George handed the diary to me, flipped open to the page he wanted to show us. Kailee moved over to sit next to me. We read Misty’s words:
Dear Diary,
I’m so excited!!!!! A man came up to me at the mall today. I was all alone, feeling kind of blue, shopping for clothes to make myself feel better. I bought a red velvet dress ... and I can’t even believe I found them: red velvet high heels! ... to wear to the Christmas Dance at school. And, after I came out of the shoe store, this guy wearing gray pants and a white dress shirt, very professional-looking!, walked right over to me and handed me a piece of paper with his name and address and cell phone number on it. He said he was out of business cards, but he just had to approach me because I was the perfect model for a photo shoot he’s doing for the calendar of a big business. He said he saw me trying on the red heels and thought I looked perfect to wear those shoes with maybe a red dress for the Christmas shoot. I’m telling you, Diary, if those shoes aren’t my lucky charm, I don’t know what is! I told him that was totally amazing—I had just bought a red dress! He asked to see it. When I showed it to him, he said it was perfect. He said I had very good taste in fine clothing. He actually said, “That’s what separates the top models from, say, your average department store catalog models, the ability to understand what makes good fashion, an ability to actually understand and communicate beauty.” Squeeee!!!!! I decided: I’m going to call him tomorrow and set up an appointment!!!!!
P.S. I’m not telling Mom or Dad (well, like I’d ever tell Dad! LOL.) about this until I find out if I actually get the modeling job. I don’t want Mom to be bummed out if I don’t get the job, and I couldn’t stand Dad making fun of me if I fail at this.
I flipped through the rest of the diary. That was the very last page with any words on it.
Kailee started flipping through Misty’s math notebook. She found doodles along the top and bottom and in the margins of pages filled with math problems. She also found some phone numbers, although there were no names next to any of them.
CHAPTER 23
The next day, I had a test in every class. I wasn’t prepared for any of them. To be honest, I had completely forgotten about them. Or I had forgotten the date or something. I had so much on my mind. I felt completely panicked that Annie was still missing. Somehow, I had thought she’d show up by now.
Whoever Wyatt was, she’d been dealing with him for a long time. Obviously, she’d thought about running away from home for some time. Yet, when I met her, she was living at home and seemed to have made adjustments. She and her mom had compromised on her style choices. She got to dress goth, even have weird red-star contact lenses, as long as her room was pink and gold and all sunshiny happy. Her mom allowed Annie to have friends over and to have cookies she had baked delivered up to Annie’s room by a butler.
Had Annie really run away now when things seemed to be going well for her at home? I made a mental note to go over to Annie’s house again, this time to look around her room for evidence about Wyatt. I hadn’t been looking for that before. Maybe Annie had photos of Wyatt or notes from him or something.
Oh my God, I was thinking about all this while sitting in front of my U.S. History test. Ten minutes had already gone by. I was sure I’d flunk.
Somehow, I made it through the day. An hour before school ended, we had an assembly. It was a mandatory pep rally for the Thanksgiving Day football game. At the rally and not a moment before, I realized that the very next day was Thanksgiving.
Damn.
On my way home by bus, I suddenly remembered that I had promised my mom I’d make some side dish for Thanksgiving dinner. What was it? Damn. Damn. Damn. What was it?
I stared out the grimy bus window. The sky was cloudy. I watched trees and houses go by.
What had I promised to make? I was going to be in so much trouble if I did not remember what it was. Thanksgiving Day would be a living hell. More of a living hell than usual. Fires would burn. Satan would appear. I pictured my mom in a red robe, devil horns poking out of her hair. Ha! Maybe Brandon Yates was in Purgatory, but I would be in Hell.
I studied a smear of greenish yellow grime on the bus window next to me, trying to see a shape within it, the same way you can do with clouds.
Oh my God, that was it! I had promised to make a Jell-O mold. OK. What color Jell-O? Definitely not greenish yellow! I decided maybe red Jell-O, cherry or strawberry flavored, with bananas in it. That I could eat. That I would definitely enjoy.
Now, how the hell do you turn it into a shape? My mother wanted a Jell-O mold. I thought it best to meet her expectations. I hoped to get away from Thanksgiving dinner as soon as possible if Gabriella could meet with us.
I texted George and Kailee: Did you know tomorrow is Thanksgiving?
They both had known. God. My brain. My freakin’ brain. I get so tied up in knots, my brain doesn’t function right.
I didn’t admit I had forgotten. I just texted back: Yeah, so I was thinking we should meet with Gabriella tomorrow, if she can do it, and show her all the information we found. I think we need to work on finding the missing girls ASAP, you know before the trail goes cold.
George texted back: How about tomorrow night? After dinner? Just tell family we have to work on a big school project.
Kailee: Good idea. I could be free around 8:00.
We agreed that I’d contact Gabriella and try to arrange a meeting for Thanksgiving night.
At the stop on my street, I hopped off the bus and ran home. On my way up the driveway, I noticed our car missing and sighed with relief.
