Page 119 of What We Bury

“I’m kidding,” I add. “Obviously. It’s a bit! Sage and I have this thing where I pretend to be her fake boyfriend to mess with people. It’s hilarious. You should see your faces right now.”

“It’s not that funny,” Sage mutters.

“It’s a little funny.” I wink at Amy. “Inside joke. Very inside. You had to be there. Which you weren’t. Because it happened at summer camp. Which definitely exists and where we definitely met.”

Amy lets out a confused laugh, shaking her head. “O-kay. Well. This is . . .” she trails off as if unsure what to say.

Tyler doesn’t laugh. He’s still watching me with those sharp, suspicious eyes, and I can practically see the wheels turning behind them. Filing away details.

Me too, buddy. Me too.

“The lock,” Amy says, clearly eager to move past whatever just happened. “Why doesn’t my key work?”

“Oh, that.” Sage jumps on the subject change like a life raft. “The old one was sticking. Milo replaced it for me.” She pulls the new keys from her pocket and hands them to Amy. “Here. These should work.”

Amy takes them, still looking mildly confused but willing to let it go. Tyler, on the other hand, is not.

“Nice of you,” he says to me. “Fixing locks for people you just met.”

“We met at summer camp, Tyler.” I hold his gaze, keep my smile easy. “Trust falls—keep up.”

The silence stretches a beat too long.

Then Amy claps her hands together, breaking the tension. “Well! This is . . . nice. Tyler and I just stopped by to grab some of my stuff, but?—”

“We won’t be long,” Tyler cuts in. His hand finds Amy’s elbow, steering her toward the hallway. “We’ll let you get back to your . . .pasta.”

They disappear down the hall, and I imagine cutting Tyler in half with lasers that shoot out of my eyes. And then I get really mad that I don’t have lasers that shoot from my eyes.

“That went well,” I whisper to Sage.

“Are you serious? That was a car wreck.”

“No, it was a little dent at best.” I glance toward the hallway, lowering my voice further. “The boyfriend doesn’t like me.”

“Tyler doesn’t like anyone right now. He’s been weird since Brock disappeared.”

I still. “Weird how?”

“Asking questions. Doesn’t believe his best friend would take off without talking to him first.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I think he blames me for Brock leaving.”

A thought touches the back of my head. It’s brief, but enough to curdle a little suspicion.

I watch her face, searching. “Should I be worried about him?”

She shakes her head. “He’s all talk. Spends most of his time doomscrolling and microdosing his own paranoia. But . . .”

“But?”

“I don’t know. I just hate that he’s using this to drive a wedge between me and Amy. She was the only friend I had and it’s like he won’t let her be around me for more than five minutes.”

Tyler’s voice booms from the hallway well before we see him again. “You got everything?”

Amy’s first sentence back is a fluster. “Just need to find my shoes! We could always just stay here, you know.”

She comes out ahead of him, carrying a canvas tote crammed full. Her face is a mask—polite, bright, trying to hide her annoyance as she leans in to hug Sage. “I’m sorry about him. Call if you need me, okay?” Her voice is too high. Sage nods, but her eyes are watery. “Oh, hey—thanks for getting my dress dry-cleaned. It looks brand new.”

If only she knew . . .