I can’t concentrate and I start to paint one of the flats the wrong color and Ted yells at me. I’m so upset I end up throwing the paintbrush at him, spattering paint everywhere, and everyone on stage crew is staring at me like I’ve gone insane as I run out of the theater to cry in the bathroom.
I’ve been sitting here in one of the bathroom stalls ever since, thinking about when I met Abby on my first day of school in second grade. We’d just moved to Huntingville from down-state, when my dad bought into the medical practice here. I was sitting in front of this kid Richie Sisbarro. First, he pulled my hair, which was in a long braid. I didn’t want to be labeled a tattletale on my first day, so I didn’t say anything. Then he kept kicking my chair — too softly for the teacher to hear, but enough to make me want to punch him. I couldn’t wait till the bell rang for lunch, so I could get away from him. Abby came up to me right away.
“Richie Sisbarro is such a booger face. In kindergarten, he ripped half the pages out of Each Peach Pear Plum when I brought it in for show-and-tell. And that was my favorite book!”
“I love that book!” I told her.
We both started reciting together, “Each Peach Pear Plum, I Spy Tom Thumb …”
By the time we’d said the whole book together — Abby had memorized it, too — I knew we were going to be best friends.
We’ve spent so many years knowing everything about each other, liking the same music, the same books, the same movies, the same everything except for ice-cream flavors practically. No matter how many times I think about it, I still can’t believe that something this major would be going on in Abby’s life and she wouldn’t tell me.
But then I’m shrouded by a fog of guilt. I haven’t exactly been such a great friend to Abby lately — I’ve been so busy with stage crew and a lot of the time I would have been IM’ing with Abby in the evenings, I’ve been on the phone with Ted. And … I think this is what makes me feel the worst, like I’m the most terrible person ever … she was kind of starting to bug me at times. I feel awful even thinking it with her being missing, but it’s true. It’s like she wanted everything to stay the same way it had always been, and me … well, there’s so much new stuff in high school that I want to try and so many new people to meet. It’s not like I didn’t want to be friends with Abby anymore. I just wanted her to make new friends and try new things, too. I talked to Mom about it and she told me this poem: “Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver, the other gold.” She said it was natural to want to branch out and make new friends, but that friendships like mine and Abby’s were special and rare, and I should still try to be a good friend to her.
That was when I called Abby and asked her if she wanted to come over for a sleepover. And she said no because she had other plans. I did kind of wonder what she was so busy with all the time — I mean, it’s not like she was doing stage crew every day like I was. I was pretty hurt, if you want to know the truth. And then she stopped sitting with me on the bus every day.
I’m such an idiot, because the day she left I was so happy, happy because Abby was talking about double-dating with Ted and me, about finally introducing me to the mystery Church Retreat Guy. It was like she was finally opening up to me again. But she wasn’t. She was lying.
I hit the wall of the bathroom stall, hard, because I’m filled with fury like I’ve never felt before. Why, Abby? Why did you lie to me? How could you do this?
There’s no answer written in the graffiti on the back of the stall door. There’s no answer I can think of. I need Abby to come back and tell me. I need Abby to come back.
“Faith? Are you in there?”
Ted calls from the hallway outside. I’m not sure I want to talk to him — or anyone for that matter — but I check my watch and it’s time to go home.
“Coming.”
I wash my tearstained face, dry it with a paper towel, then go to meet Ted. He’s waiting outside the door with my jacket and backpack.
“Do you realize you just spent the entire rehearsal freaking out in the bathroom?” he says.
“Yes. And?”
“I’m just saying. I mean, I know Abby’s your friend and everything, but —”
“But what? I should just pretend like everything’s normal even though right this very moment someone could be hurting her? Or worse even?”
“But she went off with the guy voluntarily, right? I mean, how screwed up is that?”
Even though Ted is saying some of the things that I’ve thought myself, I’m mad at him for saying them.
“We don’t know that! Maybe she went to meet him and changed her mind and he forced her into the car!”
