There’s an awkward beat of silence as he leans up against the front door, his hands in his pockets. I find myself wondering what to say—we only spoke a few words to each other before we hopped on his motorcycle and came here. I think he’s waiting for me to tell him what happened with Mom, and I know I have some explaining to do. But right now all I want is to focus on him, especially since we’re on his turf.
“So how long have you been staying here?” I ask.
“Just a couple weeks. My parents sold their house, and Nora and I needed a place to crash.”
Josh rubs the back of his head with his hand—a gesture he performs whenever he seems a little uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll see less and less of it the more we get to know each other.
“Sounds like pretty close quarters.”
“You have no idea,” he replies, his shoulders rolling back a little. “Nora was living by herself in our old place while it was on the market. She only moved her stuff here when it sold, but she was hardly ever around. Preferred to stay with friends and all.” Josh pushes himself away from the door and turns toward the window. “When my parents split up—well, Nora took it harder than my other two sisters.”
“Wow, three sisters, huh?”
A smirk catches on his lips. “Yeah, and I’m the youngest, too.”
I almost tell Josh how jealous I am. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother is Patrick. Being here with Josh and listening to him talk about his family—it just gets me thinking about how important blood ties are. Even when relationships become fractured, or someone dies, the connections you have to your family are never lost.
When it came to Patrick, I always believed our friendship somehow mirrored that, but now I don’t know what to think.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice there’s a photocube sitting on a side table, and just as I reach for it, I feel Josh’s steady gaze on me.
I glance in his direction and hold it up. “Do you mind?”
I hope he doesn’t think I’m being nosy, even though I am.
Josh answers with a noncommittal shrug, so I give it a shake. Oddly enough, there’s only one digital photo flickering inside. It’s a family photo, but it seems to be a couple of years old—Josh’s clothes hang off his body a bit and he’s a few inches shorter, his smiling face framed by a mop of copper-brown hair. He is standing outside a historic-looking brick colonial, with two of his three sisters posed next to an attractive woman with short golden hair and Josh’s distinct amber eyes. Josh and another sister—more petite and wiry than the others—are positioned on the other side of a burly man with bushy russet hair and a thick handlebar mustache.
“That was two years ago, the summer before my sophomore year.” Suddenly Josh is standing right next to me, his arm slightly brushing up against mine. “Nora was a senior,” he says, pointing to the girl next to him. “It was the day Sally and Paige were going back to college.”
I bring the photocube closer to my face so I can get a better look at Nora. Her lips are pulled into a tight smile, and her pixie cut really shows off her strong cheekbones. It’s weird—I have this odd feeling like I’ve seen her before, but I’m not sure where. Then again, her expression is so warm; maybe I just want to believe that I know her. All my friends have pretty much fallen away since my father died—it’s like they think losing a parent is contagious or something—but from the looks of Nora, I’d like to believe that she’d be the one person who’d stick by you through the hard stuff.
Then again, maybe I’m just projecting what I’m starting to feel about Josh.
“So where are Sally and Paige now?”
“Sally’s in Australia. She’s married and has a kid. Paige is in California, teaching.”
“And your parents?”
Josh sits down on the couch, stretching his legs out. “Mom is spending time with Paige. And my dad just got a job in Alaska.”
“Do any of them know about Nora?”
“No, I don’t want them to worry. Not yet, anyway.” He sighs. “This isn’t the first time she’s gone MIA. Unfortunately, they’re kind of used to it.”
“But you’re not?”
“She’s my sister,” he says. “I’m always going to care what happens to her. No matter how stupid and irresponsible she acts.”
That’s another thing about family—I don’t know what it is that compels us to give them more second chances than we give our friends, but maybe it’s not something we’re supposed to understand.
Just as I finish that thought in my head, I sit down next to Josh, leaving only a small space between us. Then I feel my father’s passcard digging into my rear end from my back pocket.
His passcard. My mind is flooded with all the questions and crazy theories that overwhelmed me back at my house, and a fierce migraine starts to form behind my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Josh says, placing a warm hand on my lower back.
The breath in my lungs tightens as my heart begins to bang against my chest. “Any word from Patrick?”
I hope to God that the answer is yes. Maybe he messaged Josh and gave him a good reason for why he didn’t show up at the factory. I need my image of him to remain untarnished, even if it’s only for a moment.
Josh’s hand stiffens at the mention of Patrick’s name, and he pulls away. “No, sorry.”
I lean forward and pull my dad’s passcard out of my back pocket, setting it on the table in front of us. After staring for a moment, I’m finally able to put my confounded thoughts into words.
“I think my father . . . might be alive.”
His eyebrows creep up into two steep arches. “What?”
“I know it’s a leap,” I say, rubbing my palms against my knees. “But there’s proof.”
“Like the passcard?”
“He would’ve needed it to fly the plane, right?”
“Maybe not,” Josh says. “HyperSoars were tested by remote at first. The CIT was worried about what would happen to them after a change in atmosphere.”
“So it’s possible that my dad wasn’t in that plane when it disintegrated?”
“Regan, I . . . ,” he begins, as if about to correct me.
“Wait, there’s more. The Zolpidem we found in his stuff. The prescription was written for my dad—by my mother. And it was granulated, which means it’s easier to administer to an unconscious patient.” I look at Josh to see his reaction, but from the blank expression on his face, I can tell he’s not following my logic. “What if my dad became addicted to Elusion, and my mom helped him fake his death? What if he’s alive and somehow found me in my Escape to warn me?”
“That’s a pretty big conspiracy theory you have there.” Josh scratches his neck, his eyes clouding over with confusion. “You really think they’d be able to pull that off? Faking a plane crash, keeping your dad hidden somewhere?”