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I rack my brain, trying to think of any possibilities they haven’t thought of I think back to every conversation we’ve had, hoping that there’ll be a clue.
I look up suddenly. “Did you look at the park a couple of blocks down?”
They both turn to me with dumbfounded looks.
“Why would I look there?” Mrs. Park asks, a hint of annoyance at my suggestion.
“He told me he used to go there with his dad,” I say. “That it’s his favorite park.”
She covers her mouth with her hand, and her eyes fall. “I forgot about that.”
“Do you want us to go check?” Caleb asks. “It would only take a couple of minutes to drive there.”
Instead of answering, Mrs. Park jumps into the back seat. “Let’s go,” she says, buckling herself in.
Caleb reaches over and squeezes my hand as he puts the car into reverse. His touch ripples up my arm; I’m hyper aware of his mother behind us.
Her gaze makes the skin on the back of my neck crawl. When is she going to say something about the fact that I’m in the passenger seat of Caleb’s car, holding his hand? Caleb backs up the car and drives down the street.
The silence is thick.
I stare out the window, watching the houses roll by and trying to distract myself. The park isn’t far, but the short drive seems to last forever. Every second is more brutal than the one before.
We roll up to the park, right by the playground. There, sitting on the swings is a little boy with his head hanging down, slowly rocking back and forth.
Mrs. Park shuffles out of the car, rushing toward him. As soon as Jordy sees her, he starts running. He climbs up to the top of the play structure, tucking himself into a corner.
“Should we go over there?” I ask.
Caleb nods, and we both get out of the car.
Mrs. Park is standing at the bottom, head tilted up. “Jordy, please come down. Let’s talk about this.”
“I’m never coming down.”
“Can I come up?” Caleb asks.
“Did you know?”
Caleb gets quiet. “I did.”
“Then, no. Go home, and leave me alone.”
“Let me try something,” I say, wiggling my way in between Caleb and his mom. I put my hands on the rungs and start climbing.
“He won’t talk to you,” Mrs. Park mumbles.
I keep climbing anyway. If I’ve learned one thing over the years, it’s how to cheer up the Park boys.
Once on top of the platform, I crawl toward Jordy and sit next to him.
His head is buried, tucked away in the safety of his arms. “Go away,” he says. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Then don’t talk,” I say. I reach into my bag and pull out my secret weapon. If it works on Caleb, it’s worth trying with Jordy. I hold it out to him. “Want a soda?”
He raises his head just enough to peek over his arms. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
