William’s impulsive suggestion that they leave their respective spouses and marry each other had come as a shock. Did he mean it? It had never occurred to her as even a possibility, but even if he did, it’s out of the question. Her kids, Faith and Ryan, would never forgive her, and they mean the world to her. No, she can’t risk losing them.
It’s right that she ended it. It’s a wonder they weren’t caught. No one must ever know. She’s been so worried that it shows—that she’s been feeling younger, prettier, happier, more alive these last few months. She has tried to hide it. She had to end things now, before someone noticed. Before Al noticed—if he hasn’t already. He’s been quieter than usual lately, more detached. But maybe something is going on at work. How could he know about her and William? They’ve been so careful.
* * *
? ? ?
Michael is sweating after basketball practice. The coach is clearly pleased with him today, and it makes him glow. He wants to tell his mom and dad what the coach said about his play today. In the locker room, he wipes himself down with the towel from his gym bag. He slips off his basketball shorts and pulls on the sweatpants and sweatshirt in his bag. It’s almost mid-October, and it’s cool outside. He says a reluctant goodbye to his friends, who head out of the school in a pack, wishing he could go with them and enjoy being part of the team a little longer. Instead, he turns away and follows the halls to the music room at the other end of the school to pick up his little sister. He resents having to do this every Tuesday. Why can’t his mother get off work early one day a week and pick up Avery herself? She’s such a little pain in the ass, he thinks. He’s twelve now, in sixth grade, and he wants to hang out with his friends. There’s nothing cool about walking home with your little sister. He wonders what his friends are saying, what he’s missing.
He rounds the last corner to the hall with the music room. His sister isn’t sitting in her usual spot on the bench along the wall, with her backpack on her shoulder and impatiently scuffing her feet against the floor, waiting for him. He pokes his head inside the room and then enters. The music teacher, Ms. Burke, looks up and smiles at him. She remembers him—he was in choir, too, until he got to quit for sports instead. He glances around the room, but Avery’s not there.
“Are you looking for your sister?” Ms. Burke asks.
He nods. “Yeah.”
“I’m afraid I had to send her home. She was being disruptive.”
Michael’s heart sinks. Not again. When Avery gets in trouble, his parents usually argue. Avery sucks up all their energy; they seem to barely notice him. Lately, Michael has to do something spectacular to get their attention. All Avery has to do is misbehave, which she does all the time—while he quietly gets good grades and makes the basketball team and mows the lawn without argument. It’s not fair. “She’s not supposed to walk home by herself,” he tells the music teacher.
Concern flickers across Ms. Burke’s face. “She should have waited for you,” she says, “if that is your arrangement.”
Michael leaves the music room and retraces his steps through the empty school corridors. His mood drops further; the glow from the coach’s praise has disappeared. Now Avery’s really going to be in trouble. His parents won’t like it that she went home on her own. What was he supposed to do? He was at basketball practice. He didn’t know. Now he’s angry at her too.
He walks home alone, hurrying, head down, knowing that everyone is going to be in a bad mood tonight. No one will care that the coach thought he was playing great. It’s usually a twenty-minute walk with Avery, but he does it in fifteen. When he gets home, the front door is locked, which is unexpected. He uses his key and throws open the door. His mother will be home soon, at about 5:30. It occurs to him then that he and Avery can say they came home together. Or just say nothing at all. His mom doesn’t have to know that Avery got in trouble and that she walked home without him. It’s tempting. But what if Ms. Burke calls his mother? Should he risk it? They’d be furious if they found out and he hadn’t told them. He’s never lied to them before.
Michael automatically heads to the kitchen, calling for his sister. “Avery! Where are you?” He stops inside the kitchen, but there’s no sign of her. If Avery was home, her backpack would be on the floor. Worried now, he walks through the first floor of the house, looking for her. “Shit,” he mutters. Then, raising his voice, “Avery, where are you?” He mounts the stairs to the second floor two at a time and looks in her bedroom. She’s not there. He looks in his own room—she’s been known to snoop through his things—but she’s not there either. He’s really starting to worry. She’s not in his parents’ bedroom, the office, or either of the bathrooms, or in the empty garage either. She’s not in the basement. Now his heart is pounding from rushing around the house and from fear. He’s responsible for her, and he doesn’t know where she is. He opens the back sliding doors off the dining room onto the patio and calls her name in the backyard. But no one answers. He goes farther into the backyard toward the back fence and turns around and looks up at the roof. She’s climbed onto the roof before. But he doesn’t see her. He’s scared now. She didn’t come home. Where the hell is she? She could be playing in the woods behind the house. She could be anywhere.
He pulls his cell phone out of the pocket of his sweats. Avery is only nine, she doesn’t have a cell phone. He calls his mother.
“Yes, honey, what is it?” His mother sounds like she’s busy. When isn’t she?
He swallows. “Um, Avery’s not here.”
“What do you mean she’s not there?” His mother’s voice is sharp. “Where are you?”
He has to tell her the truth now.
* * *
? ? ?
Erin Wooler closes her eyes as she listens to her son. A moment later, she’s making her way as fast as she can toward the office’s exit. She’d mouthed family emergency to her boss and got the nod that it was okay to leave. “Let’s not panic,” she says to her twelve-year-old. “She’s probably gone to Jenna’s. I’m on my way home. Can you go to Jenna’s house and see if she’s there? Call me as soon as you find her. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes.”
She makes her way to the parking lot, gets into her car, and puts the phone down on the console where she can reach for it quickly. She’s worried, naturally, but she’s not afraid, not yet. She loves her daughter, but Avery is a challenge. Always pushing the boundaries. Why can’t she just do what she’s told? Erin thinks, in frustration more than fear. When they find her, they will have to decide how to handle it. How can they get Avery to learn from this rather than becoming more oppositional? That’s what usually happens when they try to rein her in.
Erin thinks of her son, Michael, and the quiver in his voice just now. He’s such a good kid. He’s going to feel responsible; she will have to reassure him that this is Avery, not him—that he is not to blame for his sister’s behavior. He’s so sensitive, so worried about displeasing anyone, especially his parents. She drives a little faster. No one ever tells you how complicated it is being a parent. How much energy it sucks out of you. The toll it takes on a marriage. Somehow simply growing up in a family isn’t such great preparation for having your own.