Chapter One: After She Went
Rain drums on the roof and pings against the classroom windows as we filter in and sit in our desks. The dreariness of the outside matches my mood.
The trees that border our school parking lot sway with the wind outside, some gusts causing leaves to shower down across the pavement.
The puddles forming outside seem to weigh me down as I sit gingerly in my seat. My eyes flicker upwards, scanning the faces of the students entering behind me.
The blonde girl who sits behind me enters the room looking unbothered or uninformed, though at this point I don't see how anyone in this town couldn't know.
Her bag bumps my shoulder as she brushes past me and to her desk.
I blink as the next person enters. Brown hair and dark eyes. Pale skin. A light gray jacket around his shoulders. His gaze meets mine and I can't decipher the emotion I see.
Sadness? Like everyone else. Regret? That makes me flinch but I push it from my mind. Now is not the time to be selfishly invested in my own emotions.
My eyes don't leave him though as he travels down my aisle slowly until he eventually trails his fingers along the border of my desk. "Hey," he whispers, a piece of hair falling in front of his eyes. He doesn't bother to move it.
"Hey." I swallow. "How are you?"
Stupid question, but he smiles grimly, the smile not reaching his eyes. "I'm... alright. How are you?"
I shake my head, words forming on my lips but the bald head of Mr. Vega enters the room and his sharp voice rings out, "Gray, to your seat."
Ronan's face twitches but he nods and raises the corner of his mouth slightly before continuing three seats down to his seat.
The room is only half full, but the tardy bell has already rung and Mr. Vega is already at his podium.
Instead of the usual early morning chatter Mr. Vega has to shut down, it's complete silence, and not a comfortable one. A smothering silence that prevents us from attempting to speak.
Our teacher clears his throat. "Uh," he pushes his glasses up. "I'm aware of the event that occurred Friday night.. And there's counsellors present for anyone who may need one. But for now, I have our first quarter exam study guide ready for you to work on..."
I stop listening and turn my sight to the clouds rumbling outside. I knew teachers would talk about it. And I lied when I told myself I'd be fine in here.
Friday night.
I'd done so well in pushing it from my mind.
The speaker in our classroom suddenly beeps, and Mr. Vega's instructions are interrupted by our principal's voice erupting through our classroom. "Good morning, Oakside High," her voice sounds tired, exhausted even. But mostly saddened. "Today is Monday, August 27th, 2012. And as most of you know, three days ago, on Friday, August 24th, our junior student Emilie Campell went missing." My heart stops and my head spins as Ms. Miles voice gets faster.
"Counsellors are here today for anyone who needs them. And our local police and detectives are also present if any of you have any sort of information." Her breathing sounds shaky. "Let's have a moment of prayer for Emilie and for Emilie's family." She sniffles. "Let's pray the Lord is keeping her safe." There's a long moment of silence.
And then, "Have a good day, Oakside High," the beep sounds loudly throughout the room, letting us know Ms. Miles's announcement is over.
Our classroom seems to twist and turn as Mr. Vega shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That much emotion is just unprofessional," he mutters and returns slowly to his desk. "How are we supposed to have a good day with a blubbering principal and a-" he breaks off and shakes his head.
A long stream of air bursts from my chest and I fight to heave another breath in. My eyelids flutter closed. A few students heads turn my way and then whip around again. I'm drawing attention to myself.
My breathing returns to normal in seconds, a blush spreading over my cheeks as I rest my head in my hands.
As it soon becomes obvious Mr. Vega isn't continuing with instruction or control of his classroom, I turn backwards towards Ronan.
His eyes are trained downwards, his fingers drumming on the desk. I forget why I turned around in the first place when his head lifts and our gazes meet.
Clearing his throat, Ronan rises and makes his way over to my desk, crouching down so he's eye level with me. "Have you told Monet?"
No. Telling her seemed like a bad idea this weekend. She would call and I would have to say what happened. And I don't think I'm able to do that.
"No," I say. "Somebody else probably already has,"
Ronan frowns. "She would have called to check on you,"
I know.
