The Vanishing Girls Of Willow Creek (Willow Creek, #1)

Chapter One

Miranda smirked, her green eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well, he could do so much better than hanging around with a weirdo like you."Her words fell flat, and I refused to show any emotion. Instead, I simply nodded and went back to staring at the ground beneath my feet.

As Miranda walked away, laughter ringing in her wake, Jonathan appeared beside me. He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Don't listen to her, Harley," he said softly. "You know she's just trying to get a rise out of you."

I nodded silently, grateful for his presence. Jonathan was the only person who truly understood me; the only one who didn't judge me for being different - awkward.

Together, we walked home that day in companionable silence. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the empty streets as we made our way through town.

I stole a glance at Jonathan, his profile etched against the fading light. His eyes held a depth that seemed to mirror my own thoughts, and I wondered what he was thinking as we made our way through familiar paths towards my house.

As we reached my house and said our goodbyes for the night, Jonathan paused and looked at me intently.

"You know," he began slowly, "sometimes I wonder if being different is such a bad thing after all."

I smiled faintly in response, feeling a warmth spread through my chest at his words. Maybe being labeled as the town weirdo wasn't such a curse after all.

He was the one who showed me that it was okay to be weird or awkward. He taught me how to accept these things that others saw as flaws.

In his presence, I felt free to be myself without fear of judgment or ridicule.

A smile played on my lips as I replied, "Maybe being different isn't a curse; maybe it's a blessing in disguise."

Jonathan's face lit up with understanding and gratitude as he nodded slowly. It was as if we had unlocked a secret truth together – one that bound us even closer than before.

And so, as we stood there under the fading light of day, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead or what obstacles we faced, we would always have each other to lean on – two kindred spirits navigating this world hand in hand. And maybe, just maybe, being different wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Every Friday night, Jonathan and I would have our Crime Night marathon. We'd make snacks, settle in front of the TV, and try to solve cases before they were revealed on screen. It was nerdy, sure, but it was our thing.

Our Crime Nights often spilled over into Crime Weekends, with Jonathan staying over at my house more often than not. My mom didn't mind; she knew we had been friends since birth practically. Our parents went to school together, so there was no question of trust between us. 

I couldn't imagine life without Jonathan by my side. He was more than just a friend; he was family.

Snapping out of my reverie, I found myself in my mother's bakery.

Here I sat in my mom's bakery, surrounded by the warm, comforting aroma of freshly baked bread and the soft hum of the mixer. The wooden base of the booth Jon and I sat in was painted powder blue, the same colour as the walls. It was more of a nook, really, like those breakfast nooks people have in their kitchens. A cozy little spot where I could escape from the world and just be.

I had been coming here since I was a little girl, and it had become my sanctuary. My mom's bakery was the one place where I could always find peace, no matter what was going on in my life. And today, as I sat here, feeling upset and lost, I knew that this was exactly where I needed to be.