Page 55 of Fragile

Within a few seconds, I have Levi’s number. He might know where Miles is or have some idea of what he’s up to. The phone rings, and I hold my breath, hoping he’ll pick up.

“Hello?” Levi’s voice comes through the speaker, sounding casual but guarded.

“Levi, I know you don’t know me, but I’m friends with Miles Cooper. My name is Quinn,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I need to know if you’ve seen Miles. He left in a hurry this afternoon, and I’m worried about him.”

There’s a pause on the other end, the faint thump of music in the background. “Miles, huh? Yeah, he was here earlier.”

“Earlier? What do you mean? Where is he now?” I press, my anxiety mounting.

Levi’s tone shifts to become more elusive. “Look, Quinn, I don’t really know where he went. We were just hanging out. You know how it is—people come and go.”

My frustration spikes. “Levi, this isn’t a game. Miles is in trouble. I need to know if he’s okay.”

“Calm down, will you?” Levi says, sounding annoyed as he purposefully makes a blowing sound, that I’m guessing is him smoking. “I don’t have all the details. He left, and that’s all I know.”

Great. That’s not helpful at all. Levi’s always been slippery, and now it seems he’s being intentionally vague. As I hang up, I’m feeling even more helpless.

I look around the room, trying to think of another approach. I can’t just wait for him to come to his senses on his own. He’s in a dark place, and I have to find a way to reach him.

Leaning over to my dresser, I open the top one and pull out the ankle support I know is stuffed in here with my underwear.

The door softly clicks open a minute later, and in walks Indie.

“Hey, how you feeling?” she asks as she dumps her bag on her side of the room.

“Can you help me?” I ask, exasperated with feeling helpless. “I need to find my support so I can go find Miles.”

“Woah, wait a damn minute. You’re going to walk with that balloon on your ankle?” She gestures to my angry swollen foot, and I sigh. “Quinn, there’s no way I’m letting you walk on that.”

“It’s not that bad,” I counter.

“Okay, so show me exactly how you plan on walking out of here,” she says, crossing her arms over her body.

Determination to prove her wrong fires in my gut as I pull myself upright, bad ankle hovering above the ground. Gingerly, I lower my foot to the carpet and immediately can’t stop the hiss of pain that escapes me.

“Uh-huh, just what I thought,” Indie says smugly.

“But I have to find him!” My voice comes out shaky, panic clawing at my insides as I flop back onto my bed. The thought of sitting around and doing nothing is too unbearable. A hurricane of worst-case scenarios swirls in my mind. Desperately, I try to steady my breathing, clenching my fists to keep my cool. The room is silent, Indie waiting for me to either lose my mind completely or burst into tears, I’m sure.

“Let me call Seb. He’ll find him.”

“What if…” I stop myself, because I might not know where Miles is, but I know at some point he was with Levi. He might’ve gotten high or drunk. And I can’t send my brother looking for him if he’s either of those things. “Indie, I need to tell you something, but it absolutely can’t get back to my brother.”

Indie takes a slow step toward me and settles on my bed, eyebrows creased. “I’m listening.” She places her hand on my jittering knee.

“Okay, Miles might be—”

“Here, I’m here.” The door creaks open, and Miles steps into the room, his face haunted as he stares at me. “I didn't mean to interrupt,” he says, his voice tense but steady.

The beat of awkward silence echoes like a high note between us all. Indie clears her throat and backs herself toward the door. “I’m just going to hang out in the common room.” Indie thumbs behind her before she adds, “I’ll be there if you need me.”

When the door clicks closed softly, it’s just us.

The only sound is the beating of my heart, thudding and vibrating over my whole body.

I look at Miles, his shoulders low, his arms limp by his sides, and my immediate thought is, did he take something tonight? I hate that my mind goes there, but I need to know so I can help him.

Then another part of me, a much louder part, wants to shout at him and berate him for running off when I couldn’t follow him. But as soon as I focus on the dark circles coloring under his eyes and the haunted look on his face, I know I need to let him talk first. I need to let him set the pace of how this goes.

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