“Also,” Becca said suddenly, “I guess I wasn’t completely honest earlier.” Whitney tightened her hold on the phone. “I do know why Amelia and I aren’t really hanging out anymore. It’s because of that guy. Michael or whatever. He’s not a good guy. He, like, parties all the time and brags about doing some pretty bad stuff. Anyway, ever since Amelia started hanging out with him and his friends she’s not been herself anymore.”

Yeah, Whitney knew firsthand how much Amelia had changed.

Was this why?

“Do you know the names of any of his other friends?”

“Um...there was another guy named like Carey or Craig or something. Oh, God. I honestly wasn’t paying that much attention. I was so worried about—”

“Alec. Yeah, I know,” she said, disappointed in Becca. Weren’t girls supposed to look out for each other? Have each other’s backs? Wasn’t it some sort of code?

She’d always thought Becca was such a good friend to Amelia. Now she wasn’t so sure.

But she was appreciative that at least she’d come clean now. “Thanks, Becca.”

After hanging up, she turned to Natalie, whose eyebrows were raised in question. “Apparently, that boy is someone named Michael who lives in our apartment complex and Amelia has been seeing him behind my back.”

Natalie touched my arm. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

Tears pricked Whitney’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “There’s so much I don’t know about. So much she’s been keeping from me.” Tucking her phone into her pocket, she looked up at her friend. “I can’t believe this is happening. I really thought she’d be back by now.”

“Maybe she is. Let’s go back to your place and check,” Natalie said, but her tone lacked the conviction it had had earlier.

When they returned to the apartment, there was still no sign of Amelia. Whitney couldn’t waste any more time. She called the police and reported her daughter missing. The woman she spoke with said she’d send an officer out to her apartment within the hour.

Whitney’s weekly call from her mom came a few minutes after she’d hung up. Whitney stared at her phone, hesitating. Could she even handle a conversation with her mom today? It was always shallow. One-sided. Whitney often joked that it was nothing more than a box for her mom to check every week. A way for her to pat herself on the back, to feel like a good parent.

“You should answer,” Natalie pressed. “She might know something.”

Whitney doubted her mom knew anything about Amelia, but decided it was worth a shot. Anything was at this point.

At the sound of her mom’s voice Whitney’s spine instinctively straightened, her shoulders tensing.

Sit tall.

Spine straight.

Smooth your skirt.

Stop fidgeting.

Quiet down.