***
I get home just as Shilah’s arriving from school.
“Where have you been?” he asks, a cheeky smile on his face.
“Nowhere,” I snap, my voice laced with guilt.
“So you sneaking out of school with that guy was nothing, then?”
“How did you—”
“I saw you leaving with him.”
“You’re not going to—”
“I won’t tell Dad. What kind of brother do you take me for?”
The kind who pisses me off a lot. I bite my tongue. He’s doing me a favour, I don’t want to push my luck. “Thanks,” I say, ruffling his hair before heading inside to my bedroom.
Things haven’t been the same between Shilah and me since I found Mum’s missing person’s report. It was in the pile the cops had Ebb’s mum go through. I stupidly brought it home thinking he’d want to know what it said. I shake my head at the memory.
“I have something you might want to see,” I said, walking up the stairs of our porch.
“I’ve seen it,” he replied hastily. Of course, he had.
“Well, I haven’t looked at it yet, so let’s go inside and talk.”
Shilah stopped me before I got far. “Allira, please trust me when I say this. Don’t read that file, no good will come of it. Promise me?”
I couldn’t think of what could possibly be in there that was so bad he didn’t want me to read it.
It’s so annoying having a brother who knows what’s going to happen before it happens. His warning only made me want to read it more.
“How is it fair that you get to see it and I don’t?” I asked.
“You think I asked to see it? Do you think I like seeing terrible things before they happen and not having the power to stop them? I can’t stop you from reading that file, Allira. But I would’ve thought that by now you’d trust me when I say nothing good will come of it, nothing at all.”
“Fine. I won’t read it.” I still didn’t think it was fair he got to see it and I didn’t, but I also knew that when he says something won’t end well, chances are he’s right.
Dinner was awkward to say the least. Dad didn’t know how to comfort me over Ebb’s disappearance, and Shilah was still angry from whatever he’d seen in that file. I shovelled in my dinner as fast as possible so I could go to my room. I wanted to be alone.
But I couldn’t sleep, and the longer I lay there, the more agitated I became. I didn’t care if it made it worse, I had to know.
Dragging my backpack over to me, I pulled out the file and switched on the bedside lamp. Breathing in deep, I began to read.
Immediately, I wished I hadn’t opened it. Under the personal information box, right under my mother’s name, it said:
Status: Missing. (?) Abandonment.
I didn’t exactly know what I was expecting to read, but Mum abandoning us hadn’t even crossed my mind. She was dead, the police told us that. I tried remembering when I was told she was dead, and I realised it wasn’t the police at all. It was Dad, a few days before we held the memorial service for her.
Why would he lie? Did he think it would be easier for us to handle if we thought she was dead?
To this day, I still haven’t spoken to Shilah or Dad about it, and I don’t have any clear-cut answers. But I do know Dad has been there for us, worked his butt off to make sure we’re fed and healthy, so if he says Mum is dead, I believe him.
The Institute Page 7
