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When 17-year-old Arbor Hayes' best friend turns up alive after a mysterious six-month disappearance, she must piece together the fragments of her story to make sense of what happened. But as clues e...
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"I'm sorry about the salad—I'm not sure what came over me." We're all settled around the dining room table when Mom apologizes for the third time. "I guess I just wasn't expecting—"
She stops, glances across the table, and clamps her lips.
Emma smiles. "It's okay, Mrs. H. It's understandable. I look a lot different than I used to. But the doctors say I'll put the weight back on in no time. Honestly though, I don't want to. Being this thin suits me, don't you think?" She twists in her seat to show off her new physique. "Now I can fit into the dress I wore for my quinceañera. Do you remember that one, with the beaded crystal straps and rose-gold tulle? I felt like a princess every time I tried it on. Not that I have anywhere to wear it to, but at least all that baby fat is gone!" She laughs.
Her fifteenth birthday party. Emma looked amazing in that dress. She spent the evening gliding around, basking in the attention and taking selfies so she'd never forget. She's not usually such a girly-girl, but she made an exception that night.
Mrs. Navarro clucks her tongue. "Nonsense, mija. You were perfect the way you were before. Strong and healthy. Exactly the way a teenage girl should be. The way you'll be again—we'll make sure of it."
Mom's not sure what to say. I can tell by the way she's toying with her hair. Whenever she repeatedly tucks it behind her ears, she's either nervous or stressing out about something. And it usually has to do with me. It doesn't happen much anymore, and to see her doing it now takes me back to a time I'd like to forget, tying a great big knot in the pit of my stomach. I don't like it when my parents are uneasy. I always find a way to blame myself, even when it's not my fault. Old habits die hard, I guess.
Dad clears his throat. "I hope it's okay to ask, but do the police have any leads yet? The news has been vague regarding the investigation."
"That's because amateurs are running that station. The ridiculous questions they ask over and over, and those damn tests they tried to put Emma through. Dumb fucks don't have a clue what they're doing—excuse my language."
Mr. Navarro shoots a sideways glance at Rowan as guilt flashes across his face. But she's too busy shoving mashed potatoes around her plate to notice. I've yet to see her take a bite of anything, even though my plate's about empty.
"What I mean is, they've had hundreds of leads come in, but all they're finding are dead ends. It's like that animal just up and disappeared off the face of the earth." He grips his wine glass and swallows what's left inside.
"Dinner's wonderful, Jasmine. You didn't have to go through all this trouble," Mrs. Navarro says. She's speaking too fast, her dark eyes flitting around the table, unable or unwilling to focus on any one thing.
But Dad won't let it go. "That forest is immense—I used to hike there with some buddies from med school. But you'd think they would have picked up on something by now. Are they working with search dogs?"
