Fadeaway by E. Vickers (sight word readers TXT) 📕

I slide into the desk next to Daphne’s in calculus. She doesn’t straight-up ask me about Jake, but I can tell she’s wondering, especially as the day drags by and we still haven’t seen him. After the last bell, she comes to my locker, and I can see the question in her eyes.

“I drove by Jake’s house Saturday night,” I say. “He and Kolt were headed somewhere. They probably decided to take today off. It’s pretty rough on those two how they have to go to class every single day during the season.”

Daphne doesn’t laugh. “Kolt’s here today.”

That’s a surprise. I haven’t seen him all day, so I assumed he and Jake were still out together, maybe getting themselves stuck in that truck in the hills somewhere or heading south to find someplace warm enough to camp.

I check my phone. No texts from either of them.

“Kolt’s here?” I ask. “Are you sure?”

We walk out to the parking lot, and I can see Kolt’s ugly orange Ford, plain as day. He must have gotten gas in the last thirty-six hours.

“We could go over to his house together,” I say, realizing I didn’t really mean it when the look on her face tells me that’s exactly where we’re headed.

Except we don’t make it that far. As we start down the sidewalk, a police officer walks up to us.

“Daphne Sharp and Seth Cooper?” he says.

“Yes, sir,” we say together. It might be funny if I wasn’t starting to freak out.

“Nice job at state,” he says. “Both of you.”

“Thanks,” we say, but out of sync this time. We’re ready to walk straight past when the officer puts out his hand, stopping us without even making contact.

“I wonder if you’d be willing to talk with me for a minute.”

“Is something wrong?” I ask, even though that sick, sinking feeling inside me knows there is.

“Come inside,” he says. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”

I think I might puke. I was pulled over once and wanted to puke then, but this is a thousand times worse.

Daphne goes first, and I sit and stare at the closed door of the counseling office the whole time, trying to think about anything other than being interviewed by the police. We came here together two weeks ago to talk about summer internships. I’ve missed some of the deadlines already, I realize. That’s got to be first priority when I go home.

But when I see the look on Daphne’s face as the door opens, my priorities are shot to hell. “Are you okay?” I ask.

She buries her head in my chest.

“Daphne, what happened?” I ask, wanting to hear it straight from her.

She looks up at me, eyes brimming.

“He’s gone.”

Phoenix comes in and drops a paper bag on the long, low table in the center of the room. The smell makes Jake sick. He notices the translucent spots on the bag where grease has seeped from the food.

“I can’t eat that,” he says.

“You have to eat that,” Phoenix says. “Tonight’s the night we plan our next move, so I need you fueled up and ready to think.”

Our next move. That’s what he said. Jake feels something in him loosen. He’s been hearing the unmistakable rip of packing tape and the dull thud of things being dragged around. He’s been so afraid that Phoenix was planning to leave without him, and then what? There was no going back, but he had no idea what forward might look like.

Because everything has changed since he’s been down here. He still thinks of home, misses his mom and Luke, but he sees now that Phoenix has saved him. That this really was the only way.

“Make a list,” Phoenix says, sliding a burger and a pile of fries across the table. “The shorter the better. Once we grab what we need, we can get out of here.”

“Am I going back with you to get the stuff?” Jake asks, hopeful in spite of himself.

Phoenix gives a short bark of a laugh. “Hell no, you can’t go back. You’re barely ready for forward.”

Jake picks at his food. “When are you making the grab?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Probably the day after that.”

“What day is tomorrow?”

Phoenix looks surprised—maybe that Jake doesn’t know, or maybe that he cares. “Friday. The fifth. You’ve been here awhile.”

If tomorrow is the fifth, then the next day is Luke’s birthday. Jake’s not sure exactly what that means to him tonight, but it means something.

“Don’t go on the sixth,” he says.

“Why? You got other plans that day?”

Jake nods. “You know me. Calendar’s always full.”

Phoenix laughs. This time it sounds like a release.

“Tomorrow it is. We can take off the next day.”

“And then you’ll give me my phone back.” Jake expects Phoenix to ignore it or shut him down like before, but he stops and thinks as he eats fries, two at a time, from the bag.

“Maybe,” he says. “If you’re ready.”

Jake doesn’t believe him.

Phoenix finishes his can of off-brand soda, pulls off the tab, and slips it in his pocket. He notices Jake watching this. “Just something stupid I do for good luck. You superstitious, Foster?”

Jake pulls the tab off his own soda and puts it in his pocket. Phoenix laughs again; Jake likes making him laugh. “Maybe. Comes with being an athlete, I think.” But is he still an athlete? Even in this broken, bruised body? He lowers his gaze, unsure—and catches a flash of metallic red in a split seam of the cushion of Phoenix’s chair.

Jake needs Phoenix to lean forward again, to see if he really saw what he thinks he saw. So he asks another question, trying not to let his words betray the new thought in his mind. “Can I have your ketchup if you’re not going to eat it?”

“Holy shit, Foster. When did you become such a diva?” Phoenix throws a pair of half-eaten fries at Jake, who catches them. As he leans forward, reaching for the ketchup, the seam splits further, and Jake can see it