Chapters (95)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Video #1
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Video #2
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Video #3
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- The Final Video
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
“Me too.” I feel like I’m disturbing them…
But Feltz keeps talking, like the pen is a metronome keeping the beat for his words.
“You know, Ron is incredibly distraught over her disappearance and the accusations coming your way. We were talking about it on Friday, and he wishes he could do more to help. We all do, I suppose.”
“I don’t know what anybody can do,” I say.
“I learned at a very young age there are some things well beyond our control. We have to learn to accept them and make the best of things. It’s like when I was—”
“Don’t scare the boy with the ’Nam stuff, Henry,” Mrs. Paine says, still not looking up. “He has enough on his plate.”
Feltz smiles beneath the big mustache. He stops tapping. “I guess you’re right. Ron will be back, Mr. Gifford, don’t worry. He’s rather resilient, our Ronald.”
Thirteen
The house is quiet. And, thankfully, nothing appears vandalized or out of place. The odor of burnt oatmeal lingers like a fog.
Olivia is in detention. Dad is still at work. It’s times like these I miss Mom the most. After school, she’d always be here, working on a freelance project or baking. She’d stop and talk to me about my day, and do the same thing with Olivia, and sometimes Mom would push aside her graphic design work and the three of us would watch a TV show together or play a board game before we had to start our homework. An hour or so would disappear faster than I could imagine.
The memories make the house feel emptier. If only…
Before I left school, Hector and Cameron had tracked me down and invited me to hang out for the hour before they had practice. We often went to get something to eat or to Cameron’s house and played Xbox. But today I’m tired, and my eyes feel heavier by the moment.
The doctors told me the concussion would make me sleepy, and they encouraged me to take naps if necessary. Is there any better prescription for a high school student than naps? I collapse onto my bed, sleep deeply for ninety minutes before my eyes pop open. It’s the first time since the accident I didn’t dream about Chloe. She’s been so alive in my dreams, it feels like someone punched a hole in my heart when I realize her face wasn’t there.
The silence remains. Dad still isn’t home. No surprise. He likes to stay on campus late, attending meetings and getting ready for class. And if Olivia was home, she’d be playing music loud, dancing in her room like a tornado. She likely went off with Gabriela somewhere. Gabriela’s mom likes to feed Olivia, and Olivia likes to eat. She gets tired of our steady diet of spaghetti, sandwiches, and delivery pizza.
I check my phone.