The stoplight turned green. “I can’t look right now. What’s it say?”
“It’s from Gray. He says, ‘Bwahahaha. Linger. Ask Lindsey.’”
“Oh.” I glanced at him, then looked back at the road. “So, um, Sam shipped us a few weeks ago.”
“Shipped us? Huh? Oh, Linger.” He chuckled. “I like it.” He slipped his hand beneath my hair, holding my neck. “Makes me want to touch you.”
I shivered. “We’re gonna have a wreck if you don’t quit tickling me.”
“You love it,” he whispered against my ear.
I laughed. “Seriously, you need to quit. I’m gonna drive right off the road.”
“Good idea. Pull over so I can kiss you.”
“Berger! We’re going to be late to the competition.”
He settled back in his seat. “Oh, all right. But you know we won’t. That judge being delayed pushed everything later.”
“Don’t you want to see the play that Holmes is doing?”
“Not really. I’d much rather make out with you.”
I did too, but Mrs. Mac was going to be super pissed if we didn’t show up on time. But maybe we could spare a few minutes.
“What’re you smiling at?” he asked.
“What? Nothing.”
“Don’t lie.” He moved close again, his breath feathering over my cheek. “You want to kiss me too.”
I bit my lower lip. “If I’m smiling it’s because this is a particularly pleasant section of road.”
He let out a low laugh. “Nice try.”
Oh, why the heck not? I turned right into a residential neighborhood and pulled over. “You’re such a lucky boy.”
“Yes!” he said, snaking his arms around me. His phone buzzed, but he ignored it. “I convinced you! I am the mighty Dragon Boy, and all fear my powers.”
I shook my head, trying not to smile. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Fifty-Three
Berger
After twenty minutes of kissing and laughing—I couldn’t persuade Lindsey to get in the back seat with me—she took my face in her hands. “We need to go,” she whispered. “Besides, you’ve been ignoring your phone long enough.”
“It was probably just Mrs. Mac wondering where I am. I didn’t tell you that she’s promoted me to the position of Favorite Gopher.”
“Has she?” Lindsey kissed me, then pushed me back. “Check your messages.”
I sighed. “You’re no fun.”
She started the car and pulled away from the curb. “I am fun.”
I looked at my text messages. They were from my sister.
Ashley: Nana is missing Come home
Ice ran down my spine. I swore. There were more texts and voice messages, but that was the gist of them.
Lindsey stopped the car in the middle of the neighborhood street. “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t inhale a full breath. “Take me home,” I said.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Nana. She’s not at the senior day care place.”
“What?”
Just get home. I could breathe if I got home. “Turn the car around.”
Lindsey made a U-turn and left the neighborhood. I leaned forward, willing the car to go faster.
“Please tell me,” Lindsey said.
“It was Ash. All those calls. She was asking me to head to the senior center because she was stuck in traffic. When she finally got there, Nana wasn’t around. They don’t have tight security because not many of the people there have dementia. Now no one knows where she is.”
“Oh, Berger.”
“Can you drive faster?”
“Yes. We’re going to your house, right?”
I looked at her, but didn’t really see her. I kept imagining my grandmother wandering down a road going nowhere. “Yeah,” I managed to finally say. “I’m meeting my parents there.”
On we drove, the miles feeling endless. You should’ve answered the phone. You should’ve checked your messages. Nana could be safely at home right now if you hadn’t ignored the calls. You shouldn’t have been kissing Lindsey anyway. You both should have been at the competition, not making out. Then you could have easily gotten the messages, picked up Nana on time, and everything would be fine.
“What did you say?” Lindsey asked.
“Huh?”
“Sounded like you were mumbling something.”
She made me sound like the village idiot. Irritation rose up in me. “I wasn’t mumbling. I never should have ignored my phone, but I was too busy kissing you to think straight.”
She glanced at me, then back at the road, but not before flipping down the sun visor so hard that it banged against the windshield. “Are you blaming this on me?”
“Of course not!” I’m blaming it on me. “My grandmother is missing, don’t you get that?”
If she squeezed the steering wheel any tighter, she would rip it right off the car. “I get it, Berger,” she said. “I’m just trying to help.”
Her words barely penetrated my mind. “Okay, whatever.”
“Please stop trying to take this out on me. I care about you. I care about what’s happening to you and to Nana and your whole family.”
She was right. Part of me was blaming her, but there was no way I’d admit it. I dug my hands into my hair. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I just can’t deal with anything else right now. I should’ve been there, Lindsey. If I’d answered my phone, none of this would’ve happened. Nana would be at home, and you could be off watching that other play you want to see so badly.”
“I don’t care about any stupid play! I want to help you look for Nana.” She turned onto my street.
The thought of having to take care of Lindsey, to make sure she was doing okay, that nothing was bothering her, while at the same time having to look for Nana, made knots form in my stomach. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I said without thinking.
“Why not?”
How could I say this? “Uh, it’s kind of a family thing.”
