X marked the spot.
I pulled open the drawer to find a buzzing, beeping, chiming, and vibrating stash of iPhones and Androids. How could Ungerthinkwith this noise? Each phone had been labeled with a Post-it Note, students’ names written in villainous cursive.
“Fucking brilliant.” I sighed. It wasn’t that I disliked cursive handwriting; it was that I dislikedUnger’scursive. It was the kind of cursive you had to squint at for a good three seconds in order to decode it.
I quickly started sorting through phones:
Leah Brennan.
Connor McCallister.
Alayna Howard.
Jacob Bluestein.
Madeline Fisher-Michaels.
And then:
That Little Twerp!
“Twerp?” I muttered, rolling my eyes and ripping off the pink piece of paper before shutting the filing cabinet and relocking the drawer. “What decade are we in, Principal?”
I stuffed the pink note in my jeans’ pocket but couldn’t resist quickly checking my phone. Find My Friends, I thought, because finally—finally—I could use the app to find out Grace’s location.
When my screen lit up, it was flooded with notifications.
Notifications that included ten missed texts from Isa.
My heart quickened.
Isa.
Chapter 20
Isa
“Yourfather?” Grace’s blue eyes bulged before she blinked and squinted across the dining room to double-check. “Are yousure?”
“Grace, no,” Everett said when she shifted in her seat and stretched to see. She might as well have raised a pair of binoculars. “Don’t make it obvious—”
He dropped off; Papá had turned in his cream-colored chair and was glancing around the restaurant, as if he knew he were being watched. It was definitely him, in a charcoal-gray suit with his salt-and-pepper hair and neatly trimmed beard.
Georgetown,I thought, mind scattering.Why isn’t he in Georgetown?
Papá promised he would be home tonight. “I’ll see you for dinner on Friday!” he’d said right before leaving forWashington, DC, on Sunday morning. He didn’t usually spend an entire week down there, but he wanted to work remotely while he taught class. He invited Mamá along, too; she’d only ever spent a weekend at his apartment. “You should!” I agreed. “I can stay with Grace.”
But Mamá had shaken her head. “There is a lot going on this week, Luis,” she’d said, taking his hand and squeezing it as she smiled apologetically. “I should be in the office.”
Papá had nodded. I remembered wishing he’d looked more disappointed. Or that he would ask her again, one more time. But he’d just given us both kisses on the cheek before driving off in his vintage Jaguar.
My heart thumped, thumped, thumped. Because not only was Luis Cruz not where he was supposed to be, but he was also sitting with a woman who very much wasn’t my mother.
Like the most mature of adults, Grace, Everett, and I scrambled under our table to hide. “Something must’ve come up,” I whispered, forcing myself to ignore Grace and Everett’s clasped hands. Waiting for our Uber after our art museum excursion had revealed all. “If he’s back in Philly, something must’ve come up at the office.”
Grace’s brows knitted together. “Then why wouldn’t he have told you?” she asked, eyes darting back to Papá’s table. “And who—”
“Your beverages, esteemed guests,” our server interrupted, bending down with a tray. He acted like nothing was strange about us crouching underneath the table. He handed Grace her Shirley Temple, Everett his iced tea, and me my lemonade.We all took frantic sips. “May I get you anything else?” he asked. “Are you ready to order, perhaps?”
