“Okay, Bonnie. That’s a good idea. Please keep us posted.” My mom ends the call with Mrs. Kemp then turns to me. “She tried to call Leighton earlier, but there was no answer. She’s trying again right now . . . Keeley? You okay?” She sets her phone on the table and pulls out the chair next to mine. She sits then laces her fingers around her coffee mug.
I want to tell her how much Jenna has changed, and that she’s probably just passed out with a hangover at Leighton’s. But I don’t. After all, Jenna’s not the only one who’s no longer the goodie-goodie her parents think she is. We’ve all done things that our parents would be upset about. Besides, Jenna will probably show up at home any minute, and I don’t want to be known as the girl who ratted out her best friend for no good reason. Or maybe I should say former best friend. I really don’t know anymore. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking she’ll probably show up any minute.”
My mom studies my face as she takes her first sip of coffee. She’s about to say something else when her phone vibrates. We both glance at the screen. It’s Mrs. Kemp again.
“See, I bet she found her.”
“Let’s hope so,” my mom says, bringing the phone to her ear. “Hey, Bonnie. Is she home?”
I scoop up my dishes as I stand but freeze mid-step when I hear my mom say, “Oh no . . .” I return to the table, still standing, still holding my plate and glass. “Okay . . . Yes, I’ll talk to Keeley again. And please let us know if you hear from her . . . Okay. Talk to you soon.”
“Talk to me again about what? What did she say?” I ask.
“Leighton says she hasn’t seen Jenna since around nine last night. Bonnie is going to try calling Delaney and Dustin next. If neither of them can help, the Kemps will be calling the police.”
“Seriously?” I pick up my phone and scroll through the call log to verify I didn’t miss a call from Mrs. Kemp this morning. She probably called my mom instead since they’ve spoken with each other hundreds of times over the years. “Delaney and Dustin aren’t going to know where she is either. They were in the same place as I was last night. But even if the three of us don’t know—”
“Four. Don’t forget about Leighton,” my mom interjects. But Leighton could be lying about not knowing where Jenna is. Maybe she’s just trying to buy her time while she recovers from drinking too much or from whatever else they may have taken last night.
“Right. Just because the four of us don’t know where she is doesn’t mean they need to call the police just yet.”
“Keeley,” she turns in her seat to face me, “why do you seem to think this is no big deal? If it was you who was missing, and your phone was going straight to voicemail, I would have already called the police. What’s going on with Jenna anyway?” She stands, takes the dishes out of my hands, and storms to the sink. “The Jenna I’ve known all these years has always been such a rule follower. She would never leave without a word to her parents. When did Bonnie and Joseph start letting her do that?” She places my dishes in the sink and turns to me for an answer. Her arms are now folded, and she’s leaning against the counter.
“I don’t think they let her, Mom. I’m pretty sure she just does it.”
“Since when?”
“Since about . . . I don’t know, end of September?” I shrug and grab my phone off the table again to see if Delaney or Dustin have messaged me yet. No one has.
“That was around the time you girls began spending less time with each other.” It wasn’t a question, but the deepening of her eleven lines indicates she suspects I’m withholding information. “Keeley, Bonnie and Joseph are worried out of their minds, so if you have any idea where Jenna could be or if there’s anything you’d like to share, now’s the time.”
I look up from my phone, suddenly wondering if Jenna may have texted Dustin last night too. Maybe he decided to meet up with her. He did ditch out on Delaney after the movie, saying he didn’t feel well. No, that couldn’t have had anything to do with Jenna. He would have said something to Delaney, and she would have called me already to complain about it. I wonder if she’ll tell Mrs. Kemp that Jenna texted me last night. “Nothing I haven’t already told you.”
“All right then.” She turns to open the dishwasher and begins loading it. “Maybe you can call other mutual friends to find out if anyone knows where Jenna is? What about her cousin Eli? I wonder if Bonnie has spoken with him yet.” She turns to face me, a few dirty utensils in hand. “He hangs out with some of your friends too, doesn’t he?”
