“What did you do?” Cara said.
“I don’t know. I tripped coming down the stairs from econ. I think I sprained it.”
Pip fake-limped over to her.
“I walked to school this morning; I don’t have my car,” she said. “Oh crap, and Mom has a late showing.”
“You can get a lift with me and Dad,” Cara said, slipping her arm under Pip’s to help her to her locker. She took the textbook from Pip’s hand and placed it on the pile inside. “Don’t know why you’d willingly choose to walk when you have your own car. I never get to use mine now that Naomi’s home.”
“I just felt like walking,” Pip said. “I don’t have Barney as an excuse anymore.”
Cara gave her a pitying look and closed the locker door. “Come on, then,” she said. “Let’s hobble out to the parking lot. Lucky for you I’m Muscles McGee; I did nine whole push-ups yesterday.”
“Nine whole ones?” Pip smiled.
“I know. Play your cards right and you might win a ticket to the gun show.” She flexed and growled.
Pip’s heart broke for her then. She hoped that, whatever happened, Cara wouldn’t lose this: her happy, silly self.
With Pip propped up against Cara, they staggered up the hall and out of the side door.
The cold wind bit her nose, and she narrowed her eyes against it. They made their way slowly, around the back of the school and toward the teachers’ lot, Cara filling the journey with details of the Halloween movie night. Pip tensed every time she mentioned her dad.
Mr. Ward was there already, waiting by his car.
“There you are,” he said, spotting Cara. “What happened?”
“Pip sprained her ankle,” Cara said, opening the back door. “And her mom’s working late. Can we give her a ride?”
“Sure, of course.” Mr. Ward darted forward to take Pip’s arm and help her into the car.
His skin touched hers.
It took all her strength not to recoil from him.
Backpack settled beside her, Pip watched as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“So what happened, Pip?” he asked, waiting for a group of kids to cross the road before pulling out of the parking lot.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I think I just landed on it funny. I’m sure it’ll be fine in a couple of days.” She pulled out her phone and made sure it was on silent. She’d had it turned off most of the day, and the battery was almost full.
Mr. Ward batted Cara’s hand away when she started flicking through the radio stations.
“My car, my music,” he said. “Pip?”
She jumped and almost dropped the phone.
“Is your ankle swollen?” he asked.
“Um…” She bent forward and reached down to feel it, the phone in her hand. Pretending to knead her ankle, she twisted her wrist and pushed the phone far underneath the back seat. “A little bit,” she said, straightening up, her face flushed with blood. “Not too bad.”
“OK, that’s good,” he said, winding through the traffic up Main Street. “You should elevate it tonight.”
“Yeah, I will,” she said, and caught his eye in the rearview mirror. And then: “I’ve just realized it’s a tutoring day. I’m not going to make you late, am I? Where do you have to get to?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, indicating left, down Pip’s road. “I’ve only got to get over to Stamford. It’s no bother.”
“Phew, OK.”
Cara was asking what was for dinner as Mr. Ward slowed and swung into Pip’s driveway.
“Oh, your mom is home,” he said, nodding toward her mom’s car as he pulled to a stop.
“Is she?” Pip felt her heartbeat doubling, scared he’d hear it in her voice. “Her showing must have been cancelled last minute. I should have checked, sorry.”
“Don’t be silly.” He turned around. “Do you need help to the door?”
“No,” she said quickly, grabbing her backpack. “No, thank you, I’ll be fine.”
She pushed open the car door and started to shuffle out.
“Wait,” Cara said suddenly.
Pip froze. Please say she hasn’t seen the phone. Please.
“Goooooood luuuuuuuck with your aaaaaapp,” she said, drawing out the words in an off-key tune. “You’re going to get in, I just know it.”
“Yes, best of luck, Pip.” Mr. Ward smiled. “I’d say break a leg, but I think the timing is a little off for that.”
Pip laughed, so hollow it almost echoed. “Thanks,” she said, “and thanks for the ride.” She pushed the car door shut and limped up to the house, her ears pricked, listening to the rumble of their car as it drove away. She opened her front door and dropped the limp.
“Hello,” her mom called from the kitchen. “Do you want anything to eat?”
“Um, no thanks,” she said, loitering in the entryway. “Ravi’s coming over to help me work; read over my essay one last time before I submit.”
Her mom gave her a look.
“What?”
“Don’t think I don’t know my own daughter,” she said, washing mushrooms in the colander. “She only works alone and has a reputation for making other kids cry in group projects. Working, sure.” She gave her the look again. “Keep your door open. And submit it already! The deadline is at midnight.”
“Jeez, I will.” She had time. She still had time.
Just as she was starting up the stairs, a Ravi-shaped blur knocked at the front door.
Pip let him in and he called hello to her mom as he followed her upstairs to her room.
“Door open,” Pip said awkwardly when Ravi went to close it.
“Got it. All good with the phone?” he said.
She sat cross-legged on her bed, and Ravi pulled the desk chair over to sit in front of her. “Yep, it’s under the back seat.”
“OK.”
He unlocked his phone and opened the Find My Friends app. Pip leaned in closer, and, heads almost touching, they stared down at the map on the screen.
Pip’s little orange avatar was parked outside the Wards’ house on Hillside. Ravi clicked refresh, but it didn’t move.
“He hasn’t left yet,” Pip said.
