Chapter 3

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  • Dedicated to All the lost children in the world.
                                    

I wiped the tears off my face and went for the home phone; maybe Samantha left a message from a friend's house. "There are no new messages," my phone told me. I check my cell and there's one text message. Maybe it's somehow related to Samantha. I opened the message and it read:

Hey Denise. Mr. Barri almost caught us, LOL. Anyways, just wondering if you're free this weekend, TTYL.

It was from Michelle.

I threw the phone in my bag and grabbed my keys. I drove around the neighborhood asking people if they've seen my daughter by showing them a picture of her I had just found in the car. It was last year's school photo, but Samantha hasn't really grown-up since them like she thinks. After giving each person a good look at the photo all their responses were the same, "No, sorry."

I was about to give up and go to the authorities, but I forgot about the school. Maybe she was at extra help or maybe she was afraid to walk home. I practically run into the school into the office; I don't even sign in or get a pass. "Excuse me you can't just roam the halls!" a voice bellows from down the hall that I clearly ignore.

The office seems so pasty and pale, almost as bad as my cubicle.

"Excuse me, where's my daughter?"

One of the old hags working there replied "Oh sorry, I wasn't listening." She actually seemed sweet with her fading red hair and soft eyes that stare through her round glasses.

Paranoid I bark back "I said where is my daughter?"

"Name?"

Impatiently I reply "Samantha Wailer."

"Oh Sammi!" she exclaims, "You know, she's such a swee-"

"Just tell me where she is!" I blasted her. Now the other secretaries were staring.

"It seems she was signed out early by her uncle."

I stared at her blankly as my heart sinks to the floor.

"Is something wrong?" she questions.

"What uncle?" I say with almost no emotion. I can't feel a thing not knowing where my daughter is.

"He said his name was Richard." I could feel a sense of worry in her voice.

"Samantha doesn't have an uncle Richard," my heart was racing, "who did you send my daughter home with?!" I didn't mean to yell at her, but I have to know where Samantha is.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I don't have that kind of information." She started to frown, scared of what was to happen next.

I backed away from her desk slowly and turned and left as quietly as I could. I apologized to the security monitor for not signing in. As soon as I get into my car I start crying. How could all of this be true? How could the school let my daughter go home with a stranger? Or maybe this is my fault. How could I, her own mother, not teach her enough about safety? I just kept asking myself how?

"Wait, what am I doing?" I asked myself. "My daughter is missing and I've done nothing to help." And with that I started to drive toward the police station.

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