Kismet

Chapter Sixteen

    I started to make my mid-day snack after an hour of watching TV. It was apples slices with caramel- Chris' favorite. I just finished making the two plates, washed my hands, and set them on the counter. Listening to my Ipod the whole time.

   I took out one ear and hollered, "Snack, Chris! It's apples!"

   No answer.

   "And caramel!" I shout. When there's still to answer, I groan and walk to the edge of the stairs, peering up. "Chris! Come down and eat!" My throat was starting to get sore, so I quickly skimmed up the stairs, walking up to his door. I knocked once, but it swung open. Surprsied, I peer inside. Dead of any human beings. I look inside the bathroom, but it was dark. I start to panic, and I slam open mine and my parent's door, but he wasn't there.

   "Chris!" I shout, starting to tremble. I run downstairs and race outside, sliding the glass door open. "Chris! Where are you?"

   I run to the sides of the house, but he wasn't there. I go back inside, fully trembling now. I scream his name over and over, my sore throat forgotten. I checked every single room in the house, twice. No Chris.

    I pace around the living room, biting my nails. I look at my phone, tempted to call Mom. But she would only panic- like me- and come home from her interview. I don't want that to happen. I could call Dad. . . 

   No. I will try to find him first, then if things get really shady, I'll call him.

   So I searched a few feet into the back woods, calling his name. I checked his piles of shoes in his room, searching for lost ones, but I couldn't find any missing I knew about. All his stuff was untouched- as untouched as a boy's room could get, anyways. There was no sign that he left, but there was no sign he was here, either.

   I thought back a couple hours ago. He'd been steaming mad. Every time he got mad, he threw a fit. Not run away. Not hide. But then again, it's been a while since he's been this mad.

   I just didn't know what to do.

   After a half hour, my nails were down to stubs and my lungs were in permanent fast-breathing mode. There was only one thing left to do.

   I picked up my phone and hit speed dial. It rang three times, and I was starting to think he wouldn't answer. Then another, and right when I was about to hang up, it stopped. A deep voice said, "Hello?" and I froze.

   "Hey, Kiara?" he says again. "You there?"

   Ethan tries to talk, but I can't say anything. What could I say?

   "I'm going to hang up, then-"

   "My brother is missing!" I blurt out, unable to keep the worry and desperation out of my voice. "He's gone, probably in the woods but I can't go back there. Ethan, he's missing but I can't seem to find what he took and-"

   "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ethan says quickly. "What? He's missing? How?"

   I choke back a sob. "He j-just took nothing and probably is in the woods. He was mad earlier, and my parents aren't home. I need your help, Ethan!"

   "But I-" Whatever he was going to say, he changed his mind. "I'll be over in five."

   I nod, even though he can't see me, and hang up. I pace around the room, trying to keep the tears back. This never happened before. He never ran away. Ever. He always asked to go down the block to the playground in our old city, he always called Mom when he was at a friends. Only something bad could've driven him to do something like this.

   After a few minutes of nearly tearing my hair out, a door knocks. For a scary moment I thought it was my parents, then I remembered. I rushed forward and swung open the door. My heart lightened a little to see Ethan in a jacket and jeans, panting with a hand rested on the door frame.