by T. A. Kunz
It’s frustrating that I can’t hear the other person’s response. I butt into a conversation between a few of our mutual friends and ask if they’ve seen her or Trent recently. None of them have, so I move on.
“Lori,” I say again, more desperate now. The thought of Trent laying his greasy hands all over her sends me into a frenzy.
Donovan heads out to the backyard to expand our search as I hurry up the stairs to the second floor of the house. I fling open the first couple of doors I come across along the way only to find the rooms either empty or occupied by people who aren’t Lori. I apologize to a couple making out in one of the rooms and continue down the hall.
No sign of Lori or Trent anywhere.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” I hear her ask. Her tone is no longer playful. “Let go of me. This isn’t cute anymore. Let go of me, I said. I’m not joking.”
Panic burrows its way to my core and I begin throwing open more doors, not concerned if I interrupt anything happening in the rooms beyond them. The door to the second-floor bathroom is locked when I reach it. I knock forcefully.
“Occupied. Damn,” I hear from the other side. It’s clearly not them.
“Drea, what’s happening?” Donovan’s anxious face comes into view as he asks the question.
“I don’t know. I can’t find them, but she sounds upset,” I reply, trying to keep my emotions in check.
“I’m going to keep looking. Are you going to be okay?” he asks, seeming in full distress mode.
I nod and he rushes back down the stairs.
“Lori, listen to my voice,” I say loudly into the phone, hoping she finally hears me. “I’m here and I’m not leaving, okay? Please tell me where you are.”
“Let go of me!”
(Inaudible voice)
“Lori! Please answer me! Tell me where you are!”
My mind leaps into worst case scenario territory. I don’t know what to do. I hear her struggling on the other end of the call and feel positively helpless. There’s a quick noise that sounds like a car horn, then nothing. When the call drops, my heart drops with it.
“Lori? Lori?”
I glance at my phone’s screen. The call has ended. I immediately call her back, but it just rings.
No answer.
I hurry back to the first floor, dodging past a couple devouring each other’s faces on the stairs along the way. They don’t even budge when I almost crash into them. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, my eyes focus on my exit to the front yard where all the cars are parked.
Sophia Gomer’s face pops into view right in front of me. “Wow, I did not expect to see you here tonight,” she says with a faint smile.
“Yeah, I’m surprised too,” I reply as my eyes pan back over to the front door. My anxiety kicks into high gear.
I need to get outside.
“I’m glad you came,” she says, flipping her long, straight, honey brown hair over her shoulder. “Does this mean you’re going to come back to us? We miss you on the cheerleading squad.”
That’s literally the last thing on my mind right now. Can’t she see how upset I am?
“As much as I’d love to update you on all things cheerleading, I’m kind of in the middle of something,” I reply. My eyes dart back toward the front door. “Have you seen Lori anywhere?”
“No. Is something wrong?” she asks, finally seeming to take note of my frantic state.
“I need to find her. I think she might be in trouble.”
Her brow furrows. “Trouble? What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know. I just think something’s wrong.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll go look for her too, if that helps,” she replies. “We’ll find her, don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” I say, and then wade into the dancing crowd.
I leave the house behind and stop short on the front porch. A sea of cars fills my vision. I don’t recognize Trent’s amongst any of them. I try Lori’s cell again and hear the faintest of ringtones echoing through the night, competing with the noise from the party behind me.
“Lori?” I shout as I move toward the melody.
I rule out all of the cars in the driveway and on the yard before the call times out. I try again. The ringtone grows louder the closer I get to the street.
“Lori?” I cry out again, more desperate this time.
The call again rolls to voicemail and I lose track of where the tune is coming from. I make one more attempt and hear the ringtone sound in the near vicinity. I see a small rectangular light source illuminated in the road a little ways from my position. Rushing over to it, I snatch up Lori’s cell phone and see all of my missed calls.
“Hey, did you find something?” asks Donovan as he joins me.
I try to articulate and get out all I want to say, but the emotions surging through me make it almost impossible. “She’s gone. That asshole has her.”
“Hold up—slow down. Who has her? Trent?”
“They were all over each other when I got here and it sounded like they were continuing what they started before I interrupted them earlier. And then look,” I say, presenting her phone for him to see. “She doesn’t just leave her phone behind. She’s always on this thing taking pictures and checking her damn socials.”
“Okay, calm down. Do you want to call the cops? Because if you do, I’ll call them this second.”
I begin to hyperventilate. I can’t catch my breath. The thought of anything happening to her, regardless of how she’s treated me, causes me to spiral into hysterics.
“You need to calm down, Drea. Listen, I know what a panic attack looks like, all right? You are right in the middle of one. You need to breathe and focus on your surroundings, okay?”
I do as he instructs and take in a few long breaths. I focus on his face and breathe in synch with him to get my bearings.
“I’d call the cops, but I can’t,” I finally say.
“Why not?”
“I take it you’ve never dealt with cops in a situation like this before?”