Shuffled footsteps moved along the hallway, and Pip looked up to see Josh standing in her doorway.
“Pippo,” he said, fiddling with his springy hair, “can Ravi come down and play FIFA with me?”
Ravi and Pip looked at each other.
“Um, not now, Josh,” she said. “We’re a little busy.”
“I’ll come down and play later, OK, bud?” Ravi said.
“OK.” Josh dropped his arm in defeat and padded away.
“He’s on the move,” Ravi said, refreshing the map.
“Where?”
“Just down Hillside at the moment, before the roundabout.”
The avatar didn’t move in real time; they had to keep pressing refresh and wait for the orange circle to jump along the route. It stopped just at the roundabout.
“Refresh it,” Pip said impatiently. “If he doesn’t turn left, then he’s not heading to Stamford.”
The refresh button spun with fading lines. Loading. Loading. The page refreshed, and the orange avatar had disappeared.
“Where’d it go?” said Pip.
Ravi scrolled around the map to see where Mr. Ward had jumped to.
“Stop.” Pip spotted it. “There. He’s heading north up Route 124.”
They stared at each other.
“He’s not going to Stamford,” Ravi said.
“No, he is not.”
They watched for the next fourteen minutes as Mr. Ward drove up the road, jumping incrementally whenever Ravi hit refresh.
“He’s near New Canaan,” Ravi said and then, seeing Pip’s face, “What?”
“The Wards used to live in New Canaan before they moved to a bigger house in Fairview. Before we met them.”
“He turned,” Ravi said, and Pip leaned in again. “Down somewhere called Gravesend Road.”
Pip stared at the orange dot, motionless on the white pixel road. “Refresh,” she said.
“I am,” said Ravi, “it’s stuck.” He pressed refresh again; the loading circle spun for a second and cleared, leaving the orange dot in the same place. He pressed it again, and it still didn’t move.
“He stopped,” Pip said, clutching Ravi’s wrist and turning it to get a better look at the map. She stood up, grabbed Ravi’s laptop from her desk, and settled it on her lap. “Let’s see where he is.”
She opened the browser and pulled up Google Maps. She searched for Gravesend Road, New Canaan and clicked to satellite mode.
“How far down the road would you say he is? Here?” She pointed at the screen.
“I think a bit more to the left.”
“OK.” Pip clicked the spot and opened street view.
The narrow road was enclosed by trees and tall shrubbery that glittered in the sun as Pip clicked and dragged the screen to get a full view of the area. The houses were on only one side, set back from the street.
“You think he’s at this house?” She pointed at a small brick house with a white garage door, barely visible behind the trees and a telephone pole.
“Hmm…” Ravi looked from his phone to his laptop screen. “It’s either that one or the one to the left of it.”
Pip looked up the street numbers. “So he’s either at number forty-two or forty-four.”
“Is that where they used to live?” Ravi asked. Pip shrugged; she didn’t know. “Could you find out from Cara?”
“Yeah,” she said, “I’m seeing her tomorrow.” Her stomach churned. “She’s my best friend, and this is going to destroy her. It’s going to destroy everything.”
Ravi slipped his hand into hers. It was warm and she felt steadier, holding on to him. “It’s nearly over, Pip,” he said.
“It’s over now,” she said. “We need to go there tonight and see what Elliot’s hiding. Andie could be alive in there.”
“That’s just a guess.”
“This whole thing has been a guess.” She took her hand away so she could hold her aching head. “I need this to be over.”
“I know,” Ravi said gently. “We are going to end this. But not tonight. Tomorrow. You find out from Cara which address he’s going to, if it is their old house. And then tomorrow night we can go there, when Elliot’s not there, and see what he’s up to. Or we call the police with an anonymous tip and send them to that address, OK? But not now, Pip. You can’t upend your whole life tonight—I won’t let you. I won’t let you throw away Columbia for this. Right now, you are going to edit your essay, check it over and submit that application before midnight. OK?”
“But—”
“No buts, Sarge.” He stared at her, his eyes suddenly sharp. “Mr. Ward is not ruining your life as well. OK?”
“OK,” she said quietly, remembering then that Mr. Ward was an inextricable part of her application, too; he’d written one of her college recommendation letters.
“Good.” Ravi pulled her off the bed and into her chair, wheeling her over to the desk and setting the laptop up in front of her. “You are going to forget about Andie Bell and Sal for the next six hours. That’s an order.” He traced his fingers across her chin for just a second.
Pip looked up at him, at his kind eyes and his serious face, and she didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to feel, she was somewhere between laughing and crying and screaming.
When Ravi was gone she opened the Word doc of her essay and read it through. It sounded forced, not like her at all. It sounded like something she thought they wanted to hear, not who she really was.
Be brave, said all the college prep websites. Be honest. So she was. She highlighted her entire essay, pressed delete, and started again.
What’s wrong with me? she wrote. I might seem like the ideal student: homework always in early, every extra credit and extracurricular I can get my hands on, the good girl and the high achiever. But I realized something just now: it’s not ambition, not entirely. It’s fear. Because I don’t know who I am when I’m not working, when I’m not focused on or totally consumed by a task. Who am I between the projects and the assignments, when there’s nothing to do? I haven’t found her yet and it scares me. Maybe that’s why, for my senior capstone project this year, I decided to solve a murder.