Lost Girls(10)

I held my bottom lip between my teeth, knowing that—no matter what happened—there was no way I was hanging out in the school counselor’s office today.

Kyle and I headed through the garage toward a gorgeous, lime-green Bug that I still couldn’t believe belonged to me. We both slid into my car, the drive to Lincoln High surreal, like I was cruising through a movie set instead of living a day in my real life. Houses slipped past, one street bled into another, me on autopilot, not even thinking about which way to turn or how long to wait at each light. I automatically knew when the lights would turn green and that if I turned left a block before the school, I’d miss the clogged traffic from a line of school buses and parents dropping off students.

Then we pulled into the student parking lot and Kyle swung his door open and all the noise from outside poured in, packs of students running and laughing and yelling, boys flirting with girls and girls teasing each other, a whole social hierarchy that I didn’t fit into anymore.

I got out of the car, backpack on my shoulder, and walked toward the building, forgetting to lock my doors or say good-bye to Kyle.

“Go ahead, pretend you don’t know me. Like usual,” he said, following behind me. “Remember, I’m watching you.”

He jogged past me, turning around briefly to wave and stick out his tongue, before disappearing inside the school building.

A long hallway and cool darkness waited inside. All the voices of the other students narrowed down to a whisper as I tried to listen for what was up ahead, but I couldn’t hear anything. There were no clues as to whether I would fit in or whether I would recognize anyone.

Up ahead of me stood a pair of doors that led into the unknown.





Chapter Eight


I felt like one of those fish that glow in the dark, noticeably different from everyone else. People whispered when I walked past. She’s that girl who went missing last month and she doesn’t remember anything that happened in the past year, she doesn’t even remember her name. I wanted to correct that last comment. Of course I remember my name, I wanted to say. I just don’t know who the heck you are.

It was true, too. Even the students I should have recognized looked different. They’d grown taller, fatter, skinnier, prettier, uglier since last year. They’d dyed their hair and gotten braces, they’d gotten tattoos and piercings, they’d grown their hair long or cut it short. The girls had discovered the miracle of makeup and the boys had mastered the art of hair gel.

And some of the boys had discovered the magic of working out.

Guys who used to be thin and geeky now sported six-packs that rippled beneath tight Tshirts.

And one boy who had been gorgeous since seventh grade, Dylan McCarthy, caught me in a mesmerizing gaze from the moment I walked through the front door. His mouth dropped open half an inch, just enough to make him look even hotter—if that was possible—and for a moment I thought I heard him whisper my name. I stared back at him, slightly perplexed, knowing that I was blushing but unable to stop myself. Black hair and cool gray eyes, his skin just pale enough to make him look like the poet that he secretly was. The other kids in Lincoln High might not remember, but he had sat beside me in seventh grade English class and he’d even made our teacher swoon with the stuff he’d written.

It was lame, but I never forgot the time I’d dropped my pen and he’d picked it up for me, his hand brushing mine in the process, his eyes focused on mine for a long second, his full lips tilting up in a half-smile.

And then the bell rang. In my seventh-grade memory and now.

I glanced at that paper Kyle had given me, a quick panic in my throat and a feeling like the flutter of birds’ wings in my chest. Room 126. That’s where I needed to be, but it was where, on this side of the building or over in the other wing?

“Are you lost, little girl?”

Dylan was standing beside me. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him. He’d never been this close before and had definitely never spoken an entire sentence to me. If I couldn’t talk before, I certainly couldn’t now.

“I’ve been sick worrying about you,” he said, his gaze on my lips. “I haven’t slept since you went missing.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked. I couldn’t tell him that I’d had a crush on him for years and that this wasn’t a funny prank.

He cocked his head, studying my face, maybe looking for a clue or a tell. His voice lowered until it was barely above a whisper, almost as if he was talking to himself. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No—I—” I answered too quickly. “I mean, everyone knows who you are.”

He gave me a shy grin, but then his gaze traveled back to my lips and his smile broadened. For a moment, I thought he was going to lean closer and I was hoping he would.

Instead he rubbed a finger over his lower lip, a simple gesture that I thought, maybe, I’d seen before.

“You need to get to algebra.”

“How did you know?”

Another long smile followed, making me wish we weren’t at school, that we were anywhere else but here. “Because you’re in my class. Come on.” He held out his hand, one eyebrow raised, almost like a challenge.

I took his hand and a warm tingle flowed up my arm.

“We better hurry,” he said and then we both ran down the hall, hands locked like we were little kids heading out for recess, him grinning and me fighting the urge to giggle.