“I try not to, but unfortunately I have dealt with them on occasion.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I say at the peak of my frustration. “If I call and tell them that I saw a drunk guy with my drunk friend at a party, they’re going to either A, tell me that’s just what kids in this town do, or B, break this whole party up.” I pause to take a breather before continuing. “And if I tell them that I actually didn’t see anything and I have no idea where the two of them went, they’re going to start calling me young lady and asking if I’ve been drinking or taking drugs myself tonight.”
Donovan’s brow creases. “Sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience. Has something like this happened to you before?”
“Yeah.” My eyes move to Sophia’s front porch. “In that house, actually, but I don’t really remember it. That’s part of the problem. You can’t file a report if you don’t know what you’re filing it about. I just woke up here a few weeks ago after a party, and all I know is that nothing good happens when Trent’s involved.”
He nods. “Let’s go do something about it then, okay? Come on.” He reaches for my hand. “Let’s find our friend.”
I go to take his hand and then something dawns on me. “Harrison’s still here at the party. If anyone would know where Trent is, it’d be him.”
Looks like I’ll be finding Harrison later after all.
Donovan
I take Drea by the hand and we hurry back toward Sophia’s house to find some guy named Harrison. It begins to set in that I only started at this school a few weeks ago and I’m already about to make waves with the Haddon Falls High elite.
There goes my plan for laying low senior year.
I sure hope Drea’s right about all of this. But if she isn’t, I only have to deal with the fallout until graduation. I’ve dealt with much worse for longer, that’s for sure.
“Thank you, by the way,” Drea says when we reach the edge of the
massive driveway.
“Of course. It’s what friends do. Besides, it’s about time we start believing the victim, right?” I reply with a thin smile, and she returns it.
We move into the house. Drea takes the lead toward the living room where she last saw Harrison. It feels like even more people are here now than before we went outside, and it’s proving hard to navigate through them all.
“Do you see him anywhere?” I ask near her ear, contending with the surrounding noise.
“Not yet, no. There’s beer pong set up in the kitchen. Let’s go check there.”
She jostles my hand when we enter the kitchen. Her eyes fixate on a tall, slender, but fit guy with dark brown hair. He looks nice enough. Not the stereotypical jock.
If that’s Harrison, I wonder why he hangs out with a guy like Trent.
“Is that…?”
“Harrison,” she shouts, cutting me off.
I guess I got my answer.
Harrison turns to us and his mouth forms into a smile. Drea releases my hand and hurries over to him. I follow close behind.
“I thought you were leaving,” he says, his smile deepening.
He’s quite the glorious sight from both close up and far away.
“I was, but I need to find Trent. Have you seen him?” Drea asks.
“Not in a while, no.” His calm expression changes to match her agitated one. “Is everything okay?” His voice lowers to a whisper. “He wasn’t the reason you were crying earlier, right? Because if he was—”
“No, but he might be with Lori, and I need to find them before something happens,” she replies.
“Have you seen either of them?” I ask, trying to get any lead we can.
He switches his focus to me and shakes his head. “Last time I saw Lori, she was at the bar taking shots. I think you were with her.”
“Yeah, that was when we first got here,” I affirm. “That was hours ago though.”
The worry seems to grow in Drea’s eyes the longer we stand here. “Harrison, listen,” she says, “can you call Trent maybe? I think he might do something to Lori if we don’t find her.”
Alarm springs into his hazel eyes. “Sure.” He pulls out his phone and presses some buttons.
“Thank you.” Drea bites her lower lip as we wait for the results of Harrison’s call.
“Trent, where are you, man?” asks Harrison. Drea and I hang on to every word. “You’re upstairs and kind of busy?”
Drea wastes no time and charges toward the stairs. I try to catch up with her, but moving through the party is like swimming against an ocean current.
“Drea, wait up,” I call out.
She must not hear me over the pounding music because she doesn’t stop. I finally reach a break in the crowd and sprint up the stairs to find her standing in front of a door near the end of the third floor hallway. She’s banging on it and demanding Trent to open up.
She looks over at me when I close in. “It had to be this room, right? Out of all the rooms, he had to take her to this one,” Drea spits out. “He’s locked the door and won’t open it, but I know he’s in there.”
“Is this where you woke up that day?” I ask. I don’t want to trigger anything, but it’s probably far too late for that worry given what’s happened tonight.
She looks at me and I receive the answer to my question by her facial expression alone. I move in front of the door and pull out my wallet. I retrieve my “lucky” lock pick and kneel in front of the door handle. Thankfully, it’s a simple privacy doorknob with a small hole in the middle for me to slide the slim piece of metal into and pop it open.
“Wait, you just carry that around with you?”
“Remember when I told you I’ve had run-ins with the cops? Well, this is why. I keep this around to remind me of my screw-ups. It’s kind of ironic that I’m using it now to help someone,” I say as I hear the lock disengage.
Drea rushes into the room, then comes to an abrupt stop.
“What the actual hell?” Trent yells. “Get out of here.”
Trent and a random girl, not Lori, are wrapped up in each other. The girl grabs her blouse from beside her on the bed to cover up, but Trent just flaunts his shirtless form, clearly not bothered by it. The girl pulls on the blouse before scurrying out of the room.
