We migrated to a table in the back where Eli sat alone, grumpy and sullen.
“This is the biggest waste of time,” Eli said by way of greeting, pushing the uneaten stack of pancakes around his plate.
“It isn’t that bad,” Cal said, taking a seat next to Emory. “At least there’s pancakes.”
“That we had to make.” Eli tried and failed to keep his rising temper in check.
“Is sitting at a table in the back really helping?” Cal asked between mouthfuls of syrupy pancake goodness.
“I’m fucking here.” Eli’s fist smacked the table. A few heads turned in our direction to see what the commotion was all about.
Kenna reached over and put a hand on Eli’s thigh. He instantly stiffened at the contact, and she yanked it away.
“Sorry,” Kenna muttered, averting her eyes to the crowd gathered around her father.
I sank low in my chair, my ass almost falling off the seat in an attempt to keep out of Mr. Whitethorn’s line of vision. It had been a few days, and there was still no news on the fire. The rumor around town was that old, faulty wiring had been the cause.
“Did you guys hear about the girl they pulled from the river the other night?” Emory asked, lowering her voice to an almost inaudible whisper.
My stomach dropped.
“Yeah, I heard she drowned.” Cal didn’t whisper like Emory had, and the same nosy people turned to look at us again.
“Could you be any louder,” I scolded, shifting in my chair.
He rolled his eyes like I was the problem and not his big mouth.
“These are delicious, by the way.” Cal thankfully changed the subject. He inhaled an entire pancake in a single bite. “I’m going back for seconds.” He stood with his empty plate and strode across the room.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught an elderly gentleman approaching the table, and I braced myself for the dreaded small talk. But luckily, he turned to Kenna, falling into an easy conversation with her.
“Can we get out of here?” Emory mouthed, pointing toward the exit.
I nodded enthusiastically, reaching for my purse hanging on the back of the flimsy plastic chair, but the strap got stuck, and the chair flopped to the floor. So much for sneaking out.
“You fucking fucks.” Eli gave me the stank eye.
“You’re more than welcome to come with us.” I offered.
His eyes snapped to his father, who was too preoccupied to care what his son was doing. “Yeah, I’m down.” Eli shot from his chair, leading the way to the side door of our old high school gymnasium, one of the few buildings large enough to hold an event of this size.
We power walked toward the door, not giving a second glance at the room full of people.
One good thing about Dad always being gone was no one yelled at us for dipping out early on events. Eli, on the other hand, would get an earful for leaving.
I dug my keys from my purse and unlocked the car. We piled in, and Emory connected her phone to the aux cord. A second later, a song I’d never heard spilled from the speakers.
“Does anyone else have this perpetual feeling of dread looming over them? Or is it just me?” Emory asked. When no one answered, she continued, “maybe some mango sticky rice will help with my upset stomach.” Emory typed on her phone, probably ordering from the Thai restaurant a few minutes from our house. “Should I get a double order?”
“If you wanted mango sticky rice you could have just said that. You didn’t have to make up an elaborate story,” I teased.
Eli sat quietly in the back. Not saying a single word.
A ringing filled the car, and before I could stop her, Emory hit the green little phone on the screen.
“I think we should try to summon the girl’s spirit,” Grey’s voice filled the car. “Maybe she can tell us who murdered?—”
“You’re on speakerphone!” I shouted, cutting him off. I reached out to tap the screen, trying to end the call, but Emory smacked my hand away. The car swerved and my attention snapped back to the road.
