7
When Abby ran, some of her races would be so close that she’d go stride for stride with another runner. We’d hold our breaths as they neared the finish line and wait to see who’d pull forward in the end. Every single second counted and one misstep could cost her everything.
That’s how I felt today when we searched for her.
I learned there was a certain protocol when someone goes missing. Things move fast, because the first twenty-four hours are the most crucial in bringing the person home okay. As time ticks away, so does the chance of a happy ending.
When it was clear that Abby wasn’t staying at a friend’s house, a call went out for volunteers, people who were willing to come over and help search for her. The police questioned everyone at the bonfire and talked with Johnson Franklin, an old Vietnam vet who lived in an army tent back in the woods about two miles from where the bonfire was. He was a fixture of our town and could be found every day pushing his shopping cart along our small main street, a handwritten sign hanging over the side, asking to please “Remember Those Who Served for You.” He didn’t take handouts, didn’t want your money, and the only time he participated in a town event was during the Memorial Day parade, where he made sure to shake the hand of every man who served our nation. If you tried to offer him a place to stay, he’d tell you he “slept in the jungle during the war, and he can sure as hell survive in a forest in Ohio.”
“He’s been questioned in depth,” Officer Scarano told my parents. “We’re confident he isn’t tied to Abby’s disappearance.”
“I’m relieved that he isn’t a part of this,” Dad said. “I only wish we had some answers. A way to bring Abby back to us.”
“We all do, Mr. Towers. Believe me, we’re looking.”
Tommy’s parents walked over with steaming carafes of coffee, and Tessa showed up with two giant pizzas from Calloos’s, our go-to food when one of us was having a bad day.
“I have pepperoni pizza and cheesy bread with extra dipping sauce,” she said as she presented the boxes to me.
“Thanks,” I told her, even though I was pretty sure Collin would be the only one to eat the pizza. Food was the last thing on our minds.
“The more important question is, how are you?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I said, but I wasn’t, not even close.
“That’s bullshit,” she said, always one to call me out on a lie.
“Okay, right. Things could be better.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous. Your sister has everyone worried. What a screwed-up way of sleeping off a hangover,” she said, because years of friendship gave her the power to speak about Abby like that. She pulled a bag of M&M’s from her purse and threw a few of them into her mouth. Tessa was always carrying some kind of candy; she devoured it as if her life depended on hourly sugar rushes.
“I’m not so sure it’s a hangover,” I said, and the words made me feel sick. “Let’s go see what everyone is talking about.” I pointed toward a large group that had gathered by the barn. Tommy stood at the edge, away from Abby’s friends. He was alone, and Tessa headed toward him.
“Hey,” he said to both of us. I tried not to look at him too long, afraid Tessa would be able to tell what we’d done just from the electricity that sparked in the air between us.
“This sucks, huh?” Tessa asked. “I told Rhylee it’s going to be fine. Abby will come waltzing back home any minute now, and we’ll laugh one day about how we overreacted.”
“I hope so,” Tommy said.
A man in a red polo shirt with a clipboard whistled loudly to get everyone’s attention. He directed us to spread out in a line; our heels touched the road, our toes, the grass. We clasped hands and formed a giant chain.
“Okay, everyone,” he said, “we need you to move slowly and keep your eyes on the ground. We’re looking for clues. Something that might confirm that Abby was here. Don’t rule anything out; a piece of paper, crumpled-up wrappers, things that may look like trash. Even if it doesn’t seem like anything, it could be.”
When we were ready, he gave the signal to move across the field. Tessa shook the rest of her M&M’s into her mouth and held my hand tight. Tommy grabbed my other hand, and I flashed back to the day in the park in the tunnel and how badly I had wanted to be with him then. I tried to shake the memory out of my head. It wasn’t right to be feeling things for him now, and I needed to focus on what we were doing.
The search reminded me of the game red rover we used to play on the playground with our classmates. We’d stand the same way, our hands clasped tightly as we yelled, “Red rover, red rover,” inviting those who looked weak over. We’d tighten our grip, hot and sweaty, squeezing one another so the person from the other side couldn’t break through. We stood strong and united, laughing when our human wall held the other side out.
I was part of a chain with thirty-six other searchers and we slowly moved across my family’s field, walking the same path I’d walked with Abby and her friends the night before on the way to the bonfire. We took baby steps across the great expanse of our field that Abby could run in eleven minutes flat. Today it took almost an hour to cross. There was no running, no chanting, no laughing. We didn’t want to keep anyone out of our wall. We wanted to find something.
Or someone.
We walked across the field slowly and kept our eyes to the ground, desperate for even the smallest clue.
“Hey, can we stop for a minute? This might be important,” a man in a plaid shirt said and bent down. A murmur went through the group. People rushed to surround him. He held a gray sweatshirt high in the air as if it were a winning lottery ticket.
I recognized it. Abby had worn it the night before.
