Mila Santos Is (Not) Dead

iv: gut feeling

REZA DROPPED Malachi and Auntie Isabel off at her apartment. Cruz slept in his room, his babysitter Mrs. Voltolini snoozing on the couch, a football game on the TV. She snored loudly when they opened the door, then quickly gathered her things and left.

Auntie Isabel disappeared into her bedroom. Muffled sobs filtered out through the crack in the door. Malachi headed into the bathroom and changed into pajamas—flannel pants, some old t-shirt, and a pair of fuzzy socks—although sleep was the last thing from his mind. He just wanted to get comfortable. He was in this for the long haul.

Why should he be comfortable when Mila was missing?

The living room was stuffy, too stuffy. Malachi pulled at his t-shirt, hot and uncomfortable—like he couldn't breathe. He cracked the window and peered out at the brick apartment building across the street. The distant roar of traffic thrummed to life. Voices filtered in from the streets below. A far-off siren hummed. The noises made him twitchy, but it was better than the stuffiness.

He sat on the couch and opened his laptop, plugging his camera into it. As the recording loaded, his foot bounced up and down. God, it was noisy outside. Finally, the footage loaded. He opened it and watched the raw video over-and-over again until his eyes strained. Nothing new.

Malachi created a new folder on his laptop: MILA'S DISAPPEARANCE. He hoped it didn't sound suspicious. He saved the raw footage to a file titled CRIME SCENE.

The siren grew louder. Malachi shivered as the winter air swelled inside the apartment. He buried his head in his arms, got up, and slammed the window shut. The water turned on in Auntie Isabel's bathroom. Malachi rested his camera on the kitchen counter and sat on one of the stools. He clicked "record."

With the camera rolling and focused on him, he felt twice as shy as normal. Whatever he'd planned to say died on his tongue. Now that he'd closed the window, it was too hot in here, too stuffy again—he couldn't breathe. His face burned. He shifted on the stool and ran his hands through his hair, unsure what to do with his body, which felt too lanky, too bony.

He wasn't used to this side of the camera. He'd occasionally say something while he was filming or crack a joke, but he'd never once shown his face in a video. He was always the one filming Mila; not the other way around. He was like Freddie from iCarly, except more mysterious, which made it sexy.

He took a deep breath and looked at the wall above the camera. He tried picturing Mila, like he was talking to her. After all, this video was intended for one person and one person only: Mila.

But even when it was just the two of them, half the time he didn't know what to say. She was loud enough for both of them. Staying quiet was his default setting.

His lips parted. He tried speaking, but all he managed was a hopeless squeak. Leaving the camera running, he leapt from his seat and grabbed a skinny glass out of the cabinet, filling it with room temperature water from the Brita filter. He took a sip, steeling his nerves, and made his way back to his camera set-up.

His body ached for caffeine. The craving started in his throat and spread outward through his veins, making the blood pound in his head. He wanted to forget the video all together and hunt down a cup of iced coffee. But he didn't want to go out alone after dark. They didn't know what had happened to Mila. For all he knew, a serial killer was on the loose. He didn't want to leave the safety of the Santos' apartment. Plus, he knew if he got up, he'd never sit back down to finish this video.

And he needed to finish this video.

Malachi took a deep breath. "This video is going to be a little different." He shook his head. Cut that out. He wasn't a YouTuber making an apology video for tasteless "jokes." His best friend was missing. He tried again. "I have bad news." But it sounded cheap and vague. "I bet you're wondering why I'm on this side of the camera." No, too fun and perky. "This is difficult to film." Nope. Still sounded like an apology video.