Want to Go Private? Page 13

  At first I was mad, like, why didn’t anyone tell me that Abby was staying after school and I’d be coming home to an empty house? It’s not like I need Abby there — I’m in seventh grade and I took the babysitting class so I can babysit little kids myself if I want. It’s just I like to know what’s what. I guess I’m like Dad that way.

  I got myself a snack and watched TV for a while, and then I sat at the kitchen table and started my homework. Mom called me at about five, to tell me she had to pick up a few things at the grocery store on the way home and she’d be home about a quarter to six.

  “Where’s Abby?” I asked her.

  “What do you mean?” Mom said.

  “She’s not home. Did she stay after school or something?”

  At first Mom was more mad than scared. “Well, she didn’t say anything to me about staying after school. And she’s supposed to be grounded.”

  “Well, she’s not here.”

  “I’ll call Mrs. Wilson on my way to the supermarket. Abby’s probably over there. And now she’s going to be even more grounded. I’ll see you later. Finish your homework!”

  She hung up and I went back to my homework, although I was doing it in front of the TV, something my parents consider a serious no-no. They don’t think I can do two things at once, but that’s just because they’re old and they don’t know how to multitask.

  Fifteen minutes later, Mom called back. She sounded kind of … stressed.

  “Lily, I keep calling Abby’s cell and it just goes straight to voice mail. And I called the Wilsons’ — Faith says she hasn’t seen Abby since the bus this morning. She wasn’t in gym class. Faith thought maybe Abby was at the nurse, so she didn’t think anything of it…. Oh, Lord, where has that girl got to? I’m going to kill her, I really am.”

  “Mom … do you think … Like, could someone have kidnapped her or something?”

  “I’m sure Abby is fine, honey. She’s just being irresponsible and forgot to call.” She said it like she was trying to convince herself as well as me. “I’ll be home in five minutes. Forget the groceries. See you soon.”

  I couldn’t concentrate on my homework after that. I kept imagining all the terrible things that could be happening to Abby. I’m not going to pretend that there haven’t been plenty of times that I’ve imagined doing some pretty awful things to Abby myself — but that’s because she’s such a weirdo and I wish she were more fun and normal like Jeanine’s sister. I mean, Mom’s probably right. I bet Abby’s just being an irresponsible jerk and is over at one of her weirdo friends’ houses. But what if she isn’t? The thought that she might be out there somewhere, who knows where, with some stranger who might —

  When I heard Mom’s car pull into the driveway, I unlocked the front door and threw myself into her arms, crying, before she even walked in the door. She hugged me, hard, and I felt her shoulders heave like she was crying, too, but when I lifted my head she was already pulling herself together into Take Charge Mom mode.

  “Come on, Lily. Calm down. I’m going to go inside and call the police. I called Dad and he’s going to wrap things up at the office and come home early.”

  That got me scared. Dad coming home early? They must have been more worried than Mom was letting on.

  Mom threw her coat on the table, a sign of her distress. Normally, she hangs it up before she does anything, then heads straight to the kettle to put the water on for a cup of tea. It’s like her after-work ritual. She grabbed the phone and then started muttering to herself.

  “Do I dial 911? Is this an emergency or should I dial the nonemergency number?”

  “It’s an emergency, Mom!” I said. “Someone could be, like, killing Abby right this very minute.”

  Mom lost it.

  “NO ONE IS KILLING ABBY!” she shouted at me. “ABBY IS GOING TO BE FINE!”

  I stared at her, wide eyed.

  How do you know? is what I thought.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry” is what I said. “But I still think you should call 911.”

  It was like Mom was determined to keep it from being a crisis, like the force of her will could keep anything bad from happening to Abby.

  “No, I don’t want to burden the 911 system. I’m going to call the nonemergency number. Like I said, Abby’s probably just being disobedient. I’ll bet anything she’s gone to a friend’s house and forgot to call.”