I let go of Tessa and Tommy’s hands and pushed my way to the center of the circle where everyone was gathered. I stopped at the spot where the man found it. The ground was covered with brittle pieces of grass baked by the sun. Abby had been here. I bent down and pretended to tie my shoe, but instead, I grabbed a handful of grass and stuck it in my pocket, so I could somehow be close to her. I tried to convince myself that she’d dropped it on our walk to the bonfire, but as I stood, Tommy’s face was full of fear, and mine reflected the same.
Officer Donovan took the sweatshirt and put it in a plastic bag. He didn’t ask me if it was my sister’s; he didn’t even look at me. It was as if I wasn’t even connected to her anymore. As if I wasn’t even Abby’s sister any longer. I was nobody.
We joined hands and continued our search. When we got to the woods, we walked as close to one another as we could, only breaking to go around trees. Step by step by step. We walked past the bonfire site to where Abby found Tommy and me, and continued to move through the trees. We didn’t stop until we reached the edge of the river. No one talked, as if our words would change our worst fears into reality.
Officer Scarano and two other officers I didn’t recognize walked a ways down, inspecting something in the dirt. One of them took out a camera and snapped some pictures.
“I’m going over there,” I said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Tessa told me, and Tommy nodded.
“Screw that, this is about my sister.”
I let go of their hands and made my way over to the group. Officer Scarano spotted me, opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. Whatever was out here couldn’t be hidden from me. I’d find out. I was family.
But when I saw what they were inspecting, I wish I hadn’t.
There were shoe prints in the dirt.
Fresh ones. There was no water gathered in them from the rains earlier this week, nor had the sun baked them dry. I put my shoe next to one of the prints. It was the same size as my own. The same size as Abby’s.
I followed them until they stopped. The two officers were already scrutinizing them. They went right to the edge of the river. It looked as if one foot had gotten stuck deep in the mud, while the other foot streaked down and disappeared into the river.
>
It terrified me to think of Abby here, running along the river our parents had forbidden us to go near when we were younger. We stayed away from it, especially at this time of year when the bank was slippery and the water was high and fast from the heavy summer storms. It was to be avoided.
Except for last night, when Abby ran along the edge to get away from me.
Deep down inside of me, something shifted.
My sister was not okay.
And it was my fault.
8
Mom was waiting when I came back with the group from the fields. The police had told her it would be better to stay at home in case Abby returned, especially since Dad was driving around in his old Buick with some other men from the car factory, hoping to find her.
Mom saw Tessa and me, and she rubbed her hands against the sides of her jeans like she does when she’s nervous. As we got closer, most of the group broke away and walked to their cars or the barn.
“Do you want me to stick around for a little bit?” Tessa asked. “Because I will. I’ll stay all night if you need me to. Heck, I’ll move in if it helps.”
I wanted to smile, but it was impossible.
“Thanks,” I said, and considered telling her everything. Tessa was my best friend. She had been since we were six. We didn’t keep secrets from each other. Ever. But now, it seemed as if all I did was hide things from people I cared about.
Things that made everything worse.
“Hang in there,” Tessa said. “It’ll be okay. Abby always lands on her feet.”
I nodded, because it was easier to pretend things would work out than talk about how they might not.
“If you need me, all you have to do is text.” She waved her phone in the air as she headed to her car.
It wasn’t until she was gone that I became strongly aware that my hand was still gripping Tommy’s. I took a deep breath and let myself hold on for a moment longer. I wanted to be connected to him, but this wasn’t the right time. There might never be a right time again.
“I need to talk with my mom,” I told him.
“I’ll call you later,” he said, but I shook my head.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll let you know the minute I hear something about Abby, but maybe it’s best if we stayed away from each other.”
His forehead creased in that way it does when he’s upset. “We need each other.”
“My sister needs me,” I said.
He opened his mouth to say something, but I interrupted him. “I’ll let you know if we hear anything, but for now, just give me space.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want,” he said.
“It has to be what I want.”
Above us, a helicopter made laps around the woods where Abby was last seen.
9
Abby didn’t return for dinner.
She didn’t return at all that night.
The police told my parents about her sweatshirt and footprints. Mom hadn’t been able to stop crying since.
“Why is Mama so sad?” Collin asked, and it about broke me.
I bent down so we were on the same level.
“She misses Abby,” I said. “We all miss Abby.”
“Where is she?”
It was the first time I’d heard him ask, and I wondered what my parents had told him.
“She’ll be back soon,” I said, hoping he’d believe what even I couldn’t.
“She’s left us,” he said firmly. When he fixed his gaze on me, his eyes were a dark blue like midnight. “She’s gone.”
“Don’t be silly. Abby will be home before we know it, and you’ll wish she was gone again because she’ll be bugging you so bad!”
My words got caught in my throat. It felt as if I was lying to Collin and that scared the hell out of me.
I threw one of the couch pillows at his head to distract him. He giggled and threw it back. I was about to send it over to him again when he spoke up.
“She visited me last night.”
I froze, the pillow in my hands. “What do you mean?”
