Page 31

THIRTY

My chest is swollen with rage. I storm out of the building, knowing it’s best for me to control my anger before confronting the girls.

I knew Evie felt like an outsider when stacked beside the rest of our team. Some of the most obvious reasons—her complicated home life and poor social standing—were negative, but there were positive differences, too. Like her talent. Evie’s skill and drive is far above that of her peers. It’s what secured her a place at this school, and I knew there was some jealousy about that from the other girls, but I never could have imagined this.

SoEd. Same outfit every day. Each time the phrase rolls through my mind, my hands ball into fists. I have to remember I’m only dealing with young girls, even if the cruelty behind their actions seems far older.

It seems unlikely the girls could have done anything to Evie themselves, but they clearly made her life hell in the weeks leading up to the lock-in. Could there have been some kind of confrontation after we went to sleep? Was their mistreatment severe enough that Evie did decide to run away? At the very least, I know the girls have been lying about the true nature of their relationship with her. Perhaps that is what she was on the verge of telling me that night, before we got interrupted.

I’d give anything to go back to that moment and finish our conversation.

I’ve almost reached my car when I hear someone shout my name.

Turning around, I expect to see Kelly or Kyle chasing me out of the building. Instead, there’s a dark-colored sedan pulled up behind my vehicle. The driver’s window is rolled down to reveal Nadia behind the wheel. We’ve not seen each other since Sunday night, after we got into that argument coming back from Evie’s house.

“Get in the car,” she says. Her voice isn’t threatening, but there’s a seriousness behind her words.

“Not now, Nadia,” I say, turning back to my vehicle. “I’m not in the mood?—”

“I said get in the car.” This time it sounds more like an order.

“Are you blackmailing me again?” The last time Nadia went around shouting orders was right before we got into this mess. That damned open door. “What’s this about?”

“I want to show you something. I’m hoping it will change the way you think about me.”

“Look, I really don’t?—”

“Please.”

For whatever reason, a pleading Nadia is more convincing than an angry or even vindictive one. I drop my keys into my crossbody bag, taking one more look at the school building before I get into her car.

Once we’ve pulled out of the school zone and onto the main road, I ask her, “What’s this about?”

“I did some more digging into the boyfriend,” she says. “Turns out he was in prison for aggravated assault.”

“Yeah. I know. Once I had a name, I was able to do my own research.”

“Well, I talked to some people who know him. He’s been a creep for years. Rumor is he’s assaulted other girls that were too afraid to come forward. That guy has no business being under the same roof as Evie.”

I agree wholeheartedly. When I think about Josh and the crimes raised against him, a whole other wave of anger swells inside me. If there’s a silver lining to Evie’s disappearance, it’s that she’s away from that loser. Of course, she could be in an even worse situation we know nothing about. It’s the unknowns swarming around her disappearance that make me crazy.

“I appreciate you looking into him,” I say, “but if that’s what this is about, we’re wasting our time. He wasn’t involved.”

“What makes you say that?” she asks. “A couple of days ago you were convinced they were.”

“I’ve spoken with Detective Fields since then. They’ve looked into Crystal and Josh, and both have alibis. Over a dozen witnesses that were with them almost all of Friday night.” Before she can offer up the same theory I did earlier, I add, “And neither of them have enough money or pull to put someone else in charge of hurting Evie.”

“You think she ran away to avoid the creepy boyfriend?”

“No.”

Even if I didn’t know the full extent of what Evie was dealing with at home, I still don’t believe she would leave willingly. She would have come to me before she took matters into her own hands.

You didn’t go to Coach Phillips , a voice inside says, but I ignore it. Evie is different from me. Better. She knows I would have moved heaven and earth to protect her if she was at risk of being abused.

Besides, even in a rash moment, if she had run away, she would have returned by now. Her disappearance is too well known. It’s been covered on the local news. There’s been a prayer circle at the school. Evie isn’t the type of girl to sit back and take some kind of sick enjoyment from the attention her abduction has received. She’d be riddled with guilt for worrying so many people.

“Anyway, if this is about the boyfriend, we’re wasting our time,” I repeat. “He’s a total creep, but not involved with what happened to Evie.”

“We can scratch his name off the suspect list,” she says, “but that’s not what this is about.”

What list? That same skeptical voice pipes up again, but I push it away when I see where we’re going. We’ve entered the grounds of another elementary school in the area. It’s so close after dismissal, the school zone lights are still flashing. Parents guard their children as they walk through the crowded parking lot while other children play at the nearby playground, waiting for retrieval.

“What are we doing here?” I ask Nadia.

“There’s something I need to show you,” Nadia says, backing the car into a parking spot that faces the playground. Inside the fence, children dart across the brightly colored tarmac and soar on the swings.

“Why are we at an elementary school?”

“There she is,” Nadia says, but it’s like she’s not speaking to me. Her eyes are fixed ahead, staring at a group of children in line at the monkey bars. “You see the girl with the pigtails? Red dress?”

Sure enough, there’s a small child that matches her description waiting in line. The little girl only looks to be about six years old. She fiddles with one of her braids as she waits her turn.

