Wish You Were Dead

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” I said. “What’s yours?”

Dave launched into what I realized was a prepared speech. It had something to do with how Juno was more than just a movie, how it was a statement about our generation, and symbolic of our times. I tried to listen, but I knew what I was really hearing was Dave yearning to let me know that he was a deep and thoughtful thinker.

Then my cell phone rang. I made a face to show Dave how disappointed I was that his dissertation had to be interrupted, then answered. “Hello?”

“He’s not here.” It was Sharon.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“We’re in the deli parking lot and there’s no sign of him.”

It wouldn’t be the first time someone called for a Safe Ride, then changed their mind, but that wasn’t Adam’s MO. He was too responsible. Even when drunk.

“Could you look around?” I said.

“Already did.”

“Hold on, I’ll try his cell.” With my free hand I dialed his number on the desk phone and held the receiver to my ear. It rang until the message came on.

“Hey, it’s Madison,” I said. “Where are you?” I put down the desk phone and thought about the girl whose date had ditched her at the movies. “Sharon,” I said into my cell. “Go to Cinema Six. There’ll be a girl waiting outside. She’s going to Evergreen Terrace.”

“Roger that.” Sharon hung up.

I glanced back at Dave.

“I guess my favorite part is toward the end when Juno comes to the track and tells Paulie she’s in love with him,” he said. I realized he’d been waiting to answer the question that by now I’d forgotten I’d asked. “And he assumes she means as friends and she says, ‘No, for real. I think you are the coolest person I’ve ever met. And you don’t even have to try.’ And he says, ‘I try really hard, actually.’ You know? It’s like a moment of truth. Most cool people really do try, don’t they?”

Did Tyler try? I wondered. Why, out of the hundreds of possible reasons, was I so convinced that he’d cancelled tonight because of a hot date? Why couldn’t I just accept that I didn’t know why he’d asked Dave to replace him? Why did I have to make myself miserable by assuming the worst?

“Madison?” Dave said.

“Huh?” I blinked and realized I’d drifted off in thought.

Dave stared at me for a moment, then rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Forget it.” He pressed the remote and the movie started to play again.

The urge to apologize instantly leapt to my lips, but for once I restrained myself. Sometimes you can apologize too much, and at that point I was so distracted I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to apologize for. What could have happened to Adam? Where was Tyler? What had Dave been saying? Something about his favorite part of Juno. The part where Paulie admits that actually he tries really hard.

On the screen Juno was in Paulie’s room and Paulie was talking about them getting back together again. I watched and listened as Juno said, “I like you, Bleek, I do. But things are really complicated right now.”

She called him Bleek because his last name was Bleeker.… Paulie Bleeker.

PBleeker … I felt my whole body stiffen. It was one of those moments when a big gong bangs loudly in your head. Pretending to look down at the log, I glanced at Dave. His eyes were riveted on the screen, and his lips moved each time Paulie Bleeker spoke.

chapter 12

Sunday 5:49 A.M.

“MADISON.” I FELT someone shake my shoulder from far, far away. If sleep had been an ocean, I had miles to go before I reached the surface.

“Madison, wake up.” The voice and hand on my shoulder were insistent. Some inner clock told me that it was much too early to be awakened. It was still the middle of the night, wasn’t it? Or, since I hadn’t actually gotten into bed until the middle of the night, it was much too early in the morning.

I opened my eyes. The bedroom was dark. The only light came through the open doorway. Wearing a robe, Mom leaned over me, holding the phone. “It’s Ms. Skelling.” Still too sleepy to make sense of what was going on, I took the phone and pressed it to my ear. “Hello?” “Madison? It’s Carol Skelling.”

“Oh, uh, hi.” Why would she be calling?

“I’m sorry to wake you, but Adam Pinter didn’t come home last night.” “But it’s still dark,” I said with a yawn.

“It’s ten of six. It’ll be light soon. His mother was up all night waiting for him. She’s called the police. Is it true that he called for a safe ride?” I sat up in the bed. “Yes, but he wasn’t there when they went to get him.” “Who went?” Ms. Skelling asked.

“Sharon and Laurie.”

“Where?”

“The deli by the ball field. That kegger we talked about last night.” “Did they look for him?”

“They said they did.” Even in the dimness of my bedroom, I was aware that my mother was hovering over me with an anxious expression on her face.

“So they never saw him?” Ms. Skelling asked.

“That’s what they said. Have you spoken to them?” “I’m going to call right now. Go back to sleep.” Ms. Skelling hung up.

There was no chance of that happening. I handed the phone back and felt gripped by fear. Mom sat down on the side of the bed and stroked my hair, trying to calm me, and reassure herself that I was safe. “The Pinters must be worried sick.” “He could have stayed at Greg’s house last night,” I said, thinking, or with Courtney, who had left with Maura shortly after Sharon and Laurie. Maybe Adam was okay. It was entirely possible that Courtney had called ahead and told him to wait for her. And maybe it was conceivable that he’d neglected to call home. After all, he’d sounded really smashed on the phone.

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do, but I had to do it alone. I rubbed my eyes. “I’m going to try to go back to sleep, okay?” Mom squinted at me uncertainly, then nodded as if she understood. “Of course.” She leaned over and kissed my forehead, then got up and left.

As soon as the door closed, I called Adam, but got his message again. Then I called Courtney.

“Helllllo?” She sounded groggy and disoriented.

“It’s Madison. Is Adam there?”

“Huh? No.”

“Courts, it’s really important.”

“Wha …? What’s going on?”

“He didn’t come home last night.”

“Isn’t it still last night?”

“It’s just before six. Courts, if he’s there—” “He’s not here, Madison,” she said, annoyance creeping through her sleepiness. “I don’t know where he is.” “You didn’t see him last night?”

“No.”

“Or speak to him?”

“No.”

Oh, God, I thought. Oh, no!

“You … think something happened to him?” Courtney asked.

Stay positive, I told myself. You don’t know what’s happened. There are other possibilities. “He sounded really drunk when he called. He could have wandered off and passed out behind a bush.” The line went quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You don’t really believe that, do