Call Me Twice

Chapter 7: Without a Trace

Josie

I leave the light on.
But midnight becomes two am. And I stare at the clock on the wall. And I wait. He's never not come when he's said he's coming. He promised. Harper doesn't lie to me. He wouldn't go get high or stand in front of trains. He wouldn't.
The door clicks and I jump, hopefully. But our mother steps in, still dressed from work, smelling like greasy food.
"Josie, baby, what are you doing up?" She asks, frowning.
"Harper called. He said he was coming home," I say, wrapping my blanket around myself, "He called after midnight. I'm scared."
"It's okay—maybe his dad stopped him—we'll, I'll call," she says, hugging me quickly before going to the phone, "His dad probably said he couldn't leave that late. That's all."
"He would have called," I say, tears in my eyes. He never lies to me.
"Hey um—sorry it's so late," she puts the phone on speaker, leaning against the peeling fiberboard counter. 
"What is it Zoe?" He mutters on the other end. It sounds like he's been drinking. I don't like Harper's dad, almost as much as Harper doesn't like Harper's dad.
"Um—did Harper leave tonight?" She asks, "He—he called Josie and said he was coming home but he isn't here—?"
"He left after midnight. He's been high all weekend," he says, "To be honest I figured you'd bitch at me if I called the cops again."
"What—no, he's been—clean when he left he was—,"
"Clean since four days ago when he was in the ER getting his stomach pumped? Look, he stole whiskey earlier and god knows how many pills he had. He was high off his ass ranting about leaving. I told him to stay but he shouted at me. I let him go I figured he'd go home and sober up," he says.
"Okay—okay well he didn't make it so I'm gonna call the police."
"Fine and tell them where he keeps getting that stuff because it's not from me," he hangs up.
"Harper wasn't high," I say, quietly.
"I mean, honey—he might have taken something after you talked—,"
"No he said he was coming home and he wasn't high he doesn't break his word," I say, knotting my fists.
"Okay, we'll tell the cops but, you know Harper has problems um—we're gonna call 911 now," she sighs, leaning on the counter. I hear her voice cracking.
"911 what is your emergency?"
"Um—hi, this is Ms. Miller. I've lost, we can find Harper. Again, he left his dads. His dad says he was drunk but he called here and said he was coming," she says, rubbing her face.
"How long ago was this?"
She looks at me. I hold up two fingers.
"It was at one it was two hours ago—I—I just got home," she says.
"Okay, I'll have Brett go drive the route. We'll find him."
"Thanks Sally," she sighs, hanging up.
"Just wait there. Chances are he got a flat tire, or went to a friends."
'Yeah, yeah, thanks," she sighs, hanging up.
"We have to go look!" I jump up and down, "Something's happened."
"Baby he—he probably went to go get high. Lia's parents wouldn't let him in this late so maybe whoever he keeps getting drugs from. We'll get him home," she says, stroking my hair.
"He said he was coming home. He doesn't lie to me," I say, folding my arms.
"I don't think he means, to do what he does," she says, hands on my shoulders, "But we're gonna find him. I promise."

Link

Monday comes around all too quickly. I'm dressed in eight layers of black, with my hair tied up, head down, headphones on. I'm ready for PE and evaluating my sexuality and reflecting on having breakfast with my grandparents who think cereal is breakfast. My father is a good cook. I'm an amazing cook. I need to negotiate for stove and oven privileges and finally have decent food again.
And immediately upon entering school we are waylaid into a school assembly, with teachers violently pointing for us to all go to the gym.
"PUT YOUR STUFF DOWN."
"GO TO THE GYM."
"GO TO THE GYM NOW."
I am almost positive my father gets more polite treatment in prison. I get they are making group announcements, but really.
Our overworked principal, Mr. Long, wasn't a bad man at one point probably. I mean we're all babies sometime. Some of us just resist the urge to bathe in old spice and grow a mustache nobody asked for.
"This will be a brief announcement. But Pine Hollow PD has asked that I gather all of you today to inform you that one of your classmates, Harper Miller, is missing."
I snap my head up, feeling my muscles tense. What? I talked to him last night at what, midnight?
"Please come to my office if you have any information as to his whereabouts. He hasn't been seen since he left his father's house last night just after midnight. Thank you now, go on to class," Mr. Long nods, a bit gravely.
No. He called me to joke with me or whatever. Threaten me off his girlfriend. Certainly didn't sound suicidal granted he was a risk taker normally.
I go snatch my backpack and head for the front doors. Not like education happens anyway. And what if he went back to the train tracks and didn't dodge? And nobody was there to pull him away?
"What are you doing?" Lia is walking out of the school as well, arms folded.
"Did you know he's missing?" I ask.
"No—he called me last night," she says, studying me a bit cautiously., "He said he was going home—he invited me over tonight. It's his birthday."
"He called me last night too, just to make fun of me for stopping him from standing in front of that train, and tell me not to call you," I shrug.
"I'm going to look for him," she says, walking on.
"What a coincidence, so am I," I say, shouldering my bag.
"Why?" She asks.
"What? You think I killed him? Honestly, if I'm gonna commit murder I'd be off telling the police something non-incriminating, not behaving in the most suspicious manner possible by bolting," I say, dryly.
"Fair," she says, nodding, "I'm going to check the tracks."
"Yeah, I'm gonna assume the police haven't, you and I were the only ones who knew he was out there, right?" I ask.
"Yeah, I mean he's done it before but," she shrugs a little. She's got on a bright yellow coat, but I can see a purple sweater underneath it. And she's wearing lipstick. Oh she dressed up, it's his birthday.
"That and apparently other things, more noteworthy to the cops. He certainly has a death wish," I comment.
"It's not that," she says, as we head into the forest.
"Enlighten me. What else is standing in front of a moving train?" I ask.
"He is an adrenaline junkie, that's it—he needed, he needed that high, and he got it anyway he could. When we were seven I watched him nearly drown himself in the pool, just refusing to come up for air. He said it was the closest he got to feeling alive," she shakes her head, a little.
"Ah," I feel bad.
"So he wasn't suicidal if—if something happened, then it was an accident," she says, quietly, "He just got too close this time. It was all an adrenaline thing for him, same reason people sky dive. He just wanted that rush."
"Well, maybe he's just giving us all a good scare."
"He wouldn't do that to me, or his mom, it's his birthday he—we were gonna play a game tonight. No, he made plans, he isn't a jerk, he wouldn't mess with like this," she says, walking on a head of me. But I hear the tears in her voice.
"Look, I'm sure we'll find him," I'm not sure if that'll be alive.
"You don't have to help," she says, glancing back at me, "Why are you?"
"Look, I don't talk to anyone. Harper was nice enough to me, I'd—want people out looking if I vanished into thin air," I shrug, "Also school is super boring and I'm not doing anything."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to be—suspicious. Harper was never popular, that's all," she says.
"Neither am I," I say, smiling a little. She almost smiles back.