My mind started ping-ponging from the idea of a missing student to the missing-kid posters on the bulletin board at I Scream for Ice Cream, where my biological father made me and my sister go when he visited last year even though it was the middle of winter and pouring rain and my sister is lactose intolerant. I shook my head to tune back in to what Principal Golden was saying.

“ . . . investigating and we don’t know anything more at this time. The police are searching the school and want to speak to select students. Rather than further disrupting this already short school day, the administration has decided to cancel class for the rest of the day. If you ride the bus, please see Mrs. Taylor in the office for instructions on . . .”

Everyone got up at once and started talking except me: I stayed in my seat, waiting for the auditorium to thin out. My row had to exit from the other side because I was blocking my end: even mean Alex went the other way, and I was glad because I didn’t want my foot trampled again.

It was 9:40 and I was supposed to be starting second period, English, but instead I was going to go home. My stomach rolled with the weird feeling of change. Change is my enemy.

“She’s not answering her phone.”

I looked over to see Tess and Mia huddled together in the aisle, whispering to each other. “When’s the last time you talked to her?”

“Last night before dinner,” Mia said, spinning the ring on her middle finger. “She wasn’t in zero period. I thought she slept in.”

“That’s not like her, though,” Tess said, chewing her lip. “Her bag’s not in our locker.” I leaned forward so I could hear Tess better, wondering if it bugged her that Mia’s curls were touching her hand. I brushed my own hand like they’d been touching mine. “Is she home sick?”

They looked at each other, both with big eyes that reminded me of a certain comic book cat, Mia’s blue like a sunny day and Tess’s green-gray like a cloudy one. Maybe they felt me watching them because they both looked at me at the same time.

“Have you talked to Colette?” Tess asked in her tentative voice.

“Of course I’ve talked to Colette,” I said.

“I mean recently,” Tess clarified. “Like, did you talk to Colette yesterday?” Now she was pulling on the lip she’d been biting. It was distracting: I wished she’d leave her lip alone.

“No,” I said, just to say something. No is an easy response for me.

“This is serious,” Mia said, leaning forward like my therapist did sometimes. She lowered her voice. “What if it’s her?”

“What if what’s her?” I asked.

Mia sighed loudly. “Why are you always so spacey?”