Eli. A subtle knot forms in my chest. “Yeah, a few, I guess,” I say, shaking my head. “But he was working the concession stand at the movie theater last night, so I doubt he’d have seen her either.”
“Oh, okay. You’ll call some other friends, though?”
I nod, more out of habit than agreement, and she turns to put the silverware she’s holding into the dishwasher.
As I exit the kitchen, my mom starts up again, “Keeley, this girl, Leighton, who else does she hang out with?”
I peek my head back into the room and shrug. “She’s new, so no one really. Not that I know of, anyway. Just Jenna, I guess.”
“Well, when Jenna gets home, I think it would be a good idea for you to invite her over. Yes, people grow and change, but you two have been friends for a long time, so there’s no reason for you to stop talking to each other altogether.” She glances back and forth from me to the dishes as she talks. “I’m not saying you have to go back to spending all your free time with each other but getting together every now and then would be nice. Even just to go for a run. You two have always been running buddies . . .” She pauses with a sigh. “Maybe you could even invite Leighton. You know, so you can get to know her a little too?”
Having Leighton over is a terrible idea but telling my mom that will only prolong this conversation. “Yeah, maybe. Good idea.”
She smiles, but I can tell by the way she’s gripping the edge of the counter that she’s struggling to let this go. Even though she’s been working on not being so nosey when it comes to my social life, sometimes she just doesn’t know when to quit. It’s something Jenna, Delaney, and I have all struggled with to varying degrees since around seventh grade—nosey parents, mine and Jenna’s moms especially. The funny thing is, Jenna’s parents have always been the worst—not just nosey but strict and way overprotective. So it’s hard to believe Jenna’s the one who’s gone wild. If someone would have asked me before we started high school three years ago which one of us would end up being the biggest rebel, I would have guessed Delaney. But Jenna? She’s always been the rule follower and most levelheaded out of the three of us. For her to spin out of control the way she has must be a fluke. Maybe scaring the crap out of her parents like she has today will put an end to it all.
I look up and see my mom watching me. She sighs and says, “All right then. I know you’re dying to call Delaney, so we’ll talk later.”
Without another word, I duck out of the kitchen and head down the hall and upstairs to my room. As I close my door, I hear my dad return from his Saturday morning trip to the gym. Perfect timing. After my mom fills him in on our conversation about Jenna, he’ll most likely remind her to give me space and trust that I’ll confide in her about my problems with Jenna when I’m ready. Gotta love having a therapist for a dad.
Taking a seat on my bed, I pull up Jenna’s number on my phone. I don’t expect her to answer, but I call her anyway. It goes straight to voicemail, and I hang up without leaving a message. Then I stare at my phone and wonder if there’s a chance Jenna could really be missing. I start typing a text but erase it after a few words. A text won’t do any good. What’s the point if her phone isn’t even on?
Sighing heavily, I stand and plug my nearly dead phone in before setting it on my desk. Then my gaze wanders out the window into our wooded backyard, coming to rest on the worn, weathered, and abandoned playset Jenna, Delaney, and I used to play on. My mom has been asking my dad to take it down for years, ever since we grew
out of it and started going to Jolliet Park instead, but his response is always the same. Leslie, one day we’re going to have grandkids, and they’ll need a place to play. Then my mom always laughs and warns him how dangerous the old “deathtrap” is. Does he really want their grandkids at risk for contracting tetanus from a rusty old nail? He always promises to inspect the play structure’s integrity come spring. Every year, I secretly hope it passes inspection, because there’s something comforting about seeing it when I look out my bedroom window.
Of course, I see more than just the slide, the three swings, the teeter-totter, and the fort at the top of the slide; I also see my best childhood friends and I having contests to see who could swing the highest or who could walk across the teeter-totter the fastest. I see us in the fort with an arsenal of snowballs meant for my unsuspecting big brother and his dorky friends.
