Chapter Three
I woke up cold and groggy on a foam pad on Monica’s floor. There were three blankets on top of me, and I’d borrowed a pair of Monica’s father’s pajama pants, but I was still freezing. The floor beneath the foam was hard and uneven, and I yawned, pulling the blankets around my face and closing my eyes.
“I’ve been up for hours,” Monica said. She sounded bored, and I sat up, rubbing my eyes. She was sitting up in bed, fully dressed, reading something on her computer.
“Sorry.” I yawned again. Somewhere, in the depths of my brain, I knew that I’d had another dream about Steven. But judging from Monica’s annoyed expression, I knew I shouldn’t say anything. We’d stayed up until three in the morning, and I’d talked about Steven until my throat had gone hoarse.
“We need to clean up,” Monica said. She closed her laptop and got out of bed.
“Can we eat first?” I blinked sleepily. “I’m starving.”
“I need to spend the afternoon writing an essay,” Monica said. “You should probably leave soon.”
I frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Monica opened her mouth as if to reply, but then bit her lip and shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Come on. The downstairs is a mess.”
Monica and I were silent as we collected the cans and plastic cups and put everything in garbage bags. We opened her father’s study and moved the art back into the rest of the house, making sure that everything looked the same.
“Jamie and Brian really don’t care,” Monica said. “They just want to make sure nothing was broken.”
“You know, you can tell me if something is bothering you,” I said slowly. “I talk about my problems all the time. I don’t want to feel like I’m burdening you.”
Monica shook her head again. “Nothing,” she said. Her brown eyes flashed with annoyance. “I’m fine.”
‘Obviously,’ I thought sarcastically as I carried the big bags of garbage out to the curb. ‘Probably something with David. She’s probably just mad he went to a college party instead of coming here.’
To my surprise, when I went back inside, Monica jerked her head toward the woods. “Hey, you wanna walk?”
“I thought you had to write a paper?”
Monica shrugged. “I should,” she said, “but I really don’t have to, at least not right now.”
“Okay…” I paused. “You worried about being alone?”
Monica didn’t reply. She grabbed a jean jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. I followed her back through the house and out the kitchen door. The woods looked thick and ominous even in broad daylight. I shivered.
Monica set off at a remarkably fast pace, and I had to pant and jog to keep up. She was about a head shorter than me, and it was a sore point, ever since she’d once been mistaken for my younger sister. Normally, she was the one who had to trot to keep along with me. But she was making big, purposeful strides across the damp earth, and by the time we got to the tree line, I was already winded.
“Keep up,” Monica said over her shoulder.
I gazed around at the verdant forest, thinking of how it would feel to walk with Steven alone in the woods. ‘Maybe he’d press me against a tree and kiss me,’ I thought. I glanced down and bit my lip so I wouldn’t blush. My body tingled whenever I thought of Steven’s lips against mine, and I sighed softly.
“Hello,” Monica said. “I asked you a question.”
My head snapped up. “Huh?”
“I said, ‘Remember when we used to come out here? When we were kids?’”
“Oh.” I nodded quickly. “Yeah, definitely.”
Monica sat down on a rock and propped her elbows on her knees before resting her chin her small fists. “You’re going to be obsessed with Steven now,” she said.
“Come on.” I rolled my eyes, even though I knew she wasn’t exactly wrong. “That won’t happen. We’ll always be best friends.”
Monica shook her head.
“That’s not fair,” I told her. I didn’t like standing over her; it made me suddenly aware of how guilty I was. I sat on the ground, not caring if my jeans got dirty.
“It is,” Monica said stubbornly.
“You started dating David first,” I told her. “And I didn’t care then.”
“That’s different,” Monica said. “He lives in Vermont. He doesn’t go to school with us.” She puffed out her cheeks and blew a steady stream of frustration into the air.
“It’s not like I’m going to start spending all my time with him,” I said. “His mother doesn’t even–”
“Hey, stop for a second.” Monica climbed off the rock and pointed her finger into the woods. “Look.”
