The Disappearance of Emily H. Read online

  “Thanks,” Shirlee and I say simultaneously.

  I sip hot chocolate, then lick off my mustache. “It’s nice here. Kind of homey, in an elderly way.”

  “Why don’t you go to the principal? Tell him what the girls did to you?” With a plastic spoon, Shirlee shaves off strips of whipped cream and eats them.

  “No,” I say. “Things would only get worse if I did that.”

  “I guess they did a good job setting you up.”

  I dunk a cookie. More like I did a good job setting myself up. Not that I’m willing to share that thought with Shirlee.

  “I had an interesting horoscope. You did, too.” Shirlee scrapes off more whipped cream. “And they made me wonder: Could we take her down?”

  “You mean make life miserable for Jennifer to the point she leaves us alone? And whoever else she’s picking on?” Half my cookie crumbles into my mug.

  “Exactly.” She leans forward, waiting for my answer.

  “I’ve never seen it done. I’ve seen girls ignore the mean girl and sometimes mouth off to her. Over time, it helped.” I fish out bits of soggy cookie with a spoon. “But to actually take the mean girl down? That could really explode in your face.”

  My mom and I spend the rest of the evening like two cats, prowling around silently, careful not to cross paths. When she’s watching TV in the living room, I hit up the kitchen for food. When I’m in the shower, she grabs something to eat.

  She goes to work Tuesday. I call the absence line, fake my mom’s voice, then skip school and watch TV all day in my pajamas. Late in the afternoon, I finally drag myself to the shower and try to scrub off the tattoo. I doubt Torie, Sydney, and Willow want me in the henna tattoo gang anymore. Well, maybe Willow does. She’s so nice, she probably doesn’t even kill flies or mosquitoes or cockroaches.

  Later that night, when I’m already in bed but not asleep, Mom pushes open the door to my room and tiptoes to the middle. She stands in a moonbeam, surrounded by pearly light.

  “Raine, you don’t want to be like me.” Her voice is sad. “Running away every time life gets tricky.”

  I sit up, my legs dangling over the edge of the frame.

  “It’s too bad your grandmother died. Your life would’ve been a lot better, a lot more stable, I guess.” She stands there quietly, her arms hanging limply at her sides. “Look, I didn’t realize until this weekend what I was doing. What kind of role model I’ve been.” She closes her eyes briefly. “It’s not okay to take off every time life gets rough.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She straightens her shoulders. “We’re doing it the right way this time. We’re staying in Yielding. We’ll handle whatever it was that happened at school.”

  “And when something goes wrong with your next boyfriend?” I ask. “What are we doing then?”

  “We’ll stay.” She blows out a breath. “For the first time in my life, I won’t run.”

  After she leaves, I lie on my side, watching the dust particles in the moonbeam. They float, sometimes colliding with each other, sometimes gliding past, sometimes switching directions and joining up with other particles. Whichever path they choose, the particles keep on floating. They’re like people, and the moonbeam is Yielding. One of these particles is me. One is Jennifer. One is Shirlee. One is Hugh. There used to be one named Emily.

  In the morning, I make another call to the absence line. Obviously I can’t skip school forever with bogus illnesses. But I’m not ready to go back yet.

  I head over to Grinders. Bert’s sitting at a table with a few of his cronies, watching bowling on TV. He leans on a cane to get upright and limps to the counter.

  “Same order?” he says. He doesn’t ask why I’m not in school. Maybe he doesn’t realize it’s a school day. Or maybe he thinks I’m homeschooled. Or maybe he knows that sometimes it’s safer to ditch.

  “Yeah.” I wait for him to make the hot chocolate and carry it over to the same booth Shirlee and I sat in before. I pull my laptop from its bag and power it on.

  Bert rejoins his buddies. While he was filling my order, one of the men changed the TV to The Price Is Right. Now they’re all calling out amounts and making fun of each other. From their comments, I can tell they’ve been friends for years and years. I’m a little jealous.

  Despite Mom’s brave speech, we won’t settle here. She’ll crack. The next loser just hasn’t shown up in her life yet. My mom’s got the moving gene. And she passed it on to me. Maybe taking off every time things go south isn’t the best strategy, but it’s our strategy. Besides, after the necklace incident, I don’t want to stay here. Or do I?

