I TOLD BUTT TO DRIVE to the Chimes Diner. "I think my dad's working now."
What was my plan? To ask him to fix everything? What was I going to say? "I know I haven't seen you in days, but I thought maybe you could figure out a way to rescue Relly." Or: "The police are no use, and everyone at school is involved, too. So you're my last hope for help."
I don't know what I expected. Still, we went in and I asked Mary Kay, the lady at the cash register, if my dad was there.
Rubbing at the nasty red spot on her cheek, she said, "I think so." Her hair always kind of scared me. It was big and hard-looking, like a bees' nest made out of copper wire. "Go on back and ask."
So we did. Dickey, one of the prep guys, gave me a big smile and said I looked all grown up. "Haven't seen you in here in months. You too good for us now?" He was standing at a steel sink full of wings, ice, and chicken blood.
I felt kind of sick. The smells of the kitchen were thick as fog. Sizzling grease and mop water, a bucket of raw onions and bubbling pot of red sauce. "Is my dad here? I need to talk to him."
Dickey shrugged. "Haven't seen him in a while."
We wandered around the kitchen, then to the back stockroom. I even had Butt check the men's lav.
Mr. Poole, the manager, poked his head out from his tiny office. "He's not on till six tonight. He's got the last shift."
"We could wait," Butt said.
I gave up. "No point. Let's go."