And I see us sliding down the slide into one of those hard, plastic swimming pools on humid summer days.
The memories prompt me to walk over to the pin board hanging above my desk. I poke around a bit before I find what I’m looking for tacked underneath a strip of three photo booth pictures from this year’s homecoming dance, taken the last time Delaney and I hung out with Jenna. Even though it was only five weeks ago, it feels like months have passed. I run my thumb across Jenna’s face in one of the three photos, trying to decipher her odd expression. Guilt swells within me, prompting me to slide the strip into a wicker keepsake box on top of my desk instead of tacking it back up. Then I return my attention to the old, forgotten picture that was tacked underneath the homecoming photo. It’s of Delaney, Jenna, and me lying on the old merry-go-round at Jolliet Park the summer before we started seventh grade. I scan the ancient photo and then zero in on Jenna’s face, which has the same faraway expression she always used to have in impromptu snapshots. It suddenly occurs to me the expression isn’t all that different from the one she has in the homecoming photo. I guess it’s just been a long time since I’ve seen her look like that. Sighing, I tack the old photo back in place then take a step back and wonder if there will ever be another photo taken of the three of us again.
A vibration brings me back to the here and now. I lunge for my phone, unplugging and answering it without looking to see who it is. “Hello?” I say before it’s even to my ear.
“Did you talk to Mrs. Kemp?” Delaney asks without returning my harried greeting.
“No, my mom did. Why? Did you?”
“Yeah. She called my mom, but my mom can’t talk because she’s at the salon. So she texted me and said Mrs. Kemp left a weird voicemail about Jenna and that I should call her back. What the hell? Where do you think she is?”
“I don’t know. Leighton’s is my best guess.”
“Uh-uh. Leighton told Mrs. Kemp she hasn’t seen Jenna since last night.”
“Right, but maybe Jenna’s hungover and Leighton is covering for her.” I glance at the old photo and wish I could ask the tan-skinned girl with the brown side ponytail if she knows what’s wrong with her sixteen-year-old self.
“You really think Leighton cares enough about Jenna to lie for her like that?” She huffs. “I doubt she could care less if Jenna gets in trouble.”
“I don’t know, Delaney. I’m just throwing stuff out there. Where else would she be if she really didn’t go home last night?” As an afterthought, I mumble, “And how did she get there without her car?” Delaney’s silence is enough to elevate my worries over Jenna’s recent actions, but we’ve already decided half a dozen times to give Jenna a little more time before we say something. Then again, we’ve never discussed who we’d say something to or if our concerns would be voiced anonymously. I guess we’re close to being forced to make those decisions, though, now that she’s decided it’s okay to stay out all night without a word to her parents about where she’ll be. This isn’t the same Jenna we grew up with. “Anyway . . . now what? Have you talked to Dustin? I guess Mrs. Kemp was going to call him too.”
“No,” she says with an edge to her voice. “I tried to call him a few times this morning, but he isn’t answering . . . And he never responded when I texted him goodnight last night . . . Whatever.”
“You don’t think Jenna texted Dustin last night too, do you?” I ask, my gaze falling back on the old photo.
“Well, if she did, he didn’t tell me about it,” she snips.
Whoops. What started out as a ‘We both miss the old Jenna so why don’t we lean on each other?’ sort of thing between Dustin and Delaney has evolved into more than anyone thought it would.
“Anyway,” she continues, her tone back to normal, “should we try to hunt her down or something? You know, for her mom and dad? I already tried to call her, but it went straight to voicemail.”
“Same here. And yeah, I mean . . . I promised my mom I would ask around, so . . . When we find her, we can give her a heads up that her mom has been calling around looking for her. Do you want to meet at Jolliet?” I ask.
“Jolliet? Why don’t you just come over here?”
“Nah, I feel like getting outside. Going for a run.”
“All right, I guess.” She sighs heavily. “How long? Ten? Fifteen minutes?”