  “Abby doesn’t have that many friends. And why isn’t she answering her cell?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she forgot to charge it and the battery died. Or maybe she’s still mad at me because Dad and I grounded her, so she’s not picking up when I call. Or … wait a minute — what about that boy she went on the date with? What was his name?”

  “Jimmy. No … Billy. I can’t remember his last name. Faith will know.”

  “Right. I’ll call the Wilsons again.”

  Faith told my mom that Billy’s last name was Fisher. Mom looked up his number in the student directory and called his house. I was so glad it wasn’t someone I’d gone out on a date with — can you imagine the embarrassment of having your mom call the guy you’re crushing on to ask him where you are? I’d die. But then, I wouldn’t do what Abby’s done. I wouldn’t disappear and not tell anyone where I was and not answer my cell.

  “Hello, Mrs. Fisher, this is Kate Johnston, Abby’s mother. Billy and Abby are in the same science class…. Yes, that’s right. I think they went to the movies a month or two back? I was just wondering if by any chance Abby happened to be over there? She’s not home and she isn’t answering her cell…. No?”

  I could almost see Mom deflate as she said the word no. I think she was really counting on Abby being at Billy Fisher’s so she didn’t have to call the police.

  “Well, thank you for your time. Have a good evening.”

  She hung up, took a deep breath, and called information, asking for the police nonemergency number. Mom was busy explaining about Abby being missing when Dad walked in.

  “Is Abby home yet?”

  “No — and Mom’s on the phone with the police.”

  Dad paled, and he practically collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, his briefcase dropping from his hand to the kitchen floor with a loud thump.

  “I’ve called her best friend, who said she saw Abby on the school bus this morning but that she wasn’t in gym class, which is later in the day…. Yes, I’ve tried calling her cell several times, but I think it must be turned off because it keeps going straight to voice mail…. But Abby is usually very responsible — if she’s going to be late she always calls…. I see. So, if she’s not home, and we haven’t heard from her by eight o’clock, I should call you back. But … yes, I understand. Okay, thank you, Officer.”

  Mom hung up the phone and slumped into the nearest chair.

  “Kate, don’t tell me they aren’t doing anything,” Dad said. “Are you telling me my daughter is out there somewhere and the police, whose salaries are paid by my taxes, aren’t going to get off their asses and go look for her? I’m going to call them back and give them a piece of my mind!”

  Even when he’s losing it, Dad never forgets to remind you who pays the bills.

  Dad got up and reached for the phone, but Mom grabbed it before he could get there.

  “No, Rick. Don’t antagonize them. We need their help and this is the usual procedure. Right now the best thing we can do is call around to the people who know Abby, and look through her room to see if there are any clues to where she might be.”

  “But, Kate, my daughter —”

  “Rick, she’s my daughter, too. If you want to help, call Elaine Wilson back and get Faith to help you make a list of all Abby’s friends. Then use the school directory and call them.”

  The look on Dad’s face said he didn’t agree, but he would do it anyway.

  “Okay. Just give me the phone already.”

  Mom handed it to him and turned her gaze to me.

  “Lily, you come upstairs with me. We’re
going to go through Abby’s room and see if we can find anything that might tell us where she is.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Mom was going to let me go through Abby’s stuff? If I needed any proof that the world was turned upside down, this was it. Abby would freak if she knew. That’s if she ever gets home again to find out. But it serves her right for putting us through this.

  We went upstairs to Abby’s room.

  “I’ll take her closet and bedside table, you take the desk,” Mom said.

  There was the same weird stillness in Abby’s room that had been there earlier. I’ve snooped in Abby’s room before and it’s always been kind of nerve-racking because I’ve felt her presence even when I’ve known she was staying at Faith’s overnight. But this time, it was like even though all her normal Abby things were there, the room was devoid of some essential Abby-ness. And that made me scared. So scared that my hands were shaking as I opened her desk drawers and started going through her stuff.

