old and it was time for me to go to bed.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m having a really, really good time.” Then she went out of the room and I sat for a moment, spinning the disc on my iPod, and thinking about how I never remembered to use it. That reminded me of the thing I needed to do. Find Patch.
I went ahead and called Flan, and we agreed that my guys and I should meet at the Flood house the next night and find him, if he hadn’t come home by then. February Flood might help, too, though Flan hadn’t seen her big sister since the day before. Her mom had called from St. Lucia, so she knew her parents would be back by Sunday. Which meant we needed to find Patch before then.
I slipped on my headset, concentrated on Patch for the first time in a while, and started to speed dial the necessary people.