"Hi," he said.

"Hi back."

He shifted his weight. He reached forward and I thought for a moment he was going to grab my hand, but instead he pulled back and shoved his hand into his pocket. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

I nodded. "See you."

And he was gone.

"I hate this," I thought. I willed myself to take slow, even breaths. I leaned against my locker until my heart calmed. It was okay. Everything was going to be okay. I checked my phone to see if Farah had texted me. Nothing. I picked up my backpack and walked out of the building. Right outside the door stood Lance.

"Hey, Cecily," he said.

I nearly tripped over myself. "What?"

"I said, hey."

"Hey," I answered, wanting to be anywhere else in the universe. The burning humiliation from earlier hadn't worn off, and I certainly didn't crave a repeat performance.

"Sorry about Farah. I know you're worried, but I don't think she's with Pete." Lance's voice was subdued, concerned.

I was so surprised I nearly dropped my backpack, but my surprise quickly changed into confusion. What was he? Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?

He stepped closer, and murmured, "Ah, Cis, you're not still mad, are you?"

I studied his face. "I don't get you. What happened this morning?"

"Sorry, I was distracted. Wasn't so bad, was it?" He stepped even closer.

"Yeah, it was."

He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me close. I wiggled against his hold for a moment, but his grip was firm and I gave up. His lips brushed my cheek. "I guess you're right. I'm not used to having a steady. Sorry. You forgive me, right?"

A steady? Was I his steady?

His arm was wrapped almost completely around me. He relaxed his hold and raised his eyebrows. I leaned in for a second then remembered where we were and shimmied out of his grasp.

"You're going to get me in trouble. Everyone can see us."

"Cis? Am I forgiven or not?"

I wanted to stay mad, but he was standing so close, and I could feel his muscles pressing against my side and smell his cologne, and it was simply too good. I settled for mildly miffed, and then shook my head, surrendering.

"Yeah, you're rotten, but forgiven." I pursed my lips. I couldn't take my eyes from his face. For a second, I thought I was going to reach up and caress him.

I'm pathetic.

"Why don't you think she's with Pete?" I asked, changing the subject to safer ground.

"I called him."

"You did? Thanks."

"Yeah, and he's fuming." Lance broke out into a huge grin.

"He's mad? Why?"

"I poked my nose in," Lance said. "He can be as furious as he wants. As if I care."

"Farah wasn't there?"

"Not right then. Got the feeling maybe she was earlier."

"Oh, man."

"See what you can find out. Then let me know." I heard the intensity behind his words.

"I will," I said. "Got to go."

"I'm serious, Cis." The smile was still there, but it looked false, forced. His eyes penetrated mine.

"About what?"

"About Farah. Let me know what you find out." He rubbed his hands up and down the shoulder straps of his backpack. "I mean, I know you're worried and all. So am I."

I nodded. "I will."

I hurried home. When I got closer to my house, I saw Mom's car and a small gray SUV in the driveway. What was Mom doing home? I was usually the first to arrive. I beat Sarah most days even though she was let out fifteen minutes earlier than me. Alarms started sounding off in my brain. All the dread from the day ramped up a notch.

Mother flung open the front door and cried, "There she is!"

My eyes widened.

"Hurry up! Get in here," she said. Her tone was as agitated as her movements. I almost expected her to run out and s.n.a.t.c.h me.

I couldn't hurry. Whatever news she had, I didn't want to hear it. My feet dragged on the pavement. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. If I didn't go in, I wouldn't have to know. Mom stepped out of the house and grabbed hold of my coat. She pulled me into the living room.

There, sitting on the edge of the couch, was Farah's mother. She'd been crying, and I'd never seen her look such a mess. Streaks of black mascara traveled down each cheek. Her untucked blouse hung out over her skirt. She must have thrown on the first pair of shoes she'd found because they didn't match her clothes - unheard of for her. Even her short auburn hair stuck out in funny places. I did a double-take to be sure it was Mrs. Menins.

I couldn't move. My throat seemed to be closing. I rubbed at it.

Was Farah dead?

"Where is she?" Farah's mother asked. Her voice was raw and scratchy. "Tell me where she is."

My breath whooshed out. She wasn't dead. Thank goodness. "I don't know, Mrs. Menins. She wasn't at school."

"You have to know. You're her best friend. Where is she?"

I shook my head helplessly. "I really don't know. Wasn't she home with you?"

"Do I look like she was with me?" Mrs. Menins snapped. Then she shivered and swallowed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be yelling at you. I don't know what to think." She gave my mother a desperate look. "Should I call the police?"

