“Okay, everyone!” a voice calls. “One search party up this ridge, another up the one to the east!”
Yep, a nature hike this isn’t. The three of us—and about a hundred others—are on a hunt. For Thayer.
Thayer. It still hasn’t sunk in. Apparently, Thayer didn’t come home Friday night, the day of our argument. Nor has he answered his phone since. Or been seen by anyone—his soccer buddies, kids he knew from his various after-school jobs, girls who crushed on him.
Now it’s Sunday, and the Vegas’ concern has turned to abject panic. There are plenty of stories of kids getting lost in the desert. Thieves beating kids up on remote trails and leaving them for dead. Kids crashing their bikes or cars on desolate stretches of road and not being found for days. Sabino is one of Thayer’s favorite places to hang out—he and I have come here plenty—so this is where the family decided to start their search for him.
Madeline, who looks polished in Paige Denim cutoffs and a sky-blue tank top that shows off her smooth, alabaster shoulders, sniffs loudly next to me as she watches the first group hike up the west trail. I put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you going to be able to do this?”
She dabs at her eyes. “I just can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe no one has heard from him. You’re sure you haven’t?”
My shoulders stiffen and sweat trickles down the back of my white T-shirt. Does Mads know something? But when I check her expression, she just looks desperate, eager for any kind of clue. “No,” I admit. “I’d tell you if I did.”
Just saying it breaks my heart. Thayer disappeared without telling me, too. I don’t know whether to be frantic or furious, or feel straight-up guilty. What if what I said to him at school drove him away? What if he was really hurt and embarrassed? Where could he have gone? Why didn’t he tell a soul?
Madeline’s father, a tall, imposing man, waves a hand to indicate that everyone follow him up the east ridge. A group of people trail after him, including my mom and dad. Mads holds us back for a beat. “I don’t want to be too close to my dad right now. Things have been really bad since Thayer left, if you know what I mean.”
I give her shoulder a quick squeeze. Charlotte, who’s got on khaki Bermuda shorts, blue Converse, and a pink tee that accents her red hair, clucks her tongue. Mads has never gone into detail about the situation with her dad, but it’s no secret that he’s got a temper. Once, when he thought Thayer had scraped the paint on his Mercedes, he slammed a door in their house so hard it splintered from its hinges.
We wait as most of the searchers start up the mountain, their sneakers crunching over the rocks on the hard desert ground. It’s amazing how many people have come out to look for Thayer—not just adults but tons of kids from Hollier High, including a lot of popular seniors. I wonder what he would think if he knew so many people were here for him. Popularity doesn’t faze Thayer. Even though he came back from soccer camp last summer as a huge star, he’ll still talk to anyone, even the biggest loser in the school. Nor does he care whose party he’s invited to, whether he’s wearing the “it” jeans of the year, or if he’s totally out of the loop about the newest, hottest music everyone’s talking about. By disappearing, though, Thayer has become infamous, an even bigger star.
We’re about to start climbing when Mads lets out a whimper. Sooty smudges of mascara ring her eyes. I reach out gently, and she sighs. “This is just so pointless,” she protests. “The whole search is useless. It doesn’t matter whether we comb the trails now, or three hours from now, or even three days from now. If Thayer went anywhere, he left town. He’s not wandering in the wilderness. I know my brother.”
I blink rapidly. “So you think he just ran away?”
“Yeah.” Madeline kicks at the dusty ground. “He’s been talking about it for a while.”
“Because of your dad?” If Mr. Vega was rough with Mads, he was ten times worse with Thayer.
“Basically,” Mads says.
“Where do you think he went?” I ask.
Before Mads can answer, Laurel appears, having come back from somewhere at the front of the group. She’s decked out with hiking poles, Merrill hiking shoes, and cargo shorts with a zillion pockets. There are even binoculars slung around her neck. She’s playing this “my best friend is missing” thing to the hilt, crying at the drop of a hat, nervously checking her phone, getting all my parents’ sympathy. Meanwhile, I’m the one really suffering. And I have to do it in silence.
“The rangers have maps marked up with the search-area radius,” she says, pointing toward the mouth of the canyon. Clusters of uniformed rangers in tinted aviators hover by an information board, which is covered with an enormous map of the park dotted with a constellation of bright pins. “Let’s go talk to them and see what they say.”
I straighten up. “Mads thinks Thayer just ran away. He isn’t out here.”
Laurel shrugs. “It can’t hurt, right?”
She looks at Mads, and Mads raises a shoulder and lets Laurel lead her over to the park rangers’ makeshift base station. Charlotte follows, and I lope behind, annoyed. I don’t like Laurel’s insta-bond with Mads just because they’re both close to Thayer. She’s tried to infiltrate my group before, but she’s not one of us and she knows it.
Laurel glances at me over her shoulder. “Maybe you could grab Mads some water from the cooler, Sutton? Thanks!”
