"What do you mean he didn't go back home last night?" Vee asks, incredulous. We're sitting in the cafeteria, drinking crappy coffee out of Styrofoam cups.
"Exactly that." I tell her. "He called Aunt Sugar yesterday and told her he was staying at some guy's house from the soccer team. I didn't say as much to Aunt Sugar, but I'm calling bullshit."
"Well, you should have said something to her!"
"You think?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, let me just call him and see if he's willing to pick up." I grab my phone and make the call. It takes a few rings, but his gruffy morning voice comes in loud and clear.
"What the fuck do you want, John?"
"What do you think, you cracker-head? I want to know where the fuck you're hiding."
"Well, that's none of your fucking business."
"Oh, come on. Get serious. Are we going to do this forever?" I slump back in my chair, and Vee gives me a questioning look.
"Oh-ho-ho... this is rich. John Foster, aka the biggest liar in Celadon Bay, is telling ME to get serious."
So much for Martin not holding onto a grudge, I guess.
"But okay," Martin goes on. "Since you're so interested, maybe you can go and ask some of my friends where I'm... Oh, wait. I forgot I have no fucking friends."
I exhale slowly. "Really? Are you gonna hold that against me forever?"
"No. I'm just fucking teasing your sorry ass," he says, holding in a laugh. "I'm home, by the way. I went to a massive soccer team party last night and it was a fucking blast. So, I would really appreciate it if you just quit yapping and let me get some much-needed sleep."
"When did you get home? You certainly weren't around when I woke up."
Vee is quick to catch up on the conversation, even though she's only listening to my half of it. "Tell him I want proof that he's home and safe," she whispers.
"I heard that," Martin says, "and tell your so-beautiful girlfriend she can kiss my ass."
"He says you can kiss his ass," I say.
"Put him on speaker."
I quickly oblige.
"You, little bag of crap," Vee shouts. "You can come kiss my butt instead."
"Like I'm interested in kissing your skinny ass," Martin chides.
"Hey!" I cry back. "It isn't skinny! And stop talking about my girlfriend's butt. I'm right here, you know!"
"John!" Vee says, blushing.
"What?!" I say. "I love your butt. It's round and perfectly soft."
She rolls her eyes. "Can we stop talking about my butt already?"
I take Martin off the speaker. "There, you've succeeded in embarrassing the girl."
"You should eat some more junk, Vee!"
"You're off the speaker now," I remind him.
"Oh. Okay. So, listen up. You don't have to speak. Just listen." There's a pause in the line. "You might be aware that I lied to Vee yesterday. The whole "going to camp" thing. That comes with a slight price, let me tell you."
I should have known there'd be an emotional price tag. "What kind of price?"
"I did tell you to shut up before you screw your own lies." He's dead serious now, which I don't like one bit. "I told her we're going camping on Saturday morning. So, if you want to spend your last day in Celadon Bay with your skinny-ass girlfriend, you better be straight with her. Otherwise, go ahead and enjoy your last two days of romance and giddiness, which by the way, are ticking away as we speak."
And then he hangs on me. I put my phone down on the table and give Veronica my best smile. It's whatever is left of today and tomorrow, and then it's over unless I can conquer my fear of facing the music.
Vee's phone buzzes as I let all of this sink in. Crap. I've got less than two days.
"Oh, God. He's such a pig!"
"What?" I say, confused.
Vee holds up her phone, and there he is—a picture of Martin, sprawled out on his bed at home, holding his junk over his boxers.
But I can't laugh; I just don't have the energy.