Theo pointed the tongs at the grill.
“Finish that one,” Cart said, nodding at the White Rascal, “and then no more of that girly stuff.”
“Because Big Wave is butch.”
“Damn straight.”
Cart disappeared into the house; when he came back, he had two beers uncapped, and he held one out to Theo. Theo set it on the deck railing while he finished the can he was working on.
“You being a stupid shit again?” Cart asked after his first long drink.
“Probably.”
“I saw those pills in there. If you’re drinking, you sure as fuck better not be thinking about taking those.”
“Then I guess I’m not thinking about taking those.”
Cart watched him over the neck of brown glass. “Maybe I should take them with me.”
“Cart?”
Cart eyed him as he set the bottle to his lips.
“Go fuck yourself,” Theo said.
“Aww,” Cart said. “There’s the English professor.”
“Go get the salad ready. Potato salad’s in there too if you want it.”
“Does the pope wear a funny hat?”
“Fuck if I know, but I do know you’re sure as fuck not going to eat if you don’t do some work.”
“I brought the beer.”
“I had beer. What I don’t have is somebody fixing the salad.”
Cart pulled a face and went inside, and Theo crushed the empty White Rascal and switched to the Big Wave. He pulled the brats off, went back inside, and turned on the window unit. Lukewarm A/C drifted through the house.
“Hotter than a whore in church in here,” Cart said.
“You ought to know.”
Cart grinned. He had this crazy, wonderful, shit-kicking grin that never got old.
They ate at the flea-market table, and the Piggly Wiggly’s potato salad wasn’t bad.
“So,” Theo asked when Cart was slathering yellow mustard on his third brat. “You hear anything about that kid, the one who stole the car?”
Cart was eyeing the brat carefully, trying to make the zig-zag of mustard perfect. “Now, here I thought I was just getting invited to a friendly dinner.”
“You did get invited to a friendly dinner. Now I want to know about that kid.”
“Why?”
“Because the whole thing is weird, and you got me freaked out about it.”
Cart took a bite of the brat, chewed slowly, and washed it down with Big Wave. Then, pointing the mouth of the bottle at Theo, he said, “Ian always said you couldn’t bullshit.”
“What’s the bullshit?”
The window unit had developed an ominous rattle; Theo didn’t want to think about what would happen if it gave out. Between paying for Downing, paying the hospital bills, paying for everything until the insurance kicked in, he’d be lucky if he could afford the mortgage next month. Outside, a bat cracked, and kids screamed with excitement. The Rudock kids, the only ones out in the boonies, were playing baseball, Theo guessed.
“I looked into it,” Cart finally said.
“And?”
“And I didn’t find anything.”
“What do you mean? Like, no priors?”
“No, I didn’t find anything. That’s what I mean. I got nothing.”
Theo shook his head.
“No Robert Poulson,” Cart said. “At least, not living in Wahredua city limits, and not with a Missouri driver’s license.”
“Ok,” Theo said slowly. “So he’s from out of state. He’s a student, right? Wroxall gets kids from all over the world.”
“What part of the world is this kid from? China?”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“Look, I told you: I didn’t find anything on that kid. I asked around about that video. No, don’t have a hissy fit. It’s not like I went around asking the other guys if they thought you’d killed someone. I asked a couple of people I know, people who hear things. They didn’t know anything about it. Hadn’t seen it before. If you ask me, it’s like I said: a prank. Maybe something to do with rush week. Those kids do some dumb shit, you ask me.”
Theo nodded, but his mind was racing. Yes, kids did dumb things during rush week—and after, during their time as pledges. But this was something else. People were looking for Robert Poulson. Dangerous people. And they were focused on Auggie, for some reason.
And on Theo, he realized with a dark suddenness. Auggie had pointed that out, but it hadn’t really sunk in. Theo had been tagged on that video too. People would want to talk to him too. The same kind of people who had wanted to talk to Auggie.
Theo grabbed his satchel from the chair next to him, dug out his laptop, and booted it up.
“Please tell me tonight is dinner and a show,” Cart said, sliding into the empty seat, his thigh pressed along Theo’s.
“Sorry,” Theo muttered as he opened up the faculty resources for Wroxall. “I don’t watch straight porn.”
“Neither do I,” Cart said, leaning in until their elbows bumped. “I mean, not exclusively.”
A part of Theo’s mind dinged an alarm, but he was too focused on his search. He found the student directory—the secure database, only available to faculty and staff—and typed in Poulson. A list of hits came up, and he scanned down them. No Robert.
“How’s your hip?” Cart asked. “I saw you walking in here with those brats; still got a limp. I give a hell of a massage.”
Theo tried again, this time searching for Robert Poulson. No matches. He tried again, R Poulson this time. Nothing.
“What’s got you so freaked out?” Cart said. “It’s just a massage. Make you feel a lot better.”
Theo barely heard him. No Missouri driver’s license. No record of him in Wahredua. Nothing at the school.
Robert Poulson didn’t exist.
11
Saturday morning, Auggie lay in bed, pretending to sleep until Orlando was finally out the door for practice. Auggie had avoided his roommate the night before, knowing Orlando would want to talk about what had happened. Auggie also knew he could only keep to himself for so long. They were living in a room small enough that Auggie could reach out and touch Orlando’s bed without getting out of his own; at some point, they
