Page 36 of That's Not My Name

Did someone offer her a ride?

Was she crying?

Did she make it to her street?

Worst of all: Would she still be here now if I didn’t do what I did?

By the time I reach the school again, the parking lot is empty, and the past quiets. She wouldn’t have made it this far into town without someone seeing her. I’ve escaped her ghost for now.

About a mile from home, the sky opens and it downpours. Because the universe hasn’t crapped on me enough lately. I don’t pick up the pace. I all but drag myself home.

I know you’re to blame.

The weight of these last five weeks is going to crush me. Roane’s new evidence, whatever it is, has him doing searches and taking my car and who knows what else is coming.

I’ll never give up on Lola, but how am I supposed to fight for her and for myself at the same time? Roane said I was their last suspect. And knowing him, he won’t stop until he’s pieced together enough evidence to fit his version of events. Then I’ll get arrested, and Lola will still be gone. How do I help her from behind bars?

I scrub at my face in frustration.

I… I don’t know what to do.

When I open my front door, Dad shoots up from the stairs and flings himself at me. I grunt at the impact. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and squeezes the life out of me.

“Drew, my god. Where have you been? I called a hundred times,” he says. “And why are you so wet?”

I try to answer him, but there’s no air left in my lungs. My wheezing response seems to surprise him because he lets go. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

I wave him off. “It’s okay. I get it. It’s not a good time to not answer my phone.” What an understatement. I’m lost for a moment, thinking about him waiting on the stairs, tapping his fingers on his bad knees, wondering if something happened to me too. The guilt sours my stomach. “I’m so sorry. My phone is on silent, and I had a run-in with Roane. I walked home.”

“From the school?”

I shake my head. “No. From the boat launch.”

His face falls. “Come in. Warm up. Tell me what happened while I make you some food. Your dad is working late tonight, so it’s just us.”

With a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and a bowl ofleftover hilachas from family dinner, I talk while he sits on a stool across the counter from me. The empty seat in Mr. Moore’s class, Autumn, the murder message on my locker, skipping school, the missing car, and what Roane said about Lola. To his credit, Dad doesn’t interrupt, not even when I admit to ditching class. His lips thin in thatI don’t like thiskind of disapproval, but he doesn’t say anything until all my food is gone and my story is over.

He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

I wait for more.

He scratches behind his ear and stares at the black granite countertop between us. Then he takes my bowl, sets it in the sink, and sighs. “You already know how I feel about skipping, but this time I’ll give you a pass, because I think what you’re going through is justification. I don’t want you missing any more school though. You still have to liveyourlife, no matter what.”

I nod. “I know.”

“And I’m glad you told Roane not to talk to you anymore. He shouldn’t be following you around. I’ll call our lawyer, maybe make a complaint to the police station. You’re a minor, he can’t just pick you up and question you. I know he has a lot of eyes on him right now, and he’s feeling the pressure to figure out what happened to Lola, but that doesn’t give him the right to question you without a parent or lawyer present. Your father is going to have a meltdown.”

“Do we have to tell him?” I ask, with a wince.

Dad folds his arms. “Drew.”

“Okay, okay.” I don’t want to keep things from Papá, but of the two of them, he worries a lot more. “I don’t want him to stress. It’s already done anyway. I’m not saying another word to Roane without you guys there.”

“I’ll tell him what happened, but I’ll wait until tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Do you need a ride to school in the morning?”

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