Until you’re not.
“I got a call from Regina last night,” my mother says the next morning. She slides a plate with a crispy waffle on it across the table. “She wanted to know if we’d seen Rose.”
Rose ditching me hurt my mom almost as much as it hurt me. She’d been over here constantly when we were kids, more like sisters than friends. It also put a strain on the relationship between our parents, who, for a long time, spent as much time together as we did.
Mom got replaced by Monica Chandler the way I got replaced by Juliette.
If her mom called here looking for Rose, things may be worse than I thought.
“Seems her car was abandoned on the bridge.” My mother’s skin turns pale when she says it. “Have you heard from her?”
“No.” I drown my waffle in syrup, filling each and every square. I’m not hungry. I barely slept. My phone pinged all night with rumors and gossip and worries about Rose. No one knew anything other than she missed school yesterday and her car was found on the bridge. Juliette is using it like a bullhorn, pleading for Rose to contact her. To call home.
Finn has been silent.
“I told her the last time I saw her was when she stopped by to see Finn a few days ago. I think you were at work.” She sits across from me, hand clasped around a mug of coffee. “I only remember because they seemed to be in some kind of argument.”
I look up from my syrup-soaked waffle. “They were fighting?”
She laughs. “Right? A big change from all the PDA going on all the time.”
I wrinkle my nose at my mom using the term PDA, but she’s not wrong. One thing that made Finn and Rose so hard to swallow as a couple is they crammed their affection down everyone’s throats. Or rather, their tongues down one another’s throats. It wasn’t uncommon to walk out the front door, glance over at the Andrews’ porch and see them mid-dry hump.
“I’m going to be late,” I say, seeing the time on the microwave.
“But you didn’t eat.”
I shove my fork into the waffle and cram down three pieces.
“I need to go pick up Alice, and I’ve got to take the money from last night to the bookkeeper before school starts.”
She waves me off, knowing it’s pointless to argue. The yearbook is my main priority. Getting the head editor job is a pretty big deal. I grab my backpack and the cash box, then head to the car. I freeze halfway down the steps when I see the cop car in front of Finn’s house.
My phone buzzes.
Alice: Where are you?
Kenley: I’m on my way.
I shove my bag in the backseat and crank the engine. At the entrance of the neighborhood I see a figure walking down the road with an unmistakable lanky build and a trademark black cap. I slow next to Ozzy and roll down the window.
“You need a ride?”
He grimaces. “I can walk.”
“Dude, we’re going to the same place.”
“Did you just call me dude?” A small, strained smile lifts his lips.
“Get in.” He tugs at his cap but opens the door. “The back. Alice rides shotgun. You know how she is.”
He nods, climbing in the back of the Honda.
Alice lives one neighborhood over, and I turn down the main road to get there.
“Did you hear anything else?” Ozzy asks.
I look in the rearview mirror, catching his eye.