I know where you keep your stuff. Meet me at the Roller Rink on Sunday the 13th at 10:00 pm to discuss my share of the profit. If you miss it, I'll tell everything to Jodi.

I knew it. I know where you keep your stuff. Casper was involved in something shady, illegal, potentially very immoral. I needed to hear him deny it and call me crazy. If he did that now that I had the evidence, I would feel at peace with myself abandoning him to his fate.

I gave the phone to the girl and left her room without saying anything.

Casper was in the kitchen, messing around with the knobs on his new oven. The oven he bought with the money from the stuff.

What are we talking about? Drugs? Weapons? Human organs? I don't know, Cas, give me a clue.

"Everything okay?" He asked, noticing that I had been staring at him for a while without saying anything.

Everything's stellar. Wonderful. You're a bastard and I knew it.

On the table attached to the kitchen, my backpack vibrated with a sharp ringtone. I accepted the distraction and retrieved my phone, bringing it to my ear to listen to the voice assistant reading the message.

Message from Dotty: Where are you?

"Oh, shit." I swiped my thumb twice upwards, and the voice assistant read: It's 12:23. The temperature... "Shit! Today is Tuesday! I start my internship at noon, I thought I still had time."

"You're already late," Cas replied nonchalantly. "Say you're not going today and stop by to eat here. They don't even pay you."

Stop by to eat here. Sure. Maybe I'll even take a shower and lie on the couch to watch TV.

No, I had no intention of getting comfortable.

I had already wasted too much time on this nonsense. I even skipped Mr. Marshall's history class. And who knows if that poor old man would make it to next Tuesday's class.

"One moment. Today is Tuesday, the fifteenth."

"Your sudden eurekas are becoming less impressive, you know, Ben?"

Carli said she heard the dog barking at one in the morning on Monday the fourteenth.

Meet me at the Roller Rink on Sunday the 13th at 10:00 pm to discuss my cut of the profit.

When the sender delivered the letter, hadn't the meeting time already passed?

I felt a thrill of excitement at that inconsistency. I needed to know more. What the hell was the stuff, where was the Roller Rink, and who the hell was Jodi? But above all, why did the letter arrive after 10:00 pm?

Maybe I had missed something?

Or someone was pulling my leg.

"Hey, Siri, send a message to Dotty: I can't come today."

Cas stopped tinkering with his trays. "Are you staying for lunch?" He seemed surprised. Rather, cautious.

It was time to distract him from his eternal caution.

"If you make me something good..." I blinked, smiled, I was super innocent.

Cas sighed, resuming with the clatter of pots. "You're a wolf in sheep's clothing. I don't know what you're up to, but try not to hurt me too much."

I approached the kitchen counter and leaned my elbows against it to admire his work.

"Later you'll meet up with your baby gang, right? If you're not planning on mugging old ladies, I'd like to join the meeting."

I expected the thick silence that fell in response to my offer. "What's up? I just want to get to know your friends."

"We both know you don't give a damn about meeting my friends. What are you plotting?"

I shrugged. "You asked me to investigate. I'm investigating."

"About the sender of the letter. Not about my guys."

"I need to ask your guys some questions. I promise I won't eat them."

Cas muttered something under his breath, then said, "It's not your kind of gathering."

My kind of gathering... "What do you mean? Were you really planning on mugging old ladies?"

I was pretty sure he was giving me a dirty look, but I wasn't certain; my eyes were shaking too much to distinguish his expressions.

"It's just a party. We hang out behind the old dump and drink beer. Are you going to report us for a couple of beers?"

There was something much bigger going on than a couple of beers. And I would find out what.

"Sounds fun. Can't wait."

Cas didn't reply. He oozed discontent from every pore, but he didn't try to deny me access to his pajama party, probably because he knew he couldn't deny me anything.

The clinking of a plate caught my attention.

"What's that?" I asked, a bit to him, a bit to the green/yellow shape emitting a good smell under my nose.

"Vegetable soufflé," Cas replied, tapping the fork handle against my hand.

I grabbed the utensil, and instead of preparing a plate for himself, Casper circled the kitchen to head towards the couch.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sleeping. You do whatever you want, the gathering is at 9 pm," he replied as he grabbed his mother by the arm and made her get up. The woman let herself be pulled quietly, swaying just a little, then following her son into the hallway.

From what I imagined was the master bedroom, Cas shouted, "Food!" And at his call, Carli yelled back, "I'm not hungry!"

"Whatever." Cas and his grumbling returned to the living room and collapsed onto the couch.

He was as comfortable as a phoenix in a canary cage.

I started nibbling on my soufflé. It was good. Cas was good. He was smart. And strong. It would only take a bit of willingness on his part to find a real job. But no.

He preferred to stay stuck here, writhing on the couch like a piece of meat on a skewer, trying to find a vaguely comfortable position.

By the time I finished my lunch, Cas was already softly snoring. The life of an unemployed biker must be very hard.

I put the plate and fork in the sink. I debated whether it was worth it to look for sponge and soap to wash what I had dirtied, but I decided to be sufficiently angry with Casper to allow myself to be a rude guest.

Carli marched quickly into the living room shortly after. I thought she would snatch some of the soufflé, but when she passed by it, she didn't even look at it.

"Hey, where are you going?" I asked when I saw her heading for the front door.

"Outside," she replied, as if I had just asked a stupid question.

Any other protest from me was drowned out by the slamming door.

Cas continued to sleep.

Oh, Carli... If I told my mother how neglected that girl was, the poor thing wouldn't be able to sleep at night out of worry.

I remembered the first time I met her, she was only three years old. As soon as she saw Casper sitting on the rug in my living room, she ran towards him and squeezed him as if he were a plush toy. Mom screamed in fear, Cas was still wrapped in bandages, he had just been discharged; yet he hadn't flinched at that violent grip.

I had always been so envious of what they had.

Without knowing why, I approached the couch. Cas' supine figure, eyes closed, arms crossed over a chest that rose slightly. They drew me in.

Slowly, I crouched down on the cold floor. I raised a hand.

I probably shouldn't do this.

I felt the tips of the hair on my fingertip.

I remembered how it made me feel to hold his face in my palm.