The Good Son by Carolyn Mills (best novels for teenagers .txt) 📕

of the TV or the computer, waiting for her whole world to cave in?

“Hi Brenda,” I say. “It’s Zoe. Is Richard around?” I can’t keep the urgency out of my voice. Ricky normally isn’t home during the day either, so asking for him feels senseless. Like I’m playing at something.

There’s a slight pause before she answers. “I don’t know where he is. He took off.” Her voice is hard, angry. Then she says, “You knew all along, didn’t you, Zoe?” The censure in her tone is obvious, so instead of replying I just sort of grunt. She lets out an exasperated huff, then hangs up and I’m left holding the phone to my ear, the sudden silence on the other end echoing with her disappointment.

Her reaction is like a prelude for how it’s going to play out with everyone around me. They will drop away, one after another. Jason will wrap his arm around Parker’s skinny shoulders and turn from me, silently and sadly. Just like Amir, he will simply fade away, disappearing into the unreachable shadows.

The thought of losing Jason right now is worse than everything else. The prospect of being fired from my job, even of facing criminal charges — they don’t wrench at my heart in nearly the same way as the thought of Jason and Parker being cut from my life.

If Brenda knows, if Ricky has gone MIA, then this is it. And right now, I don’t know if I have the strength to face what’s coming.

I’M CLUTCHING A HOT MUG of coffee, wondering if I can stomach any food for dinner, when my phone rings. The sound startles me and my heart lurches. I still haven’t called to check on Mom. But it’s Jason’s name that pulses on the screen, backlit and insistent, begging me to answer.

“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out gravelly and hoarse.

“How are you doing?” he asks. “You sound worse.”

“I am,” I admit.

“What are you going to do about your interview?”

“Maybe I’ll feel better in the morning,” I say. As if anything will be better in the morning.

“Here’s hoping,” he says. But his voice is flat. He sounds upset.

Normally, I would try to find out what’s bothering him, but I can’t summon up the energy to ask what’s going on. I should keep talking — I have to come clean with him, I know that. He deserves to know the truth before the investigation blows my life wide open. Blows our life wide open.

Tomorrow, I’ll go in for my interview, sick or not, then I’ll sit Jason down and confess everything.

PART FIVE

CHAPTER ONE

•

I FIND IT HARD TO believe that Ricky has disappeared. Does he really think he can hide? He can’t be that stupid. My breathing becomes short and shallow as I contemplate all the places he might have gone. Any thoughts of trying to eat something, of shoring up my strength, have left my mind. Food seems irrelevant. How dare Ricky run now. I will help the police hunt him down, if need be.

As I’m contemplating the ways I want to get even with my brother, a car door slams nearby and I hear footsteps approaching my front door. I stand up, expecting the worst, my pulse racing. But when I go to the door, I’m startled to see that it’s Jason who is standing outside.

“I wanted to check on you,” he says. Something is off about him. I’m trying to decide what to do now that he’s here when I realize what it is that doesn’t feel right. He isn’t making eye contact with me, or not proper eye contact; he won’t look at me for more than a few milliseconds at best.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. I’ve been thinking about him so much in the last few hours and now that he’s here, all I want to do is fold myself in his arms, but I stand across from him awkwardly, my arms hanging stiffly at my sides.

Does he know? Or does he at least suspect? While I’m waiting for him to reply, my phone rings. It’s Mom. I have to pick up. What if she’s having another heart attack? What if something else has happened? There’s too much going on right now. I motion for Jason to come in. “Sorry,” I say as I lift my phone to my ear.

“Mom? Is everything okay?” A stupid question, given the circumstances.

“Did you know Amir was in town?” she squawks, loud enough for Jason to hear.

I turn away from Jason slightly, just enough so he can’t see the expression on my face. “Yes. I actually ran into him yesterday.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Just for a minute. Jason is here,” I say pointedly. “Are you okay? I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since you got out of the hospital.”

“I’m fine. It was just a little blip. I suppose you’ve seen the news?”

Blood rushes in my ears. “Yes.” My voice is almost a whisper. “Mom, can we talk later? I just need to —” I am acutely aware of Jason’s proximity. He’s sitting on my couch waiting patiently for me to finish. I can see him out of the corner of my eye; his hands are folded on his lap and he’s watching me.

When I hang up and turn to face him fully, he looks back at me with a mixture of concern and confusion. I am tempted to cup his face in my hands and kiss him, but I’m too sick for that, and there’s something in his expression that warns me off. He looks vulnerable and uncertain, but also sad.

“What’s wrong?” I ask again, perching beside him on the couch, leaving more space between us than I normally would.

“Nothing,” he says.

“You seem upset.”

Jason looks away. He fidgets with his hands in his lap. When he turns to face me again, his eyes are filled with resignation. “It’s just that after Sunday — when you made it clear you had no intention of us moving in together —