I Wore My Cream Sweater While She Told My Dad I Stole Fifty Dollars...

We didn't move right away. The living room felt stuck after Marcus and Tara had looked through everything. The couch cushions were still pushed to the side and the coffee table was clear where Tara's purse had been opened and closed. I could hear the air conditioning humming through the vents and nothing else for a few seconds.

Marcus stood near the hallway with his hands on his hips. He wasn't looking at either of us. He was breathing slow and even, and I watched his chest rise and fall. His silver watch ticked. I didn't know watches ticked that loud until the house got that quiet. Tara had her phone in her hand and her thumb kept lighting up the screen, then letting it go dark again. She didn't say anything. She just checked it like she was checking the time.

I pulled at the bottom of my sweater. The cream knit was warm around my wrists and I kept rubbing the ribbed cuff between my fingers. I tucked a loose curl behind my ear and then let my hands drop and then picked at the sweater again. My mouth was dry. I wanted to say something but I didn't know what would help, so I stayed where I was by the staircase and tried to keep my breathing steady.

After a minute Marcus exhaled through his nose.

"Alright," he said. His voice was low. "We looked where you said you left it. We looked everywhere someone would actually hide something quick. It's not in this room."

Tara crossed her arms. Her phone was still in her hand. "So that tells you something."

"It tells me it's not there," Marcus said. He glanced at me, then back at her. "Cash moves, Tara. You know that. You set your purse down, you take stuff out on the counter, you go out to the car. It migrates."

I didn't understand what he meant at first, then I did. He wasn't talking about someone stealing. He was talking about how money just ends up somewhere else because you were holding it.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I want to check the places it would be if it just fell out or got set down somewhere without thinking. Kitchen counter. Center console in the car. Jackets by the door. The entry closet where we toss stuff when we come in."

Tara's mouth tightened. She looked toward the front of the house where the entryway was. The hardwood ran all the way to the door and I could see the edge of the shoe mat and the closet with the slatted doors.

"That's a lot of looking for fifty dollars that was in my purse," she said.

"I know," Marcus said. "But if we're going to be fair about it, we look everywhere. Not just one backpack."

That made my stomach drop a little. I looked at Tara. She was already looking at me.

She said, "We haven't really checked her bag right. Not since the beginning." She turned her phone over in her hand. "If we're widening the search, we start there again. Just to be thorough."

Marcus looked at me. His expression didn't change, but his eyes softened.

"Maya," he said, "is that okay with you? To look in your backpack one more time so no one can say we skipped it?"

I nodded. My throat felt tight. "It's by the door."

We all moved toward the entryway. The light changed there, brighter by the sidelight next to the front door. The air felt cooler. My backpack was dark blue and it was slumped against the wall under the row of hooks where the jackets hung. Marcus crouched down and picked it up. He unzipped the main pocket slowly so I could see.

He tipped it forward. My math folder, my library book, a zip pouch with pencils, a hair tie. He took each thing out and set it on the mat. He ran his hand along the bottom of the bag and inside the small front pocket. Nothing but crumbs and a receipt from the school cafeteria.

Tara stepped closer and peered over his shoulder. "Check the side pocket."

Marcus did. He pulled the side pocket open. A water bottle. Empty. He held the backpack open toward her.

"Clear," he said. He didn't say it mean. He just said it plain.

He zipped everything back up and set the bag exactly where it had been. He looked at Tara.

"Now we do the rest like I said," he said. "Counter, console, closet. Together. So we all see."

Tara hesitated. She put her phone in her pocket. "Fine," she said. "But if it's not in the car, then what?"

"Then we keep looking where it actually lives," Marcus said. He put his hand lightly on my shoulder. His palm was warm through my sweater. "And we don't put it back on Maya."

He reached for the closet handle and the front door at the same time, like he hadn't decided which to open first. Outside through the glass, the driveway was bright and I could see the front of his car parked in the sun. The air from the door crack made the pendant light in the hallway sway just a little.