  Pulling up a satellite app, I scour the outskirts of Yielding. From the memory on Jennifer’s necklace, I know I’m looking for a hotel sign on Highway 20. I search for one within a two-mile radius of Jennifer’s house.

  The girls had to somehow get to the remote area, then get back to town, which is why I’m not checking too far out. Maybe an adult or older sibling drove them, but I doubt it. Probably only Jennifer, Alyssa, and Danielle know Emily made it to the sleepover and know about ditching her. A parent or sibling would’ve come forward and talked to the police.

  I’m coming up with nothing, so I broaden my search to three, then four, then as far away as five miles from Jennifer’s.

  Score. A Motel 6 sign on stilts towers over the side of a highway. When I zoom in, I find the wooden bridge the girls mentioned. The place looks deserted, with nothing but trees, bushes, rocks, and fallen leaves. And more trees. I map it from my house.

  I down my hot chocolate and carry the empty mug over to the plastic bucket for dirty dishes at the back of the room. After paying Bert, I head home to grab Levi.

  Together we jog the five miles to the motel sign. Next to it is a narrow, overgrown path. Tall trees stand guard over the area, letting in pointed slants of sunlight. The air is thick and humid with a woodsy, rotting smell. The only sounds are my heavy breathing, the tinkle of Levi’s metal tag against her collar, and our footsteps.

  The whole time we’re walking, I keep my eyes peeled for a sparkle. I see nothing, and my fingertips are completely calm and quiet.

  At the top of the steep hill, we reach a flat patch of dirt and the bridge. Two birds chirp from treetops, probably asking each other what we’re doing up here, in the middle of nowhere. There’s not a single sign of another human. I check my phone. No service.

  “Not to creep you out, Levi,” I say, “but if something happens to us, no one will ever know.” I shiver.

  We trudge through a carpet of dead leaves to the bridge. It’s a narrow suspension bridge with wooden planks and a thick rope on each side for railings, a little longer than a football field. Below the bridge? A deep ravine of sudden death.

  I picture my grandmother and how she’d gaze briefly across the room and lightly twitch her fingers, as if finding a memory took more than one sense.

  I stare across the bridge, keeping my eyes wide open, not blinking. I make my mind go blank. I thrust out my arms, letting my fingers dangle. I keep staring, staring until everything goes blurry: the bridge, the trees, the ground. My eyes water. And my fingertips barely begin to tingle; I feel just a few tiny pinpricks.

  I blink.

  The tingling disappears.

  I start over, forcing my eyes to stay open in this staring contest against no one. My fingers tingle. I keep looking at the bridge but not focusing.

  And then I see it.

  An actual sparkle twinkles on the rope railing at about the halfway point. It’s huge, about the size of my head and halogen bright. I can’t believe it was ever invisible.

  Someone, maybe Emily, walked out there and left behind a memory.

  I step onto the first plank, arms outstretched, each hand grasping a rope.

  Levi whines at me.

  “Quiet, Levi,” I snap, nervous and edgy.

  She makes a couple more unhappy noises, then lies down, drops her chin to her paws, and fixes her eyes on me. The
birds stop chattering.

  In the eerie quiet, I set out across the bridge, toward the sparkle. When I’m about a third of the way, I stupidly look down and am instantly nauseous. I grip the rope so hard, my knuckles bulge.

  The bridge is in bad shape. It’s not totally dangerous, but I have to be careful. The rope’s fraying in places. Some of the planks are starting to disintegrate. In fact, the plank right in front of me dangles like a loose tooth. I step gingerly over the gap. If it gets any worse, I’m turning back. I want the sparkle, but I’m not giving up my life for it.

  I get into a rhythm: Slide right hand. Slide left hand. Shuffle right foot forward. Shuffle left foot forward. Don’t look down. Repeat.

  My hands are slick and sweaty, and my muscles are taut. But I’m making progress. Slowly. The sparkle twinkles at me like an expensive, exotic prize.

