by Taylor Hart
“I own a data company,” said Mr. Black. “And since…everything with my daughter…I’ve learned systems to track predators and who they’re targeting through social media.”
Zoey peeked into the living room. She noted Mr. Black had jet-black hair, glasses, and deep wrinkles around his eyes. He was thin, but he also looked determined. His eyes met hers, and she tugged her head back into the hallway.
Mr. Black cleared his throat. “I’ve made it my mission to stop this madness. But you see, what I’ve learned is that you have to go deep and you have to be in this for the long game. To save kids from being deceived by these predators, it’s going to take more than just putting out public service announcements. It’s going to take getting your hands dirty. Just like with your daughter.”
“Your team did find our Zoey,” her mother said. “I want to help. Can we donate some money?”
“Thank you, but right now I need your daughter’s help. We are trying to be preemptive, to help the kids who are being targeted realize the consequences before they are groomed and taken.”
“If we could have just prevented it from happening to Zoey…” her mother said.
“Exactly,” Mr. Black answered. “My goal is to keep children safe, but law enforcement is like a sledgehammer when a scalpel is needed to remove a cancer. They are reactive, moving in after crimes have been committed, when it’s often too late. I believe educating and raising awareness among their peers is the key to this plague. I believe we need to vaccinate our youth against the tactics predators use on them when trying to take them.”
Her father sighed. “I think it’s admirable what you’re doing, but we must think about our daughter first. And what is best for her. She is so fragile still—it’s been three months and she’ll hardly leave the house.”
Mr. Black cleared his throat. “Part of the reason I think being an operative would be good for Zoey would be that it would give her a chance to affect change. To make a difference. The North Star Foundation is focused on freedom. Freedom from tyranny, oppression, slavery. Freedom to act, live, help!”
“North Star,” her father whispered. “You’re talking about the slaves during the Civil War and how in Harriet Tubman’s book, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, there were homes set up to help the slaves escape. And they taught slaves to follow the North Star so they could literally escape the South.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Black.
North Star to Freedom. Zoey liked the sound of that.
Her mind started to spin out. But could she be an operative? Zoey had no idea how she would do anything to help others, even if she wanted to. Just thinking of her ex-pimp terrified her.
There was shuffling from the living room, and Zoey knew she should bolt down the hallway, but she didn’t move.
“We are so grateful for your efforts. I’m sorry we can’t help.” Her father’s tone was soft.
Mr. Black sighed. “Truthfully, finding the right kids for this foundation is hard. Not many can do it. I just kept thinking about Zoey. I kept thinking about the way she told me she wanted to help find the others.”
“She’ll never be okay.” Her mother broke down crying.
Anger surged inside of Zoey. Was that how her mother really felt?
“I don’t believe that,” Mr. Black said. “My organization has helped a lot of kids find hope and healing again. And we’re just getting started.”
“We never thought she’d get caught in something like this. We tried so hard. We thought sending her to that Olympic training center was giving her everything.” Her mother continued to cry.
Zoey peered around the corner again, in time to see her mother cover her face and ugly-cry. She hated it. She hated the pity and the constant worry. She wanted to melt into the floor and disappear.
“I do understand,” Mr. Black whispered, his voice cracking. “I don’t know how my daughter will be…when we find her.”
Mr. Black’s confession stunned Zoey. This man worked so hard to help others, yet he couldn’t find his own daughter. He had hope, even when it was hard. Could she really help prevent some girl like her from getting sucked into all of this?
The idea sounded foreign and wrong and felt like the time she’d spilled purple grape juice on her new white dress when she was twelve. For hours, she’d tried to scrub the juice out, but the stain had remained, impossible to get out. Helping someone else seemed just as impossible—but for the first time in a long time, there was a spark of yearning inside of her.
Zoey heard them getting closer to the doorway, and she slunk down the hall and into her dad’s office. She heard the front door open.
“If you change your mind, here’s my card.”
“Okay,” said her mother in a weak voice.
