need to know that, though.
“My dad wouldn’t let me and my sisters take driver’s ed until we learned. It took me a month but whatever.” He pulls on a latch in the trunk I didn’t even know was there and slides away part of the floor to reveal a tire beneath. “Oh wow, it’s even regular size. Old cars are the best.”
Knox changes the tire, so slowly and painstakingly that I debate sneaking upstairs to charge my phone so I can call Mom and plead for an assist from AAA, but eventually he finishes. “You still need a new tire, but this will get you to a repair shop,” Knox says. It’s kind of cute how nonchalant he’s trying to sound when he’s obviously proud of himself.
“Thanks so much,” Emma says with genuine warmth in her voice. “You’re the best.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Knox says as we walk to the elevator. “You guys have been carting me all over town.”
“Well, you’re injured,” I say, pressing the Up button.
“Nah, I’m fine now. Doctors gave me a clean bill of health at my last checkup,” Knox says, leaning against the wall while we wait. His bruises look worse under the harsh fluorescent light of the garage. “Anyway, according to my dad it serves me right.”
Emma gasps as the doors open and we step inside. “What?”
Knox instantly looks regretful. “That came out wrong. Those aren’t his exact words or anything. He’s just mad that I tried to cut through the construction site.”
I frown. “He should be glad you’re alive. Mr. Weber would trade places with him in a heartbeat.” Brandon’s father has been on every major San Diego news channel recently, threatening to sue the mall, the bankrupt construction company that started the parking garage, and the entire town of Bayview. “Did you catch him with Liz Rosen last night?”
“Yeah. He was really ranting,” Knox says. The elevator stops on our floor and we all step into the hallway, which smells faintly of caramel and vanilla. Addy must be making cookies again. “I guess you can’t blame him, though. I mean, that construction site is a hazard. My dad’s been saying so for months. Plus Brandon’s an only child, so it’s like their whole family is gone all of a sudden. You know?”
“I know,” I say with a pang of sadness.
Emma’s been quiet since we got off the elevator. When we get into the apartment she mutters a muted “Gotta study” and heads for our bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
Knox holds up his hands, streaked black from tire grease. “Where can I wash these?”
I lead him to the kitchen sink and turn on the faucet, pouring dish detergent into his outstretched palms. “I like your place,” he says, gazing at the large windows and exposed brick.
“It’s all right,” I say grudgingly. And it is—for a hip young couple with no kids. I’ll bet Knox wouldn’t find it so charming if he tried to squeeze his entire family inside, though. “Do you want something to drink? I’m getting a ginger ale. Owen won’t be home for another ten minutes or so.”
“Yeah, that’s great. Thanks.” Knox dries his hands on a dish towel and perches on one of our kitchen island stools while I grab a couple of glasses. It occurs to me, suddenly, that Knox is the only guy from Bayview High who’s ever been in this apartment besides Brandon. I don’t invite a lot of people over, especially not boys. And of course, I hadn’t invited Brandon.
But he came anyway.
“You okay?” Knox asks, and I realize I’ve been frozen in place holding two glasses for I have no idea how long. I give myself a little shake and put them on the island.
“Yeah, sorry. I just—zone out sometimes lately. You know?”
“I know,” Knox says as I pull a bottle of ginger ale out of the refrigerator. “Last night there were blueprints all over our kitchen table and I almost had a heart attack when I realized they were from the parking garage site. My dad’s been helping investigators piece things together. They’re trying to understand why the roof collapsed on Brandon and nobody else. People have been taking that shortcut for months.”
I pour us both a half glass of ginger ale, letting it fizz to the top and then recede before I pour some more. “Well, Brandon is—he was—a lot bigger than most kids at school.”
“Yeah, but the landing should’ve been engineered to bear more weight than