Abbie’s absence the second day grated on my nerves more than the day before. Despite my stepmother swearing she hadn’t seen Abbie since Tuesday, suspicion still occupied my thoughts as I fought through another pointless algebra class. I hid out in the library during my last period, checking out a couple books that I shoved haphazardly into my bag before the bell rang. Preparation was key if my plan was going to work. The last thing I needed was someone recommending I see a shrink.
As the final bell rang, I slid my phone from my bag and sent a text to my father saying I was staying after school to study and would be home late. Darting amongst classmates and upperclassmen like a salmon fighting upstream, I skidded to a stop by Mr. McManus’s classroom. The teacher stood in front of the chalkboard erasing the remnants of a lesson. Taking a steadying breath, I readjusted my backpack over my left shoulder and strode in wearing what I hoped was a confident expression. The room was silent for a few beats until Mr. McManus turned and his shoulders jerked slightly at my appearance. “Can I help you with something, Liam?”
Shuffling further into the room so my voice wouldn’t be overheard by passing students and teachers, I looked Mr. McManus in the eye. “I know what you are.” That came out wrong.
I frantically unzipped my backpack and shoved my proof under his nose. For his part, Mr. McManus didn’t look completely offended. He allowed me to fan the computer printouts on his desk. I flipped viciously through the pages in one of the library books, finally landing on the one I wanted. I tapped my index finger on a sketch of a woman in a toga with a bird—with large, lamp-like eyes and a short, sharp beak—perched on her shoulder. “This is you.”
The teacher didn’t deny the statement. He sidestepped me and closed the door. At least he was taking my revelation seriously. Mr. McManus settled in his seat and leaned forward on his elbows. “Why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”
I dragged a desk over and sat down, my backpack landing empty on the floor at my feet. I still held the book in one hand. A part of me was at a loss for words. I guess I’d been expecting a louder confrontation or at least for Mr. McManus to flat out confirm or deny my suspicions. I hoped he would admit that Abbie really was missing and promise to help track her down.
“Abbie.” It came out raw in my throat, as though I hadn’t used my voice in months.
Mr. McManus sighed and his shoulders sagged. “She was suspended.”
I took a breath. “I know. But she was supposed to be back yesterday and she wasn’t.”
“How did you know?” Mr. McManus leaned on his desk.
I set the book down. “She told me on Facebook. But I can’t get in touch with her because she’s grounded. Her mom took away her phone and internet and I—”
“About me.” The teacher smiled.
“Oh.” I averted my gaze in embarrassment. “I can sort of see … auras. Only certain people and not all the time. You’ve got one and a giant poster of the Goddess of Wisdom on your door. You like talking about the Greeks as if they still matter today. It wasn’t that hard to figure out after that.”
Mr. McManus settled back into his chair. “How long have you been able to see people’s true natures?”
I shrugged. “A year. Maybe two. It happened when I hit puberty. My father explained everything to me.”
“Your father?”
Before I realized it, my hands balled into fists and my shoulders stiffened. “Hayden Gray.”
Mr. McManus shivered at the mention. He narrowed his eyes and puckered his lips like he’d tasted something sour. A small smile crept onto my lips. Knowing a relative stranger felt that way about my father made me feel not so alone.
The teacher cleared his throat and ran a hand over his mouth. “He told you everything?”
“Most of it. Who he is and who my stepmother is. He explained what that makes me. I still don’t know how he managed to get custody.” I kicked at the front legs of the desk. “I hate him sometimes and how he thinks he can control everything. I know he has something to do with Abbie’s disappearance.”
“We don’t know that she’s disappeared.” Mr. McManus shook his head.
Why was he being so difficult? “She hasn’t been to school.”
Mr. McManus straightened and caught my gaze. “Just because her suspension ended and she’s not here doesn’t mean she’s missing.”
Slamming my fists down on the desk hard enough to feel a jolt of pain radiate up to my elbows, I stood up. “So how long are we supposed to wait to look for her?” I started pacing the distance between my desk and his. “I’ll tell the police everything I know. You can too. They’ll have to listen to us—”
Mr. McManus held up a hand to silence me. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to do that, it’s up to her parents to take that action.”
My pulse throbbed in my neck, sending anger coursing through me with each heartbeat. “I have to do something. You have to help.”
“We don’t know that she needs help. But, if she does, I promise I will do everything in my power to find her.” He stood and rounded the desk so that he was well within my personal space. “Now I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “You need to be very careful around your father. Listen if you can. But don’t get involved. And don’t tell him about me.”
I shrugged the teacher’s hand off and shoved my hands in my pockets. “I think it’s my fault.”
“Why do you say that?” He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed me with an ‘I’m waiting for a well-reasoned answer’ look. Like he did in class.
“I saw what she was doing. I think somehow they found out. I told her to be careful and now she’s gone. I should have done more.” Before he could respond, I gathered the library books and printouts and shoved them in my bag before pulling the straps over both shoulders. Mr. McManus retreated to his computer and fiddled with the mouse. I made a move for the closed door but the teacher waved a hand at me to stay put.
“Wait.” He pulled something from the printer. “Abbie’s address. Just to be sure.”
Committing the address to memory while I unlocked my bike, I sped off in the opposite direction of home. I paused on corners to check street signs and even pulled up a route on Google maps to get me where I needed to be. Slowing at the end of Abbie’s street, I spotted black and white police cars. I didn’t have to guess which house. Certainty settled in my chest like a rock and it pressed against my lungs and forced my heart into an irregular rhythm. I’d been right. Abbie was missing. Now I had to find her before my father had a chance to put the rest of his plan into motion.