"Help her to keep from falling into a despair that is too deep to salvage anything from."
I N W H I C H two boys try to save their dearest friend from herself.
"Where could she have gone?" Harry asked for the millionth time in my ear. I was hunched over my small counter, reading through the instructions on how to make lemon merengue pie for no particular reason.
"If the officers' reasoning is valid, they probably arrested him thinking he either abused her, assaulted her, killed her, or did all three."
"What would cause them to deduce to that?" he asked, exasperated.
"How blind are you?" I fumed. The pie would have been better without my clueless friend, I thought. "Were you not watching Luke at all? His case cried, 'I'm really bad at covering my tracks!'"
"I don't like Puke, but I don't think he'd do that."
I glanced across the counter at him, eyes slatted and trying to convey as much irritation as possible. "Tell that to the evidence."
For a while, he went silent as his eyes turned down to the glowing screen of his phone. His fingers tapped furiously every once in a while, and he'd bite his lip. I knew him well enough to know he was up to something just by that single doing of his.
His eyes darted up to me with a scary light in them, then he slid his phone into my book. He looked victorious, and my curiosity got the better of me.
The Twitter profile I was met with was vaguely familiar. It looked old in the same way that the original iPhone looks old, and the square picture in the top left-hand corner was one I remembered with ease. I, myself, had taken the photo of the girl there, whose curly brown hair was windblown and looked like copper in the summer light. Macy's face looked slightly younger, with her green eyes brighter with juvenile beauty than with cleverness like they had been in our junior year of university. This was Freshman Macy, the one with wide eyes and pretty art and kisses for me. Her old account, the one she gave up when she started a newer one meant for her art.
I was hung up on the image of her, the one I fell for before I could have met the Macy who's grown on me multitudes more than the first; that is, until Harry shook my shoulder.
"Read the most recent post, Durante," Harry demanded.
And I did. The words didn't even belong to Junior Macy, Clever Macy, Dark-Eyed Macy, and that's when I knew something was off.
Coming from Ginny S in Maine, say hello to my bff Macy! We're going on a trip for a few weeks!
The post was submitted this morning, and the attached picture only added to the curiousness of the Tweet.
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I gave Harry a look, and his smirk disappeared.
"Ginny S., that's the girl Macy said completely ravaged her apartment," I said. He only nodded.
"We have to—"
"Tell the detectives," I interrupted."
"...I was going to say, 'go to Maine.'"
The next post was posted two years ago. There has to be a reason, I thought.
"They need to know. There isn't enough information here to find them."
