They were there two hours before Auggie finally managed to get Theo alone. Two hours of the Reese Family Everything’s-All-Good-Sunshine-Hour-and-Alcohol-Poisoning Show. When they finally got away, Orlando was leading them to Cal’s childhood bedroom, and Auggie stopped on the stairs and caught Theo’s wrist.
“These people are fucking nuts,” Auggie whispered.
Theo nodded. His face didn’t change as he reached down and removed Auggie’s hand.
“Are you listening to them? They all insist everything’s fine. They’re all pretty and polished and slightly drunk and evil.”
“Ok, they’re not evil.”
“They’re evil.”
“Well, maybe Chris.”
“All of them. They’re like those super bitchy girls on Pitch Perfect.”
“What?”
“Never mind,” Auggie said, thumping his head against the wall. “I forgot you’re a million years old.”
“Ok,” Theo said, starting up the stairs again.
“And why do you get a beer and I have to have a Coke?”
“I’m not doing this with you.”
“I’ve had beer before.”
Theo kept going.
Auggie went after him. “Fer lets me have beer.”
“Bull.”
“Ok, but he pretends he doesn’t know I sneak them when he’s not home.”
“We’re not talking about this anymore.”
Orlando emerged onto the landing above them and said, “What’s taking you so long?”
“Theo was just offering to grab me a beer,” Auggie said. “Want one?”
Theo shook his head and kept going.
Auggie laughed and shot past him, taking the stairs two at a time.
“You guys are so weird,” Orlando said.
Auggie followed Orlando into the first room off the landing. It was a shrine to Cal: pictures of Cal, tennis whites that had presumably belonged to Cal, trophies with Cal’s name on the plaques. The few items that didn’t feature Cal in some way were obviously his teenage relics. A 2006 Cardinals World Series poster. An autographed baseball—Auggie couldn’t decipher the scribble. A spool of hot pink grip wrap, the kind he must have used on his racquet. A pile of tennis shoes.
“Wow,” Auggie said.
“Mom and Dad like to leave our stuff exactly the way we had it.”
Theo came into the room at the tail end of Orlando’s comment. He was standing behind Orlando, making a gee! wow! expression, like Orlando had just unraveled another mystery for him. Auggie had to fight to keep his own face smooth.
“So can we see the Orlando shrine?” Auggie asked.
“If you want to,” Orlando said, “you’d better hurry. Mom’s been talking about turning it into her craft room, and I have the feeling she’s going to do it soon. They already moved my guns down to the basement.”
“I thought they left the room exactly the way you had it,” Theo said.
Discomfort and embarrassment on Orlando’s face made Auggie ask, “Why do you have guns?”
“Hunting,” Orlando said, rolling his eyes. “Do you want me to show you? I’ve got a Savage 110 and a Remington 870.”
“No, thanks.”
“If you change your mind, I could teach you.”
“Thanks, Orlando.”
“Sooner is better than later. Mom’s going to make me move everything to the basement, or else I’ll have to figure out a storage unit.”
Auggie examined the room and shrugged. “It’s cool to see Cal’s stuff, but why’d you want to show us this? Is there something you think we need to see?”
“Oh, I just thought you might be getting a little bored.” Then Orlando blushed, huge spots of color in his cheeks. “My family talks a lot.”
Downstairs, a loud voice rang out, although the words were muffled. Theo cocked his head and said, “Is that Wayne?”
Orlando nodded. “I figured he’d come over. He usually shows up for Sunday dinner.”
“So he’ll be here for a while?”
Orlando nodded again.
“I think we should go back to Cal’s apartment,” Theo said.
“Ok. I’ll ask Wayne—”
“Without Wayne.”
Orlando’s thick brows drew together. “I don’t know.” Then, as though he were testing thin ice, “I mean, I would, but the apartment is locked.”
“You are a bad liar,” Auggie said.
The color in Orlando’s cheeks darkened.
“You have a key,” Theo said.
“No.”
“You know where the spare is.”
Orlando stared at his shoes.
“Come on,” Auggie said. “You’ll feel better once we find Cal.”
Auggie steered Orlando by the shoulders toward the stairs. They left the house by the front door to avoid passing Orlando’s family, and Auggie drove them back toward Wayne and Cal’s apartment on the northeast side of the city. The Civic sounded like it was whining more than usual, and once, after turning left, Auggie caught a whiff of something that made him think of overheated wires. In the rearview mirror, he caught Theo looking at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.” A block later, though, Theo said, with a painful attempt at sounding casual, “You know, you’re welcome to borrow the Malibu. If you ever need to.”
Auggie drove two more blocks. He tapped the brakes a little harder than he needed to. He almost missed a turn. He was thinking about Fer driving all the way across the country with him, Fer insisting on carrying everything up to his room, Fer unable to even consider the possibility that Auggie might be able to do things on his own. And overlaying those thoughts was Fer insisting on this piece of shit car, and Theo’s little jokes about the Civic all day, and the nice truck that Cart drove. And overlaying that was the way Theo had said, This is your car? This? And then his brain ran wild with it: Theo and Cart holding hands, Theo and Cart kissing, Theo telling Cart about the Civic and Auggie and then Theo and Cart laughing like crazy.
“Where’s the Pretty Pretty?” Auggie asked.