Once safely inside my bedroom, I locked the door and called Gabriella. She agreed to meet us on Thanksgiving night! I suddenly wondered if she had family—sisters or brothers, kids, parents still living, anyone at all to share Thanksgiving dinner with.
I decided to call a taxi to take me to the grocery store. After finding the pudding and gelatin section, I must say I was amazed by the sheer number of Jell-O flavors. I must have spent fifteen minutes picking up and looking at different boxes, completely flummoxed by what would look best with bananas and still taste good.
I was kind of fascinated by Berry Blue. I thought that would be really pretty. But I couldn’t tell if it would be dark or not, and I thought it best if the bananas showed through the Jell-O. I figured Jell-O mold meant the presentation was as important as the taste. I wasn’t sure. Finally, I grabbed a box labeled Island Pineapple. That sounded exotic and tasty and perfect for going well with bananas.
Halfway down the aisle to ask someone about Jell-O molds, I turned right back around. My mother would hate Island Pineapple. I could hear her now: “What were you thinking? What does Island Pineapple possibly have to do with Thanksgiving? What, were the Pilgrims and Indians vacationing on a tropical island or something?” I could picture my mother flying into a rage about how awful Island Pineapple tasted with her turkey and stuffing.
When I saw Strawberry Banana flavor, I went with that. At least it would taste good with bananas. And walking back down the aisle, I discovered Jell-O molds. It was my lucky day! I picked out a ring-shaped Jell-O mold. Then I went and bought bananas. Things were looking up.
Before checking out, I wheeled my cart over to the bakery section. I decided I should bring something over to Gabriella. In case she didn’t have family. In case she was all alone on Thanksgiving. I wondered if psychics got lonely. I guessed they would, unless maybe they spent a lot of time visiting with people who had passed over into that realm beyond death.
As I picked out cookies for the bakery saleswoman to put in a box, I thought about Brandon and his family. Did they celebrate Thanksgiving? Or were they done with all that?
Outside, I got into a waiting taxi with all my stuff. Tomorrow would be a very interesting day.
CHAPTER 24
I set my alarm clock for 10:00 in the morning to make sure I had enough time to make the Jell-O mold, but something woke me up around 8:15. I wasn’t sure what. I sat up in bed, rubbing my ey
es. The first thing I thought of was the ghosts. I whispered into the darkness of the room: “Brandon? Brandon?”
Nothing. No answer.
I slipped out of bed and stumbled around my room in the dark. I stubbed my toe twice before finding my desk and switching on the desk lamp.
I looked around. Nothing.
I picked up my cell phone and saw something like ten text messages. God. Had I slept through nine of them or did only one of them ping?
As I carried my phone over to the bed, it rang.
I had set the ringtone to the theme from Ghostbusters if Brandon called. He loved that ringtone until he watched the movie and discovered that the Ghostbusters were actually ghost exterminators. Ha! I thought that was hilarious. I kept that ringtone, even though Brandon wanted me to change it, just to tease him.
But, anyway, it wasn’t the Ghostbusters ringtone just then. It was Prime Audio Soup from the first Matrix movie—’cause The Matrix was about computers and all, and Kailee’s specialty was computers. For George, my ringtone was the theme song from Steven Spielberg’s movie, A.I. Artificial Intelligence. I assigned that one to George ’cause A.I. was about a robotic boy and George was a boy interested in artificial intelligence and computers.
All those mnemonic devices helped me to immediately identify who was calling, so that I could quickly answer phone calls I wanted to take and ignore phone calls I didn’t want to answer right away.
The ringtone for my mother was Kelly Clarkson’s What Doesn’t Kill You. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger...” Yup. I wasn’t dead yet. I was stronger. That was my mom’s ringtone. And that was the ringtone I ignored most often.
As soon as I recognized the weird techno sounds of Prime Audio Soup, before it ever even got to the repetition of the words Set me free, I clicked to answer my phone.
Kailee was practically hysterical. Well, not practically. She was hysterical. “Shade! Shade! I’ve been texting you and calling you! Where have you been!”
I looked at my clock. “Kailee, it’s only 8:21 in the morning. I was sleeping. I guess my phone was on vibrate; but I think it woke me up anyway, eventually, I guess.”
Kailee completely ignored how early it was. No apology for waking me up. “Have you seen the forum this morning?”
“Noooo...”
“Look at it! Look at the forum right now! There’s a message from Annie!”
I almost shrieked, but caught myself in time to realize I’d wake up my mom if I wasn’t quiet. I think I kind of shriek-whispered “What?!!?” as I turned on my laptop.
And there it was: a message from Annie Green. It said:
Hi, everyone. This message is for anyone who can help me. Please, anyone who reads this, make sure Shade Griffin also sees this message. I need help. I ran away, got kidnapped. I think I’m being held for ransom. Oh, God. He’s coming!
I just started saying, “Oh, my God ... Oh, my God ... Oh, my God...” over and over again.
Kailee snapped me out of it. “Shade! Shade! Listen to me ... Listen to me...” When I finally shut up, she asked me, “What do you think we should do?”
