I instantly told my father that I had to dip out early because Ivy was sick. He didn’t put up a fight. He could see the distress on my face and told me to go, and to tell her he hoped she felt better.
I wanted to smile at him with astonishment because my father wasn’t usually the nice and sappy kind of guy, but that was just the thing about Ivy—you just had to love her. There was no other way.
When I pulled up to her house, nearing three, her car wasn’t there. The feeling I had this morning overtook my body and I started to truly worry. I ran up to her house, skipping over her newly concreted steps, and knocked a few times before grabbing the key under the mat and going inside.
I was met with new floors and the smell of fresh paint that had been applied last week, but that was it. Ivy wasn’t home.
Pacing the living room, I called her phone four times before going outside and sitting on the porch.
I told myself I’d just wait. She was probably at the store, gathering canned soup and some crackers for whatever illness she came down with. I thought back to what she’d eaten last night at the bar, which wasn’t anything unusual. She drank a little, but nothing to the point that would make her sick.
As each minute passed, the nervousness in my stomach got worse.
I looked down the road a few times, and then dialed Max’s number.
“Hey, man,” he answered.
“Is Becca with you?” I asked, out of breath from
pacing the porch. The wind picked up in the distance, howling and swirling leaves around.
Max stuttered, “Uh, no… uh. Why would she be?”
I groaned. “Where is she?”
He started to stutter again.
“Max, I know you fucking know…tell me.”
He could try to hide his attraction and awareness of Becca’s every move all he wanted, except for right now.
“She’s at practice. She coaches cheerleading. What’s wrong, dude?”
I exhaled. “Something. I can’t find Ivy and apparently, she went home sick today, but she’s not home. Go get Becca and have her call me as soon as possible.”
Max’s voice was calm, relaxed. Unlike me at the moment. “I’m sure she’s fine. What could be wrong?”
My heart clenched, my voice on the verge of breaking. “I just know something’s wrong, Max.”
He must have heard the agony in my voice. “I’ll go find Becca. We’ll call you in a sec.” Then he hung up.
I wasn’t waiting for Becca to call me.
The drive to Becca’s house should have taken me at least forty minutes, but I made it there in twenty, heart near stopping when I pulled up behind Ivy’s Camry.
I put my truck in park and flew out of the driver’s seat, running up to the front door. I pounded my fist on it like my life depended on it.
I stood there, breathing in and out of my nose, trying to prepare for the worst. When the door finally opened after what felt like a lifetime, my heart dropped.
Immediately, I knew something wasn’t right. Ivy looked normal but the way she pulled back into her body, wrapping her hands around her torso, shoulders slumped… I knew.
“Ivy?” I asked, grabbing her chin and directing it up towards my face.
She swallowed loudly, looking anywhere but in my eyes. I studied her, observing the way her eyes were puffy and her usual mascara long-gone.
“Ivy, what’s wrong? Is it Mia?”
Her pale lip trembled and fear shot through me, but then she shook her head no.