I clasp my hands together on my desk. "I'm supposed to be picking her up from the airport in Wilmington tonight. If she doesn't already know, I'll tell her,"
He peers at me. "Is it safe for you to be driving all that way?"
My heart beats faster with his worry about me but I push away my feelings instantly. It's not the time.
"It's only an hour and a half." I eventually say weakly. "And I think I need time by myself,"
"You've been by yourself all weekend," he says. "I could ride with you?"
I tense. "You're not obligated to spend time with me because of what happened." I rise from my seat, brushing past Ronan. "Mr. Vega? Can I use the restroom?"
My teacher waves me out and my hand is shakily opening the door in seconds.
I slip into the hallway, finally feeling like I can breathe.
My head is pounding.
As I walk unsteadily down the barren hallway, a feeling starts to prick in my stomach, and waves of nausea pass over me.
I recognize the emotion just as I push open the girl's bathroom door.
Guilt.
I should be worried about my missing friend Emilie Campell. But her being gone isn't the only thing on my mind.
Her going missing wasn't the only thing that happened Friday night.
-
School goes by with nothing major occurring. Not even the troublesome students have the urge to cause problems today.
I avoid Ronan all day, even taking the wrong hallway just to eliminate the chance of passing him as he goes to class. I consider myself lucky to only have first hour with him.
The sight of him will fill me with that horrible feeling I felt this morning. The guilt of not being devoted to your missing friend.
At lunch, I skip out sitting where Monet and I usually sit because she's still on her flight back, and instead sit in the library forcing myself to study for Mr. Vega's first quarter exam.
When the final bell rings for the day, relief courses through me. It couldn't be hard to stay away from Ronan if I did it all today with only a little difficulty.
The school stayed in a hushed silence about Emilie's disappearance, our principal not making another announcement and the teachers either keeping us busy with work or completely ignoring us. I was fine with the work. I needed to be distracted.
The weather outside is worse, dark clouds covering the sky in every direction.
I keep my head down and clutch my black jacket to my chest as I head outside into the rain. My car is parked on the edge of the parking lot, and it's raining so hard I consider waiting it out on a school bench or something.
But I can't be late for picking up Monet, so I set out under the thick water droplets, getting completely soaked in seconds. My sneakers slap the wet pavement, puddles splashing water onto my jeans.
My gray shirt is instantly transformed into a black garnet clinging to my skin. I sigh heavily as my car gets closer and closer.
Shivering, I pull my keys from my bag and unlock my car, opening the door hastily but still getting a good amount of water all over the dashboard and driver's seat.
I shut my door and sit in silence for a few moments, steadying my breathing.
Inhaling deeply, I crank the car and pull out of the parking lot, rain steadily getting swiped aside by the window shield wipers in front of me.
I remember Ronan's offer to ride with me this afternoon to pick up Monet.
Before school started today, I would have killed for the chance to ride with Ronan anywhere.
But after seeing him and the experiencing the way his presence makes me feel, I want miles between us.
As Ronan fades from my thoughts, it dawns on me that soon I'm going to announce to my best friend that one of our friends went missing at a party I attended, and is presumed kidnapped.
I imagine Monet, with her dark eyes and big smile, and I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. I don't want to tell her. Her and Emilie were close a few months ago, even though basketball drove a fence between their friendship.
Me, Monet, Brogan Goldwater- who's refusing to attend school until Emilie is found- and Emilie were all on Oakside's JV basketball team until Monet and I were moved up to varsity half way through the season.
We all remained friends, just grew apart as our painstakingly long practices and games took all of our time.
I don't want to be the one to tell Monet that people in town presume her friend to be dead.
I can't.
Earlier I'd decided to stop by home and grab a few things before going to retrieve Monet from Wilmington, but now I'm too worked up, and I turn instead to reach the interstate.
I'm okay with the chance to sit alone and wait a little for Monet's plane to arrive.
As my car speeds up along the water slicked interstate, my mind becomes less hazy and more aware.
I glance down at my wallet, where my driver's license pokes out a little toward the top. I just got it a month ago, two days after my birthday.
It was strange to start driving without my mom beside me, almost like something was missing and made the car ride less enjoyable.
