SPIN

by K. J. Farnham

  Jenna pressed her hands over her face.

  “Jenna? What did I do?”

  “Nothing,” she said, dropping her hands to her lap. “It’s just . . .”

  Dustin’s eyes followed Jenna’s gaze to the shrinking bulge in his shorts. “Crap. I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he looked away.

  “Dustin, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting to see that when I opened my eyes.”

  “I honestly didn’t even realize . . .” Dustin raised his hands slightly and looked around at the random people walking the sidewalks of the outdoor mall. “I mean, trust me, this isn’t the ideal place to pop wood.”

  Jenna wanted to laugh. Normally she would have. But it was as if she was losing the ability to find anything funny these days. All she could muster was a forced half smile at one corner of her mouth. She was so tired of lying and pretending. “Let’s just get going. Okay?”

  They stood and started walking.

  “Oh, hey, I saw your cousin Thomas and his wife and kid in there,” Dustin said, pointing ahead toward the burger restaurant. “They wanted to say hi to you, but . . . do you want to pop in before we go?”

  “No,” Jenna said, quickening her pace as they passed in front of the restaurant. “Corbin said people could go over any time after seven, so we should go.”

  “Are you sure?” Dustin scrambled to keep up.

  “Positive . . .” And then it slipped out before Jenna could reign it back in. “I don’t want to see Thomas. Not now or any other day.”

  “What?” Dustin looked over at her, shocked. “Why do you say that? I thought he babysat for you when you were younger and you two were tight.”

  “He was actually kind of mean,” Jenna said, her voice quavering the slightest bit, but not enough for Dustin to notice with cars driving by.

  “Really? But he’s so . . .” Dustin searches for a word. “. . . friendly. And he’s, like, a youth pastor.”

  “Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving.”

  “Well, what—”

  “We should stop and get marshmallows,” Jenna said, cutting Dustin off. She was done talking about Thomas, and all she wanted to do was get out of there.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Leighton

  Sunday, October 29, 2017

  Two Days After Jenna’s Disappearance

  I wake up a little after eight to the smell of coffee and the sound of my mom unloading the dishwasher. I wonder if she’ll make a big breakfast the way she used to every Sunday morning before we moved into our townhouse and she started working full-time. I dismiss the thought just as fast as it comes to me because I don’t want to get my hopes up. Ever since my dad left, she’s slowly stopped doing all the things most moms do. Once in a while, she’ll finish a load of laundry I’ve put in the dryer, and sometimes she’ll leave food in the microwave if she’s made too much, but we rarely sit down and eat together anymore. It’s total bullshit.

  I decide it’s too early to be up on a Sunday morning, so I pull a pillow over my head and close my eyes. I’m right at that point when you’re about to fall asleep but you’re still aware of your surroundings when my phone vibrates. Jenna. My eyes pop open as I throw the pillow off my head and search for my phone under my covers. The last thing I’d done before I crashed last night was text Jenna to let her know how messed up it is for her to not to let anyone know where she is, hoping that hearing something is messed up from me might snap some sense into her. Then I held my phone and waited, but I haven’t received any texts until now.

  Finally, I locate my phone.

  Sticks: Whaaaaaat’s uuuuuuuuuuup? Me. And I think you should wake up too!

  I roll my eyes and drop my phone on the bed next to me. Then I pull the pillow over my head again. It’s best for me to not respond because then he won’t stop. I have no idea how he wakes up early every day of the week no matter what time he goes to sleep. Nor do I know why he has to be so annoying about it. Sticks is one of the few people I’ve never been a bitch to in person, but when he texts me before nine on a Saturday or Sunday morning, all bets are off. I swear he just likes to get a rise out of me, and this is the only way he can do it.

  My phone vibrates again, and my heart leaps again because I think it might be Jenna.

  Sticks: What time do ducks wake up?

  Sighing, I navigate over to the last text I sent to Jenna.

  Leighton: Not hearing from you = NOT COOL. Pretty messed up that NO ONE knows where you are right now!

  My phone vibrates, but I know right away it’s not Jenna because a preview of the new text from Sticks pops up.

  Sticks: You give up?

  Leighton: I’m sleeping.

  Sticks: At the quack of dawn. *slaps knee*

  I crack a smile even though I try not to. But then I have a flashback of what I found in Jenna’s chat account the night before, and my lips fall back into a frown. The number of guys she’s been in contact with is shocking because I never realized it was more to her than just a way to have some fun. Instead of lying to the guys she was talking to—like I do—she told them all a personal thing or two, including her first name. She’d also gotten close to a guy with the nickname Jake B, and they’d even moved to texting and talking on the phone. But the worst thing about Jenna’s excessive chat room use is that I’m the one who introduced her to ChillChat.com.

  “Leighton?” my mom says as she knocks.

  I slide out of bed and open the door a crack. “Yeah?”

  “What the hell is going on with your friend Jenna?” she whispers.

  “Why?” I ask irritated. “What did you hear?”

  “I didn’t hear anything, but two detectives are standing in our living room right now, and they want to talk to you because her parents reported her missing.” She pushes the door open and enters, closing it behind her. “Tell me what’s going on right now.”

