A Million Miles Away(6)

Kelsey flipped back to the texts she had sent her sister.


Me (6:05): Told em you were studying. You owe me one.



“Ha-ha!” Kelsey’s mom let out a laugh. Michelle always said their mother’s laugh sounded like the mating call of a tropical bird. She was reading through one of her students’ papers. “Listen to this one: ‘In a unitary state, the constitution will vest ultimate authority in one central administration and legislature and judiciary, though there is often a delegation of power or authority to local or municipal authorities.’”

Kelsey glanced at her mother, her dark, graying hair shooting out from her head in thick waves. “Funny, Mom,” Kelsey said. “So hilarious to all of us.”

“Good one, M,” her dad called from the kitchen. “We don’t know why that’s funny, but as long as you’re happy.”

Her mom was no longer listening, now making wide strokes with a thick red pen on the essay.

“Order up!” Kelsey’s dad yelled. “TB, 86 bun, side of Brussels.”

“That’s me,” her mom said, standing, putting the pen behind her ear. When the girls were younger, and her dad was just starting out, they used to pretend every dinner was at the Burger Stand. Michelle would make menus with crayon, and Kelsey would walk around in her princess dress, taking everyone’s order.

Her mom paused next to Kelsey at the mantelpiece, staring.

“Did you move the Buddha statues?”

“Huh?” Kelsey’s heart beat a little harder. “Yeah. I was dusting.”

“Right.” Her mother gave her a pat on the back.

The three of them stood around the counter, chewing.

Her mom stabbed a Brussels sprout with her fork. “Michelle’s out studying, you said?”

Kelsey coughed. Instead of answering, she took a sip of water.

“Rob, can you call her?”

Kelsey’s dad wiped his hands on his jeans, fishing for the phone in his pocket. Her dad always looked unnatural with the phone up to his bearded face, with his bushy caveman eyebrows. Silence. The sound of muted rings as he listened for an answer.

“You’ve reached the voice-mail box of Michelle Maxfield.”

He hung up. “Hmm.”

“Hmm,” her mother echoed. “What’s she working on?”

Kelsey snapped, “How am I supposed to know?”

Her mother’s eyes got wide. “I don’t know, hon, I was just asking.” Her parents looked at each other. They were beginning to suspect something.

There were two possible scenarios: Michelle would either walk in the door any minute, or she would come home much later, probably with a new dreadlocked friend who smelled like the Kansas River. No, wait. Kelsey held her breath, not looking at her parents.

There was a third option: Michelle wouldn’t come home at all. She would call them from Canada or somewhere, where she and Peter had eloped to a cabin or a commune or something.

Oh, God, Kelsey thought. Michelle’s recent hush-hush. Peter’s pensive, smiling good-bye. What if they took the car and ran away together?

While her parents chatted back and forth, recounting their trip to the vineyard, laying out their schedules for the week, Kelsey’s stomach started to turn.

No. She could totally shrug this off. She wasn’t her sister’s babysitter. Michelle would come back soon, right? But Kelsey couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong. While her parents were distracted, she tried Michelle’s phone again. Nothing.


Me (6:37): ANSWER ME

Me (6:39): PLEASE



“Kelsey,” her mom interrupted. “No texting at the table.”

“I’m trying to get ahold of Michelle,” Kelsey said, and then she swallowed some spit. Her mouth was starting to get dry.

“I thought she was studying,” her mom said, deadpan. She raised her eyebrows at Kelsey. She knew. She always knew.

Kelsey’s father drummed the counter with his fingers, which was a bad sign. “Is this another boy thing? It’s another boy thing, isn’t it?”

“She distracts herself,” her mother murmured, shaking her head. “She always has to distract herself.”

“I don’t know where she is,” Kelsey said. Even though it was the truth, she still didn’t feel any better. If this was as serious as it felt, maybe she should tell her parents the whole story. She’d been gone eight hours. It was serious, right?

Kelsey’s mother took on a lawyer’s tone. “What did she say this morning?”

But what if Michelle was just fooling around somewhere? She would come home to an interrogation about Peter. Everything had been so good before she and Peter had left. Michelle would never trust Kelsey again.

“Well, she said—”

The chime of a doorbell. Kelsey stopped. Her parents turned their heads. No one used the doorbell except for UPS and Jehovah’s Witnesses.

When her mother opened the screen, a policeman stood there, his hands crossed in front of him. Sounds from the outside filtered into the house; cars passing over the brick road, insects buzzing.

“Can I help you, Officer?”

“Is this the home of Michelle Maxfield?”

Her mother took a second to answer, the shape of her body so small in the door, next to the policeman. “Yes,” she said.