I shook my head once. “Nope.”
His fingers found mine under the table. His green eyes were rimmed with red as he stared into mine. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “We’re going to figure this out.”
My throat squeezed closed and fresh tears stung my eyes. All around me there was laughter and conversation and the clatter of silverware against ceramic plates. Some guy at the next table laughed so hard, apple juice came spurting out his nose. But I barely saw or heard any of it.
“How?” I asked.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” Josh said, releasing my hand and sitting back in his chair. “We need to start by making a lis
t of her enemies. And yours.”
“My enemies?” I asked, the words crackling over my tongue. “Why mine?”
“Because,” Josh said, like it was so obvious, “they may have taken her, but they’re torturing you. Whoever did this either hates Noelle, or you, or both of you.”
I swallowed hard and sat back in my chair, slumping until the base of my skull rested on the top of the chair back. “Could be a long list.”
Josh smirked and reached for his coffee, glancing around surreptitiously. “You should sit up.”
“Why?” I snapped unnecessarily. Josh, however, either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Because whoever did this might be watching you right now,” he said, hiding his lips behind his coffee cup. “We don’t want them to know that I know what’s going on. And you also don’t want to look all desperate.”
An incredible, sweet warmth filled my chest, like someone was baking fresh cinnamon rolls in there. Thank heaven for Josh. At least he was thinking clearly. I pushed my exhausted body up until I was seated on the edge of my chair.
“I don’t know what I would do if you hadn’t been there when I got that text,” I said under my breath. I pushed my spoon into my cereal, making a show of being normal. “I don’t think I could do this alone.”
“You’re never alone,” Josh replied firmly. “Not anymore.”
“Thanks,” I said, my voice thick.
“So?” Josh prompted, taking a sip of his coffee and placing the cup down. He folded his arms on the table and glanced around. “Who are your prime suspects?”
He had a smile on his face for show, and looked for all the world as if he really could be discussing the dance.
“Well, there’s the reject table,” I said, tilting my head slightly toward the center of the room. Missy Thurber, Constance Talbot, and London Simmons—the three former Billings residents who hadn’t made the cut into the Billings Literary Society—all sat at their usual table, and they were all casting deadly glares at me as always. Josh whistled quietly.
“Wow. That last evil stare glanced off you and hit me,” he joked, shifting in his seat. “But what do you mean, the reject table? Since when are those guys rejects? I mean, I know Missy isn’t your favorite person, but I thought you and Constance were all buddy-buddy, at least.”
My heart skipped ten thousand beats. Josh didn’t know about the Billings Literary Society. It was, after all, a secret. But almost all my prime suspects, as he called them, were somehow related to the BLS. If he was going to help me find Noelle, he had to know. Not everything, but at least the basics.
I took a deep breath and sat forward. “I kind of started a secret society,” I whispered.
“What?!” Josh blurted.
Half the dining hall went silent and turned to stare. Josh’s face turned bright red and he leaned forward, so close our foreheads almost touched.
“What?” he hissed quietly.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “But basically, there are only eleven members, so some of my friends”—I pronounced the last word through my teeth as I cast my glance toward the reject table—“didn’t get in.”
“Whoa.”
Josh picked up a doughnut, and took a big bite. “That’s a motive.”
“Kind of, yeah,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip.
“You are going to tell me more about this later,” he said, powdered sugar clinging to his lips.