  “I don’t know,” I say as I lazily throw a hoodie over the Violent Femmes T-shirt I wore to bed.

  “Then why do you think they want to talk to you? Wasn’t Jenna just over here on Friday night?”

  I nod but can barely hide my irritation. Just like back when she blamed me for my dad leaving, she’s only worried about herself getting in trouble in case the police find out she hasn’t been the most attentive parent lately. “Don’t worry, Mom, I won’t say anything about you leaving me alone so you can sleep at your boyfriend’s house most nights.”

  “Leighton,” she sighs, “that’s . . . not what I’m concerned about. If your friend really is missing, then you need to be sure to tell the detectives the truth about everything they want to know.” She sighs again and exits my room. “Let’s go.”

  When my mom and I get to the bottom of the stairs, the man and woman standing in our living room turn to look at us.

  “Leighton?” the man says. “Hi, I’m Detective Collins, and this is Officer Lange.”

  “Hi,” I say as I take a seat on a far corner of our sectional. My mom stands behind me with her arms folded.

  “Would you be okay with answering a few questions about Jenna Kemp?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Great,” Collins says with a nod. Then he and the woman—Lange—take seats on the other side of our sectional so that we’re facing each other diagonally. Collins opens a leather-bound notebook about the size of a paperback and unclips a pen from inside. He’s about to talk again when a muffled voice comes through Lange’s radio.

  “Sorry about that,” she says to no one in particular, as she adjusts the volume.

  “Leighton,” Collins says, “when was the last time you saw Jenna?”

  “Friday night. She came over right after school—after she stopped home and asked if she could use her parents’ car . . . It was supposed to rain that night. Anyway, she left around quarter to nine.” I wonder if I should tell them where Jenna was going but decide it’s too soon to steer the police toward Thomas, especially since I have no idea what happened when they talked—or even if they t
alked at all.

  “What did you two do while she was here? Did you have any specific plans?”

  “No, we were just hanging out—listening to music, talking—like we normally do.”

  “Why’d she leave?”

  “I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “She just wanted to go home, I guess.” I examine their faces and can tell Lange doesn’t believe me from the way she purses her lips and rubs them together. Collins just keeps jotting things down, expressionless.

  “So, she said she was going home, then?”

  “Well, no, but . . . she said she was heading out, so I figured she was heading home,” I lie.

  “Ms. Pierce?” Collins addresses my mom.

  “Yes?” She’s still standing behind me.

  “Just to clarify, you said earlier you were at work?”

  “That’s right. I work variable second shift hours, so I usually leave here anywhere from four to six, depending on what day of the week it is. Some nights tend to be busier in the ER.”

  “And what time did you leave for work on Friday?”

  “Oh . . . around five. The girls were here when I left, so I briefly saw Jenna.” My mom begins pacing from the living room to the dining room and back.

  Collins nods and flips back a couple of pages. Then he looks up at me. “Thanks for your help, Leighton. If you hear from Jenna or anything at all about her, you’ll be sure to let the Kemps know?”

  “Well, yeah,” I say, nodding. “But . . . that’s it? Do you have any idea where she is? Have you talked to anyone else?”

  “You’re the first of her friends,” he says standing. Lange stands too. “But we have some other people on our list too.”

  Could Thomas be on their list? And what about the chat room guy? She said he seemed obsessed with her. What if she met him in person and didn’t tell me about it? Suddenly I’m feeling panicked.

  “Wait,” I blurt as the officers are thanking my mom for letting me talk to them. They all look over at me from where they’re standing by the door. “I need to tell you something.”

  My mom sighs and shakes her head at me as both officers return to their spots on the sectional.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Detective Collins says to me.

  “So . . . I showed Jenna this chat room I mess around in sometimes.” I look up from the floor to meet their eyes. “It’s called ChillChat.com.”

  Both officers nod.

  “What?” my mom interjects. “You’ve been messing around in a chat room, Leighton?”

  “Mom,” I say, looking at her, “can you just let me finish?”

  She nods, and I turn back to the officers.

  “Anyway, Jenna created an account too, and she started chatting with people. It was supposed to be just for fun. You know? Just making stuff up and pretending to be people we aren’t.” My mom emits a gruff sigh, but neither officer pays any attention to her.

  “Go on,” Lange says encouragingly.

  “So, there’s this one guy Jenna started chatting with—Jake B. She only talked to other guys once, maybe twice, but this Jake guy, she always seems to have an open conversation with him whenever we were messing around on the website.”

  “What types of things did they talk about?” Collins inquires.

  I give him a hard stare as I contemplate how much to tell them. I know they’re going to see everything, so there’s really no point in telling them what I learned last night when I looked at Jenna’s chat account. And there’s probably no point in me telling them that Jenna hid all of it from me. I couldn’t believe all the personal things she’d told these people, especially Jake B. He got more than just descriptions of what Jenna looked like, what she was wearing, or what some of her favorite things are. Jake B. knew details about Jenna’s sexual experiences—some good, some bad, and some that she regretted horribly. (Thank God she left out that most of her experiences had been with her own cousin.) She also told him that she was a runner, that she was struggling with depression, that she felt alone, and that she was so tired of pretending to be someone she wasn’t—even with people who are close to her. My mom doesn’t need to hear these things.