Frowning, I turned around. There was a large tree lying on the ground, freshly cut. We walked closer, and I jumped when a small twig snapped under my foot.
“Did we have a storm or something?”
“No,” Monica said. “Look. This was cut.” She pointed to the trunk. A shiver ran down my spine when I saw the crude cuts along the bark. They started about halfway down the tree, which had maybe been about twenty feet off the ground. Long, sharp cuts.
“Maybe a bear did this,” I suggested. “Like, got up on its hind legs.” I mimed scratching through the air, shaping my fingers into claws.
“I don’t think we have bears at this time of year,” Monica said doubtfully. “Aren’t they like, preparing to hibernate?”
“Besides,” I added quietly, “this tree is way too big for a bear to knock down.”
“Yeah. It’s too wide.” Monica reached down and tried to wrap her arms around the tree.
I giggled. Monica stood up, brushing the dust and dirt from her arms. “I have a four-foot-five arm span,” she said. “This tree was even wider than that.” She looked down at the base. “Something was really hacking against this.”
“There’s another one,” I said. I pointed a few feet away. “Look. It’s right there.”
Monica nodded. We walked closer, where there was a small clearing in the woods with grass and herbs. I gasped when I realized there were six downed trees in a crude circle around the outer edges of the clearing.
“Maybe some kid is doing an Eagle Scout project,” I said. “Like, they’re making a trail. For little kids.”
Monica shook her head. “These woods are private,” she said. “They wouldn’t do that.” She shivered. “It’s creepy, though, don’t you think? With everything else going on?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really see it,” I said. “It’s not like the same person who killed all those cows would want to cut down a bunch of trees and then just leave them.”
Monica stared at me with a serious expression on her small face. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense,” I said. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe the trees were just sick and they collapsed on their own.”
“Then what about the scratches?”
I groaned. “I don’t know,” I said. “This is dumb, though. Let’s go back.”
Monica shoved her fists in her pockets and stalked out of the woods. I followed at a slower pace, daydreaming about Steven. I wondered if I’d see him on Monday.
I wondered when he’d kiss me again.
When we were almost back to Monica’s house, she stopped dead in her tracks.
“Elizabeth,” Monica said shakily, “come here.”
“What?” I jogged over, enjoying the feel of the cool breeze against my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Look.” Monica pointed down at the ground.
There was a knife sticking out of the soil. I squatted down and wrapped my fingers around the handle; it looked like it was made out of ancient wood, or maybe bone. The knife was almost warm to the touch, like someone had been touching it just a few seconds ago. I gasped as I pulled it out of the ground. The blade was easily eight or nine inches long, and it gleamed in the late morning sun.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled. “Look at this.” I passed it to Monica. She grabbed it without hesitating, examining the handle.
“This is bone,” Monica said softly. “It’s old, too. See these?” She pointed toward a small set of etching along the handle. “They’re runes. I remember those from that mythology class last year.”
“Someone probably forgot it,” I said. “Maybe they were using it for hunting, and they dropped it.”
“The blade was buried in the ground,” Monica said. “I don’t think knives just land like that.”
“Maybe this one did,” I replied. I shrugged. “It probably doesn’t mean anything.”
Monica wasn’t listening. She was turning the knife over and over in her hands, staring at it intently. She lifted the blade to her face, holding it inches away from her eyes as she stared at the metal. She even closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, holding the knife to her ear as if to listen.
“What?” I stared at her. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Monica said. Her voice was toneless. “It just feels weird, somehow.” She patted the handle before looking up at me. “I’m going to work on my paper now,” she said coolly. “I’ll see you later, Elizabeth.”
Before I could reply, my best friend had turned on her heels and started walking back toward her house. I almost ran after her. Something about her behavior was really bothering me. But Monica wasn’t a pushover, and I knew that she’d only be angry with me for demanding to know what was on her mind.
With a sigh, I headed home.
--
I didn’t do very much for the rest of the weekend. It sounds stupid, but I was afraid to leave the house in case Steven called. My parents wouldn’t let me have a smartphone – I only had a phone that could text and call – and I didn’t get reception unless I was at school or at home.