“When I was sleeping. I woke up and she was scratching on my window screen. She wanted to come in, but I couldn’t get it open. Her hair was tangled with sticks and she was covered in mud.”
I moved so I was real close to Collin. “Did you tell Mom and Dad that you saw her?”
He shook his head. “She told me not to. She said it was a secret.”
“Why would she say that?”
“She didn’t want anyone else to know she was out there.”
“You were having a dream,” I told Collin, but goose bumps covered my arms. “It was a bad dream.”
“She was there,” he insisted, and I didn’t argue. I knew exactly how he felt. I wanted to believe she was out there too, because Abby haunted my every moment, and all I wanted was to see her again.
10
That night the wind blew wildly through my open bedroom window, moving the curtains like tissue paper ghosts.
I pressed my face against the screen and searched for Abby, while another storm rolled in over the field where she ran.
Lightning flashed and illuminated the corners of my room before it plunged into darkness again. But the storm was far off and never reached us.
I waited for her to come, and when sleep finally took hold, I yearned to see her in my dreams. I wanted Abby to appear, so I could tell her I was sorry, that I never meant for this to happen, but my dreams were empty.
There was nothing but black, black space.
11
The alarm went off the next morning, and I slammed my hand on the snooze button.
It went off three more times before I finally yanked the cord out of the wall.
I couldn’t get out of bed.
I didn’t want to get out of bed.
I didn’t deserve to get out of bed.
A new day had come, even though I willed it not to. Abby was still missing. The secret burned hot within me, scorching my insides so it felt as if I might explode.
The sunlight grew brighter through my curtains, but all I wished for was a world of darkness where I could waste away as the blame burrowed deep within me.
The grass I had grabbed from the spot where Abby’s sweatshirt was found was scattered across my dresser, a tangible reminder of the nightmare we were now living.
My family moved around the house, doors opened and closed, low voices, except for Collin’s good-byes as he got onto the school bus.
At first I thought my parents were going to leave, forget that I still existed, my absence from breakfast not even something they noticed. It would make sense if they did. With Abby gone, I didn’t know where I belonged.
But I was wrong. There was a knock on my door.
“Rhylee, are you awake?” Dad asked from the other side.
“I’m here,” I told him. “You can come in.”
“Hey, kiddo,” he said, sitting on the edge of my bed. It felt weird to have him call me that, a term he hadn’t used since I was young. “Not a good morning, huh?”
“The worst,” I told him.
“I hear you. Do you want me to call you in sick from school?”
I nodded, afraid I’d cry if I spoke. He was being so nice to me, and I didn’t deserve any of it. I owed him the truth, but it was the one thing I couldn’t bring myself to give him. I was a coward.
When Collin got mad or upset, he’d put his fingers in his ears and sing real loud so he didn’t have to listen to us. That’s what I wanted to do right now, but I had a feeling that as much as I tried or no matter if I put my fingers in my ears and hummed and hummed and hummed, I wouldn’t be able to escape the reality of what was happening.
“I’m going to head out to look for Abby, but your mom is downstairs. Are you okay here?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Give me a call if you need me.” Dad placed a hand on my shoulder. “We’re going to bring Abby home,” he said with such certainty that I couldn�
�t help but believe him.
I made myself get up and put my feet on the floor. I went into the bathroom, the door to Abby’s room still closed tight. Usually the two of us fought over the tiny space. She’d dry her hair while the I tried to brush my teeth, or I’d want to shower and she’d be washing her face. It was a constant battle. Mom forbade us from locking each other out, but we never listened. It was pretty much inevitable that one of us would wake the rest of the house by pounding on the door for the other to get out.
I’d always wished for my own bathroom.
Just not like this.
Abby’s toothbrush sat in its holder, ready for her to come use it. Her pale blue towel hung on the hook by the door and one of her hair ties sat on the sink with some golden hair wrapped around it. Everything waited for her to return.
I brushed my teeth and it felt strange to be doing something so normal when Abby wasn’t here. The world moved on and we went through the motions, but none of it felt right. I examined my face in the mirror. I looked the same, but I didn’t recognize myself. I was a stranger.
Dad was gone by the time I made it downstairs. I’m sure he was driving the streets in search of Abby. Hoping to find her among the other people in our town, as if it were a regular day and she’d only gone out for a run or to grab a doughnut at Otis’s Diner.
I wondered where Tommy was. Did he go to school today? He’d left me alone like I asked, but last night he had gone out with Dad and a few other neighbors. They had searched the dirt roads that were used to access the hunting trails.
I’d picked up my phone a few times to text him, but I never sent them. As much as I missed Tommy and wanted to talk, I couldn’t see how that would ever be possible again. Not after what we’d done to Abby.
The only thing I could think about was finding my sister, and as I finished eating a bagel, that’s exactly what I set out to do. I didn’t bother to leave a note; I figured my parents wouldn’t be back until later, and if they did come home, they’d assume I was at school. I slipped out the door and headed into the field.
A Void the Size of the World Page 5
