Exile by Emerson Kevin

Author:Emerson, Kevin
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Katherine Tegen Books

ATN

No one comments, instead we just start scouring the map from three angles, looking for clues.

When I see one, I can’t help whispering: “There.”

Halfway down the first page, under the egg dishes, the “I” in “Spanish Omelette” is colored over, a blue indent.

“Here’s another one.” Randy points to the opposite page. The “B” in “Blintzes.”

“Here’s a ‘T’,” says Caleb.

“Do you think it’s a message?” says Randy.

Caleb and I don’t answer. We already know it is. Under the table, he squeezes my leg. There is so much energy vibrating around us right now, excitement, fear, potential, the protective cloak of a secret, all of that and then some.

We lean close, combing the menu. I get my phone out of my bag and open a notepad. We start from the “I” and call out letters, our fingers running over the plastic, feeling for indents like ancient runes.

“T.”

“S.”

“It’s . . . ?” I say.

More letters.

“A-l-l . . .”

“About . . .”

“The . . .”

“Vinyl.”

“Of course it is,” says Randy. To the air beside him: “Vinyl always sounds way better than CDs.” To the ceiling: “Not to mention freakin’ mp3s. Might as well flush your—”

“That can’t be it,” says Caleb. “It has to mean more.”

I hear the disappointment in his voice, and feel it too, like an adrenaline wave just broke inside me, and now there’s a mess of foam running this way and that. “Yeah. He wouldn’t send us here, to Vic, to this menu, just to make a vague reference, would he?”

“Unless he was high when he did it,” says Caleb.

That crossed my mind too, but I’m not giving up hope yet. “No, it’s got to be more specific.”

“I don’t get it. What were you guys expecting?” Randy asks.

“I don’t even know.” Caleb leans back and lets his head fall against the back of the booth.

“Eli was into collecting vinyl,” Randy muses. “Maybe he left his records for you? I don’t know what would have happened to them, though.”

I keep scouring the menu, but there’s nothing else there.

“Maybe we’ve been making this whole thing up,” says Caleb.

Vic returns with a large tray by his shoulder and starts laying out our food. He’s mostly just doing his work like normal, but at one point, he looks at Caleb, then over to me.

Something about his expression . . . and I find myself asking: “Is there anything else?” Maybe he knows what this is, what we’re missing.

He glances away from me for a second, almost like he’s looking at something behind me. Then back to the table. “Do you need a refill on the waters?” He asks like he has no idea.

“No.”

As he leaves, I glance over my shoulder but there’s nothing there except the blank tan wall and a black-and-white picture of an old actress.

Randy starts digging in. I lean back and join Caleb, shoulders touching, gazing up into the brilliant autumn leaves.

“This was dumb,” Caleb says quietly. “I didn’t even want him in my life in the first place.” He sounds so defeated.

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