Before She Was Found(60)

“No, not yet,” Cora says, running her fingers over the purple cast. “I don’t remember much.” He could be imagining it, but Thomas is sure that he sees Jordyn’s shoulders relax.

“Jordyn, the gift,” Thomas prompts.

Jordyn, remembering the present in her hand, holds the bag out to Cora. “We got you this. It’s nothing much,” she says as Cora reaches into the bag, retrieves the card and clumsily tries to open the envelope with her good hand. “Let me help,” Jordyn says and takes the card. She slides a finger beneath the envelope’s seal and pulls out the card.

“She looks like Skittles,” Cora says, smiling weakly.

“Cora,” Mara says with a hint of dismay.

Cora sets aside the card and plunges her hand into the bag through the tissue paper and pulls out the bracelet-making kit. “Thank you,” she says. “I love it.”

“You’re welcome,” Jordyn says proudly but then her grin falls away. “Your arm. You won’t be able to put the beads on the string.”

“That’s all right,” Cora consoles. “We can make them together. Do you want to sign my cast?” Using a black Sharpie marker, Jordyn signs her name across the fiberglass cast.

“When we’re back at school, I can help carry your books and stuff if you want,” Jordyn offers as the two girls examine the box of beads while Thomas and Mara look on.

“That would be great.” Cora gives a half smile and then winces at the pain.

“Have you talked to Violet yet?” Jordyn asks, picking at the tape that seals the box.

“No, not yet,” Cora says, a twinge of sadness in her words. “Have you?”

“I haven’t, either,” Jordyn says, pulling out a plastic bag filled with jewel-colored beads. “What colors do you like?” she asks.

“The purple ones. To match my cast. Which colors do you want yours to be?”

“Blue, I think,” Jordyn says and the two busy themselves with sorting the beads into piles.

Thomas breathes an inward sigh of relief. Surely if Cora blamed Jordyn for the attack in the train yard, then she wouldn’t suggest plans to make bracelets together.

“What is she doing here?” a shrill voice comes from the doorway. Jordyn and Cora freeze in place and stare in surprise at the teenage girl who has swept into the room, face stormy with anger. Thomas’s moment of relief is instantly replaced with dread.

“Kendall,” Mara says sharply. “That’s rude.”

“She’s rude!” Kendall snaps back. “She’s been awful to Cora the last few months.

“How can you even show your face here?” Kendall asks Jordyn, who looks to her grandfather for help. Thomas doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay,” Cora says in a small voice.

“It’s not,” Kendall shoots back. “It’s not okay! She made you cry every day for weeks. And don’t tell me that’s not true. I heard you! She’s not your friend, Cora.”

“Kendall, go outside,” Mara says in a shaky voice. “Right now.”

“You are so gullible,” Kendall persists. “You let people walk all over you. For once stand up for yourself. And you—” She turns to Jordyn.

“Jordyn, let’s go,” Thomas interrupts, finally able to speak. Jordyn rises from her seat, murmurs goodbye to Cora and skirts past Kendall.

“Stay away from my sister!” Kendall calls after them as they rush from the room past a tall woman lingering in the doorway.

In silence Thomas and Jordyn move through the hallways, Jordyn blinking back tears, Thomas biting his tongue. Thomas waits until they are in the truck before he speaks. “What did you do to her?” he asks Jordyn. “What did you do to that little girl?”



Dr. Madeline Gideon


September 14, 2018


I found Cora sitting up in her hospital bed watching television. Mara told me she planned on being away from Cora’s room during our morning meeting so we could have some privacy. I knew this was hard for her and understandably so, but I convinced her that this time to talk freely would be good for Cora.

She was still connected to an IV and her head was swathed in bandages. A half-eaten breakfast tray sat in front of her. I was glad to see she had at least eaten something. Next to the tray there were two bracelets made out of beads and another in purple hues on Cora’s wrist. “Those are pretty,” I said, coming to her side. “Did someone make them for you?”

“My friend Jordyn came. She brought a kit and we started to make a few.” Cora’s speech was still a bit slurred from her injuries but the swelling in her lips had gone down.

“I saw,” I said. “I looked in but didn’t want to interrupt your visit. I also saw your sister came in. She seemed very upset at your friend.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Cora said flatly, instantly becoming guarded.

“Okay,” I said, picking up one of the bracelets designed in shades of blue: turquoise and navy. “These are pretty. Who did you make them for?”

She held up her wrist. “This one was for me, of course, and we made one for Jordyn that looks just like mine. And that one—” she nodded toward the one I’m holding “—is for my sister.”