She pulled over in front of my house, and a heavy silence settled over the car. “You don’t want me there.” Her voice was flat, but I knew Lindsey. She was hurt.
Exactly what I didn’t have time for. I yanked my backpack off the floor of the car. “I need to go.”
“Berger, please let me help.”
I stared straight ahead. How could I get out of this?
Her phone dinged, and she checked the message.
“What is it?” I asked, hardly able to get the words out.
“I’m not sure. Mike says Marta might not go on.”
Thank goodness. Something to distract her. I motioned to her phone. “They need you.” I opened the car door. “You should go. It’s what you’ve wanted all semester.”
She stared at me without speaking.
I couldn’t do this. Not right now. “Look, I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk later, okay?” I got out and shut the door. But right before I went into the house, I looked back. Lindsey was bent over in the front seat. Was she crying? Was she really that upset? Her head lifted, then lowered again. She was probably texting Mike to say she was on her way.
I shoved away the urge to go talk to her. I didn’t have time. And she’d probably break up with me because of it.
Fifty-Four
Lindsey
I managed to reach Claire before I got to Caldwell High School. She and Gray would help search for Nana. If Berger wouldn’t accept my help, maybe he would accept theirs.
Mike was waiting for me outside Caldwell’s theater building. “Thank God you’re here.”
“What’s happening?” I asked, walking beside him as we headed to the side entrance.
“Marta’s freaking for some reason, and I’m not sure why. But you know what this means?”
“What?” I asked, barely listening. I couldn’t get the sound of Berger’s bleak voice out of my head.
“You and I get to act together! We are so gonna rock this
competition.”
He was grinning, and I clutched my purse tighter to keep from hitting him. He didn’t know what was going on with Berger, and none of it was his fault, but I had a strong urge to lash out. At someone. Anyone.
In any other circumstance, I would’ve been just as happy as Mike was. I did want to be in the play. But I should’ve earned the part to begin with, not get it because Marta was having a freak out.
Oh well. Berger didn’t want me around. I swallowed down the burning in my throat. Guess I might as well act.
I followed Mike inside and had to stop at the sudden dimness. I blinked, trying to adjust to the lack of light, but it didn’t seem to bother Mike at all. He grabbed my elbow. “This way.” He led me down a hall that got progressively brighter as we went. We entered a room where the rest of the actors and tech crew had gathered. No Marta in sight.
Mrs. Mac strode up, the planes of her face hard with stress. “Where’s Trey?”
A burst of pain at his name made me shudder. “Family emergency.”
Her expression softened, and she sighed. “All right. We’re supposed to perform in half an hour. Can you be ready?”
“Where’s Marta?”
She narrowed her eyes and pulled me away from the others. “Don’t you think we’ve tried everything we can think of?” she asked in a low voice. “We don’t have time to mess around anymore. We need to get ready to go on.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back at me. “I thought you’d be overjoyed at the chance.”
I was. Wasn’t I? I mean, I could do the part. I knew it backwards and forwards. And I’d wanted it for months. But now it didn’t seem so important anymore. Not as important as one sweet old lady who was wandering around somewhere, lost.
Mrs. Mac studied me. I didn’t know what to say. If I walked away now, she’d never forgive me. “Could I speak to Marta?”
She compressed her lips. “Five minutes. That’s all I can give you. We have to get you in costume and makeup.” She turned to Mike. “Get everyone ready to go. I’ll be back in a second.”
He nodded, and I followed Mrs. Mac into a small side room. Marta sat on a beat-up couch, staring into space, her stage makeup smeared under her eyes.
“Five minutes,” Mrs. Mac said as though I hadn’t heard her the first time. Then she left us.
Marta looked up at me, her eyes hollow. “Guess you’re happy,” she said quietly.
“Not particularly.” I pulled up a folding chair and sat down. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” When I didn’t say anything, she met my gaze. “And by that I mean nothing. I can’t remember the play. I can’t remember my lines. My mind is a complete blank. So, good thing you’re here. Now the play will go on, and we’ll do well enough to advance to the next round.”
Ah, so that was it. She was worried she was going to screw it up for everyone else. Well, sorry, Marta. You’re going to play this stupid part if I have anything to say about it. “We may advance and we may not. It’s no big deal.”
She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Right.”
“Marta,” I said, making my words urgent. “You’re really good in this role. You know you are. Everybody’s depending on you. You need to get out there and be brilliant—just like I’ve seen you do before.”
For a second she looked bolstered, but then she sagged even further into the couch cushions. “Don’t lie. You and I both know you’re better. And now you’re here. The show can go on.” She flipped her hand up with a little flourish.
Okay. Complimenting her didn’t work. But I couldn’t exactly shake her until her teeth rattled like I wanted to. Still, maybe I could take a tip from Berger and piss her off enough that she’d quit doing her two-toed sloth impression. “You’re right,” I said. “I am a better actor than you are.”
She glared at me but didn’t move.
I stood and returned the folding chair to its place against the wall. “And the show will go on, but instead of you putzing around on the stage, I’ll be out there being fabulous.”
