All the Rage(32)

“Where’s Alek?”

“That’s nothing you need to know.”

“Why are you here if he’s not?” I ask and his cheeks turn just pink enough to stand out. “Oh. He told you to be here, didn’t he? You’re here. Because he told you.”

“Just being a friend,” he says. “But I guess you wouldn’t know what that’s like, on account of you not having any.”

“That’s the best you can do?”

“I could do a lot worse.”

I look down the hall. It’s just the two of us here, alone together, and I’m the one that has to bear the burden of it. He steps forward—I walk away.

“So did you enjoy it?” he calls at my back. “Getting f*cked?”

In homeroom, everyone is quiet, even McClelland. His hands are clasped, brows drawn together. I sit at the back of the room and watch people come in, faces so sad. I stare at Alek’s and Penny’s empty seats. The bell rings, but the cue for video announcements doesn’t sound.

“There will be a special assembly,” McClelland says. “There’s a special assembly—” He glances at the clock. “Now. In the auditorium. Line up single file and follow me there.”

We do as we’re told. It reminds me of elementary school, of being escorted from one class to the next because we were too young to be trusted to do anything on our own.

But now we’re supposed to be old enough to look after ourselves.

Mr. McClelland opens the door. Mrs. Leven’s class is lined up across the hall and we all march together, side by side, to the auditorium. We’re directed into rows, don’t even get to pick where we’ll sit.

I keep my eyes on the stage. There are three empty chairs behind the podium and when everyone is seated and the lights are dimmed, Principal Diaz, Vice Principal Emerson, and Sheriff Turner walk out. Emerson and Turner take the first two chairs but Diaz takes the mic.

“I wish I’d gathered you here under better circumstances,” she says. “I’m sure most, if not all, of you know about the unfortunate news regarding a beloved member of our senior class. In the interest of making sure you have the correct information, we thought it best if you heard it from us and the local authorities directly. Penny Young is missing.”

And even though I already know this, the news goes over me like ice, like I never really believed it at all. Frantic whispers fill the room. The teachers allow us a brief conference about what we’ve just been told.

I scan the rows and find Tina next to Yumi and Brock. Yumi is crying, but Tina’s face is angry, set. I can’t remember ever seeing Tina cry. When something hurts Tina, she hurts it right back. She doesn’t give herself over to it.

“We’re not exactly sure what happened yet, so there’s no point in jumping to any bad conclusions,” Diaz continues and I think of what Leon said. Coming up on forty-eight hours, but we’re past that now. “But if you need someone to talk to, the guidance counselor is here to listen, as are all members of the faculty. Our hearts go out to the Youngs at this difficult time. We’ll be praying for Penny’s safe return. Sheriff Turner will speak now and I expect you to listen quietly and respectfully to what he has to say.”

Diaz sits and Turner moves to the microphone, his expression so perfectly grave. Penny, the daughter he never had, the daughter-in-law he expected to have. I try to imagine Alek, desperately searching for the girl he thought he’d marry while the rest of us are here being told about how she’s gone. I am so hungry for the Turners’ pain, I will take it in any context.

“Morning.”

Turner surveys us, makes us shrink in our seats. It’s always uncomfortable around a cop, like they somehow know every terrible thing we’ve done or thought about doing.

“This is what we know,” he says. “We know Penny was last seen on Friday night at the Wake Lake party. She left between ten-thirty and eleven on her white Vespa scooter. She was supposed to arrive at her mother’s house in Ibis, where she was spending the weekend, but never arrived. At this point, we don’t know if Penny left Grebe or made it to Ibis, but searches of the surrounding area have been and are currently underway. We’re working with the Ibis Sheriff’s Department and have their full cooperation.

“If any of you have any information—if you saw something suspicious in person, if you saw or heard something online, on social media the night of the party or since then, if you spoke to Penny and she said something you think might be of any significance, a deputy will be in the school’s administration office until noon and, of course, you can call the station anytime. We have a number for anonymous tips. If you do know something, we encourage you to come forward as soon as possible. Time is of the essence in these matters.”

“Does that mean you think she was kidnapped?”

A boy asks it, some boy sitting somewhere up front.

Diaz gets to her feet and her voice booms across the room without the aid of the microphone.

“Lex Sanders? This is not a Q and A. See me in my office when this is over.”

“We’ve told you what we can,” Turner says. “Penny hasn’t been seen or heard from since Friday night. Once again, I must emphasize the importance of you sharing any information you think might be useful in helping us to find her. Thank you.”