  Suddenly a breeze kicks up. It swoops down the ravine with a vicious whoosh. The bridge rocks. The wood creaks like it’s in pain. I scream, hanging on tight to the rope. I can’t go forward. I can’t go backward. I just hang on.

  Levi barks from solid ground.

  Just as suddenly as it arrived, the wind disappears. In the distance, I see it ruffling treetops, moving farther and farther away. The bridge slows, swinging gently, then coming to a standstill.

  The sparkle shines from a few planks away.

  I look over my shoulder, at the safe, solid ground where Levi gazes steadily at me.

  I look at the sparkle.

  It glints, bright and white, beckoning me, showing me where the memory is.

  I’m going for it.

  A step. Another step. I reach for it, stretching my arm out straight, locking my elbow. I grab and close my eyes.

  A wedge of light from the moon slices through the dark night.

  “Emily. What are you doing?” Danielle calls from the flat dirt area, panic in her voice. She lays her bike on the ground and stands, hands on hips. “It’s not safe up there.”

  “Leave me alone!” Emily yells from the middle of the bridge.

  “We came back for you,” Alyssa says. “Just like we planned to.”

  “Get off the bridge, Emily,” Danielle says.

  Jennifer comes into view, wheeling a bike over the crest of the hill.

  “See, Emily?” Danielle says. “Jennifer has your bike.”

  “Come down and ride back with us,” Alyssa calls.

  “What’s her problem?” Jennifer jerks her head toward Emily.

  “I don’t know.” Danielle’s twisting a strand of hair. “I’m scared she’s going to jump.”

  “She’s not going to jump,” Jennifer says. “She just wants attention.”

  Alyssa frowns. “I don’t know….”

  “Emily, you’re freaking us out,” Danielle says. “Get down.”

  “You can pick the movie,” Alyssa says.

  “Leave me alone,” Emily says. “Leave me alone. Leave me alone.”

  “She wants us to go. Let’s go.” Jennifer drops Emily’s bike on the ground. “She can find her way home.”

  Danielle’s twisting more strands of hair.

  “You think we should leave her?” Alyssa says uncertainly.

  Emily starts calling the girls names and yelling about how stupid they are. How she’ll never do their homework again. And then teachers will see what idiots they really are. How they’re superficial and mean.

  Jennifer’s face goes from annoyed to white with rage. She gestures rudely at Emily.

  “You’re so predictable, Jennifer. Let’s see how you deal with this,” Emily says to herself. Then she takes a deep breath, puffing up her chest with air, and begins to scream. Loud, high-pitched, and earsplitting.

  The girls cover their ears.

  When she stops, Danielle opens her mouth. “Em—”

  Emily screams again.

  Each time one of the girls starts to say something, Emily cuts her off with a scream.

  Jennifer jerks the bike up from the ground and drags it to the edge of the ravine. “Shut up and get down or I’m throwing your bike over!” she yells to Emily. “And you can walk home by yourself in the dark.”

  “Don’t, Jennifer,” Danielle begs.

  Alyssa sticks out an arm, her palm flat like a stop sign.

  “Michael thinks you’re pathetic, Jennifer,” Emily says.

  Jennifer gives the bike a rough shove.

  There’s silence except for the bike tumbling and toppling, crashing through bushes, smashing against rocks. It stops with a bleat of its horn, small and tinny and far, far below.

  Emily screams, loud and long.

  With a large arm movement, Jennifer waves to Alyssa and Danielle. Jennifer walks over the hill. Alyssa and Danielle climb onto their bikes and ride after her, the dim lights from their bikes bouncing on the uneven ground. The three girls disappear from view.

  Emily screams a little longer, then suddenly stops. She tilts her head, listening, then gives one last short scream. She plops down on the bridge and pulls a water bottle from a small backpack she’s wearing and gulps. She returns the water to the backpack and takes out a headlamp, which she straps on.

  A satisfied look on her face, Emily stands and begins making her way across the bridge. Once on flat ground, she climbs a few feet into the ravine and pulls Tasha’s bike and purple helmet from behind a bush.

