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
Dad is about to get blindsided. He would have told me not to do it. To keep my mouth shut and put my head down until everything blows over. As if it ever will…
“Hunter made a video,” Olivia says. “The quality is terrible. He should’ve picked a different background. It’s like some low-budget terrorist group made it.” She looks up from her phone. “You should have at least sat in front of your bookshelf. That would be interesting. Here you just look really pasty and pale. I mean I know you’re hurt and everything.”
“What video?” Dad asks, pushing away from the counter and moving toward Olivia.
“Why did you put this on YouTube and not TikTok?” Olivia asks.
“It’s not really right for TikTok—”
“Oh, I see,” Olivia says. “You shared this on the creative writing club channel. Ex Libris. Clever. Then people at school can see it and start to share.”
“What video?” Dad asks.
“You should at least do a TikTok telling everyone you posted on YouTube,” Olivia says. “Although the comments tell me people are seeing it already. Yikes.”
“What is this video?” Dad asks.
“It’s about Chloe,” Olivia says. “What else?” She hands her phone to Dad and pushes the play button for him because he pretty much can’t do anything on his phone without help.
My voice comes across the kitchen, tinny and small.
Hi, my name is Hunter Gifford…
Dad watches with an open mouth and Olivia turns to me. “Have you read the comments?”
“Some.”
Oliva makes a face. “Nasty. People are so rude. They get online and totally stop acting like human beings.” She breezes across the kitchen and peers into the pan on the stove. “Blech. Who made this?”
“Dad did,” I say, pushing away my bowl.
“Dad made it? Professor Benjamin Gifford cooked?”
We both look at him as the video ends. Dad takes a deep breath. He hands the phone back to Olivia like it’s a dead bird. He goes over to his bag and picks it up. Dad doesn’t like conflict, and he never tells us what he’s feeling. We just have to guess when he’s unhappy with us. And it’s pretty obvious he’s unhappy right now. All the goodwill that went into him trying to make breakfast and offering to homeschool me seems gone.
“This is a mistake, Hunter,” he says, his voice level. For him this comment amounts to the Gettysburg Address.
“I’m trying to find Chloe,” I say. The ache in my head gets more intense.
“Things just started to quiet down a little,” he says. “The crank calls. The dog crap on the porch. We just got some peace.”
“You said they’re done searching,” I say. “Maybe this will motivate them to try again.”