“You’re such a witch.”
“What?” I acted all innocent. “I’m the better actor. You said so yourself.”
Her breathing came faster now.
“You can just go sit in the audience with all the rest of the wannabes. It’s where you belong anyway.”
She wrenched herself forward. “Shut up.”
“Why? Isn’t that what you think? That you’re a crappy actress?”
She leapt to her feet. “I never said that. I’m a good actress.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Then prove it. Get out there and show everybody what you’ve got.”
“I’ll screw up!” she yelled.
I glanced at the closed door. Could anyone hear us through it? I hoped not. “Maybe. Maybe not. But you’re not the only one in the play. Everybody in it has just as much chance to screw up as you do.”
“Not Mike. Not you.”
I raised an eyebrow at her, an expression I knew—from my short time as a director—made her crazy. “I’m not in the play. I didn’t get the part. You did.”
“Agh!” She started pacing. “I hate it when you give me that look.”
“You’ve only mentioned one other person who’s in the play. And you’re right. Mike will probably not make a single mistake. But there are four other people who can screw up just as easily as you can. Why do you have to take responsibility for the entire play?”
“Because my role is the most important one.”
I motioned toward the door. “Then act like it. Get off your butt and get out there. Act the hell out of that role. You are our Ma Kirby. Go show everybody in that auditorium why.”
She took a step toward me. “Do you really think I can do it?”
“Don’t be an idiot. Of course you can.” I put on a doubting expression. “Maybe not as well as I could … ”
She shook her head and grinned. “Shut up.”
I smiled too. “Go on. They’re waiting.”
She strode out of the room, leaving the door open behind her. I exhaled heavily and stared at the floor. I sure hoped I wouldn’t regret this.
I was just about to leave when Mrs. Mac appeared in the doorway. “I don’t know what you did, but I can’t tell you how proud I am of you right now.”
My throat tightened. “Thanks.”
She stepped back. “Come on. I’d like you with me.”
Hmm. “About that. Um, Berger’s family emergency? I’d like to go … ” I waved a hand feebly.
She angled her head and gave me a long look, but then slowly smiled. She must have figured out that Berger and I were more than friends. “All right,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I smiled and made it out to my car in two minutes. Berger may not want me there, but I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit around while other people searched. I texted Claire.
Lindsey: Have they found her yet?
Claire: No
Lindsey: Did they look at her old house?
Claire: Yes
Lindsey: Everywhere? In the garden? Near the old compost pile?
Claire: I’ll check. Where are you?
Lindsey: Coming back to help.
Fifty-Five
Lindsey
The sun had just set when I met Claire and Gray outside the senior center where they had been searching the neighborhood. “What’s the news?” I asked.
“They checked her old house,” Gray said, “and the garden, and the compost area like you suggested.” He shook his head. “She wasn’t there.”
“And Berger’s mom is waiting at the old house in case she shows up,” Claire said.
“So where are they looking now?” I asked.
“Berger said she was talking about coffee grounds for the compost the other day,” Gray said. “They’ve gone to The Coffee Bar to check. Ashley’s staying home, and a couple of other friends are walking around her old neighborhood.”
I started pacing. “I thin
k they should check her garden again. She might’ve shown up after they looked.”
“I’m sure they will,” Claire said. “And Berger’s mom will be on the lookout for her there.”
I glanced at the darkening sky. This had to be making Berger nuts. Thank goodness it wasn’t cold out. “What should we do? Where could she have gone?”
“All we can do is look,” Gray said. “There’s not going to be any logic to it. No one can know what exactly is going on in her head.”
I stopped pacing. “Well is there anywhere around here that y’all haven’t looked?”
“That neighborhood across the street.” Claire pointed behind me, and I followed her arm. “We did the section around and behind the senior center.”
“Ready to go look?”
“Yup,” Gray said.
We crossed the street and set off down the sidewalk. All around us lights were coming on in houses. How long had it been now? Over three hours since she’d gone missing? I couldn’t get rid of the swirling sensation inside of me. I could only imagine how Berger and his family were feeling.
We wandered around and found a park, which made me momentarily hopeful. But no. Not a sign of her. After an hour or so, Claire said, “I think we’ve done all we can here, unless we’re going to start knocking on doors.”
Gray shook his head. “No. Let’s grab something to eat. I’ll see if Ashley wants us to bring her anything.” He pulled out his phone and started texting.
“Okay,” I said. We headed back to the senior center and our parked cars. I followed Gray and Claire over to Whataburger. I didn’t know why they always liked to eat there. They had some kind of romantic attachment to the place. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t sure I could actually eat anyway.
We stood in line for ten excruciating minutes, and all I could think was that we’d lost ten minutes of searching time. I couldn’t get my mind away from Nana and her compost pile. She had to be there. Maybe she was wandering the neighborhood looking for her old house or something. I kept squeezing the hard beads of my good-luck bracelets, hoping it might help Nana to turn up, but a nagging doubt was making it hard to take a deep breath.
Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2) Page 22