“Huh?” Orlando said.
“Really quick, just so I know where it is. Let’s swing by.”
“I’m sorry,” Theo said. “What?”
“Orlando?”
“Just turn up here. No, the next one.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Theo said. “Wayne—”
“Wayne’s at Sunday dinner,” Auggie said. “He’s going to be gone for hours, right, Orlando?”
“Well—”
“See?”
In the rearview mirror, Theo opened his mouth and then shut it again. The tendons in his neck looked strained. Finally, he said, “Yep. I see.”
Auggie refused to ask what that tone meant.
“It’s on the corner there,” Orlando said.
“Is it open?”
“Stop it,” Theo said.
“I just thought I’d poke my head in. You know, so I’ll feel a little more comfortable when I come next time. Do you think you could come with me, Orlando? So I don’t feel awkward?”
“Yeah, I mean, I guess.”
“Wouldn’t it be super weird if we ran into Theo and Cart? Do you ever go to the Pretty Pretty, Theo?”
Just the shrill answer of the Civic’s belts and fans.
“Maybe the four of us could go together.”
Auggie stopped and pretended to consider an open parking spot along the curb. He let his eyes drift up to the mirror.
Theo’s dark blue eyes always made Auggie think of wildflowers. They were wide now, and Auggie couldn’t tell if the emotion there was shock or pain or anger or a brew of all three.
“Stop it,” Theo said again, quietly.
The flush ran through Auggie’s whole body, sweat prickling across his chest, down his belly, up his neck. He shifted the car into gear and followed Orlando’s directions the rest of the way to the apartment. He couldn’t bring himself to look into the mirror again.
At Wayne and Cal’s building, they got out of the Civic, and Theo said, “Orlando, go find the spare and wait for us. Not you. You stay.”
Orlando shot a look and said, “Augs?”
“It’s fine.”
“Um, yeah. Right.”
When Orlando’s steps were ringing out on the metal stairs, Theo said, “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Don’t do that. If you’ve got a problem with me, tell me. Don’t pretend to be fine and then go out of your way to upset me.”
“Why would I want to upset you?”
Theo scratched his beard. Hard scratches. “One more chance.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did I do something wrong?”
“The other stuff I can let slide, Auggie. I said something dumb. I pissed you off. You came back at me. Fine. But this, this kind of thing. Just so you know, I don’t put up with it.”
Auggie opened his mouth, speechless, and held up his hands.
A truck blew past them, kicking up the cardboard sleeve from a Wendy’s five-pack of nuggets. It skittered across the asphalt.
“Ok,” Theo said, nodding. “So that’s how it’s going to be.”
“How what’s going to be?”
But Theo was already moving toward the stairs. Auggie waited, letting Theo get a head start, and tried not to be sick.
When they got to the apartment, Orlando had unlocked the door, and he was wiggling the knob. His expression was transparently relieved when he saw them. “Hey Augs, everything—”
“Yep,” Auggie said.
Theo didn’t even slow down; he just pushed past Orlando and headed toward the back of the apartment. Auggie followed with Orlando, and they found Theo in the second bedroom. It wasn’t much different from a lot of the rooms in the Sigma Sigma house, or from the rooms Auggie remembered from the dorm the year before. It had a twin bed with the sheets in a tangled mess, a dresser with chipped paint, a bong that looked like a baseball bat, socks and shirts and underwear in random piles on the floor. On the walls, posters of Rafael Nadal, Andy Murray, and Maria Sharapova hung in an uneven line. At some point, at least one other poster had been displayed in that row, but now only a pair of tacks and a scrap of torn paper marked where it had been. Theo was already pulling out dresser drawers.
“This is Cal’s room?” Auggie asked.
“Yeah,” Orlando said.
“I’m searching in here,” Theo said as he pulled out another drawer and inspected the back and bottom. “You two go work somewhere else.”
“Ok,” Orlando said.
“We should probably all search in here,” Auggie said. “Since it’s Cal’s room, and we’re looking for Cal.”
“I don’t think so,” Theo said, yanking out another drawer so hard that the dresser rattled and the baseball-bat bong toppled over.
“Agree to disagree,” Auggie said, moving to the closet.
“Fine,” Theo said, tossing down the drawer. He pushed his hair behind his ears, took a deep breath, and said again, “Fine.” Then he walked out of the room.
When the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing came from the kitchen, Auggie said, “What’s his problem?”
Orlando just shook his head and began digging through the drawers Theo had pulled out.
Auggie opened the closet. A tennis racket stood in one corner. There was a hang rod and a single shelf. Auggie pawed through the clothes—two button-ups, a single polo, and the rest jerseys and t-shirts—and then began removing the shoeboxes that lined the shelf. Nike. Adidas. Saucony. A lone pair of Reeboks.
“I know he thinks he’s in charge because he’s older than us,” Auggie said. “But that’s not how this works. We’re partners. The three of us.”
“Augs?” Orlando said from the pile of clothes he was sorting.
Auggie made a questioning noise as he reached for the next box. He was on the back row now, and he was starting to wonder what Cal had needed with all these shoes.
“You’re kind of being a dick,” Orlando said.
“Jeez, everybody’s so—” Auggie began.
Then he stopped and stared at what he was pretty sure was a bag of cocaine.