Zoey heard the door shut. The old normal wasn’t even possible anymore. Despite her fear, she couldn’t forget the haunted way Mr. Black sounded when he spoke of his daughter.
Purpose coursed through her. She stared down at the tiny scorpion scar between her ring finger and pinky, and then she made a fist. Her mother had scheduled an appointment with a plastic surgeon to have it completely removed, but now the scar might be a good reminder of what she needed to do.
She rushed out of the office and down the hallway. “Mom. Dad.”
Clearly startled, they turned, and her father’s face tugged into concern. “Zoey, are you okay?”
She hated that question, had told them to quit asking it, but a laugh escaped her nonetheless. She knew how she would save herself. She opened her arms, and they received her. All three of them stood hugging in the middle of the foyer.
Her mother stared at her. “Zoey?”
“I want to go. I want to help Mr. Black. I want to be part of his project.”
Her parents looked at each other, and something passed between them.
Zoey spoke faster. “I heard everything. Well, most of it. I know his daughter’s still out there.” Tears rushed down her cheeks, but she pulled away from her parents, growing more and more certain about this.
“No, baby. I don’t think so.” Her father shook his head, and she saw the worry in his eyes.
“I think you should be here with us for the next couple of months,” her mother said. “Continue your therapy—you’re doing so well.”
But Zoey already knew she would go. She took her parents by the hands and sucked in a long, slow breath. “I know you think I’m fragile, but I’m stronger than you know. I’m…” A surge of power fueled her. “I may have gotten out, but I left a lot of people behind. And if I can save someone else, I want to.”
Her mother took her other hand and gently ran it down Zoey’s cheek. “Oh, baby.” Her eyebrows tugged together. “You’ve been through way too much.”
Zoey smiled, determination pulsing through her. “Please…call Mr. Black back. I’ll go pack.”
Chapter 2
Sammy
Sammy Lewis, sixteen years old and top choreographer for the cheer team at Rosemont High, walked out onto the football field and closed her eyes for a second, letting the sunshine soak into her. It was the end of March, and the day was perfect. Colorado weather was never predictable, so clear skies and a temperature in the seventies were a blessing.
The fact that her boyfriend had just asked her to prom was icing on the cake. She started peeling the orange that her boyfriend, Karl, had attached to a poster next to her locker. “Orange ya going to go to prom with me?” it read. She’d laughed when she’d seen it, and she’d started planning on how she could answer Karl in a funny way.
They’d been dating for two months. It had only been pretty serious the last month, but she had to admit that when she was around him, she was twitterpated. It had to be just twitterpation, right? Because if it wasn’t just being twitterpated, like her best friends and fellow cheerleaders Tiffany and Kira said, then it was love.
She let out a little giggle. A million ways to answer his question fluttered through her mind. She could fill his room at home with balloons
and put a poster that said, “I’m flying high to prom with you.”
No, no, no. Quickly, she dismissed the idea. Too cheesy. Karl was captain of the football team, and though he was a little bit cheesy, she knew he wouldn’t like that.
Hmm.
“Whatcha doing?” Her friend Tiffany playfully nudged her as she fell into step with Sammy.
Sammy grinned and looked at the orange. As much as she wanted to tell Tiffany, she felt bad because she knew Tiffany hoped to be asked by Frankie, Karl’s friend.
“Oh my gosh.” Tiffany snatched the half-peeled orange from her hand and stared at her. “That poster in the trash back there, the one asking to prom—that was from Karl, wasn’t it?” The edges of her lips turned up.
Sammy let out a giddy laugh and grabbed her orange back. “Yes.”
“Great.” Tiffany let out a long breath. “How do you even know you can trust him?”
“I’m sorry, Tiff. Someone’s going to ask you soon. I know they will.”
Tiffany’s disappointment broke through the mask she’d put into place for Sammy. “It’s fine.” She waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “It’s really fine, because most guys cheat.” She said the last word like she was rubbing salt into a wound on purpose.
“Whatever.” Sammy would not let Tiffany ruin her perfectly good day.
“He’s just gonna pressure you to do stuff, physically, until you give in,” Tiffany accused.