But I quickly got over it. So fast, my mom was allowing me to drive to Wilmington to pick up Monet.
A smile almost tugs at my lips. It's nice to stop thinking about what happened, and to start thinking about other things. The last three days have consumed my life, stretching out the minutes to feel like hours.
But when it's my own thoughts with me in the car without the name Emilie Campell appearing, the minutes turn into an hour, and Wilmington is in my sights.
Wilmington is a bustling city full of cabs and traffic stretching for miles, but the airport is located two minutes off the main stretch, and I'm pulling into the parking lot with minimum traffic time.
The sun is setting, so Monet's plane is probably just arriving. I park and start towards the gray airport, people spilling out of it's four main doors. A plane roars to life in the distance, but all I can focus on is the doors.
Monet's going to walk out of there, and I'm going to have to tell her what happened. All of it.
I pause, my step faltering. Well. Maybe not all of it.
I keep walking forward, my gaze straining to see anything familiar in the sea of bodies.
"Naomi!" My name rings from the left and I turn quickly, where long braids and melanin rich skin greets my sights. Her smile is huge, her teeth gleaming in the slanting sunlight. She waves a hand. "Come help me!"
I grin profusely. The first genuine smile since Friday. I jog towards her, flinging my arms around her neck.
Her hands wrap themselves around me then let go quickly, pushing me away from her but still keeping a grip on my shoulders.
Monet's smile disappears when she gets a glimpse of my face. "Nay? What's wrong?"
She can tell.
My grin drops. I shake my head dizzily. "Nothing. Let's get your bags to the car,"
I drag along a bright purple suit case, and she holds a black duffel as we make our way back across the parking lot. "So my dad was totally chill the whole time- he even let me bring this one guy I met at the park over to our house. I mean, I had to keep the door open and stuff but..."
Her voice fades to distant noise, as the soundless ache that's been following me around for the past three days settles in my body, preventing me from speaking, from hearing.
I set her bag in the back seat, and return to the driver's seat gingerly.
It's silent except for the chatter of other people in the airport parking lot.
Monet opens the passenger door and sits, her mouth set in a line. "What the hell is going on?"
I slide into the driver's seat, shutting the door and cranking the car. "I, uh," I clear my throat. "I have a lot to tell you,"
I pull out of the airport parking lot and return back to the interstate that will lead us back to outside.
Beside me, Monet seems to be pondering something. "When my mom called yesterday she seemed really sad," she says quietly. "I asked why but she said she didn't want to say over the phone," she pauses. "So again, what the hell happened?"
My head seems to be filled with air. I can't think straight. "Monet, the party," I shakily raise my hand from the wheel to wipe the gleam of sweat I know is on my forehead. "The party Friday night. The one you were bummed you couldn't go to? Blaire's?"
Monet nods, looking at me cautiously. "No one posted about it or anything..."
"No," I say. "I doubt anyone would want to,"
Monet holds her necklace between her fingers. "What happened at the party?"
That question brings along the flurry of memories I can't stop from coming. But it's not Emilie Campell, with her bright blue eyes and sweet smile.
It's Ronan, with his hair falling in his eyes that he rarely attempts to fix.
Us.
It's after him when Emilie makes an appearance. Her talking to my brother, laughing at him and all his meaningless jokes.
Her walking outside to go to her car.
Her never coming back.
Me going home, with no thought of Emilie whatsoever.
The next day.
Police.
I breathe in sharply. "A lot of thing happened at the party," I try to slip calmness into my voice. "But Monet, I really don't know how to tell you," my voice breaks. So much for calmness.
Monet lays her hand on my arm. "You're really scaring me, Nay."
"Emilie's missing." The words escape through my lips in one breath. "She went missing at the party." I lean my head against the driver's seat, tears forming in my eyes. My eyes don't leave the road. "I'm so sorry."
Monet makes a small sound, muffled by her hand pressed against her lips. "No..." She whispers. "Emilie Campell?" But she already knows.
I nod, and my feelings become void. "The police, the police think she's been kidnapped." I wipe at the tears falling down my cheek. "Nobody wanted to tell you because of how close y'all were-"
"Were?" Monet snaps, yanking her hand off my arm. "You didn't say she was dead!"
