Page 63 of No Capes
Fox shrugs, aware he just dropped a bomb. “They’ve been friends for forever, and she wanted to help him. You’ve met his parents. While he dated Molly, he could give everyone what they expected of him, while also having freedom to do his own thing. They agreed it would only be until college, or until one of them found someone else they wanted to date for real. That’s how I saw it, anyway.”
“Wow,” I answer.Wow, but it still doesn’t add up for me. It was a lot for Molly to do that for Damian, and he could have easily hidden his preferences without the fake dating. No, Molly must have a secret that Damian could help her with in return, not that it’s my business.
Fox squints as we turn onto a windy road. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, Madeline, but there’s something weird going on with your family.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” I ask. “About hearing me scream outside the pool? Or call the police?”
“Come on,” says Fox. “The police?”
Right. Golden Ace is truly the only option.
“Things are weird,” I say. If anything D.S. has told me is even remotely true, I understand why my family is a constant target. But I have to wonder, as I sit beside Fox, why me and not him? Both of Fox’s parents had died that evening. They could also have known too much. While my mom’s was the only death to be officially ruled murder, that doesn’t mean theirs weren’t murders too.
I remember seeing Fox and Arielle talking before practice a few weeks ago, when they stopped as soon as they saw me. I assumed he was getting extra practices, but maybe they’d been discussing something else, and maybe that something else is why he wants to help find her.
I sip more water, surprised at connecting these dots.Is the water making me smarter?
Fox points to a diner on my side of the road. “Remember? We used to go there on Saturdays.”
Dog’s Diner. Home of the world’s worst waffles, but also the best sugar-overloaded orange juice. Fox’s family brought Arielle and me there after every swim practice when we were young. “You lost your first tooth there.”
“You did too.”
It had been on the same day, on overcooked pieces of bacon. “How are they still in business? Also—”
“We’re here,” he interrupts, and I swallow my thought. Yes, we are.
We’ve reached a secluded house with porch lights that flick on as we pull up. We climb out of the SUV, and I yank down the sleeves of Arielle’s sweatshirt. The night has cooled and the chilly air is harsh but stimulating, and every piece of me is awake. A faint light glows around the backyard: someone is home. Fox waits for me to move first.
“Should we check back there?” I ask.
Fox follows and we examine the house. It’s in good shape, and the freshly painted siding doesn’t give it an air of creepiness, like Ms. Pellingham’s does. The lawn is full and green, odd for this time of year.
“Does this house seem too perfect to you?” whispers Fox, nailing why it feels eerie. “Even the Bridges’ home has the occasional blade of grass that’s taller than another.”
“Can I help you?” A call comes from the back porch, where a man reads a book in a wicker armchair. He stands, waiting to hear why we’re on his property after 9:00 P.M. on a Friday night. A small tug pulls my sweatshirt as Fox holds onto it, urging me to speak. If he hadn’t already known I’m terrible on the spot, he does now.
“I’m Arielle Bridges’ sister,” I begin.
“Didn’t realize she had a sister.” The man is somewhere between Arielle and my dad’s age. Not a young adult, but not middle-aged. “Isn’t she throwing some kind of party tonight? That’s where Beth is.”
Beth. Right. I’d forgotten Arielle’s friend’s name. “The party’s basically over,” I say. “And I think Arielle and Beth had plans to go somewhere, but she forgot her phone…” I struggle to invent a story.
Fox picks it up for me. “We were hoping they came here so we could drop it off. Can you tell us where they might have gone?”
“I wasn’t under the impression that Beth would come home tonight,” says the man. “She’s sleeping over with a friend.”
My sweatshirt tightens again as Fox gives a second tug, like he wants to take off.
“Alright, thanks anyway,” I say. “Sorry to interrupt you.” Fox and I turn to leave, and Fox’s expression reminds me of fearing the dark as a kid, where one moment everything is fine, but then there’s a creepy shiver across your neck because something feels just a little off.
“Madeline, what about your sister’s phone?” Leaves crunch as he walks up behind us. “Why don’t you stay, see if they come to pick it up?”
Fox’s cool palm closes tightly around my wrist. “She didn’t say her name was Madeline.”
We twist toward the man in time to see him lunge. Fox and I react at the same time. We race back to the front porch and across the too nice lawn. Fox keeps his hand on my wrist, as if to pull me, but I shake it loose.Yeah, right. It’s cute you think you’re faster than me.
We take fifteen seconds to sprint to Fox’s car, but the man takes twenty. The SUV beeps as Fox unlocks it. I leap inside to lock the doors behind us. Fox puts his baby into gear and shoots from zero to sixty before I can buckle my seatbelt.
