My stomach burned, but I could not let them do this to Zola. I would not.

Then a sickening moment of realization:

The striped pillowcase. My blackbird bag of treasures. All of it stolen. John Muir was right all along: I should have kept nothing, no attachment to things. Carrying those worthless things really was going to ruin me.

Zola looked through the chaos to me. Kira’s mom took her hand.

“Hold on, Zola, we are going to fix this together, all of us” I said. “Stay here with Kira’s mom. Joellen, call that woman.”

She picked up Francine’s landline.

Sean took my shaking hand for a second, then I held tight to Terry Johnson and started up the stairs to my room. “It’s up here,” I said to Cop Irvin, who hurried to follow me, with Kira and Sean right behind him.

“Muir, you don’t have to do this,” Kira’s mom called up the stairwell. “I wish you wouldn’t. We should wait for Francine.”

“Mom, she’s got it,” Kira yelled back to her.

I set Terry Johnson on the perfectly made bed. Everyone crowded around in the room that seemed much smaller now.

“Wait, hold up!” There was another voice in the kitchen, pounding feet on the stairs, and then Elliot stood with us in the room, breathing hard, his camera safely, perpetually in his hands.

Amazing.

“This is unacceptable,” Cop Irvin said.

“I’m just here to document,” Elliot said. “Seriously, pretend I’m not here. Go. Muir, I got you.”

Kira smiled.

I went to the dresser.

Please, Joellen. Do not let me down.

I moved and spoke as slowly as I could, buying Joellen as much time as possible, while still in total disbelief that any of it was happening in the first place. We were all starring in a filler episode of Dateline where the producers forgot there was supposed to be a crime and instead booked an overwrought, forgetful lady being peak white at Zola’s expense.

“Let’s see…gold bracelet…okay, well, these are my three books. And here,” I said, my voice small and scared to death, “have a look in the drawers. There are eight shirts, five pairs of socks, three pairs of pants, and two skirts. Kira helped me find those because I wanted to look pretty for a boy I like.” Sean looked like he was about to cry. Elliot took pictures of the drawers. Of me. Of the cop. Of the room full of people around me: Portrait of the World’s Most Boring Crime Scene. “Shoes I sometimes keep under the bed. I have three pairs. Write that down—are you writing it all down?” Cop Irvin shined a flashlight into the drawers, moved things aside.