“Where’s Lori?” demands Drea. She’s definitely more upset now.
“How the hell should I know?” he replies.
Drea balls her hands into fists by her side. She’s holding them so tight, I’m afraid she might draw blood.
“Wrong answer. Where’s Lori?” she asks in a louder voice.
“You’re crazy hot when you get like this, you know that?”
I jump in between Drea and her making a big mistake. “Come on, man,” I say. “Do you know where Lori is, or not? Several people here said you were hanging all over each other tonight, so you might as well ‘fess up.”
“Fine. You caught me. We were getting all hot and heavy in the garage, making out in Sophia’s dad’s sweet Bentley, and she accused me of going too far too fast and being too rough, so she split. Then I got another girl and brought her up here. End of story.”
“You’re such a disgusting pig, you know that?” Drea snaps.
“Oink, oink, baby.”
Even I want to hit him for that one.
“What did you do with her?” insists Drea.
“I already told you, she bit off more than she could chew and she split, period.”
“I heard the whole thing, Marcus,” she says. “Lori butt-dialed Donovan while you two were together. You tried to force yourself on her.”
Marcus rolls his eyes. “If you heard the whole thing then you know she was enjoying it at first and then left when I got a little too hands-on.”
Drea hauls off and slaps him across the face. I’m not quick enough to intervene, not that I would have anyway because this guy’s some kind of next level douchebag.
Trent pivots his face back to Drea while rubbing the offended area, a smirk firmly in place. “Have you forgotten who my dad is?”
“Like I give a damn,” she says.
She rears back to send another blow his way, but this time I stop her.
No need to push our luck.
“You and Lori are both the same, you know that, Drea? You both talk a big game, but deep down you’re just a pair of weak bitches,” Trent says with a pompous laugh.
This guy is the worst.
I guide Drea off to the side and then go toe-to-toe with him.
He rises from the bed. “You gonna do something, princess?”
Princess?
Princess!?
Princess!?!
He looks so smug, just begging to be punched, so I accommodate him. He falls back against the bed, and for a moment, I feel victorious as he cups his hands over his nose. Then the adrenaline begins to subside and a surge of pain shoots through my entire hand.
“Ow! Crap that hurts.” I shake my hand off to the side before drawing it to rest near my stomach. “I always thought hitting someone who deserved it would make you feel good, but, damn, this hurts a lot.”
“I think you broke my nose, asshole,” he whines, flat out on the bed resembling a turtle on its back.
“That’s Mister Asshole to you, Trent,” Drea grounds out as she kicks him in the shin, adding insult to injury.
“Come on. We still have to find Lori. He’s not worth our time,” I try to convince her.
“I still think he’s lying. He knows where she is,” she argues while I lead her back toward the doorway. She cranes her neck to look back over her shoulder into the room. “I’m calling the cops on your ass.”
“Not if I call them first, sweetheart,” he fires back, and I feel her body resonate with anger.
“Let’s go. We don’t need to end up in jail tonight, okay?” I try to calm her the best I can, but in the back of my mind there’s a single question nagging away at me.
Where the hell are you, Lori?
/>
Drea
A range of emotions assault me all at once. I can’t decide how I should feel in this moment. Slapping Trent felt therapeutic, but the way Donovan punched him felt more like retribution. He still deserves so much more, but what Donovan did back there was truly awesome. I can see why Lori likes him.
“How’s your hand?” I ask. Guilt scratches at my heart since that whole exchange was mostly my fault.
“The feeling is coming back and I no longer hear ringing in my ears, so there’s that. But that’s not important. We still need to find Lori. Can you think of where she could be?”
I shake my head, trying to piece everything together and make sense of the situation. “I still don’t get it. She’d never be this far away from her phone, ever.”
“Does she know anyone who lives around here, maybe where she could’ve gone to lay low?” he asks.
“Not that I know of.”
“Hey, are you two all right?” Harrison’s voice sounds from down the hall.
“No,” I curtly reply. “Your friend’s face in there did this to my friend’s hand.”
“First of all, sorry about your hand. I’m sure Trent deserved it,” he says to Donovan. “And second,” he turns to address me, his hazel eyes firm, “Trent’s not really my friend.”
I almost get shivers from the seriousness of his tone. It’s nice to hear him openly denounce Trent, but that still doesn’t explain why he hangs out with him so much.
“Okay, then why are you always around each other?” I ask.
“We’re on the same team, that’s it. I swear. The coach has this thing about wanting all of us to be a tight-knit group this season. It’s not by choice. He’s kind of forcing it upon us. Believe me, I’m not a fan of Trent or his handiwork.” His eyes plead with me to believe him.
“If that’s true, why didn’t you ever do anything to stop him? You and the rest of the football team have practically let him get away with murder, and you’ve all stood by doing absolutely nothing.”
He goes silent, contemplative. His eyes have lost their usual sheen. I’m disappointed he doesn’t have a rebuttal.
Say something, please. Prove me wrong.