“You know they’ll do something way worse to you when they find out that you didn’t let me see Leo,” I say. “I mean, it is a family emergency. And they are his friends, right?”

The kid looks up wide-eyed, then pissed off. He is in a lose-lose situation now and he knows it. Finally, he shrugs like he doesn’t even care anymore. Even though I can feel that he actually cares more than ever.

“Fine, but you only.” He points to Jasper, then to the wall some distance away. “He waits over there.”

I nod to Jasper before heading quickly back toward the glass-walled weight room, afraid the kid might change his mind. I practice what I plan to say to Leo again in my head. I need to find your girlfriend. Something has happened to her sister. And then he’ll have questions, no doubt. I’ll have to tell him the truth, no matter how unbelievable.

THROUGH THE GLASS window of the insanely huge weight room, I can see more than a dozen people—mostly bulky men, but a few women—making their way through reps on machines and with free weights.

When I finally step inside, the whole room does not screech to a halt like I’m afraid it will. No one even seems to notice me. I look around for someone who could be Leo, now wishing I’d stuck around Rachel’s long enough to find that computer cord and search up a picture or two of him. It had seemed so much more important to get out. And more important than ever not to use Jasper’s phone.

“Um, do any of you know where I can find Leo Berkowitz?” I call out.

No one even glances my way. I wonder if maybe I didn’t actually speak. Until I meet eyes with one guy in the far corner, who shakes his head at his lifting partner. When the partner turns, I see he has on a Harvard crew T-shirt. He is sinewy and tall, his dark hair buzzed so tight that it looks gray. And he just looks like an ass. Not Leo. At least I hope not. He is way too far away to get a read on.

“Come on.” A girl has appeared next to me. She is broad shouldered and tall, nearly six feet of pure muscle in her yellow shorts and neon-green sports bra. “Let’s go. Out.”

When I don’t move, she puts a hand on my back and shoves.

“Hey!” I snap back at her even as I try to keep my voice down. Starting a commotion could get the kid at the desk to come after me. “Don’t touch me.”

But when our eyes meet, I feel it. Clear as day. She is afraid: for me.