WE WERE ZERO miles from Los Angeles and we still couldn’t find Benji.
We’d finally inched our way downtown through the traffic and made our way to the theater. We’d circled this block exactly four times, because all the parking spots were full and I wanted to keep my eyes on the theater just in case he appeared. Each time, the lights of El Capitan spun into view. We idled near the red carpet as long as we could, until the cars behind us honked furiously and we had to go. Each time, I craned my neck, trying to peer beyond the ropes and into the theater somehow.
Benji, where are you?
“When is this supposed to start?” Mr. Voltz asked. We were on round five, and the car was starting to rattle. “How do these events even work?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that part’s already over,” I said. “But then he’d be in the theater for sure.”
Mom turned. “And how would you know that, baobao?”
“The movie premiere’s tonight.”
“I know that the premiere’s tonight,” Mr. Voltz said gently. “But I also think there’s a chance Benji’s mother might have been right. What if Benji didn’t end up at this—this premiere at all? I’d reckon there’s a good chance he’s still in Sacramento. Or let’s say he got to this city. What if he got lost?”
I shook my head and put in in my hands. “We can’t keep circling,” Mom said. “We need to find a parking spot.”
The car squealed around another corner. Slowly, we eased into an impossibly small spot.
We clambered out. I hurried toward the theater.
Los Angeles had seemed magnificent at first, with its twinkling lights and its endless buildings. But the streets seemed to stretch on forever. For the first time, I began to panic.
What if I was wrong?
What if Benji had gotten lost?
He could be anywhere in this city.
There were countless shops and restaurants crammed into each block. It would take thirty seconds to look through a restaurant. Five minutes per block. Multiply that by a hundred—no, two hundred—
I frantically scoured the buildings around me. This city stretched on for miles.
It wouldn’t just take hours. It would take days. Weeks. Months.
Just as the panic was setting in, Mom stopped and pointed to the end of the street. “Wait a second,” she said.
I turned.
I shouted, “Benji!”
I sprinted toward him, down the street and toward the doorway of the theater. Without thinking, I crushed him in a hug. When I pulled away, I saw that his face was pale.
Something was wrong. Benji was shivering.
Oh no.
“He wasn’t there?” I whispered.
“He was,” Benji said. His voice was flat. He stared at the ground. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I saw him.”
“What happened?”
He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Mom and Mr. Voltz were catching up with us. I tried again. “Benji?”
He snapped up. “I saw him. I finally got to see my dad. He was here at his red carpet. And then he told me to wait out here.” He gritted his teeth and shook his head, blinking furiously and looking like he was trying not to cry. His voice shrank. “He didn’t even want to see me.”
Mom sighed. “Oh, baobao. Honey. Come here.” She reached for Benji and folded him in a hug.
He buried his face in her shoulder. His fists were balled up. “He didn’t want me here.”
Mr. Voltz wordlessly reached out and patted Benji on the shoulder. My heart plummeted into my stomach. I’d done this to him. It was my fault. Benji had come all the way down here alone, just for his dad to leave him again.
“Okay, that’s it,” Mom said, after a long silence. “It’s all right. Everything’s okay. We found you. We’ll find a pay phone to give your mother a call, and then you’ll come home with us.”
We turned and headed down Hollywood Boulevard, silent and sullen. We didn’t speak. Mom saw how upset I was and tried to put her arm around my shoulder to make me feel better. But nothing could make me feel better.
It was all over.
But just as we were about to turn the corner to the car, I heard footsteps pounding and someone shouting out, “Wait! Benji, wait!”