Page 15

FOURTEEN

Back in the gymnasium, the remaining teammates are no longer in the center of the basketball court. They’re sitting on the front row of the bleachers, their belongings packed up and at their sides.

Mr. Lake and Coach Reynolds stand in front of them. Both of them have their arms crossed, and they’re deep in conversation when I walk up.

“I didn’t know you were bringing reinforcements,” I say to Mr. Lake, purposely avoiding Reynolds.

“I thought the more hands on deck, the better,” he says.

“I only live a few blocks away,” Reynolds says. “It was no trouble.”

I’m sure it wasn’t. He’s probably reveling in the possibility that I’ve messed up. He’s always ready to glorify my every mistake, and this is a big one.

“I heard you on the intercom,” Mr. Lake says. “She still hasn’t come out?”

“No. And all of the girls swear they haven’t seen her since we went to bed.”

“What time was that?” Reynolds asks.

“I fell asleep a little after midnight,” I say. “Most everyone else was asleep by then or close to it.”

“And the girls woke you up around four?”

“That’s right.”

“So, we’re working with a span of four hours,” Mr. Lake says, thinking out loud. “She could be anywhere. And you’ve already checked the school?”

“Barely. I ran up and down the halls, poked my head into some of the classrooms, but that’s it. I wanted to wait until someone else arrived before I did anything.”

“Maybe we should call the police,” Reynolds says. “Time is getting away from us, and?—”

“We’ll contact them after we’ve looked ourselves,” Mr. Lake says. “I want to be able to tell them we did everything in our power first.”

Rather, he wants to be able to tell the school board he did everything he could before involving the police. Their participation escalates everything. Instead of a mischievous teenager roaming the halls after hours, we’re talking about a runaway or a possible abduction. And it was while the students were supposed to be safe within the confines of the school.

My stomach is tender with regret. We shouldn’t be in this situation at all. If I’d done my job, I would have kept a better eye on all the girls, especially Evie. How could something like this happen under my own watch?

“I’m searching the school,” I say, looking at Joanna. “Are you coming with me?”

“She can stay back with me,” Mr. Lake says. “I know you’ve already talked to the girls, but I’d like to ask my own questions. See if we can figure out what happened here.”

I’m shaken at the thought Mr. Lake is deliberately trying to separate Joanna from me. Does he not believe our recollection of events? Is Coach Reynolds only here to help split the truth from lies? He’s the person I’m convinced wants to oust me from my job, and now he’s here to witness my biggest mistake unfold in real time.

“Guess that means I’m with you,” Reynolds says, sounding slightly less aggravated than I feel.

“Fine,” I say, heading back toward the main corridor. “Let’s go.”

We don’t speak until we’ve exited the gym and are approaching the first classroom door along the main corridor.

“Have you already checked in here?” Reynolds asks me.

“Yes,” I say, begrudgingly. “I’ve checked everywhere.”

“I think we should search each room together. Every closet. Under desks. Anywhere we might not be able to see her.”

I’d said as much when I was talking to Joanna, but it’s irritating hearing this logic come from him. Obviously, Evie wouldn’t be hiding from us for this long—no middle grade dare would warrant that. Now I’m wondering if maybe she is hurt. Could she have fallen and bumped her head? Suffered some other injury that causes her from calling out to us?

“Does Evie have any medical issues? Allergies or diabetes, maybe?”

Clearly, Reynolds is thinking along the same lines as I am. “No. I take notice of every girl’s medical history. I have to, considering how much we travel.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, opening a closet door in the back of the classroom. Empty. “I get how coaching works.”

“The only girl on our team with any type of medical issue is Amber.” I exhale in frustration, trying not to show that he’s bothering me. “Peanut allergy.”

In the midst of my anxious confusion, a memory comes to the surface. Last year’s summer workouts. We’d stocked the gymnasium refrigerator with Gatorades and Uncrustables to keep the girls fed during workouts. That lasted one full day before Melinda Terry came to the school complaining that our cheap snacks were putting her daughter’s health at risk. She offered to fund lunches for the rest of the week on her own dime. Even for an affluent private school, that deal was too good to pass up, regardless of her mother’s rude method of delivery.

I remember Evie’s reaction when she heard we were going to trash the rest of the sandwiches. She’d simply been grateful for a quick meal. I ended up sending the rest of the boxes home with her, hoping they’d keep her full until school started up again. Thinking of that look on her face, I smile, but the memory is quickly replaced with anguish over the unknown.

“If Evie’s been gone this long, it’s probably because she was hurt,” I say, my mind already going to the worst.

“Did anything happen earlier in the night? Maybe some of the girls got carried away? Evie could have hit her head on something.”

“Are you interrogating me?”

“No. I’m simply trying to get a better idea of what happened.”

“I’ve already explained to Mr. Lake, and in the process, you, everything that happened. All the girls were asleep by midnight. Four hours later, Evie was missing.”

“Something had to happen during that time gap.”

“Obviously.” I march ahead to the next classroom, wishing I could leave him behind.

“You think it’s possible she ran away?” he asks. “I mean, it’s typical for someone her age.”

“And leave all her things behind? Including her cell phone?” I say, harshly. “That doesn’t sound very typical to me.”

“We have to make sure we’re exploring every possibility.”

“Evie wouldn’t have run away. I know that.”

I always made myself available to Evie, whether she needed assistance on the court or a ride home. She didn’t need to run away when she had me. My intuition eats away at me as I remember feeling as though Evie wanted to tell me something. Once outside her house, and again inside the gymnasium before lights out. Both times we were interrupted, and I can’t help wondering if those incomplete conversations are somehow connected to what’s happening.

“Why are you here anyway?” I ask Reynolds, desperate to get out of my own head.

“Mr. Lake called me. I’m guessing he thought I’d be able to get to the school the fastest.”

Or maybe he just wanted another man on the premises. It’s hard to deny the subtle sexism that exists at Manning Academy, especially in sports. Even someone with a proven track record, like myself, has to outshine the male counterparts of a person’s cousin or a friend of a friend. The only thing that’s kept me in my position this long is the team’s winning streak, but I’m not sure even that could save me from the scandal of losing a child on my watch.

“We’re going to find her,” Reynolds says. There’s a sureness to his voice that is meant to sound comforting, but it catches me off guard. Reynolds and I have always had a contentious relationship. He must enjoy watching me squirm now as much as I enjoyed flaunting my win in front of him earlier in the week. Still, he’s a teacher. We’ve both made it our mission to work with children for a living, and now one of them could be in jeopardy.

“Let’s hope so,” I say, half under my breath.

As we’re walking to the next classroom, I pull out my phone.

There’s still no response from Nadia. The possibility that she’s involved in this—and that I might have unknowingly contributed—is enough to make me sick.

It takes almost an hour for us to search the entire building. We even went down into the school’s basement, a dank space that does nothing more but house unused sports equipment and homecoming decorations. Evie is nowhere to be found. There wasn’t even anything suggesting someone else might have been there. Now that we’ve covered the entire building, it’s as though Evie disappeared into thin air.

Then I think of that opened door, how it was mysteriously shut.

“Should we head back?” Reynolds asks me.

Despite his fitness levels, there’s a noticeable sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he’s out of breath. I realize I am too. It’s been quite the workout searching this whole area.

“Sure,” I say, leading the way.

When we return, Joanna, Mr. Lake and the rest of the team are where we left them. It’s almost like time has stood still in our absence.

“Well?” Lake asks when he sees us approach.

Reynolds shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Mr. Lake locks eyes with me for only a second before looking away. Is that shame in his stare? Fear?

“I guess it’s time to call the police,” he says.