  Her drawers were so much neater than mine. Abby’s really organized and particular like Dad. I think that’s why he loves her more. All my life it’s been “your sister, Abby, this” and “your sister, Abby, that” and “Abby got an A in that class” from Dad. I wonder what he’s thinking now about my shining example of a sister. But I know if something’s happened to her, I’d never live up to her in his eyes, and — I had to stop for a minute to give myself a silent pep talk:

  Don’t think about this. Abby’s fine. She’s a stupid, selfish idiot for coming home late and forgetting to call and making Mom and Dad and me crazy and scared and worried, but right now she is absolutely rootin’ tootin’ one hundred percent F-l-N-E fine.

  If I ever pulled an Abby and someone had to go through my stuff (which I’d hate), they’d barely be able to get the drawers open, they’re stuffed so full with notes and makeup and nail polish and old issues of Seventeen and Girls’ Life.

  But Abby’s drawers weren’t like that.

  Drawer Number 1: Pens, pencils, highlighter, pencil sharpener, cool fake sushi eraser, which I was tempted to steal because I deserved it after what she was putting me through, ruler, calculator. Boooooring.

  Drawer Number 2: Nail file, a few rubber bracelets, purple nail polish, black nail polish. OMG, could she get any MORE emo? Clear lip gloss. Come on, Abby, live a little!

  This is such a waste of time.

  Other than the fake sushi eraser, I didn’t find anything remotely interesting, and definitely nothing that might tell us where Abby went. Although — what a blind idiot! Sitting right in front of me on the middle of her desk were her schoolbooks. The ones she was supposed to have taken to school that morning.

  So the whole time Abby was in the kitchen stealing my breakfast, she knew she was going to walk out and leave us. And whatever she had in her backpack, it sure wasn’t books.

  I was so mad, I reached into the drawer for her fake sushi eraser and put it in my pocket. Serves her right for being such a big fat Eggo-scarfing liar.

  “Mom, Abby didn’t take her books to school today. They’re right here on her desk.”

  My mother was looking in Abby’s closet. She had this seriously awful look on her face when she turned to me, like she’d finally started to realize that something really, really bad might be happening here. Like, hello, Mom!

  I started looking through Abby’s notebooks. The top one was labeled Science and it had Billy Fisher and a phone number scribbled across the top. That was the guy she had that date with. But if she’s not with him and she’s not with Faith, then who the heck is she with?

  “What’s this?” Mom said, pulling a piece of paper out from the back of Abby’s closet. “I can’t believe it! She got a C-minus on a science test and she didn’t even tell us? She made it sound like the D she got in math was a one-off!”

  Wow. Perfect Abby really had fallen off her pedestal.

  “Wait till your father sees this,” Mom muttered.

  I flipped through the science notebook to see if Abby drew or doodled like regular people. Forms of Energy, Boring! Nature and Properties of Earth Materials, Dullness! Characteristics of Living Matter, Oh, look, Abby finally doodled something … a flower, cute! Energy Transfer and Transformation, Zzzzzzzzzzz … Wait!

  The margins of Abby’s notebook gradually did become filled with doodles and they were all of the same thing — a name that I’d never heard her mention, ever. Luke. She’d drawn Abby and Luke entwined with elaborate flowers and, yuck, she’d signed her name Abby Redmond like she was daydreaming about marrying the guy. Abby? Quickly, I paged through her other notebooks and found the same thing — pages of margin doodles devoted to this Luke Redmond guy.

  “Mom? I don’t know … but … I think maybe Abby might have met someone.”

  “What makes you think that?” she said, coming over.

  I showed her the notebook.

  “Who is this Luke Redmond person?” Mom asked. “Has Abby ever mentioned him to you?”

  “Are you kidding? Abby talk to me about anything?”

  Mom grabbed another of Abby’s notebooks and started flipping through the pages, all frantic.

  “His name’s all over this one, too. Who is this guy? Why haven’t we ever heard about him?”

  “Ask Faith. Maybe she knows.”

  “I will. Right now.”

  Mom grabbed the notebooks and we headed back to the kitchen. She showed Dad the doodles.

  “Kate, do you think she … she wouldn’t …”

  “Dammit, Rick, I don’t know! I don’t know anything right now!”

