Identified: The Maya Price Story

From the Diary of Summer Price

December, 23rd, 2005

I wish I could talk to mom, but she's not here. She left us. As my biological mother left me, Linda Price left me. Besides Maya, she was my best friend. Most people aren't best friends with their moms, but I was. And now I have no one to talk to about this. No one.

I, of course, left my Christmas shopping until the last minute this year. I had three finals the very last day of the semester and, when I got back to Diamond, spent a week and a half hanging out with Mark. It irritates me that he 1) never wants to go anywhere besides his (his parents!) house 2) always invites his stupid friends over when we are supposed to be hanging out and 3) seems to only want to be with me so we can fool around. But, I love the way his lips feel pressed against mine. I love his strong hands on my back. I even love that his breath tastes like warm beer. I love that, when I am with him, I feel beautiful instead of like a gigantic horse clopping around tinier, cuter ponies.

I made Maya come shopping with me today and she, of course, brought Pete. I wish someone loved me like Pete loves Maya. They act like they're just friends, but I know better. We went into a sporting goods store (their choice, not mine) and I watched him tease her about the boring, ugly running shoes she picked out. While I looked at pro-football team sweatshirts for Mark, she laughed and challenged him to a race around the store. (I know Mark may not buy me a present, but I really enjoy giving gifts. I love it when his face lights up in that happy, surprised expression when I give him a gift he wasn't expecting). Maya and Pete ran up and down the aisles like little kids. Some of the other people in the store seemed amused, some extremely irritated. In all the commotion, Pete tripped and fell. (He's not nearly as graceful as Maya.) Maya just kept on laughing, and effortlessly pulled him to his feet. (I am always amazed at how strong she is). When she looked down and pointed at his untied shoelace, I saw him looking at her in a way I have only seen my dad look at my mom (when she was still around). I half expected him to get down on one knee and propose on the spot. Pete caught me watching him, and we were both embarrassed enough to look away.

While the two of them meandered through the shoe aisles, I browsed the Dallas Cowboys sweatshirts. I felt like someone was watching me, and then noticed a security guard standing right behind my shoulder. He was staring at Maya. There was a hungry look in his eye that made me extremely uncomfortable.

"Do you need something?" I asked him, determined to not be frightened by his intense gaze.

He nodded in Maya's direction. "Do you know that girl?" he asked me.

Lie, an inner voice whispered to me. "She went to my high school," I said steadily, hoping he wouldn't hear the tremor in my voice. "But I don't really know her. Now, will you go away? You're standing really close to me." I said this in a snobby-girl voice, hoping it would not betray me.

This made him drag his sketchy gaze away from Maya and to me. It was then that I noticed that his eyes were a horrible black color. Just one color, no other. He smiled, his lips stretching out over yellowed, crooked teeth. "I think you're lying," he said in a low, threatening voice. "Is that Maya Price?"

Though my hands were starting to sweat, I stared into those hollow black eyes. "No, it's not. I know Maya Price. She started college at the University of Florida last year. She plays basketball there." I don't know where it came from, but the lie sprung to my lips. It seemed more convincing than just saying no.

The security guard seemed momentarily baffled. He looked from me, to Maya, then back to me, and cracked his knuckles menacingly.

All of a sudden, he seemed like a normal security guard again. "Thank you for your time, miss," he said, and walked away.

I reported him to the store manager, but he said the man did not work there. I told my dad. He seemed pretty worried, but did not want to discuss it. He told me he would report it to the police and that he would take care of it. That it was something I didn't need to worry about. He assured me that it was probably just some harmless old dude that had seen Maya's picture in the paper for some track award.

I did not tell Maya. She would worry, but not about herself, about me. She's always like that. She would apologize for the whole ordeal and then tell me not to be stressed out. (Yes, I know, I do stress out too easily.) She always puts my dad, Carl, Pete and me above everything else.

I feel comforted that my dad will be watching out for her, but I still feel the need to protect her.

I can't let anything happen to my sister.