Call Me Twice

Chapter 7: Without a Trace

Josie

"It's been nearly ten hours! What do you mean you can't find him," my mom is crying. I'm crying. Neither of us have slept. I passed out maybe an hour on the sofa. Now I'm curled up under my blanket still in my pajamas, as she talks to the police. Again.
"Ms. Miller, we are doing everything we can. The principal asked at school if anyone had seen him. There's no sign of his bike. Nothing, it's—there's no evidence of foul play," the sheriffs deputy says, tiredly, "Now Harper has done things like this before—,"
"Not after promising he'd be home—he called he didn't go missing, he called us and said he was coming, now he's somewhere in Pine Hollow," she says, desperately.
"We've got cars on the look out. But until it's been twenty four hours due to his history, we're going to have to assume he disappeared on his own. he's being treated as a runaway at this point."
"No, no Harper wouldn't do that, it's his birthday we were —he wasn't like that. He came home to get high. The last time he OD'd it was in his bedroom he knew I wasn't gonna lock him out," she says.
"We're going to keep looking. For now the best thing you can do is wait here till he shows back up."
"Screw that, come on, Josie get your shoes, come on, we're going to go drive around, we're gonna find your brother," she says, going to snatch up her coat.
"Look, Ms. Miller, this isn't even the fifth time Harper has done something like this—,"
"No, no, I know what you all think. He has never done something like THIS. He's never disappeared on me. He gets high yes, he does dangerous things but he comes home," my mother says, her voice chocked with tears, "Come on, come on Josie get in the truck baby."
"Where is he?" I sob, crawling into the front seat even though I'm not big enough.
"I don't know, I don't know baby. But w'ere gonna find him, okay? I promise. We're gonna find him," she says.
"Do you think he's okay?" I whisper.
"Yes, yes he has to be okay."

