Chapter 7I held the phone up, my fingers hovering just above the numbers. Again, I was about to speak with my brother, and again my stomach got all twisted up, pretzel-tight. Like I just drank sour milk and had nowhere to spit it out. This wasn’t how I wanted to do it, to meet him, but I had little choice in the matter; he was in trouble, by all accounts, and I had to do something. So I dialed. It rang. It picked up. My heart stopped.
Only, no one was there.
Sort of.
“What?” whispered Zeb. “Why aren’t you talking to him?”
I held the phone to his ear. “Someone picked up but didn’t say hello or anything. Sounds like a conversation’s happening on the other end.”
We both held our ears up close now, our heads side by side. This is what we heard, muffled as it might have been:
“Does he kno