“I’ll leave right away, so yeah, about ten.” Our house is a little farther away from Jolliet Park than Delaney’s, but since I’m running, we’ll probably get there about the same time if we both leave now.
“Okay. See you there.”
Chapter Two
Friday, July 21, 2017
Three Months Before Jenna’s Disappearance
Jenna Kemp’s first instinct when Dustin’s hand found its way under her shirt was to flinch.
“Sorry,” Dustin said, quickly moving to withdraw the advance. For months, he’d been dreaming of doing more than just kissing Jenna, and for years before that, he’d dreamt of doing more than talking on the phone with her, holding her hand, or putting his arm around her while they watched a movie. He knew he had to take things slow with her. Not because he had much experience in the sex department (for a seventeen-year-old, he had way less than many of his friends), but because he never wanted to do anything to jeopardize their nearly decade of friendship if dating didn’t work out for them. But his friends had been giving him a hard time lately about being stuck on first base with her, so he couldn’t deny his growing frustration and paranoia that maybe Jenna didn’t feel the same way about him as he felt about her. He worried she was too nice to outright reject him.
Jenna grabbed his hand, pinning his palm against her hip and his fingertips to the flesh of her lower abdomen. “It’s okay,” she whispered. It really wasn’t, but Jenna wanted so badly to forget the past. Her head and heart wanted him to touch her, but the memories wouldn’t stop appearing out of nowhere, stifling her desire to be physical with him.
As Jenna’s grip loosened around his hand, Dustin’s fingers moved cautiously, slowly tracing a path along the lower portion of her stomach, then a little faster upward and across her ribs. Her breath hitched when the edge of his palm touched her bra, but the doom she felt was accompanied by desire, so she thought maybe she was okay.
Until suddenly she wasn’t.
“STOP,” she said as the panic overtook her, hurriedly elbowing her way into an upright position in the back seat of Mr. and Mrs. Bock’s black Chevy Malibu.
She shrank back against the door and brought her hands to her face as Dustin watched from a slumped position against the opposite door.
He sighed more gruffly than intended, once again not understanding what he’d done wrong.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing this,” Jenna whispered. She could never seem to bring herself to tell Dustin the truth.
Doing what? Dustin wondered. Trying to convince yourself we should be more than just friends? He couldn’t say it out loud because he was too afraid it was the truth, and he wasn’t ready to give up on her just yet.
“Hey,” he said, sliding closer to her, “it’s okay.”
&
nbsp; Jenna met him halfway, allowing him to put his arm around her. She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes, thinking about how badly she wanted to take their relationship to the next level and how badly she wanted to be a willing participant, even if it was only to bury the memories of all the times she wasn’t.
“I can’t believe summer is already half over,” Dustin said, changing the subject. He ran a hand through his hair. “We haven’t even been to the beach or gone to the drive-in yet.”
Jenna peeked up at him, a grateful smile forming on her lips. “Well, maybe if someone hadn’t decided to take a full-time summer job . . .”
“I know, I know. But someone doesn’t get straight A’s like his girlfriend, so he really needs to save up for college even if it means tuning up bikes and test riding them around a parking lot every day.”
Jenna laughed and kissed Dustin’s neck. It was a quick, innocent peck, but it made Dustin wish he could be on top of her again. He cupped her chin and turned her face toward his. When he found her lips, his pulse quickened, and he fantasized about undressing her. Instead of acting on this fantasy, he somehow mustered the willpower to stop kissing her and wrapped his arms around her as they stretched out across the back seat.
The last thing Jenna remembered before dozing off was Dustin kissing her hair and telling her it smelled good.
“Oh my God!” Jenna jumped up, waking Dustin. “What time is it?”
Dustin sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, Jenna’s words not quite registering. His heart skipped a beat as a car headed toward the undeveloped cul-de-sac. He thought it might be a police car at first, but from what he could tell, it was just another couple looking for a private place to park.
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