“I don’t have any money.”
“You’re literally covered in Vineyard Vines.”
“Right, but, I don’t have a lot of money. Not worth ransom or extortion.”
“Maybe they know about that sponsorship deal. Maybe they know there’s money down the road.”
Auggie spread his hands. “It’s just too weird. Why not come right out and accuse me of killing . . . killing whoever that was? Why that weird edited video that doesn’t really show anything? Why tag both of us? And then why show up and start asking me where Robert is? People are looking for him, and they’re freaking out because they can’t find him. Now, because of that stupid video, they think I know where he is.”
“You know who would have answers to all these questions?” Theo said.
“Robert.”
“So the first question we need to answer is: where’s Robert?”
Auggie shook his head. “No, actually, the question now is who’s Robert, right? Because you told me he used a fake name, and so we can’t find him until we know who he really is, and that means digging through what we already have to try to figure out the answer.”
From the next room came the droning of the window unit; Theo shifted, his feet sounding sticky against the stripped floorboards.
“What?” Auggie said.
“That’s really smart,” Theo said.
And there it was again: heat and light like a flower blooming in Auggie’s chest.
“You’d better make me some of that peanut butter toast,” Auggie said, locking eyes with Theo. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Theo combed his beard with one hand. He had dark blue eyes that made Auggie think of wildflowers.
“Let me get some stain spray,” Theo said. “And a t-shirt you can borrow. Your polo’s going to be ruined otherwise.”
Auggie waited until Theo was out of the room before releasing the breath he’d been holding. He turned himself out of the polo, the lukewarm air brushing the bare skin of his chest. With every second that ticked past, the goosebumps got worse.
“You can change in the bathroom,” Theo said, returning to the kitchen with a t-shirt held out while he read the label on a spray bottle. “It’s right over—”
His head came up. He saw Auggie. And he stood there, his face expressionless.
Auggie held out the polo. Theo took it and handed over the tee.
“Bathroom’s right over there.”
Auggie was already squirming into the shirt. “It’s a shirt. It’s not like I’m naked.”
“If I can see your nipples, it’s too close to naked.”
When Auggie’s head popped through the collar, he found Theo at the sink, alternating between blotting the grease stains and spraying stain remover. Auggie glanced down at the tee and saw that it was for Iron Maiden.
“Bread’s in there,” Theo said, not looking up. “Peanut butter too.”
“Is this a knife you already used for peanut butter?” Auggie asked, grabbing it off the refrigerator’s shelf.
“Yes. It’s fine. It’s just peanut butter.”
“Ok.”
“There are clean knives over there if you want.”
“No, it’s ok.”
“Plates are in there.”
Auggie plucked at the shirt. “You like metal?”
Theo gave a half shake of his head that could have meant anything.
“Just going to slide past you,” Auggie said, touching Theo’s back as he tried to reach the toaster. Theo’s whole body was rigid, every muscle taut and defined under Auggie’s fingertips.
“What other bands do you like?” Auggie asked.
Theo let out a strained breath, balled up the polo, and pitched it in the sink. “Just make your toast, please,” he said as he left the kitchen again.
Auggie made toast, and he used the knife that was on permanent peanut-butter duty. He put everything back in the refrigerator just the way he’d found it. He filled a glass with tap water because he figured Theo would lose his shit if he tried to score one of the beers, although Auggie saved that thought for later. Theo had gone upstairs—the old house made it easy to keep track of his movements—and now it sounded like he was up there getting ready for a 5K: lots of rapid walking, the joists protesting.
At the table, which was maybe the ugliest part of the whole kitchen, Auggie ate his toast and started doing what he did best: trawling social media. Robert had been at the Sigma Sigma bid party. He’d been wearing a pledge sash. And that meant somebody at the party had gotten pictures of Robert. He probably wasn’t a real pledge because he probably wasn’t a real student. But someone might know Robert or recognize him. And Auggie was going to find that person.
He’d gotten through most of the Sigma Sigma Bid-ness Party pictures when Theo came back down. Auggie was careful to keep his eyes on the screen, but he still noticed: the pallor, the slight redness around Theo’s eyes, the translucent spots on his shirt where he had splashed water—or, the thought came to Auggie like thunder—where tears had fallen.
“I’m going to apologize because I feel like I’m acting crazy today,” Theo said, his voice a scratchy attempt at normal. “But this isn’t a good idea. I need you to go, Auggie. If there’s anything else we need to talk about, I’ll be in touch.”
“I found him,” Auggie said.
“What?”
“I mean, I found a girl who knows him. She says he deals weed and meth to some of the girls in her house.”
“She told you that?”
Auggie looked up and blinked. “Yeah. I’m famous, right? And I’m looking to score.”
“You aren’t famous.”
“I’ve got over a hundred thousand followers.”
“Yeah, but you’re not a celebrity.”
“I looked you up, you know. You know how many followers you have?”
“I’m just saying, internet famous isn’t the same thing as really famous. You understand that, right? I know it’s different for people your age, but it’s an important difference.”
“You have two,” Auggie said. Holding up two fingers, he repeated, “Two followers.”
“Really famous people are known outside of a limited medium and are known to most of