I jump, jerking the steering wheel slightly but pulling straight a second later. "I meant that you two were really close before you and I joined varsity.."
Monet releases a long breath. "I'm sorry." Her voice is thick with emotion. "What happened? Who would kidnap Emilie? Oh my God, Emilie." She starts to hyperventilate, her breathing rapid and uneven. "No.." She whimpers, as tears begin to drip down her face.
She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I don't know what to say."
I wince at how devastated she sounds. I didn't want to tell her. I shouldn't have come to get her. I should of told her mom I couldn't.
I drive steadily as we both sit crying. I haven't cried since Saturday morning when the police came to question us.
It feels nice to finally let some emotion show, and I'm glad I told Ronan that he couldn't come with me to get Monet.
I wouldn't want him to ever see me like this.
Monet sniffles beside me. "So what do the police think? Other than that she's been kidnapped?"
"There was blood smeared on the side of her car that was still at Blaire's house. Not much. But enough for the police to think she was trying to fight someone off." I say. "They're questioning everyone that attended the party. They came to my house Saturday because apparently Blaire told them Emilie and Julius were friends."
I think of my brother Julius, holed up in his room, constantly on the phone with his girlfriend Madison. She had stayed the night after the party, too wasted to go home and fully aware my mom wouldn't care because of her social status.
I shake my head slightly. When the police had come in, she had started crying, even though I've heard her multiple times talk horribly about Emilie on the basis that her and Julius were friends.
Monet and I hate Madison with a passion. She's been dating my brother since they were sophomores like me.
Madison's parents run the social elite of Oakside, having a tight grip on PTA, and of course, my mom's job at the court house.
Madison has free reign of my home.
The way my mother acts towards her and her fake attitude towards people like Emilie are the main reasons I dislike her, but there's probably more I can state.
Monet sighs loudly, drawing my attention back to inside the car. "We can join a search party or something right?" she wipes at her eyes. "My mom would let me skip school for that-"
"There's afternoon search parties," I interrupt. "They don't want us skipping school trying to help,"
Monet stiffens beside me. "Emilie needs more than afternoon searches. How do they expect that to help anything?"
"The cops are doing everything they can," I reason. "They sent out an Amber Alert the morning they were questioning everyone,"
"Still not enough," she seethes. "And what did you tell them? What did you see Friday night?"
I think of what I told the broad faced police officer in my living room, Madison and Julius on the couch beside me.
"We were all in Blaire's living room when I last saw her. Emilie was talking to Julius because Madison was somewhere off with her friends. I was just talking to Ronan-" I break off, hesitating.
I don't want to tell Monet everything. I can't.
"Emilie said she had to go to her car to get something. And Ronan and I just went to Blaire's kitchen to find drink, but we ended up talking for a while in there," the lie rolls off my tongue. "I left about an hour after I saw her go to her car. Julius and I rode back to my house with Madison. They didn't say anything about Emilie. Neither did I."
Monet slams a hand into the dashboard, startling me. "Are you kidding?" She spits. "You guys knew she was going to her car to get something, but don't care that she never came back? Don't care that her car was sitting there when you left?"
"We didn't know her car was still there!" I say defensively. "She was parked on the side of the house!"
"You said she never came back inside. That didn't bother any of you?" Monet demands.
I blink at the road stretching ahead of me. My mind was too preoccupied that night to notice Emilie Campell not returning inside.
"We thought she left the party." I say softly. "This isn't any of our faults. It's whoever did this to her who you have to blame,"
"Hard to blame someone when you don't know who that someone is," Monet crosses her arms and glares at the window.
I know what she's feeling. I felt the same way Saturday morning. After the police had left, I had confronted Julius in the hallway, crying while asking him why he didn't look for her when she didn't come back inside.
But we both knew why.
What would Madison think if Julius was worried about where another girl was?
A blue sign sits on the highway in front of me. Welcome To Oakside!
I press my mouth in a tight line and drive into town silently, Monet lost in her thoughts beside me.