  “Just . . . a lot of personal things. I mean, you can look at her account, right?”

  “We can. We just need to get permission from her parents,” Collins says as he jots some things down in his notebook. When he’s done, he looks back up at me and says, “Is there anything else you’d like to share?”

  He says it like he knows I’m holding back.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, Leighton.” My mom’s tone is laced with worry and disbelief. “I sure hope Jenna isn’t with one of these guys.”

  I shake my head, wishing one of the officers would just tell her to zip it because nothing she’s saying is helping.

  “What is it, Leighton?” Lange asks.

  “Jenna told me on Friday night that Jake B. was starting to creep her out.”

  “Did she explain why?”

  “She said he kept asking her to meet him in person. So she’d decided to tell him she couldn’t talk to him anymore. But I guess he wasn’t happy about that, and he wouldn’t stop bothering her. I thought she meant he was bothering her in the chat room, but . . .” They wait patiently until I continue. “But then I went into her account last night—she’d logged in once on our computer, so . . .” I shrug. “Anyway, her last message from Jake B. included a phone number, and it was sent a couple weeks ago. So, I’m thinking they upgraded their online chatting to phone calls and texts probably. I don’t know for sure, though.” I’m having flashbacks of Jenna checking her phone and smiling and sending texts to someone several of the times we’ve hung out lately.

  Collins nods and jots more down in his notebook. Lange looks over at him and places her hands on her knees as if getting ready to stand. When they both finally stand, I stand too and follow them to the door.

  “Thanks for your time, Leighton. If you think of anything else, please call the station, or you can give me a call directly.” He hands my mom a card.

  After they leave, my mom says somberly, “I hope you told the police everything you know because I have a feeling they have no idea where your friend is.”

  When I get back to my room, I grab my phone and take a seat on my unmade bed.

  Leighton: Hey the cops were just here asking about you and I’m *really* starting to worry. PLEASE let me know you’re okay. I won’t even tell anyone where you are if you don’t want me to.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tuesday, September 5, 2017

  Seven Weeks Before Jenna’s Disappearance

  Like most first days of school, Jenna’s morning rushed by in a blur. She was bummed to not have Keeley, Delaney, or Dustin in any of her morning classes, but Tommy was in her pre-calculus class, and Jordyn and Emily were in creative writing with her. No one from her circle of friends was in economics or Spanish with her. She realized as she headed to lunch that it was the first time in at least a week that she was looking forward to seeing all of her friends.

  As Jenna approached the area of the lunchroom where her friends sat last year, she spotted Keeley’s dark curly hair. Then she saw Delaney talking a mile a minute to anyone within earshot. Jenna laughed to herself at the contrast between her two besties—Keeley with a high messy bun that probably took her less than a minute to throw up, wearing clothes Jenna recognized, and Delaney with her sleek honey-blonde hair that probably took her at least twenty minutes to flatiron, wearing a brand-new outfit she probably got in Chicago over the weekend. All the regular people they’d eaten with last year were already there too. There was Tina (who was known as the resident gossip queen), Lisa, Jordyn, Emily, Corbin, and Tommy. The only person missing was Dustin.

  “Heyyyy,” Delaney said with a wave when Jenna arrived.

  More greetings followed, and Keeley smiled and scooted over to make room for Jenna between her and Emily. Jenna settled in and listened to the conversations already in progress as she bit in
to a Granny Smith apple. Delaney was telling everyone about her trip to Chicago, and Tommy was telling Corbin how much money he’d made driving a golf cart at the Mequon Country Club over the summer. Not wanting to interrupt either conversation, she scanned the lunchroom for Dustin instead of asking if anyone had seen him.

  “Hey,” Keeley said quietly, having heard everything about Chicago already, “how were your classes?”

  “Fine,” Jenna responded, “but I have a feeling pre-calc is going to be tough. I wish we had it together.”

  “I know. I can’t believe we only have AP bio together. Do you have any classes with Dustin or Delaney?”

  “Dustin is in U.S. history with me right after lunch, but no, not Delaney.”

  Keeley nodded and was about to speak when something caught her eye.

  “Dude,” Tommy said, standing and extending his arm over Emily’s head.

  Jenna turned just in time to catch the tail end of an elaborate handshake between Tommy and Dustin. Dustin smiled down at Jenna for a second before he introduced his new friend.

  “Hey, this is Eli,” he said. “He’s Jenna’s cousin.”

  Jenna made eye contact with Eli as everyone shifted to squeeze him and Dustin in. Eli smiled at her tentatively, unsure how she would react to him sitting with her friends. After all, she hadn’t made any effort to talk to him since they last saw each other about a month ago. In response, Jenna faked a smile and broke eye contact immediately. This frustrated Eli because he didn’t understand why she seemed to not want him around, especially when the rest of her friends had been so welcoming. Obviously, she hadn’t shared whatever was bothering her with her friends.

  Dustin greeted Jenna by squeezing her thigh under the table. This helped calm her nerves, but only for a little while because everyone started asking Eli questions.