My mind froze. “I don’t know. I have no idea.” I started to cry.
Kailee came up with a plan. “Shade, I know what. We’re meeting with the psychic tonight, right?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “So, let’s show the forum message to her, see what she thinks, before we do anything else.”
I asked, “Shouldn’t we answer Annie?”
Kailee said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll create a fake username and answer Annie with that. With the fake username, I’ll tell her that I’ll get her message to you. If that isn’t really Annie, we’ll have some wall between us and whoever would be creepy enough to post something like that. OK?”
My mind numb, I just answered, “OK.”
I thought of Annie singing Prime Audio Soup. Set me free ... Set me free ... Set me free ... If that was really Annie, she had sent a message through the Matrix of the Internet. We had to get her out.
Realizing I’d never be able to sleep, I went downstairs in my nightgown and socks. I mixed powdered instant breakfast in milk and chugged it down. Then I set about trying to follow the directions to make Jell-O and somehow force it into a ring shape. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. Yes. The Lord of the Banana-Infused Jell-O Rings.
Turns out Jell-O is surprisingly easy to make. I poured the sugary liquid into a bowl. The directions said to stick it in the refrigerator for 1-1/2 hours or until thickened before adding banana slices.
So I did that.
Then, needing something to do and obsessing over Annie’s forum message, I decided to get to work decorating the forum for Christmas. I thought that might spark renewed interest in the forum once again. More eyes, more ears, maybe more clues in the forum that way. Although I supposed Annie’s message in and of itself would spark intense interest once everyone woke up and got online to see what was happening.
I decided to check Annie’s old Twitter feed—at first just to feel a sense of connection with her, and then because I couldn’t believe I had overlooked checking her Twitter feed and Facebook page to see if she had posted on either of those places after she went missing.
Her Twitter handle was Goth Girl Annie. There wasn’t a whole lot there. Quite a few retweets from her account, though! It took me awhile to recognize what I was seeing. I looked at the retweets from the time she had gone missing. Were there clues there? A pattern maybe?
Unfortunately, Annie had mostly retweeted photographs of scenic places.
Then I realized: could that be a kind of map? Places she had been taken maybe? Maybe the last retweeted place was the place where she was right now?
I looked for patterns. Most of the photographs showed water. A waterfall in Hawaii. A river running through the Grand Canyon. Then: a gorgeous pine tree against a light blue sky filled with white clouds. And at the bottom of the bank where the tree was rooted: a stream sparkling in the sunlight as its frothy waves splashed around rocks. I looked closer. There was another pine tree, off to the side and behind the main pine tree, with branches grown in such a way that they had become bent into the letter four. What had Gabriella said? She saw a babbling stream ... a deformed pine tree with the number four on it. She had also said the person connected to those images was in an emergency situation with time running out. Oh, my God. It was Annie. She was that person.
I knew I had to make it through Thanksgiving dinner before I could leave the house and search further. I felt comforted by the fact that we’d be seeing Gabriella that night. I felt we’d get more answers by showing her everything we’d found out than if I were to go out searching willy-nilly right now.
I texted George and Kailee my interpretation of what I had found on Annie’s Twitter feed. I told them to go check it out themselves. They both agreed to get right on it.
Lying down on my bed, hoping to rest, I fell into a deep sleep. I dreamed of Brandon. I ached for him with every cell in my body. It wasn’t very comfortable. Then I looked in a mirror. The mirror spoke back: “You miss him, don’t you? You seriously miss him. It’s written all over your face.” I looked closer. All over my face, written in bright red lipstick, the kind my mom liked to wear, were the words: “I miss him! I miss him! I miss Brandon!”
I woke with a start. I realized how much I missed Brandon. Then I heard my mom banging around pots and pans in the kitchen.
I jumped out of bed. Horrified that I had slept until noon, I took a quick shower, got dressed and went downstairs to check out whether or not my mom was awake.
Amazingly, she was already up, wearing a plain green dress with an apron decorated in repeating patterns of orange and yellow leaves, and beginning to make dinner. She had already made stuffing. The kitchen smelled delicious from all the butter she had used to fry the onions and celery that went into the delicious concoction she was now stuffing into a large turkey. Wiping th
e hair out of her eyes with her arm, she gave me a big smile. “Good morning, Shade.” Looking at the clock, she laughed and corrected herself: “Good afternoon, I mean.” Still smiling, she said, “I saw the Jell-O you made. It looks delicious! Are you putting it into a mold?”
I answered quickly, before her mood changed, “Yes, definitely. I bought a nice ring-shaped mold yesterday and some bananas to add to the Jell-O.”
My mother said, “Fantastic! Sounds yummy. You could work on that while the turkey cooks.”
I immediately agreed to that. After wolfing down a chunk of cinnamon coffee cake and orange juice, I sliced a couple of bananas and stirred them into the thickened Jell-O, then poured the entire mixture into the mold. I wasn’t sure how it was ever going to stick together in the shape of a ring, but the directions implied that this had been done before with success.
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