Thicker Than Water

CHAPTER FIVE

"Oz, I need your help."

For the first time in my life, I was stunned silent.

I honestly had no idea what I was supposed to say to her. Hey, Macy, you've been missing for a week now, and everyone is freaking out—how are ya? You good? What's the weather like where you are? And, where exactly are you, you little monster?

I cleared my throat. "What can I do for you?"

Macy laughed shortly. "I know—I can't believe I'm calling you, either."

The "you" in that sentence was stressed, like, out of all the people in the world, I called you.

I went straight from feeling important to irritated in a second. "Alright, then. Why are you calling me?"

Macy sighed. "So much for having a pleasant conversation with an old friend, huh?"

"What do you want?" I asked, my chest pinching. I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder to make sure that no one had entered the house—or my room—while I wasn't paying attention. The last thing I needed was someone to catch me on the phone with Macy Stinson.

I didn't miss the irony of the moment. I'd been trying to convince everyone that I didn't know where Macy was for the past week, and now here she was, calling me.

"I told you," Macy grumbled. "I need your help."

"I got that," I ground out. What was wrong with this girl? "I meant what do you need my help with?" I paused, considering. "Also, where the fuck have you been?"

Macy didn't reply right away. I could hear a shuffling sound in the background.

"Well," she finally answered after what felt like an hour. "I can't tell you where I've been. That's a secret. But I think if you thought hard enough about it, you'd figure it out."

"Really, you're going to be coy? Fine," I snapped. "Then tell me where you are right now."

"Please refer to my earlier statement."

"Are you being serious right now? Am I getting Punk'd?" I glanced around my room. It didn't appear that there were any hidden cameras, but what did I know?

"Why would you think that?" Macy asked. Through the phone, I heard her groan. There was a clattering sound and then she grunted loudly. "Shit."

"Because you're missing, and everyone thinks I've got something to do with it, and now you're calling me like it's no big deal. It's just...weird." That was the understatement of the century.

"I don't have time to talk about all that. I told you before—I need your help."

"You know you're missing, right? Like police interrogation and national news coverage missing?"

"Seriously, Oz, can we focus for a second here?"

I sighed heavily. "Alright, I get it. What do you need my help with? And how many times am I going to have to ask before you actually answer me?"

Instead of answering my question—for some silly reason, I wasn't exactly surprised by this—she asked, "Have you noticed anything weird lately?"

"Um, besides an apparently missing girl being on the phone with me? No, not really."

"Oz," she snipped. "Please think about it for a second."

"Fine," I huffed.

If you didn't count the fact that I'd been accused of murdering a girl that was very clearly alive, my life was normal. Except...