This took Sammy aback, and she glared at her friend. Just the other day, she’d mentioned that Karl was trying to go further than she was comfortable with. “I told you that in confidence. Now you’re trying to make me doubt because of it?”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t cry to me when it doesn’t work out.”
Why did Tiffany have to be so jealous about guys? If she didn’t have a guy, she couldn’t just be happy for someone who did. Sammy stuck her chin in the air. “I told Karl my standards and he respects them.”
Tiffany laughed. “Sure he does. You’re so naïve sometimes.”
“What?” Their other friend, Kira, joined them, her face exuberant. “Did I hear someone got asked to prom today by the captain of the…” She cupped her hands to her lips and turned to shout at the guys coming onto the field. “Captain of the football team!”
Sammy pushed her irritation at Tiffany aside. “Yes!”
Kira squealed, putting her hands on Sammy’s shoulders and shaking her.
Karl was jogging out, his sandy golden hair longer on top and flopping down messily into his eyes. When he heard the shouting, he turned and waved sheepishly when he saw them.
“Stop,” Sammy said, laughing and pushing Kira’s shoulder.
Kira giggled. “No way.” She looked at Tiffany, and her face fell. “Ya know, we still haven’t forgiven you for ghosting us for Karl the past two months.”
Tiffany sneered and wagged her finger in Sammy’s face. “Sisters before bros…you know the drill.”
Guilt pierced Sammy’s chest but she kept walking. “I’m sorry.” She knew she’d ghosted them countless times. “But Tiffany, you blew us off all last year for Frankie, remember?”
The triumph on Tiffany’s face fell for a second. Then she crossed her arms. “Not the same.”
Sammy scoffed. They arrived at the side of the football field, where they held practice when it was nice out. “So what have you heard about Claire and Jamie’s suspension from the team?”
Kira tsked her tongue. “It’s not good. Not right before state week after next. We need them. Without them, we have no alternates.”
Tiffany scowled at Sammy. “Hey, don’t change the subject.”
Kira nudged Tiffany. “Let her be,” she said, as her gaze swung to the two suspended girls sitting in the stands. “I heard Ms. Montlake wanted to let them back on the team, but you know how Principal Howard is: if there’s any bullying, Rosemont High takes action.” Ms. Montlake was a PE teacher and the cheer adviser at Rosemont.
Tiffany snorted. “Claire and Jamie were stupid enough to get caught doing their prank, so I guess they get what they get.”
Sammy didn’t like Tiffany’s tone, but it wasn’t the time to take her on. Guilt pricked at the back of Sammy’s neck. Tiffany was the head bully on the cheer team, and Sammy and Kira weren’t that much better. It’d just been easier to go along with Tiffany than try to stop her. “I don’t think Claire and Jamie have done worse then we have.”
They got to their spot, and Tiffany threw down her bag. “Oh, whatever, Sammy. You need to focus. Don’t start acting like you’re better than us just ’cause you were asked to prom.”
Kira stayed next to Tiffany, putting her hands on her hips. “Exactly.”
Sammy knew Tiffany was jealous of her and Karl, but she was blowing things way out of proportion. She decided to stay calm. “Let’s focus on how we’re going to fix the routine without Claire and Jamie in it.”
Tiffany scoffed at her. “Pfft. Why don’t you just focus on your boyfriend? You’ve been way too focused on him to notice anything else.”
Just then, Megan and Liz walked by, and Tiffany swung her glare to them.
Kira snickered. “Woof, woof, girls.” Her eyes sparkled.
Tiffany laughed.
Megan and Liz turned, glaring. Tiffany had dubbed the two of them, along with a handful of other cheerleaders, the puppy chow gang, and they knew full well it wasn’t a compliment.
“I heard you turned Claire and Jamie in for their prank,” Tiffany said to them, “but that’s nothing compared to what you’re going to get now.”
Megan pointed at Tiffany. “You need to stop this crap. We’re all tired of it.”
