“I found someone who knows him,” Auggie said. “I found—”
Glasses hushed him. “I mean, how are you? You’re young. You’re on your own for the first time. College is a difficult transition.”
“You’re asking me if I’m ok?”
“Well, it seems to me like someone should. For example, I noticed that your brothers don’t call. They only text. Fernando and—how do you say it? Chuy?”
I nodded.
“And your mother hasn’t even texted. I suppose she’s busy with Timothy.” Glasses smiled under the mustache. “That’s the latest one, by the way. Nicholas is old news. They’re in Greece. Have you been to Greece?”
“I found a girl who knows him,” Auggie said. “I—”
“When I want to know what you found,” Glasses said. “I’ll ask you. Until then, answer my fucking questions.”
The same frisbee, bright yellow and orange, skipped across the grass. This time, it dead-ended right at Glasses’s loafer. He bent and tossed it back with another huge grin.
“No,” Auggie said quietly. “I haven’t been to Greece.”
“It looks beautiful. I’d love to go someday. How are your classes?”
“Fine.”
“How’s Shakespeare in the World?”
“Fine.”
“How’s Mr. Stratford?”
“I don’t know. Fine.”
“August, we can find a private place to continue this conversation.” Glasses didn’t touch his jacket, didn’t pull it back, didn’t display the pistol holstered at his hip. But he didn’t need to; Auggie’s eyes went there anyway.
“No.” Auggie thought, suddenly, of the milk in the mini fridge. His throat was so fucking dry he couldn’t even swallow. “No, this is fine.”
“Now, I’d like to hear what progress you’ve made.”
“A phone number. And a girl who knows him.”
“How does she know him?”
“He deals to her friends.”
“Does she know where he is?”
Auggie shook his head.
“Then she’s useless,” Glasses said gently. “What about the phone number?”
“It doesn’t work. I mean, it does, but it goes straight to voicemail. The first time I called, a man answered. Older. Smoker, maybe. He wouldn’t say anything about Robert.”
They were passing one of the narrow walkways between Wroxall’s old buildings, and Glasses grabbed Auggie’s shoulder and steered him away from the quad. Auggie tried to lock his legs by reflex, but Glasses had a tight grip, and he forced Auggie to keep walking. A service passageway opened to the right, and Glasses shoved Auggie ahead of him until they ended up in a small space with a bike rack, a steel security door, and two orange buckets turned upside down.
“See, I was worried you were too stupid to find out what I needed to know.”
“I’m not,” Auggie said. He stumbled back until he hit the stone of the building behind him. “I’m not, I’ll find him, I just need more time.”
“Really? Because I think you’ve lost motivation.”
“No, I swear to Christ. No. I will find him.”
Glasses shook his head. “Does Fer still like mountain biking?”
Auggie gaped; he couldn’t even find words for an answer.
“Do you think,” Glasses asked, “he could still bike if I broke every bone in his leg, all the way down to his toes?”
“Please don’t do that,” Auggie said. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“Stand up straight,” Glasses said.
“Please don’t—”
“Stand up, August.”
As soon as Auggie straightened, Glasses punched him. It was an easy, perfect punch with a lot of force behind it, and Auggie felt the breath whoosh out of him.
“Up,” Glasses said. “Stand the fuck up.”
Somehow, Auggie managed, and Glasses hit him again.
This time, Auggie went to his knees, and a moment later he was puking onto the concrete pad.
“Just because I’ve been generous with my timeline,” Glasses said, toeing Auggie with a loafer while Auggie continue to gasp for breath and heave, “does not mean I’ve forgotten. I want results, August. Next time, I’ll just buy a ticket to California.” A folded scrap of paper fluttered down next to Auggie. “Call me when you have what I want.”
His shoes made soft whicking noises as he left.
Auggie knelt there, the concrete rough against his bare knees, smelling his own puke and his own fear. When he had enough breath, he started sobbing. He cried until he could pull himself back together, and then he went looking for Theo.
18
When the knock came at the door, Theo checked the clock and decided there was no way Cart had decided to pick him up two hours early. He wedged a pencil into the book to mark his place, shifted the stack of articles to the side, and got to his feet. A second knock came while he was making his way across the room. The knock went on and on, faster and harder, until Theo opened the door.
“Jesus fuck, what the—oh.”
Auggie stood on the porch. He looked like shit: his face waxen, his dark eyes fixed on the ground, his shoulders hunched.
“What?” Theo said.
“I need to talk to you,” Auggie said without looking up.
“Great. Office hours are eleven to noon—”
“Move the fuck out of the way so I can come inside,” Auggie shouted. “I need to fucking talk to you.”
“Who do you think you are?” Theo said. “I tried to talk to you. Every day after class. And you looked at me like you’d never met me before, like I was some crazy guy from the bus station. And then you wouldn’t even do that. You gave me bullshit excuses and ran away. So, you know what, Auggie? If you need to talk to me, you can do it during office hours. Get the fuck off my doorstep.”
Theo slammed the door. He made his way back to the couch, sat, and gathered his papers and book. Then he shoved them all aside again. Covering his face, he counted every fucking way he was an idiot, and then he got up and went to the kitchen. He ran the water, and then he turned it off because he had no idea why he’d started it in the first place. He opened the refrigerator and stared at the bottles of Big Wave,
