$65.
I looked at Evan.
“What is this?”
“Nothing.”
Mr. Alvarez made an irritated sound.
“That’s his favorite word.”
I pointed at the circles.
“You’ve been taking buses around town?”
“Sometimes.”
“By yourself?”
“I’m not five.”
“You’re 13, which is apparently old enough to create a secret map of people you’re paying behind my back.”
“I’m not paying people, Mom.”
Cal raised an eyebrow.
“You just tried to give me a paycheck.”
“That was different.”
I tapped the word TIRES.
“What is this?”
Evan looked away.
Cal answered instead.
“The tire place on Mason.”
I turned toward him.
“How do you know?”
“Because I followed him there last month.”
Evan exploded.
“You what?”
Cal shrugged.
“He’d already tried slipping me money twice. Then he kept telling everybody he was saving for a bicycle. I wanted to know where the rest was going.”
“You followed me?”
“I walked behind you for three blocks.”
“That’s following!”
“Whatever!” Cal sighed. “I got tired and took the bus.”
The tire shop on Mason.
I knew it.
I hadn’t been there since the winter after Jeremy died.
I folded the map.
“Get your backpack.”
Evan’s eyes widened.
“Why?”
“We’re going to the tire shop.”
“No.”
“Evan.”
“Mom, please.”
That “please” sounded different.
Not stubborn.
Afraid.
“What am I going to find there?” I demanded.
Evan swallowed and stared toward the windows.
“Nothing.”