Sammy was quiet. Megan was right; Tiffany thought she could treat anyone like dirt. Yet Sammy didn’t have the strength to challenge Tiffany, who constantly looked for reasons for drama and bullying.
“What are you going to do about it?” Tiffany stuck her chin out.
“Let’s go, Meg,” said Liz, reaching for her. “Those guys aren’t worth it.”
Those guys. Sammy didn’t want to deal with more drama; she needed to focus. Today she was trying out for cheer captain for the state competition next week. Ms. Montlake didn’t believe in one cheer captain for the year—she made them work for it for every competition. Sammy was pretty confident she might be able to get captain for the state competition next week. She had choreographed most of their routine, and she had been working hard to perfect all the tricks. She wanted it bad!
“Yeah, move on, losers,” Tiffany called out to Megan and Liz. She spun back to Kira and Sammy. “Can you believe that?”
The three of them sat down and started stretching.
Tiffany cocked an eyebrow at Sammy. “You really think you have a shot at beating out Sadie?” Sadie was a senior and she was pretty much always cheer captain, but Sammy thought she could do it after focusing so much on this specific routine.
“Yes,” Sammy said, trying to sound confident but not cocky.
Tiffany sniffed. “Well, I hate to tell you, but if you didn’t get the memo—tick-tock, it’s my turn for captain this time.”
Anger surged in the center of Sammy’s chest. She put her hand up to discourage Tiffany from engaging with her again. “Just stop,” she said quietly, giving Kira a help, please kind of look.
Kira grunted. “C’mon, Tiff. Not today.”
“Hey,” Sadie called out, storming toward them. Her lips were pinched into a sneer. “You don’t get to call the rest of the team names.” She was looking at Tiffany.
Tiffany stood. Sammy and Kira stood, too, flanking her.
Sadie pointed at all of them. “You need to take your mean girl ways and shut your holes, because this team doesn’t have clichés.”
Sammy tried not to squirm, even though she hadn’t been the one to directly attack Megan and Liz.
Tiffany formed her hand into a claw and mimicked a cat yowl. “Sadie, geez.”
Sadie’s eyes narrowed.
“And Tiffany, you’ll never be captain for any competition, because you’re horrible and I’ll make sure Ms. Montlake knows it.”
Sammy and Kira gave each other worried looks. Sadie was a senior, and she did have a lot of pull with Ms. Montlake.
Tiffany snapped the air three times in a zigzag pattern. “Yeah, why don’t you go join the puppy chow gang, too?” To Megan and Liz, who were standing behind Sadie, she said, “Ruff, ruff.”
Sadie’s nostrils flared. “Oh, it’s on.”
“Hey! Girls!” Ms. Montlake rushed toward them, her hands full of various bags. “No fighting today,” she said sharply.
Sadie and Tiffany glared at each other, but neither said anything. Ms. Montlake was no foreigner to drama, especially since she’d been cheerleading adviser for over ten years. And while she wasn’t able to demonstrate moves for the girls, she ran the organization in a very strict fashion.
Finally, Tiffany let out a fake laugh. “We wouldn’t be fighting.” She widened her eyes innocently for Ms. Montlake.
Ms. Montlake moved to the large speaker and began Bluetoothing her phone. “Get ready for the tryout. Text me your music, please.”
Sadie turned and joined the other group of girls.
Tiffany backed up. “I hate her.”
“I hate her, too.” Kira glared at Sadie before picking up her phone.
As everyone texted Ms. Montlake their songs, Sammy ignored the nervous thrum in the bottom of her gut. “I think we should all try to be nicer to each other. After all, we’re all on the same team, right?”
Tiffany swung to face her, jerking her shoulder. “You haven’t seen the kinds of things Sadie has been up to lately. You’ve been so wrapped up in Karl.” She said his name dramatically.
“That’s not true,” Sammy argued back. Where was all this hostility coming from?
Kira bent to pick up her bag. “It’s true, Sammy. You’ve ditched us lately, and Sadie’s been horrible.” She pointed to the girls next to Sadie. “All the seniors have been horrible. And it feels like the whole puppy group has been like recruiting members or something.”
