Page 53 of The Beta Test

After telling Hunter we are going over the Patels’ for a few minutes (not that he would move from the TV anyway) and running upstairs to look out my parents’ bedroom window to see if the Patels’ car was in their driveway (it is), we walk in silence up my street.

My stomach flutters violently the closer we get. The raw cookie dough I ate while baking threatens to stage a revolt, but deep breaths keep things relatively calm. Even though my mind has reasoned through this situation, it seems to have forgotten to inform my nerves that this operation is necessary for my future plans and my sanity. Too bad logic doesn’t override anxiety.

Jake lightly touches my back once we reach the door, centering me, then leans forward to push the doorbell. It hits me at that moment—I wouldn’t be able to do this without Jake. My insides are screaming at me to toss the plate in the bushes and run, but his presence anchors me in place. I refuse to live in the dark any longer.

To distract myself while we wait, I stare at the stucco siding of Braden’s house. Is it a shade paler than the yellow-hued stucco on my house? Maybe. But I’m not sure if that’s due to sun fading or by design. Perhaps the back of his house would be a better comparison because it gets less direct sunlight year round. I shake my head—it’s time to get answers about Braden! Questions about the color of house siding will have to wait. Or… get tossed aside. Because who cares.

“Focus,” I mutter at myself.

Jake glances at me but doesn’t comment, for which I’m thankful.

Nearly a minute passes without so much as a sound inside the house. The eternal wait feels unbearable, and if they don’t feel like answering, who am I to harass my neighbors? The word ‘neighbors’ makes me remember… we didn’t enact the entire plan!

“We forgot to throw the ball in the yard like friendly neighbors! Or was it casual neighbors?! Jake! I can’t believe I forgot! What will we even say now? This is so stupid and now they aren’t even answering the door anyway. So let’s just go⁠—”

I start to step away from the door, nearly tripping on the concrete step that’s so small a toddler should be able to navigate it without problems.

Jake’s hand comes up to my back again and steadies me. “Breathe.”

Before I can answer him, the door pulls open, revealing Mrs. Patel, looking slightly worse for wear. Her glossy, dark hair is a little disheveled and her glasses slightly askew.

“Avery! How nice to see you. Sorry it took me so long to answer—I fell asleep on the couch!”

“Oh! I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Patel,” I stutter. “We can let you get back to your rest.”

I grab Jake’s sleeve and tug it, but he’s like an immovable statue. What now! Our plan is totally ruined—probably because we forgot to do half of it. We really should have taken notes.

“We don’t want to bother her during her nap, Jake. It’s rude.” I emphasize ‘rude,’ as if that will impress upon him the ‘abort mission’ signal, though we never established a code for this situation. Why didn’t I anticipate the possibility that we might need to abort?!

Jake’s eyebrows rise at my words, but he shakes off my hold on his sleeve and shines his charming, dimple-filled smile at Mrs. Patel.

“Mrs. Patel, good to see you. I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Jake Taylor, a good friend of the Jameses.”

She aims an uncertain smile at Jake in return, but it’s clear that Jake’s adorable golden-retriever vibe is working on her, even in her sleep-addled state. Her expression soon brightens, and one of her hands comes up to straighten her glasses and smooth down her hair.

“Oh, yes, of course. You’re Jenna’s little brother.”

Is she blushing? I think she’s blushing.

“Yes, exactly. We’re truly sorry to disturb you, but Avery and I were just studying for our next calculus test when she mentioned that she was sad to not see you guys over Thanksgiving break because you were visiting Braden at MIT. So I suggested we bring you a plate of Avery’s amazing chocolate-chip cookies and ask how your trip went?”

Mrs. Patel’s smile collapses a little and her eyebrows crinkle in confusion. Her dark brown eyes, so similar to Braden’s, flick from Jake’s face to mine, then back again.

“We didn’t go to MIT. Why would we go there? We went on a cruise.”

Despite my mental hype session telling myself to be calm and get the answers I need, I take the biggest, loudest gasp. Everyone looks at me.

“Braden said you went to visit him,” I breathe. The tremor in my voice is impossible to miss, and a quick throat-clear does little to rein it all back in.

Now her head is shaking in addition to the furrowed brows. “If we wanted to see Braden, we’d have to find him wherever he is in Europe.” She scoffs in disgust. “He’s finding himself while backpacking like a homeless person with strangers.”

“WHAT!” I yell. Yep, my cool is completely gone.

Her face looks bewildered, and it’s her turn to gasp loudly. “He didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head so violently the plate of cookies in my hands threatens to topple. Jake takes it from me and passes it to Mrs. Patel, who barely glances at the plate while she takes it. Her eyes are fixed on my face with confusion and pity.

“My idiot son.” She—I assume—curses in Hindi briefly before continuing. “Back in August, two days before college was due to start, he came to us and said he couldn’t and wouldn’t go. We were horrified and shocked, but supported him if he wanted to take a gap year at home while working before deciding his path at college. But no. No! He said he wanted to ‘self-realize’ and ‘explore the world’ and booked a one-way ticket to Paris. I had thought, we assumed… oh, Avery. I thought he broke up with you before he left. He didn’t?”