Page 115 of One Night with Number Nineteen

Some asshole cuts me off a few blocks later.

“What the fu—” I clamp my teeth together, then deliberately finish, “Fudge.”

A glance into the rearview shows me Ollie calmly kicking his legs back and forth as he looks out the window. “Mom says fuck.”

I blink.

Then choke down my laughter. “Does she now?”

“Yup.” He pops the P. “When she’s driving she says it a lot.”

Don’t laugh. Don’t.

“Why don’t you tell me about…” I manage to divert his attention to his dog show and the rest of the drive is uneventful.

Unfortunately, our search of the classroom isn’t fruitful.

“I’ll look at home and in your mom’s car, okay bud?” I say. “Ollie will be here to pick you up.”

His bottom lip wobbles. “Promise?”

I crouch down in front of him, cupping his elbows. “I promise that I will do everything in my power to find Ollie.”

That wobble doesn’t go away.

But at least he nods and gives me a hug before he drags his feet into his classroom.

And I know—fucking know—that I’ll tear the house apart to find that penguin.

But stuffed Ollie isn’t in real Ollie’s bedroom, and he isn’t in Ollie’s bathroom. Or tucked in between the couch or under the kitchen table or on the back porch.

I order three more to have as backups.

They won’t be here by pickup though.

“Fuck,” I whisper, scrubbing my hands over my face and sitting back on my heels, knowing I’m going to disappoint Ollie and hating every part of that.

My phone buzzes and I look down at the screen, see that my mom’s calling.

“Yeah?” I ask as I swipe and lift it to my ear.

“Honey,” she says. “Oh, it’s terrible! You won’t even believe how terrible⁠—”

“Mom,” I interject. “Are you hurt?”

“What? No. I just⁠—”

“Is the house on fire?”

“I, what?”

“Is your house currently burning down around you?”

A long pause then, “No.”

I close my eyes for a second, grapple with my patience. But it’s slippery, hard to hold on to. “Are you in danger? Or have been in a car accident⁠—”

“Sawyer, what the heck are you talking about?”