When Monica ignored three of my texts in a row, I figured she was really angry with me. My mom said that she was probably just jealous, but somehow, I didn’t think that was it. Monica had never really been jealous of anyone. If anything, she leaned toward being a bit too arrogant all the time. When we were younger, she’d teased me about not being as smart as she was. She hadn’t done that in years, but I had no reason to believe she was envious of me. She didn’t even like Steven. She thought he was a stupid jock who came from a family of Christian nuts.
On Monday, I was incredibly anxious. Steven had texted once over the weekend to ask what I was doing, but then he hadn’t replied, and I’d spent over twenty minutes wandering around the house and trying to get better reception. Plus, I still hadn’t heard from Monica. That was really unusual. We normally didn’t go more than twelve hours without speaking to each other.
‘She’s really angry with me,’ I realized sadly as I walked into living room and sat at my usual chair by the window. ‘I hope she gets over this.’ I sat there, drafting an apology in my head…although I wasn’t sure that I actually wanted to apologize, considering I hadn’t done anything wrong.
When the bell rang, Monica still wasn’t in her seat.
She didn’t show up to any of her classes that day. By the time school was over, I was a nervous wreck. I practically ran home and texted her, asking if she was okay. I kept trying to tell myself that she was probably just sick. Maybe that’s why she had acted so weird over the weekend.
By the end of the day on Tuesday, I still hadn’t seen her. She hadn’t texted, called, or showed up to school. I even waited outside the building after class was over to see if she’d make an appearance.
Steven and Andrea were walking out together just as I was trying to figure out what to do.
“Hey, Elizabeth,” Steven said. He gave me a half-grin and tossed his blond hair. “What’s up?”
I shrugged. “I think Monica’s sick or something,” I said. “She hasn’t been here in two days.”
“Oh, my gosh,” Andrea said. “That’s so awful. Is she okay?”
“I don’t know,” I said in exasperation. “I’m thinking about going over to her house.”
“Want me to come?” Steven offered. Andrea glared at him.
“No,” I said, glancing at Andrea. “I think I should go alone.”
Andrea relaxed. “Well, nice to see you, Elizabeth.” She smiled. “Have a blessed day.” She skipped off, swinging her bag from side to side.
When Andrea was out of earshot, Steven stepped closer. He smiled again.
“You look great today,” he said. He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll text you later, okay?”
I blushed. “Okay.”
Steven gave me one last smile before loping after Andrea. In the few seconds he’d been near me, my heart had started to thump and pound. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, half-wishing I’d taken his invitation to accompany me over to Monica’s.
When I reached Monica’s house, I shivered. Brian and Jamie’s Subaru was back in the driveway, and I could hear the sounds of Thelonius Monk playing inside. I hesitated for a second, then reached out and rapped my fist on the door.
“Come in!”
Nervously, I pushed the door open. Monica’s mother, Jamie, was lying on the couch and holding a giant glass of red wine.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” she slurred, “I didn’t know you were coming over. Monica’s…not here.”
I frowned and stepped forward. Inside, the music was so loud that I had to strain to hear Jamie’s whispery voice.
“I know,” I said, feeling stupid. “She’s not in school, either. Is she okay? Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Jamie replied. She took a long sip of wine. “I figured she went out to see David for a few days.”
I narrowed my eyes and perched myself in an overstuffed armchair next to the couch.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
Jamie shrugged. She sat up and brushed her ash-blonde hair out of her eyes. Jamie looked almost exactly like her daughter – petite, intelligent, and peevish. Both Jamie and Monica had the same sharp brown eyes and puckered mouth.
“I don’t know,” Jamie repeated. She set the glass of wine down on the coffee table – an old steamer trunk laying on its side. “I thought maybe she was with David.”
“You said that already.” I frowned. “I’m really worried about her. She hasn’t been answering my texts.”
Jamie shrugged again. “Well, I’m sure she’s fine,” she said. “She’s an adult now.”
