Chapter 29
Ella
Tuesday
White and perfect, with delicate ridges and curves. I observed a shell as I unpacked my suitcase and redecorated my room with a painting I had made and three new shells I’d brought back from our family vacation.
Sand spilled from every item of clothing and all my shoes. “May you always have a shell in your pocket and sand between your toes, that’s what they say,” I murmured to myself, amused as I gathered a small pile of sand on the floor with my foot.
Long walks on the beach with my brothers and sister, collecting shells along the shore, had always been one of my favorite activities during our summer vacations. That, and singing with my sister as we got ready for a night out on a warm evening in some unknown location.
I placed the perfect shell on a blue ceramic plate on my desk and paused to admire the one already resting there, the one Miles had given me after one of our dives in the ocean.
Two months had passed since I last saw Miles.
I had no idea what he’d been up to lately.
It felt strange, going from talking almost every day to not hearing from him at all for two entire months.
It was like someone hit the pause button, and now I was just staring at the black screen, waiting for something to happen.
We arrived in Evermere yesterday.
I spent the whole day wondering if I should call him.
He should be the one to call me.
We were friends.
Why hadn’t he called? I was so upset at him, and he only made me angrier by not reaching out after all this time.
I checked the call history on the home phone, but there was nothing.
By 6 p.m., my car drove itself to Miles’s house. Not me. Not by my will. My car. Yeah, it sounded better if I said it like that.
It was silly. Ridiculous. Nonsense. Wasn’t life too fragile for these kinds of disappearances?
I felt like screaming at him the second he opened the door.
And I didn’t usually scream. But I would tell him to stop whatever he was doing and just talk to me.
I wanted him to want to resolve our unresolved argument.
I rang the bell at the gate and waited. Silence. Not a single light flickered in the house, no shadow peeked through the windows. No one showed up.
Then I noticed Miles’s mom’s car wasn’t there.
Maybe they were dining out. Maybe they were just around the corner.
But they weren’t.
After 45 minutes, I ended up going home.
“Ella? Want to help me with dinner?” my sister asked as soon as I entered our home.
“Sure,” I replied, heading straight to the kitchen to wash my hands.
I turned off the water and glanced at the refrigerator door, where my mother attached the latest art collages my brothers had made yesterday using advertising flyers.
Colorful doodles, paper cut-outs, and lots of liquid glue.
They’d come up with the idea while we were driving back from our family summer vacation.
“The first time ever they ran to the mailbox before me,” I murmured to myself, a small smile tugging at my lips. I had always been the mail messenger; it was funny to see them excited and ecstatic about advertising flyers.
“What?” My sister grabbed a pan to grill the chicken steaks.
“Oh, nothing.” I spread the olive oil over it.
She gave me a sympathetic look, then said something I wasn’t expecting to hear, “Is this because Miles left town?”
I froze. “What?” I asked, surprised and hurt.
“You haven’t talked to me about it all month, but I heard yesterday that he already left for college. I thought maybe you felt sad because you’ll miss him,” she said, her voice soft with concern. “Want to talk about it?”
I shook my head and returned a fond smile to her. I could talk to my sister, tell her I had no idea what she had just mentioned. She would listen, be the most supportive shoulder to lean on. But something inside me ached, and it made me want to remain silent.