“Face it, Faith — Abby went to meet some dude she met in a chat room. That’s just wrong.”
His words make me crazy angry. We’ve never fought before, but right now I feel like I never want to see him again. I grab my coat and backpack and stomp away down the hall toward the front of school, where I hope Mom’s waiting to pick me up.
“Faith, stop! Why are you so mad at me? I didn’t do anything to Abby,” Ted shouts at my retreating back.
But he did. He’s judged her, just like I’ve been judging her, just like everyone is going to judge her when she comes back. If she ever comes back.
CHAPTER 24
LILY DECEMBER 9 9:30 A.M.
I flat-out refused to go to school when I heard the FBI agents were coming this morning. Mom didn’t put up too much of a fight. It’s not like she’s going to work. Only Dad is machine enough to try to get work done while Abby is missing. He actually complained to Mom about this happening so close to the end of the tax year and all the extra pressure that puts on him. I’m thinking, like, there’s actually a good time for your daughter to run off with some stranger she met online?
Abby definitely takes after Dad. They’re both crazy. I’m glad everyone always tells me I’m more like Mom.
I’m watching stupid toddler cartoons when the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it,” I yell, but Mom’s there before me. She lets in a woman in a pantsuit with her hair twisted up in a bun, and a dark-suited guy with a buzz cut. They flash their badges, and introduce themselves as special agents Saunders (the lady) and Nisco (the guy) from the FBI.
Mom does her Martha Stewart thing but they turn her down. They want to get right down to business. Dad emerges from his study looking even more cruddy than he did yesterday, if that’s possible. His eyes are red from lack of sleep and staring at his computer screen trying to figure out other people’s tax blunders.
“We wanted to bring you up to speed with where we are in the investigation,” Agent Nisco says. “The police brought Abby’s computer to our CART guys —”
“That’s the Computer Analysis and Response Team,” explains Agent Pantsuit. “We’re big into acronyms at the FBI.”
“Right,” Agent Nisco continues. “They were able to get a list of all the sites Abby’s visited, and because we have a case of a missing minor, my boss was able to issue what we call an administrative subpoena for all but one of those sites, which allows us to get access to her accounts and see her activity.”
“So did you find out where she went?” Dad asks.
“Unfortunately, that’s where we ran into problems,” Agent Saunders explains. “This ChezTeen.com site that Abby’s been active on is relatively new — we hadn’t even heard of it.”
“Neither had I,” Mom says. “I knew about Facebook and MySpace and I knew she had an MSN account, but I didn’t know anything about this ChezTeen thing. Did you, Lily?”
“I think I set up an account on there, but my friends are on Facebook mostly, so I never used it.”
“Even though it’s an English language site, the servers are located outside of the United States, in the Ukraine,” Agent Nisco tells us. “So it’s out of our jurisdiction. Unfortunately, it doesn’t require an e-mail address to register, so we couldn’t use Abby’s Gmail account to request a password reset.”
“It’s no
t that we can’t get the information,” Agent Pantsuit says, seeing Dad about to blow his top. “It’s that we have to go through diplomatic channels, which takes longer, and in these cases, time is something that isn’t on our side.”
Her words stun us into silence and as if to rub it in, the only sound is the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall.
Agent Nisco breaks into my scared slide show of all the ways this guy could be hurting Abby, right at this very moment. “We were able to request a password hint and we need you to brainstorm anything you think could be Abby’s password,” he says. “Make us a list. We know her user name from the police interviews with …” He consults his notes. “Faith Wilson. But if we can get that password …”
“What’s the hint?” Mom asks.
The agents glance at each other. “It’s ‘Abby loves,’” Agent Nisco says.
“That could be anything from emo music to chocolate to this Luke Redmond guy,” I say. “It’s no help at all.”
“It’s not Luke Redmond. We’ve already tried. That’s why we need the help of the people who know Abby best,” Agent Nisco says.