“She’s fifteen,” I replied, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. Something about Jamie’s sloppy, drunken behavior was really alarming, but I didn’t want to piss her off.
“Well, she’s basically an adult,” Jamie said.
“She can’t even drive! How do you think she got to Vermont?”
“David probably came here and picked her up.” Jamie hiccupped, then reached for the wine glass. The glass was dirty and smudged with fingerprints. Based on the warm, yeasty smell of the living room, I had a feeling that Jamie had been drinking for most of the day.
“Is Brian here?”
Jamie shrugged. She lay back on the couch, closing her eyes and humming along with the frenetic, rhythmic jazz.
“Is Brian here?”
Jamie shrugged again. With a sigh, I walked into the kitchen and down the hall. The door to his study was closed. I knocked with trepidation.
“Yeah?”
I pushed open the door.
Brian was sitting at his desk, wearing spectacles. His dark hair was unkempt, and there was paperwork spread in front of him. Jimmy Buffett was playing, but at least he wasn’t drunk, too.
“Hi, Elizabeth,” Brian said. He frowned. “Can I help you?”
“Um, yeah,” I said. “I was just wondering where Monica was. I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been in school, and she’s not answering her texts.”
“She’s probably off with that boyfriend,” Bran said. He cleared his throat. “When did you last see her?”
“Saturday morning.”
“It’s only Tuesday,” Brian said in a calm manner that infuriated me. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
“She’s never done this before,” I protested hotly. “She would always, always tell me where she was going!”
“Well, maybe she decided not to this time,” Brian said. He looked down at the papers in his lap and shuffled them. “It wouldn’t be that usual, would it?”
“It’s just not like her,” I said. “I mean, come on. Has she ever run away?”
“I don’t think so,” Brian said. “But there’s a first time for everything. She’s a young adult, Elizabeth. She’s smart and independent. I’m sure she’s fine.”
I gaped. “I…” I trailed off, biting my lip.
“What?”
“You’re her father,” I said desperately. “Aren’t you worried? It’s cold out there! She could be hurt, or lost. Or sick!”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Brian repeated. “Now if you don’t mind, I really need to get back to work.”
My heart slowed to a dull thud in my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes and I blinked them back, tilting my head to the ceiling so I wouldn’t cry in front of Monica’s father.
“I’m just scared,” I said softly. “I have a bad feeling about this. I really don’t think she’s okay. I think we should call the police.”
Brian narrowed his eyes and glared. For the first time, I saw a menacing look come over his craggy features. “I’m certainly not doing that,” he said. “Those ignorant pigs don’t give a shit about people like us.”
“But Monica! Something could really be wrong! I–”
“Elizabeth, enough!” Brian thundered. “Get out!”
I backed away nervously, bumping into the door and yelping in surprise. Brian glared at me until I walked out of his office. The door slammed shut behind me, and I shuddered.
In the living room, Jamie was passed out on the couch. I paused when I got to the front door. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t leave without checking Monica’s room and making sure she wasn’t actually home.
My heart was in my throat as I climbed the creaky stairs. Thankfully, the blasting jazz drowned out my footsteps, but I didn’t take a deep breath until I got to the landing. Upstairs felt quiet and oddly cold compared to the living room. I snuck along the hall. Monica’s door was at the end of the hall.
Being inside her room was painful. The bed was messily made, and it smelled like the pear-vanilla perfume Monica used to wear in junior high. I glanced around. Her cell phone charger was still plugged in beside the bed, but I saw that her purse was gone. Her backpack was still there, along with all of her books and her laptop.
My heart plunged when I saw the computer. It was then that I knew something horrible had happened. Monica would never leave the house without her computer; she took it everywhere. She’d even taken it to a baseball game on a field trip from school the year before.
I shivered. It felt wrong being in Monica’s room when she wasn’t there – almost like I was invading her privacy. Carefully, I peeked inside her closet. Her suitcase was still there, almost brand-new. She’d bought it right before Mensa camp. A tear dripped down my cheek as I closed the closet door and started down the hall.
My best friend was missing, and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do.