The police? Oh, no.

Mom sat down and put her hand on Mrs. Menins's shoulder. The worry on Mom's face scared me. "Does she have any other friends where she might be? Any relatives?"

Mrs. Menins shook her head. "No, no. I don't know." She started to cry. I stood there not knowing what to do.

Maybe Farah was back at Pete's. And if she wasn't with him, maybe she'd called him and he knew where she was.

"I'll phone some people," I said, my feet finally moving. I rushed into my room. I didn't know how to get in touch with Pete, and I didn't have Lance's number either. Oh, this was impossible! They'd both be on the social media sites. Maybe I could contact Pete there. I logged on using my phone, frantically fingering through their pages. I posted on Lance's site, then on Farah's. I couldn't find Pete's site anywhere.

Who could I call for help?

Without thinking, I pushed a number and heard it ring.

"Emili?" Marc questioned.

"Marc, Farah's missing. Her mom's here, and she's crying, and I don't know what to do."

There was silence on the other end, and then a huge sigh. "Emili. Why did you call me?"

"I don't know. I'm worried. I don't know how to help." The tears started down my face.

More silence. I heard him exhale. I started to feel the pressure inside my chest ease. He'd know what to do. It was Marc - sensible, level-headed Marc.

"Emili, I don't know why you called me," he said.

"But Marc, I need help..." And then it sunk in. He didn't want to talk to me. He didn't want to help me. The tone in his voice wasn't just level-headed, it was cold and reserved. I'd never heard him sound so distant. I shrank back against my headboard.

"Sorry," I said. The silent tears continued down my cheeks. "I don't know why I called. I had no business calling you. But this is an emergency and I thought... It doesn't matter anymore. If you hear from Farah, let me know."

"Emili, you know I won't hear from Farah."

It was true. She didn't like him, not even a little.

"You're right. Sorry I called." I hung up.

I shuddered, feeling numbing fingers crawl over me. I wondered if Jeannie would've heard from her. No, never. She and Farah couldn't stand each other.

Farah befriended the guys, not the girls. If I wanted information, I'd have to ask them. I didn't know where to start. I sat there and stared at my phone.

I couldn't think of one person who'd know where she was. All the guys liked Farah, which is why I'd become her friend in the first place. But I knew none of them would know where she was. I could call a hundred guys, but it wouldn't help.

Mom pushed my door open. "Any luck?"

"Not yet."

She pressed her hand to her mouth. "I'll tell her," she said through her fingers.

I watched her leave and my insides folded up. I clutched my phone hard enough to snap it in two.

I heard the front door shut and hurried out to the living room. Mom was standing next to the front door, her expression dazed.

"Did she leave?"

"She's wants to be home in case Farah shows up. Did you try all your friends?"

"I don't know who to call. I'm her best friend. She doesn't have a lot of other friends."

"Well, someone has to know where she is. Think, Emili, think."

"I can call other girls, but they're not going to know. They don't get along, and Farah will be mad if I call them."

"I don't care if she gets mad. We need to find her. Call."

I sat on the couch and called the girls whose numbers I had, which, sad to say, weren't many. I had the presence of mind to phrase my questions carefully so no one would know Farah was missing. Farah was going to be mad. I could hear her now, giving it to me for airing her business.

When I was finished, I frowned at my mom and shook my head. "No luck. No one knows a thing."

"All right, let's not panic. Mrs. Menins will find her. I'm sure Farah's fine, she may already be home." Mom rubbed her hand to her cheek and stared up at the ceiling, letting her breath seep out. She trembled and wrapped her arms around herself. "I guess there are a lot of things I don't know about Farah. A lot of things n.o.body knows."

I looked out the window and stiffness crept up the side of my neck. I rubbed the knotted muscles and glanced back at Mom. "Will Mrs. Menins call the police? What about Farah's dad?"

"I think she'll call. I certainly would. And I don't know where her dad is, I didn't ask her." Mom sank onto the couch beside me. "Emili, would Farah have run away?"

I shrugged helplessly. "Maybe, but I don't think so. She'd have told me."

"No hints at anything?"

"She called last night. She was bugged about something, but wouldn't say what."

"What do you mean bugged?"

"I'm not sure. I was half asleep. She talked about doing something wrong. I don't know."

"Doing something? Like what?"

"Mom, I don't know. Then she hung up."

"Anything might be a clue, Emili. Think."

"I've been thinking." My voice grew shrill. "There's nothing. Nothing."

Mom put her arm around me. "I'm sorry, honey. I know you're doing everything you can. She must have run away."

"But why wouldn't she tell me?"