But if he wants an apology, I’ll be the bigger person and give him one. It’s not like I could bear to lose him. Because that’s the thing: Deep down, Thayer has a hold on me. It’s something I can’t explain. Something I’m a little embarrassed about—he’s my best friend’s younger brother, after all. But when he looks at me, I melt. When he kisses me, fireworks explode in my head. When he doesn’t call, I worry.
I shut the door to my bedroom, plop on my bed, and pick up my iPhone, scanning yet again to see if Thayer has texted. Nope. But as I’m about to dial Thayer’s cell, my screen lights up. It’s the Vegas’ landline. My heart leaps. Maybe Thayer has come to his senses. Maybe he’s calling me.
I slide the unlock function. “Hello?” I say in an unaffected voice as though I haven’t been stressing about this for the past day.
“Sutton?” It’s Madeline, though, not Thayer. Her voice is high-pitched. “Can you come over now?”
I frown. “Um, I need a few minutes, actually. Why?”
“No, I need you here now.”
Concern floods over me. Madeline’s voice cracks and wobbles—it sounds serious. “Are you okay?” I ask cautiously. Her home life isn’t exactly awesome; Mr. Vega has a terrible temper.
“It’s . . .” she falters, then clears her throat. When she speaks again, her voice is steady. “It’s Thayer. He’s . . . gone.”
2
THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF A WALK IN THE PARK
Two days later, Madeline, my other best friend Charlotte Chamberlain, and I stand in the craggy shadows of Sabino Canyon, a set of mountains, canyons, and hiking trails near my house in northern Tucson. The majestic, earth-toned outlines of the Santa Catalina Mountains loom in the distance. Cacti jut as far as the eye can see, and from somewhere close comes the skunky odor of a herd of javelina boars.
“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.