19

Izzy Leaps

Izzy lay on her air mattress, the techno blue envelope with Wren’s name resting on her stomach. She ran one corner of the envelope under her fingernail. Then she flicked the envelope toward the ceiling, hoping it would float through the air like a feather. Instead, it landed smack on Izzy’s face. If she threw the envelope in the trash underneath the kitchen sink, it would probably still find its way back to her.

There was only one way to get rid of this thing: Izzy had to give it to Wren.

If you let her bother you, she’ll win. That’s what Otto had said.

Wren would be gone in two days, but Daphne wasn’t going anywhere. Izzy did not want to let her win.

Izzy walked into the kitchen area where her mom was making a salad. “Can I go see if Wren’s back from the hospital?” she asked. “To check how she’s doing?”

Her mom smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea, Iz. Want me to come with you? I want to make sure they saw the instructions for the lasagna.”

“It’s okay,” said Izzy. “I’ll ask.”

“Just come back soon. Dinner’s in ten minutes.”

The driveway stretched before her, as if it had somehow gotten longer. Izzy hoped Wren’s dad would answer the door. Izzy wanted to hand off the envelope and run back to the garage apartment. She did not want to talk to Wren.

Ding-dong.

It was strange to ring the back doorbell to her own house knowing that her family wasn’t inside, that Row’s scampering feet would not be charging across the hardwood floors.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

Izzy was about to walk to the front door and slide the envelope through the brass mail slot when Wren’s mom appeared. Izzy hadn’t seen her since the day Wren’s family arrived, and was surprised by how tired she looked.

“Can I help you?” asked Wren’s mom. She kept the door half closed, as if Izzy was a kid selling cookies for a school fundraiser.

“Is Wren home? I have something for her.”

“Something for Wren?”

“From theater camp today.”

Wren’s mom raised her hand to her forehead. “Oh, you must be Izzy. Of course. Come in, please. Wren’s inside.”

Izzy stepped into the house. Her house. So many things were different. The teakettle was on the wrong half of the stove, the red stools were covered with crumbs, and wrinkled hand towels were shoved in a corner of the counter.

“I know it’s a mess,” said Wren’s mom. “The whole week has been a whirlwind. I promise we’ll clean everything up before we leave. Let me just get Wren.” She walked toward the stairs to the second floor. “Wren! Wren! Izzy’s here to see you!”

They waited ten seconds. Thirty seconds. Wren was obviously ignoring them.

“It’s okay,” said Izzy. “I just wanted to give this to Wren. I don’t need to talk to her.” Izzy tried to hand the envelope to Wren’s mom, but she had started walking up the stairs.

“It’s just . . . I know she’s here somewhere,” said Wren’s mom. “Where else would she be? Come on, let’s check her room.”

You mean my room, thought Izzy as she followed, the wooden stairway railing so familiar in her hand. They walked down the hallway with the clean white walls, past Nate’s room with its row of soccer trophies, and into her own room. The bed was made and the desk clean. A pile of Wren’s clothes was folded on top of the dresser.

Deep inside, under all the hurt and confusion, Izzy was grateful that at least Wren had taken good care of her room.

Wren’s mom turned in a circle. She opened the closet door. She patted the pockets of her jeans, as if she was feeling for her phone. “Oh my God, Wren! Wren! Where is she? Did she go out? She doesn’t know anyone here. Does she?”

Izzy gripped the envelope in her hand. Had Wren actually had become friends with Daphne and Phoebe? Had Wren actually given them the drawing? Had they bonded in the school bathroom, or hung out after theater camp yesterday without Izzy knowing? It was highly unlikely, but possible. And it would explain the invitation with Wren’s name on it. Daphne and Phoebe knew Wren was renting Izzy’s house. Maybe they’d stopped by and told Wren about the epic sleepover in person? Maybe Wren had gone to one of their houses to hang out?

“I’ll go get my mom,” said Izzy. “She has a school directory. Maybe she can call around.”

Wren’s mom sat down on Izzy’s bed, nodded, and started to sob.

Izzy barely noticed the pounding of her legs or the cold against her cheeks as she ran through her house, down the driveway, and up to the garage apartment. It was only when Row jumped on her, his paws digging into her thighs, that Izzy realized how fast she’d sprinted up the stairs. “Mom, Wren’s missing!”

“Missing?”

“Her mom doesn’t know where she is. She’s not at the house. Maybe she went to Daphne’s house. Or Phoebe’s. Can you help?”

“Of course. I’ll come right over.”

Izzy waited by the door as her mom put on a sweater and grabbed her phone. She almost left the techno blue envelope in the garage apartment, but at the last minute she shoved it in the front pocket of her coat. Then she ran back to the house with her mom, standing at the kitchen island as her mom texted Phoebe’s mom and tried to remember the password for the school directory to find Daphne’s information.

Wren’s mom paced from the kitchen to the mudroom and back. She froze. “Wren’s skating bag. Where is it? I could’ve sworn I saw it here.”

Izzy looked out the window to the driveway where she’d found Wren jumping in place in the freezing night air. She remembered Wren’s question about Willoway Pond—Does anyone skate here?

“Mom,” said Izzy.

“Hold on, Iz. I need to concentrate.”

But Izzy couldn’t wait. She zipped her coat all the way up and went for the back door. “Wren might have gone to Willoway Pond. I can go check.”

“The pond at night? No way.”

“Please, Mom,” said Izzy. “I’ll be right back.”

Izzy’s mom brought the top of her phone to her lips. She looked at Wren’s mom, who stood with her hands interlaced at her chin.

“Okay,” said Izzy’s mom. “Go check. But come right back.”