  Now it was Mom who sounded like she was about to lose it.

  “Give me the phone. I need to call the Wilsons again.”

  When she got Faith on the phone, it turned out Faith had never heard of Luke, either. But apparently, Abby had been talking about some mystery guy she met at the church retreat she went to last summer in the Berkshires, and said maybe someday she and Faith could double-date.

  “Do you think this church retreat person could be Luke Redmond?” Mom asked. “And, Faith … Abby didn’t take her books to school today. Do you think she might have … she didn’t say anything to you about … going to meet him, did she? You aren’t covering for her, are you? This is really serious.”

  I think Mom would have been happy if Faith had just said, “Okay, yeah, I’m sorry, I was covering for her and this is where they went,” as long as it meant she knew where Abby was. But she didn’t. From what I could hear, Faith just started crying and said she wasn’t covering for Abby. She said she had no idea where Abby was, honest, and she wished like anything that she did. Mom’s face went as pale as death. I started crying, too.

  “I’m sorry, Faith, you’re Abby’s best friend and I had to ask,” Mom said, a tremor in her voice. “Thanks for all your help. Tell your mom I’ll keep you posted.”

  She hung up the phone and covered her face with her hands.

  “That’s it,” Dad said. “I’m calling the police again.”

  Mom didn’t argue with him this time, and that made me cry harder.

  Dad called the number Mom had written down on the yellow pad by the phone.

  “Is this Officer Carozza? My wife spoke to you earlier about our daughter, Abby. Abigail Johnston. She’s still missing and you need to get on it. I … What? … Yes, we’ve tried calling her friends. Nobody knows anything, other than she took the bus to school in the morning but wasn’t there for gym halfway through the day. No, she’s not answering her cell phone. Yes … I … You’ll come out now? Okay, we’re here…. Yes, of course, we’ll call right away if we hear from her. See you shortly.”

  Dad gave him the address and hung up. He slumped into the nearest chair.

  “He says he’ll be here in fifteen minutes. He’s going to need to ask us background questions about Abby.”

  “Maybe I should make dinner,” Mom said, but she didn’t move and none of us were hungry anyway. We all just sat there, listening to the clock tick every n
ever-ending second and watching the phone that didn’t ring with Abby’s call.

  When the doorbell rang, it made me jump.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, but Dad stopped me.

  “You stay here, Lily,” he said. “Let me get this.”

  I sank back into the chair, frustrated. I was sick of sitting around doing nothing. Mom was sitting there like a freaking zombie, staring at the phone as if she could will it to ring by using some mad psychic skills she’d never told us about. But the phone just hung there on the wall. No ringing. No Abby.

  “Kate, this is Officer Carozza,” Dad said, coming into the kitchen with the police officer, who was complete with handcuffs and a gun on his belt. I’d never seen a real gun so close up before. It freaked me out.

  “Good evening, ma’am,” Officer Carozza said.

  Mom went from zombie to Martha Stewart mode in the blink of an eye.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” she said.

  “No, thank you. I just need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Oh … Okay,” Mom said. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Officer Carozza sat at the table and took out a notebook and pen.

  He asked a bunch of stuff Mom and Dad had already said on the phone, like Abby’s full name and address and date of birth and stuff. I could tell that Dad was getting annoyed. I was wondering when the officer was going to get to the finding-Abby part myself.

  “So Abigail normally comes home on time?” Officer Carozza asked.

  “Always,” Mom said. “She’s very responsible. And if she were going to be late, she would call. She has a cell phone.”

  “What’s her number?”

  Mom gave him the number.

  “You’ve tried calling it?”

  “I’ve been trying constantly. It keeps going straight to voice mail, so it’s either turned off or the battery’s dead.”

  “That’s too bad,” Officer Carozza said. “If it’s turned on, we can get the cell company to ping the phone to see which cell towers it’s responding to and get some idea of the child’s general location.”

  “There’s no way to do it if the phone is off?” Dad asked. Knowing Dad, he probably thought there had to be some technological fix for everything.