She stood in my kitchen and stared at me.
“Laura,” she whispered. “What if something happened to them?”
“Don’t say that.”
“What if they’re in a ditch somewhere? What if they got in somebody’s car? What if—”
Ezoic
“Denise. Don’t.”
But I was thinking it too. I’d been thinking it since the second she said I haven’t seen your son in weeks.
We called their friends.
Every single one. Every number we had.
Marcus Thompson, who plays basketball with them. His mom said Marcus hadn’t seen either of them outside of school in weeks. “They’ve been kind of weird lately,” Marcus told me, when his mom put him on the phone. “Like, they leave right after school on Fridays. Real fast. They don’t hang out anymore.”
Jaylen Ross. Nothing.
Emily Park, who Nathan had a crush on in ninth grade. Nothing.
