Where They Found Her

I’m fine, Sandy typed, her fingers banging hard against her phone. I promise.

Are you sure?

The texts were making the whole thing worse. They might have been the worst part of the entire situation. Actually, no, they weren’t. They were bad, but they weren’t the worst part. Not by a fucking long shot.

The first time the two of them had met to study, Ha

Sandy got there ten minutes late and totally out of breath. She’d had to haul ass on her bike to make up the twenty minutes she’d spent sitting around thinking she might not go meet Ha

She spotted a girl she thought might be Ha

“Sandy?” Ha

Sandy was sweating and still breathing hard. Her face was probably beet-red. “I’m fine,” Sandy said, dropping herself down into the chair. She thought about mentioning her bike but decided against it. Ha

“Oh, okay,” Ha

“That’s okay,” Sandy had said, smiling for real. Because it was kind of fu

Before they could start, Ha

Her voice went all high, like a little girl’s, and she said “Uh-huh” a lot. “Sorry, I forgot,” she said finally. “Okay, yeah. Okay. Mom, stop. Okay, yes. An hour.” After she hung up, Ha

“Everything okay?” Sandy asked. And she was curious. She always wanted to know what kids like Ha

Ha

“About what?” Sandy needed details to be able to picture Ha

“To clean out my junk drawer.”

Sandy’s eyebrows lifted. “What the hell is a junk drawer?” There was no end to the things other kids had that Sandy did not.

“You know, where you keep all your—” Ha

“Shit you should throw out?” Sandy offered.

“Yeah.” Ha

“That’s intense.”

Ha

“Your mom hunting you down to bitch you out about it.” For the first time ever, Je

“I guess. Sometimes it feels like I can’t do anything right,” Ha

Sandy had laughed for real. “Don’t they all, sister. Don’t they all.”

Blondie’s was dark and mostly empty when Sandy got inside. There were two old guys at the far end of the bar, listening to one of Monte’s loud stories. Straight ahead was a younger guy with his back to the door. He had longish brown hair and was wearing some kind of suit jacket and a big expensive-looking watch. It was the watch that stood out. It wasn’t the kind of thing you saw in Blondie’s, not even on those ironic assholes. He was good-looking, too, Sandy could tell even from behind. It was the way he was sitting—like he owned that stool.

“Hey, kiddo!” Monte boomed, heading over to meet Sandy. “What are you doing here?”

Sandy loved when Monte called her “kiddo.” Men never treated her that way anymore: like a kid. Monte always seemed so happy to see her, too. Suddenly, there were tears at the back of Sandy’s throat, trying to break free. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Have you seen Je

Monte frowned and shook his head, wiping the bar with a white cloth that looked tiny beneath his huge hand. “She’s not on the schedule this morning, kiddo.” His brow wrinkled. “You know how she bitches about the crap tips on the day shift. And you know, there’s only so much of Je

“Yeah.” Sandy forced a laugh. It didn’t even sound like her voice.

“There something wrong, Sandy?”

Monte only called her Sandy when he was worried. Like that time he gave her a talk about staying away from strangers as if she’d been five years old. There had been a lot about puppies and candy. Totally useless and totally sweet.

“I can’t reach her, that’s all. Her phone’s probably dead or something,” Sandy said. “I just thought I’d check here for her.”

“Hmm.” Monte narrowed his eyes, then ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek. His ante

Dom shook his head, his fleshy cheeks trembling. He looked worried, too. “No, why, Pop?”

Dom and Monte knew Je

“I’m sure she’ll be home soon,” Sandy said. “But I— Our landlord called and this thing came up and I need to ask her something.” That was almost sort of true, and it sounded a lot better than them getting thrown out on their asses.

“The last time I saw her was at close last night,” Dom said.

“Did she say where she was headed?” Monte asked.

“Nah, she was talking to some friend of hers,” Dom said. “I told her she could cut out a few minutes early.”

Dom was being polite. Most of Je

“She, not he,” Dom said. “And I didn’t look at her real close.” Which meant she wasn’t pretty. “You could try asking Laurie. She was in last night. I saw her talk to them for a minute.”

Laurie, a senior at Ridgedale University, was the only student who worked at Blondie’s. Laurie came from nothing, needed the job to pay for tuition. So far, it was taking her a couple extra years to make it through. She was twenty-three and a few credits away from graduating, but she swore she would. Sandy believed her, and it gave her hope. Laurie was proving it could be done even when you started at less than zero. Laurie lived in an apartment a few blocks away with her roommate, Rose, who was in Blondie’s all the time, even lately, when she was super-pregnant. People gave her crap about it—pregnant and in a bar—never bothering to notice that all Rose ever drank was water.

“Okay, thanks,” Sandy said. “If you see Je