  —

  I talk to Levi on the way home, trying to get straight what I just saw. “Jennifer, Alyssa, and Danielle can’t stand Emily. Plus, Jennifer somehow thinks Emily’s interested in Michael. They decide to prank her. At night, all four of them ride their bikes to the bridge area. The girls hide Emily’s bike and pretend to ride off. Emily goes out on the bridge and won’t get off even when they return with her bike. Jennifer loses it and pushes Emily’s bike into the ravine.”

  Levi stops to pee, and I wait for her.

  “Okay, but here’s where it gets weird,” I say when we start walking again. “Emily pulled out Tasha’s bike from behind a bush. Where she must have hidden it earlier, maybe like the day before or something. So Emily knew about the girls’ plan. She wasn’t ever going to jump to her death. She went out on the bridge and basically started screaming and insulting Jennifer, Alyssa, and Danielle, annoying them on purpose.”

  I throw the stick, and Levi bounds into the woods to retrieve it.

  “The last time those girls saw Emily, she was acting like a total wack job on a bridge. For all they know, she did jump, and they didn’t tell anybody. They let the police start their investigation in the wrong place.” I throw the stick again.

  Levi brings back the stick, and we walk along the highway’s soft shoulder.

  “You know what?” I say slowly. “Emily set that whole thing up. She wanted Jennifer to shove her bike over the edge. She went out of her way to push Jennifer’s buttons.” I pause, thinking. “Emily didn’t want the girls to know what happened to her.”

  But why did Emily fake her own disappearance?

  And where is she now?

  The school attendance clerk calls the next morning while my mom’s in the shower. Apparently, there’s a problem with the phone-in line, and I’ve been marked truant for the last two days. I tell her I had the flu and will be at school today.

  Between second and third period, Jennifer, Alyssa, and Danielle find me. They circle around me, flapping their arms and fluttering their hands.

  Jennifer reaches out and pretends to pluck something from my shoulder.

  I’m trapped as they flit about, imitating me. My face grows warm, and my muscles tense.

  “Look at me.” Jennifer dances by me. “I’m a butterfly. A butterfly thief. A KleptoRainia.”

  It doesn’t even make sense. Jennifer’s such a moron.

  The other two girls laugh at Jennifer’s stupid comments.

  Why are teachers and hall monitors never around when you need them?

  Alyssa waves her hands close to my face. “What do you think of my sweater, Raine? Like
it? Gonna steal it?” she says in a singsong voice.

  “How about my phone?” Jennifer joins in. “Gonna steal that, too?”

  I’m waiting for Danielle to take a turn when suddenly the fire alarm goes off, a loud, nonstop ringing.

  The hall immediately fills with students swarming toward the exits.

  “See you later, girlfriend,” Jennifer says with a sickly sweet smile.

  Alyssa and Danielle wave.

  Then I’m swept along with the crowd and out through the double doors. The front lawn is jammed with students and teachers. My fingers are tingling as if I stuck them wet into an electrical outlet. There must be scads of sparkles around, but I’m only seeing a few. I shove my hands deep in my jean pockets.

  Outside, Torie, Willow, Sydney, and a few other cross-country runners call me over to where they’re standing by the flagpole.

  “You okay?” Willow asks, examining my face.

  “I’m fine.” There’s no point describing the whole dancing circle of embarrassment. I’ll be dealing with those girls for a while, a long while. I sigh.

  “One of the equipment sheds is totally in flames,” Torie says excitedly. “Started with black smoke, but now, wow.”

  “Which shed?” Willow asks.

  “The one next to the—”

  The whine of a fire truck siren cuts Torie off. Lights flashing, the truck speeds past the main entrance and turns into the drive that leads to the back of the school and the track.

  “Tennis courts,” Torie finishes.

  “Do you think it was set on purpose?” Willow asks. “We’ve had a lot of fires around Yielding lately.”

  “My dad says we need real firefighters,” another girl chimes in. “The volunteers can’t keep up.”

  Shirlee wanders over and stands next to me. “The sheds are locked at night. I guess this means he started the fire from outside.”

  “My sister could totally touch that up.” Torie grabs my hand with the tattoo and holds it next to hers.

  Willow and Sydney stretch out their arms to compare.

  “Yours really faded fast,” Sydney says to me.