My name is called a few times by friends I’ve made over the years, but it’s not said by the one person who I want to hear. By the time I reach the back of the chairs, I start turning, searching everywhere—the graduates, the stands, the families, the staff, the aisles, the rafters.

Harbor is gone.

Disappeared into thin air.

How?

Why?

Do I call 911?

What could have happened to make him miss his own graduation?

Was there a family emergency?

He wouldn’t leave me without a good reason.

Could Amanda be right, and he got stuck in a bathroom?

I grab my phone but as soon as I start to call him with my shaking hands, I’m bumped, and it goes flying. “No. No. No. No. No.” Dropping to my knees, I don’t care how dirty the floor is or if I get trampled. I just need to find my phone and Harbor. I find it under a chair with a cracked screen, but it still works, so I call him again.

Holding it to my ear, I push through the revelers to find a place where I can hear. But my call goes to voicemail. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?” I whip around to find my dad there. “Congratulations, Pipsqueak.”

“Th-thanks,” the word comes stuttering out as I try my hardest not to start crying.

My dad nods in sympathy. “Big day. Lots of emotions.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we start for the exit. “I’m really proud of you, Lark. The first in our family to graduate college, and now you’re going to medical school—”

“Dad?” I stop, causing him to turn back.

His brow furrows as he shakes his head. Coming back to me, he asks, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“He’s gone. There are no texts, no missed calls. Nothing. Harbor’s gone.”

“What do you mean Harbor’s gone?”

Tears bubble over my lower lids as I point back at the stage. “Did you not notice they didn’t call his name. He didn’t walk the stage or claim his diploma.”

“No,” he says, “I dozed off after Amanda left. Just briefly.” He sounds guilty when the last thing I care about is him sleeping through the last hour of a graduation ceremony.

“Dad, what if . . .” My tears multiply, falling down to the floor of the last place I saw him.

I’m brought into a hug, my dad holding me like he did when I was a little girl, stroking my hair, and promising that everything’s going to be all right. But he can’t keep that promise anymore.

My breath is jagged, but I collect it. “I have to find him. Will you help me?”

“On it.”

Frantic, I start walking again, searching the crowded halls of the gymnasium, and my dad heads in the opposite direction. My gut already knows the answer, my head knowing this is pointless. He’s not here. The beat of my heart, the breath of my soul has disappeared. Just like him.