Link

We reach the train tracks before noon. Neither of us are hungry at this point. We walk along them, scanning either side for a broken body we don't even want to find. We get off well in time for each train to pass, then get back up, slowly, and keep walking.  Lia is steely with resolve. Almost refusing to believe that we're looking for a body at this point.
"Do you think we'll go back, he'll have showed up to school, hung over?" I ask.
"No, I wish I thought that. It's like—I'd know okay? I'd know if he was okay, I think I'd feel it. This feels like he's not okay," she says.
"What does that feel like?" I ask, quietly.
"It feels. Hollow. Like if he was okay I could fix something, but now I can't fix anything," she says.
I nod, "That makes sense."
"What do you think happened?" She asks.
"When I was small, my father once told me, 'Nothing's ever as strange as you think it is, Koyla, always remember that.' And I said 'why?' And he said 'because other people think it too. And so they miss out the impossible, even if the truth is usually quite simple. There's that one time where it's not'," I reply.
"Koyla?' She cocks her head, "I thought—,"
"My middle name is Nikolai, Koyla is the diminutive of it, my father calls me that, I don't go by my first name at home," I explain.
"Would you rather be called Nikolai?" She asks.
"I suppose, I'll respond to it faster anyway," I say.
"I'll call you that then," she says, smiling.
"Harper called me Sam."
"Why?" She laughs.
"I don't even think he knew," I grin.
"That sounds like him."
"Yeah."
"So what does that mean? What your father told you, that nothing's as strange as it first appears?"
"He was talking about research, he's a scientist. He meant the most obvious solution is probably correct, your measurements your data is off, probably time to recalibrate your sensors. But sometimes, you have to keep an open mind because the just because the obvious answer is usually right, doesn't mean it always is. So I'm saying the kid who's known as 'Junkie' at school goes missing? Yeah odds are he's on a bender. But the odds are sometimes wrong. And sometimes he might need your help. So that's why I'm here," I say.
"Junkie. They do call him that, poor Harper," she shakes her head.
"Come on. There's got to be an interesting story there," I say.
"What?" She asks.
"I mean, you, you're straight As, nice neighborhood, name brand coat, and you're dating the resident thrill seeker who shows up to class hung over or worse still high and steals Xanex from the principal's desk while he's giving a speech on saying no to drugs. There has got to be an interesting story on how you wound up with Harper Deathwish Miller," I say.
"We were seven. I had just moved here, and I didn't know anyone. And at recess the boys didn't want to let me climb this tree they'd claimed. It wasn't even a good tree, but, of course I wanted to. Harper argued with them. He said I could if I wanted to, and he invited me to play. We've been—stuck ever since. I didn't care that they told stories about him walking off into traffic or about him having a single mom, because he has always been, so sure that I can and should do anything I want, he looks at me like I'm magical," she shrugs her shoulders, "And when my parents can't even tell me they're proud of me for making straight As, he'll tell me he loves me because I can finish a milkshake faster than he can."
I laugh at the milkshake part, "Tree climbing. That's a decent way to meet someone."
"I thought so," she smiles again.
"We'll find him," I say, more confidently, "Like you said. He wouldn't leave you."
"What did he say to you last night?" She asks, frowning.
"Ah, he was, being mad I pushed him out of the way of the train, and he said not to call you again," I say, frowning as I try to remember. Honestly, I was asleep when he called.  I don't remember anything significant beyond that. He was just bullshitting mostly like he was bored. He didn't sound high though.
"I wonder why?" She says, "I mean he called me, that isn't unusual. And he said he'd warned you off calling me."
"Huh," I wonder why he was so protective? Do I not radiate gay vibes? Is it not obvious I'm not a steal your girl type?  I mean maybe not. My grandparents haven't said anything yet.
"Yeah, whatever, some birthday, I know he hates celebrating but this is ridiculous," she says.
"Why does he hate celebrating?" I ask.
"Just—family stuff, he's cool with his mom. His dad's a jerk."
"Like, idiot jerk or probably should be in jail for something jerk?" I ask.
"Second one."
"And this is the last person to see him? Right?" I ask.
"Well—we're the last people to talk to him," she says.
"Yeah but he left his father's house that's established Principal Long said that," I say, "So if and when we find nothing out here—,"
"We need to retrace his footsteps from his father's house."
"Do we think he—left?" I ask.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying family's murder each other all the time. Maybe his dad got pissed he was leaving, thought he was going off to get high or whatever and," I shrug.
"What makes you say that?"
"Um—the news? People crack, Harper, and I like him too, was not an easy person to be around. What if he got in an argument with his old man about leaving?" I ask.
"Maybe," she admits, "Yeah. Okay, if we don't find anything out here, then this evening I'm going to go talk to his mom. See what she knows, and then tomorrow we can try to go over to his dad's house. but it's not like he'll let us in."
"He's never seen me before, we'll lie, think of something," I say.
"Okay," she nods.
"But chances are he's probably just high someplace sleeping it off, and we're gonna find him and he'll be fine just cutting school."
"Yeah. Yeah. I mean his birthday is a weird day," she says.
"Why?" I know I asked before she evaded it.
"His parents—his mom had him in highschool, his dad's older and a dick," she elaborates, "So his birthday isn't exactly 'you're special and loved' I mean his mom tries but you know. It's not like—my family we're not perfect but we go out to someone's favorite restaurant and my mom bakes a cake and we open presents, you know. A couple of years I was only one who even got Harper anything because his mom couldn't afford it."
"Ah," I nod, "Then that makes sense he might be, avoiding the day."
"What do you do for your birthday?" She asks.
"Oh um—my dad gets me something. It's just me and him so you know, usually we go someplace that I wanted to go or when I was little watch a new movie, last year he got me a watch—I don't know like I said we're a bit different since it's him and me," I say.
"Oh—um, I'm sorry I guess I didn't realize you had a single dad, I guess that makes sense since you're with grandparents now you said?" She asks, carefully.
"Yes, my father is in prison, you can say that. It's fine he's innocent," I say.
"Ah."
"Yeah, anyway, um technically I guess he is a single dad, but um—my father, my biological father died before I was born, my father raised me," I explain, disjointedly. I'm not used to explaining this to new people who don't know any of it. I don't talk to people in my age group usually and typically any of my father's colleagues know about my dad.
"Oh um —I didn't realize. They're gay?" She confirms.
"Yeah," I nod, smiling a little, "I know right? Interesting for Homeschool. You guys would have had so much idle gossip if you'd talked to me earlier."
"We've been pretty rotten to you haven't we?"
"Ah, whatever. I wouldn't talk to me either," I shrug.