||6x Featured|| Mirna Conlins has a confession: She likes being a runaway. And now, given the chance, Mirna wants to disappear. She just needs some cash before she goes. Watch how her plan unravels as the new boys in town get tangled in her web of l...
I finish my last bite of dinner and take my plate to the kitchen, where I can check the clock on the wall. It's seven twenty. Mirna is almost an hour late now. This is beyond the range of irresponsible. Something must have happened to her.
I put my plate in the dishwasher and return to the dining room. Jim's still picking at his full dinner plate. I sit next to him and put my hand on his. "Here, how about I warm that up in the microwave for you."
"Oh." He stares down at his full plate like he forgot it was there. "No, no, it's fine." He stills my hand and checks his watch. "Maybe we should try her friend's cell phone."
"She's with Laurel, right?" I ask. Jim nods, and I return to the kitchen for the cordless phone. I find the girl's number scrawled across a notecard stuck to the fridge. I punch in the numbers. "Please enjoy the music while your party is reached," the lady says, and then some awful music comes on.
"Hey, Miri, what's up?" It's a girl's voice, energetic and high-pitched.
"Hi, Laurel? This is Deb, Miri's mom."
"Oh." The girl sounds incredibly confused.
"Is Miri there?" I wander back to the dining table.
"Nuh uh," Laurel says.
"She left already?" I sink down into my chair.
"Um ... no?"
This girl is making no sense, and I'm already frustrated, so I have to take a big breath before I can go on. "Laurel, did you and Mirna go shopping already?"
"No, we never went. I had to cancel."
"You're telling me you didn't see her after school?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"That's okay. Thanks anyway." I jab at the button to end the call.
"She never went shopping?" Jim asks. "Why didn't she call? What is going on?"
"I'm sure there's an explanation. I'll try Mirna's other friend, Nora, right?"
"No, that girl doesn't have a cell phone." Jim's whole body goes tense.
"Her home phone, then. Just to see if she's home." I jump up with the phone, but before I can turn toward the kitchen, Nessa springs to her feet and woofs softly. "No! Jim!" I let the phone drop and lunge for him, but it's already too late. He splutters a little as the seizure hits him, and then his eyes go unnaturally wide. Nessa approaches Jim and puts her head in his lap. The automatisms start. First the lips, and then the picking at his clothes.
I sink down into a chair and put my head in my hands. Eight months seizure free ... eight months! And now he might be regressing into a relapse, or just having a break-through seizure. The uncertainty of not knowing is ground-shattering. Automatically, I look for something to blame. Not enough sleep, not enough healthy foods, too much stress.
It's this situation with Mirna. I could see how upset he was. Suddenly, I'm outraged at myself for not recognizing it sooner and neglecting to tell him to go through his relaxation routine, and I'm positively furious at Mirna for changing her plans, not checking in with us, and not answering her cell phone. The worst part is, I see her missing her medication at 7:30 and having a breakthrough seizure too. If both of the people I love have a break-through seizure today, I will just lose it.
Jim starts to tip, and before I can reach him, he crashes to the floor. The seizure generalizes into a full-blown tonic-clonic, and I instinctively dive for the phone and dial 911.
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