The light in their bathroom had been left on.
“Where are you?” How could they leave for work without even waking me up? And what about the blueberry pancakes? What about our serious talk?
What about Peter?
“They promised…” I murmured as I headed back to my room to get ready for school. I suddenly felt so angry. And so hurt. “They promised…”
The morning went by in a slow-motion blur. What did my teachers talk about? Did any of my friends talk to me? I couldn’t tell you.
I shouldn’t have come to school today, I told myself as I trudged like a zombie, a brain-dead zombie, from class to class. I should have stayed home.
Called my parents. Called the police. Called somebody to come help me rescue Peter.
“Peter, I haven’t forgotten you,” I whispered sadly. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten.”
But I kept repeating his name over. And I wrote it twenty times in my notebook in bright-red ink. Just to make sure he didn’t slip away again.
At noon, I made my way into the lunchroom. Such a blur of faces… trays… laughing, talking kids.