I glare at Laurel’s back. Who does she think she is, bossing me around? But to my horror, Madeline nods at me. “Water would be awesome, Sutton.”
Madeline then links her arms with Laurel and lets my sister lead her toward the rangers. Charlotte follows like the good little sheep she always is. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. But not getting water will make me look like even more of a bitch, so I spin and retreat to the coolers that have been set up on one of the flat parts of the trails. I shoulder past a group of whispering kids from school to fish a small water bottle out of a nearby cooler packed with rapidly melting ice and bottled drinks.
“Hey, Sutton. How are you doing?”
I look up to find Garrett Austin, Charlotte’s ex, idling hesitantly next to me.
“I’m, uh, okay,” I answer.
Garrett’s gaze remains on me, like he wants to say something else. I glance over his broad shoulders to be sure Charlotte is off with Laurel and Madeline, oblivious to us. Garrett and Charlotte didn’t exactly part on great terms, and she might be pissed to see me talking to him. More than that, he has no reason to think Thayer’s disappearance has any special impact on me . . . unless he heard about our fight. Laurel said that it was all over school.
Finally, Garrett grabs a cup of water of his own. “Good. The whole thing is pretty messed up, huh?”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
As I move to head back to my friends, Garrett touches my hand. A flush creeps up his neck. “Um, I was wondering,” he begins, trying a little too hard to sound casual, “do you want to hang out sometime?”
My eyes widen.
“Bad timing, I know,” Garrett says quickly, waving around us at the other searchers. “It’s just that I’ve been meaning to ask you, and—”
A small chime sounds, cutting him off. Saved by the bell. I dig into my back pocket and whip my phone out. The area code flashing across the screen is unfamiliar, but right now, I want anything to get out of answering Garrett. I shrug at him apologetically. “Um, I have to take this.”
Garrett looks disappointed but nods. I crunch a few paces away. “Hello?” I say into the phone.
“Hi, Sutton.”
Thayer.
It’s like all of the oxygen is immediately sucked out of the atmosphere. I feel dizzy and hot. I peer cautiously around and, satisfied that no one is paying any attention to me, duck behind a chipped, brown pickup truck.
“Where the hell are you?” I demand, feeling both furious and relieved at the same time. At least he isn’t dead somewhere. At least he isn’t at the bottom of one of these ravines. “I’ve been so worried!”
His voice crackles with static. “I can’t tell you.”
I lean into the receiver. “Look. If this is about what happened at my locker the other day, I’m sorry. You’re overreacting, though. You don’t have to leave town just because we had a fight.”
“Sutton, it’s not because of that.” There’s something almost light to his tone, as if he thinks it’s funny that I assumed he left because of me.
It infuriates me. I turn and face the hikers up the ridge. “Do you know what I’m doing right now? I’m at a search party—for you! People think you died.” My voice cracks slightly, and I will myself not to cry. I thought you died, I want to say, but pride keeps me from it.
Thayer sighs. “I wish I could explain what’s going on, but it’s really hard.”
“Try me,” I insist.
He breathes out. “Just know that I’m safe, okay? But you can’t tell anyone else you talked to me.”
My brain feels like it’s about to explode. “Thayer, didn’t you hear me? Half the town is looking for you! They’re combing the canyon right now! They’re talking about making ‘missing’ posters, putting you on a milk carton! Can I at least tell Madeline?”
“Not yet. I’ll get in touch with her in my own way. She knows I needed to get away, too. For now, please keep this quiet—from everyone. I just need my space right now, okay? I’ll come home when I’m ready.”
“But . . .” I protest, my head spinning. Space? What does he mean—space from me?
“Seriously, Sutton. I mean it,” Thayer warns. “Can you do that?”
I pause. In the silence, I listen as hard as I can to the sounds on his end, trying to see if I can make out a highway, or music, or anything indicating where he might be. A giggle sounds in the background. A girl’s giggle. Then, another voice chimes in. “What’s up, Mary?”
Mary? “Who’s Mary?” I growl, furious. I’m at a search party looking for Thayer’s body, and he’s hanging out with some girl named Mary?
“Just a friend,” Thayer says, his voice hurried. “Look, I’m sorry, Sutton, but I have to go.”
“Wait!” I call. That same giggle sounds again. Then the phone makes a blipping sound, and when I glance down at it, the screen reads call ended. I stare, dumbfounded. He hung up on me!
I bite my lip and stare into space for a few long moments. What. The. Hell?
The hikers continue up the ridge, their silhouettes black against the brilliant blue sky. Mr. Vega is shouting for everyone to walk faster. Madeline is talking earnestly to the ranger, Laurel’s hand resting protectively on her shoulder. Part of me wants to shout to Mads that it’s a huge sham—Thayer is fine. But then I look at Laurel again, and a ribbon of jealousy courses through me. I don’t want her to know my news. I don’t want her to know anything. I’ll tell Mads later.