“I see her,” I say.

“That’s my daughter.”

My head turns quickly enough to induce whiplash. I stare at Nadia, expecting her to burst with laughter or deliver a witty one-liner, but she’s staring ahead, a look of bewilderment on her face as she watches the young girl.

“You have a child?”

“I gave her up for adoption six years ago,” she says, eyes still on the girl. “Right before I left for California.”

My mouth hangs open, my eyes bouncing between the child on the playground and Nadia, trying to make sense of what she’s just told me. Nadia was pregnant? My mind tries to recall what life was like six years ago, but it doesn’t matter—we’d lost touch long before then. Still, it’s hard to picture Nadia with a swollen belly, going through labor.

“The father?—”

“Not in the picture,” Nadia says, before I can finish. “From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I knew what I was going to do.”

I look at the little girl again. She’s nearing the front of the line, but starting to get impatient. I can tell by the way she taps her foot against the ground. Her hands move from the ends of her braids to her narrow hips, posing. The longer I stare at her, the more clearly I can see she’s a miniature version of Nadia, attitude and all.

“Are you in contact with her?”

“It’s an open adoption, so I could reach out if I wanted to, but I never have.”

“Why?”

Nadia takes in a deep breath, closing her eyes. “For the same reason I gave her up in the first place. She’s better off without me. You know what our childhoods were like. No matter how hard I tried, I would have ended up repeating the same cycle we grew up in, and I couldn’t do that to another child.”

“You don’t know that,” I say, softly. As much as I want to believe what I just said, I can’t. The way we were raised wasn’t a choice, rather a result of what happens when no choices are left. Our parents were desperate and lacking resources, just like their parents before them, a generational chain that’s difficult to break, and when you’re in the thick of a crisis, it can feel impossible. Nadia never went to college. She never found a decent job that didn’t involve swindling other people. On the surface, she appears put together, but inside, she’s still tethered to that unhealthy dynamic.

When she expresses her fear of not being able to rise above and be better, I know exactly what she means.

“I knew I had to pick the right family. It was the most important decision I ever made. The father is a pharmacist. The mother was a teacher, even though I’m pretty sure she’s a stay-at-home mom now. She’d had an ectopic pregnancy that resulted in an emergency hysterectomy. She’ll never be able to carry a child of her own.”

“That’s awful,” I say. Connor and I have rarely talked about having children. It’s not a desire I’ve ever had, at least not yet, but I can only imagine how devastating it would be to have that choice taken away from me. To be told it could never happen.

“And here I was, young and broke with this perfectly healthy baby. It seemed like the right thing to do.” She looks down at her stomach, as though remembering. “Giving my daughter a chance at a better life. Giving them a chance to be parents.”

“I can’t believe I never knew.”

“We weren’t exactly friends at the time. I didn’t have anyone in my life, really. That’s why I headed straight to California. I enjoyed my years there because they helped me forget about her, about what I’d done.

“When I got back to town and started talking to my brother again, he told me about Evie. The whole reason I chose the adoption route was because I wanted my child to have a better life. I never knew there was already a child in our family suffering the same toxic cycles we did. She was almost a teenager already! I knew I wasn’t ready to be a parent, but I thought I could be a positive influence on Evie’s life. But Crystal wouldn’t let me near her.”

She clenches her jaw, closing her hands into fists. Her regret is visible.

“Now that Evie’s gone, it feels like I’ve missed out on two people in my life.” She lifts her head, looking back at the playground. “Sometimes, I’ll show up here after school, just to watch her. I might be a stranger to her now, but when I see that smile on her face, I know I made the right decision.”

Up ahead, the girl has finally earned her turn. She swings from one bar to the next, her little arms bending like boiled noodles, but she keeps her grip. A wide smile is plastered across her face as her feet dangle in the air. Beside me, Nadia watches her. She wears the same smile on her face, but there are tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Nadia.”

“I don’t regret my decision,” she says, her voice beginning to crack. “I brought you here today because I need you to know I’ve not always been selfish. It’s not always about me. Sure, most of my life has been about putting myself first, but I am capable of doing the right thing. I did it with her, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

I think of our argument the other night. I’d seen the side of Nadia she’d presented since we were kids. I never knew this other layer existed. She keeps it all buried.

“When I say I want to help you find Evie, I mean it,” she says, turning away from her daughter to look at me. “Believe me.”

“Okay.”

A woman on the sidewalk is strolling in the direction of the playground. She stops when she gets closer to our car, hunching down to look through the windshield.

“Nadia?” the woman asks.

“Shit.” Without acknowledging her, Nadia yanks the gear into drive, pulling out of the parking spot.

“Who is that?” I ask. The woman remains on the sidewalk, her posture still as she watches us drive away.

“That’s the mother,” she says.

“You said it’s an open adoption,” I say. “Maybe you should have a conversation with them. They might want you involved.”

“That will never happen,” Nadia says, as she pulls out of the school zone and onto the main road. “She’s better off without me.”

If she really believes that, I wonder, why was she so desperate to be a part of Evie’s life?