I notice she doesn’t say Mason is going to be okay, or even that the situation will be okay. She says you will be okay. My eyes flood with tears, and for a moment I’m drifting again, my body and heart desperate to find something to hold on to. But then my mom squeezes my hand, and my feet find footing again. “Okay.”

She stands, taking back her hand and resting it gently on the crown of my head for a moment. “Now let’s go help Emma and Simon look for him.”

By the time we pull on our clothes and race to Sage’s house, dawn has turned the sky a light, happy pink that is completely incongruous with the way I feel. My phone had a single text from Mason. Good night, Willow. What does that mean? And why was there only one text? He never sends just one.

My mom and I are silent the entire way, and for once I’m able to match her fast walk without any trouble. Emma and Simon are on the doorstep waiting for us, and I can tell by their heavy expressions that they haven’t found Mason inside the house.

“He’s not here,” Simon says, and my heart falls even further.

I look up at the house, marveling at how normal it seems. How can it look normal when the entire world has fallen apart? “Did you check the roof?”

He nods. “No sign of him.”

Emma steps off the porch, her concentration on me. “Willow, things get very dangerous very quickly for kids who run away. I’ve already called the police and his social worker, and they’re on their way. But the longer he’s gone, the more dangerous it is. Is there anything you can think of that would help us figure out where he went?”

I wrack my brain, but nothing is coming up. “I don’t know,” I manage.

“Is it possible he didn’t run away?” my mom asks. “Could he be out for a walk or a bike ride or something?”

“He has a history of running away,” Simon says.

My face snaps up to his, shock exploding in my chest. “What do you mean?”

Emma exhales. “Mason has had a few difficult placements, and he’s run a few times. The foster care system was concerned about us taking him in, but they decided to give it a shot because of the personal connection I had with his mom.”

I am spinning out, my head racing in circles. Mason never mentioned anything about running away; his notebooks didn’t talk about it either. “I don’t understand,” I say.

“Where did he run to before?” my mom asks.

“Friends’ houses, youth shelters, parks…” Emma says. “Once he made it to a halfway house where his mom had stayed, but she wasn’t there anymore.”