Mila Santos Is (Not) Dead

vii: jackrabbit staring down the muzzle of a coyote

AS MALACHI WAITED for Reza to pack, he called the phone number written on the crumpled-up piece of paper he found in Mila's room.

"Who is this?"

The voice was feminine with a faint accent Malachi couldn't place.

"Is this Peggy Zhào?" Malachi asked.

"Who is this?" she repeated. "You're not a cop, are you?"

"No! My name's Malachi. My best friend's missing. I found this number in her drawer. I wanted to call and see—"

"If you're suggesting I had anything to do with it, you need to contact my lawyer."

"I'm not. I wanted to call and see if you knew anything about her or her disappearance that might help us find her."

"Christ. What's your friend's name?"

"Camila Santos. She went by Mila."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"She might have said her name was Sofía. Sofía Torres."

"Sofía Torres," Peggy repeated with a sigh to rival Malachi's. "Shit."

"You knew her?"

"She trained with me." Trained? Malachi thought. What is this, District Twelve?

"I know it's late, but would you mind meeting up to chat? It's kind of an emergency."

"Meet me at Fort Greene in twenty minutes."

She hung up. Malachi looked at Reza's closed door. He better hurry up.

***

THEIR TROOP HAD ONE RULE: each day they had a meeting, they all met up in the big kickball field to play together during recess.

After lunch, Malachi and Drew buried their lunch boxes in their cubbies and bundled up in their heavy winter gear. It was cold enough for ice to form on the blacktop from the morning's sleety rain, but not cold enough for indoor recess. They trudged outside with the other mess of kids heading out onto the school yard and carefully made their way over the blacktop to the kickball field. Several games of tag were already in the works. A group of girls huddled in a circle whispering over their shoulders. The self-proclaimed "dancers" did cartwheels on the frozen grass, which crunched beneath Malachi's boots. He and Drew stood and waited for the rest of the troop to arrive.

They never did.

After a while, they went off to find them. They must have gotten there before them and already ran off to play. They passed the groups on the kickball field, a couple games of foursquare and basketball on the blacktop, and the popular kids who hung out near the woods. They saw none of the other boys. They headed over to the playground, where they finally spotted the rest of the troop climbing on top of a tall, spidery jungle gym known as the Back Breaker because a girl had fallen off and broke her back a couple years ago. One of the boys—Little Jake—looked over his shoulder, made eye contact with Drew, and yelled to the others. They all dropped to the mulch from the Back Breaker aside from Carter, who was at the top and had to climb down. They scattered.

Drew's lips split into a huge grin. He aimed himself after Big Jake and sprinted after him. Malachi followed behind at a jog, not wanting to spend his recess on the run. Big Jake weaved in and out of the groups of kids and random games, managing not to slip on the blacktop as he dashed across it. As Malachi and Drew slowed to avoid falling, they lost sight of him. They searched the kickball field for the others before giving up and heading back to the playground.