“In the meantime, we’re following up another lead,” Agent Saunders tells us. “We found an e-mail in which Abby exchanged photos with the man we suspect she left with.”
Somehow, even more than the lady seeing her getting into the car at the mall, this seems to bring it home to Mom and Dad that Abby actually left home to be with an Internet Creep.
“Oh goodness, Abby, no!” Mom cries.
My father pales. “So you know who this guy is now?”
“Unfortunately, most of these predators are smarter than that,” Agent Saunders says, sighing. “They’re practiced at avoiding detection. We were able to track the IP address the e-mail was sent from to a computer in a public library in South Boston. Our agents in Massachusetts are investigating.”
Dad’s shoulders sag, and he looks a hundred years old again.
“But we did get the picture off of Abby’s computer,” Agent Nisco says, taking a photocopy from the manila folder in front of him.
I lean over Mom’s shoulder to look, and see a youngish-looking guy in a Red Sox hat that hides part of his face. He looks so … normal. Like an everyday kind of guy you might see on the street or at the mall. I guess I was expecting to see some really old guy with bad teeth and greasy hair, wearing a trench coat or something. Someone whose looks just scream out I’m a pervert who likes underage girls.
Suddenly, Dad’s fist crashes down on the table, right in the middle of the guy’s face, making us all jump.
“The goddamn son of a bitch! I’ll kill him! I swear if he harms one hair on Abby’s head, I will rip him to pieces!”
I’ve never seen my dad like this before and it scares me to tears. Mom pulls me onto her lap, even though she usually tells me that I’m too big for that.
She strokes my hair and says, “It’s okay, Lily. Daddy’s just upset because he’s worried about Abby.”
But her hand is shaking as it surfs the waves in my hair, which confirms the sick feeling I have in my stomach — everything is so not okay. And I don’t know if it ever will be again.
CHAPTER 25
BILLY DECEMBER 9 1:30 P.M.
When I saw the thing about Abby on the news last night, I thought I was going to puke up Mom’s chili all over the family room carpet. I can’t stand the thought that some guy might be hurting her. And sometimes, I can’t help thinking the worst — that she might be … dead, and lying somewhere cold and alone, abandoned in some remote place like a piece of trash that someone forgot. That makes me want to scream and punch things and scratch my skin till it bleeds so that people will see how much it hurts.
Because no one gets it. No one understands how it killed me when I got to science and she wasn’t there. Call me a sucker, but even when she said no to that date, I was still happier knowing I’d see her again in class the next day. This morning, her empty chair was like a sore that hurt every time I looked at it.
But it’s what “they” say that’s worse. Who’s they? Everyfrickingbody, that’s who. Everyone’s got an opinion about Abby, even if they never spoke to her before, and everyone’s opinion is bad. She’s stupid. She’s a freak. She’s easy. What the hell do they know? They never went on a date with her. Abby’s not like that. She’s one of the smartest, prettiest girls I know.
But … but … BUT … then WHY?! Why the hell did she disappear like this? It’s enough to make a guy crazy. It’s definitely made this one into a certifiable Grade-A Nut.
I finally catch up with Abby’s friend, Faith, in the hallway after lunch.
“Yo, Faith — uh, have you … I mean, is there any news about …”
Faith looks as crazy as I feel. Like she’s barely slept and she’s trying to hold herself together through classes that don’t make a whole lot of sense when a person you care about is missing.
“Hey, Billy. My mom just left me a voice mail. Abby’s parents asked me to come over after school to help them try to think of Abby’s ChezTeen password. Something about the FBI not being able to get into her account because the servers are overseas?”
My lunch starts doing the salsa in my stomach.
“The FBI?”
“Yeah, they’re involved now. Because some lady at the mall saw Abby getting into a car and it had out-of-state plates. And because of the computer stuff.”
Gut punch.
“Wait. She got into a car? By choice? With who? Was it that Luke Redmond guy?”
