I stare at the picture of Dad and me on my bedside table and smile, wondering if he’d be proud of me. But my smile is washed away the second I hear my mom’s voice in the hallway because I know he wouldn’t approve of me lying to her.
Mom knocks on my door. “Myles, are you up?”
“Yes.”
She cracks the door open. “Are you dressed?”
“Shouldn’t you ask that before opening the door?”
She slams it shut. “Sorry. My bad.”
I laugh. “No, it’s okay. You can come in.” I pull back my sheets and swing my legs over the side of my bed.
She walks back in and gasps. “You’re still in pajamas? You’re going to be late for school.”
“Don’t worry. I was just about to change.”
She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. “You’re pushing it.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She walks over and kisses my forehead. “I have to get going, but your lunch is on the kitchen table.”
“Thank you,” I say.
She ruffles my curls. “Don’t forget about dinner tonight.”
“I won’t,” I say.
She smiles and leaves my room.
I’m not ready for dinner. It’s still so awkward being around my mom and Adam. It’s like I’m a forced third wheel, and I don’t have a say.
I don’t want to think about the dinner anymore. I push it out of my mind and drag myself out of bed. I pull my pajama shirt over my head, tossing it in my dirty clothes bin. Then I open my drawer to find an undershirt.
My uniform is hanging in my closet and I tug it off the hanger. My legs are in the pants about halfway when our doorbell begins to ring. It doesn’t ring once. It’s like someone is standing there pushing the button repeatedly.
I fasten my pants and slip into my shirt, buttoning it as I head into the hallway. It’s still only halfway buttoned by the time I get down the stairs and make it to the door.
By this point there’s knocking, pounding so hard I think the door might crack.
I pull it open and I’m met by Mallory and her tearstained face. She isn’t even dressed in her uniform yet. She’s still wearing pajamas.
“What’s wrong?”
She takes a breath, scratching her head. “Um, it’s Emma.”
I’ve tried my best not to think about Emma for the last few years, but the worry on Mallory’s face makes my heart rate spike. “What happened?”
“She didn’t come home last night.” She swallows, tryingto catch her breath, but it doesn’t help. “I—I took her phone, so there’s no way for me to reach her.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Okay. Does your dad know?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to worry him. I told him she was at a friend's house.”
I’m surprised her dad believed that lie considering I’ve never seen Emma around anyone else at school.
“You should tell him.”