The thought makes me want to punch something. Hard. Multiple times. Until I don’t feel anything anymore.
“I don’t know. And it’s making me crazy.”
“I just don’t get why. I mean, I can understand if she didn’t want to go out with me, but …”
Faith’s eyes fill with tears.
“Oh, Billy, I wish she’d just gone out with you. I told her she should. I don’t understand why, either….”
She’s really crying now, and I can’t help but put my arm around her. She puts her head on my shoulder and I feel her tears making a wet patch on my sweater.
“And now everyone is saying all this horrible stuff about her, and I’m afraid she won’t want to come back,” Faith sobs.
“We’ll just have to make sure Abby knows we’re there for her,” I tell Faith, even though my own feelings are pretty mixed up right now. I’m still reeling from the thought that Abby willingly went in a car with some stranger. With some other guy. “If she comes back.”
I suddenly realize what I said.
“I mean, when Abby comes back. Because she has to come back, right? We can’t live with it any other way.”
Faith hugs me and nods.
“When Abs comes back,” she says, wiping the tears from her cheek with her hand.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
This sophomore, who I think is one of the drama geeks, is standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, looking seriously pissed. Faith jumps away from me like I’ve suddenly developed a contagious disease.
“Oh … hey, Ted. We were just talking about Abby. Billy went out with her and he’s really worried, like me.”
Ted gives us both a Yeah, right look.
“So worried that he’s hitting on her best friend in the meantime?”
Faith turns bright red and opens her mouth like she’s going to bawl him out. But then she just turns on her heel and stalks away.
I look at him and say, “Dude, you have got this so wrong. So very, very wrong.” Glancing at Faith’s stiff back as she marches down the hall, I add, “If she’s your girlfriend, you owe her an apology. A really big one. And if I were you, I’d give it to her PDQ.”
CHAPTER 26
FAITH DECEMBER 9 3:45 P.M.
I told Grace to give my apologies for missing stage crew. Even though I know “the show must go on,” if there’s something I can do to help find Abby, I’ve got to do that first. People — and in “people” I’m incl
uding Ted, who I can’t believe was such a Grade-A jerk about Billy — will just have to understand. No matter what they think about Abby’s decision to go off with some Internet guy.
I can’t believe the difference in Mr. Johnston when I walk into their kitchen. He looks like Abby’s grandfather instead of her father. Mrs. Johnston isn’t looking so hot, either. I don’t even think she’s wearing makeup. Abby would laugh so hard at that. She always jokes about how her mom doesn’t even get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night without makeup. See, Abby? Look what you’ve done? You’ve even managed to make your mom forget to put her face on.
Lily rushes over to hug me. Lily, who normally just thinks of me as her weird older sister’s weird friend. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tight, just like I would Abby. Now I know the world is completely upside down and back to front.
“Do you want anything to eat?” Mrs. Johnston asks. “We’ve got plenty of leftover Chinese. I guess we weren’t as hungry as we thought we were.”
“No, we ate,” Mom says. “In fact, I made you these cookies to keep you going.”
“Oh, Elaine, you didn’t have to,” Mrs. Johnston says. But then she hugs Mom and starts to cry.
“Kate, honey, Abby will be okay,” Mom says, hugging Mrs. Johnston and swallowing her own tears. “We’ve all been praying for her, and I just know that she’ll come home safe.”
Lily sits on a kitchen chair, kind of hunched over, looking so scared and miserable that I forget how normally she’s such a pain in the butt and I rub her back just the way I would Abby’s.
“You sit down, Katie,” Mom says. “Let me make you a cup of tea. Rick, do you want one? Lily?”
Mrs. Johnston sinks into the nearest chair and rests her head in her hands.
“So what can we do besides make tea?” I ask. “You need us to try and think of what Abby’s password might be?”
“We’ve been trying for what feels like forever and had total Password Fail,” Lily says, passing me a yellow pad covered with word and number combinations that have been crossed out.
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