Before the morning bell, I navigate the school hallways, searching for Jordan's locker, but when I pass the general vicinity, she's not there. Trying to be inconspicuous, I pause at a nearby water fountain and pretend to rummage through my bag, keeping a lookout for her auburn hair.

Jordan knows what's going on. Emma's strange behavior last night proves it, and Jordan all but admitted it when she suggested I don't know my best friend as well as I think. I'm starting to feel like that's an understatement.

But then, I'm starting to feel different about a lot of things.

Like after all this time, why haven't the police found any clues as to where Emma was or who took her in the first place? Or how Mr. Navarro claimed all their leads have turned into dead ends?

There's more going on than what Emma's admitting, and I'm going to find out what it is.

Still no sign of Jordan.

Stalling for extra time, I tuck my hair behind my ear and bend toward the water fountain, letting the arc of cool water splash over my lips.

Just as I'm about to give up, a russet-colored head weaves through the crowd. When Jordan veers toward her locker, I wipe the corner of my sleeve across my mouth.

This is my chance to ask her what she meant. Except now that she's in front of me, the thought of approaching her makes me want to throw up my breakfast. So instead, I keep my eye on her throughout the day; in the hallway with her friends, at lunch in the cafeteria. Once again, I try to gather my courage and approach her after soccer, but I still can't get myself to go through with it.

After I crawled through my window last night, I called Smith first thing. Now that Emma has her phone back, there's nothing stopping her from contacting him. In fact, she's already tried, and I needed to make sure I got to him first. I needed to confess what I'd done; how I told Emma we're dating. He wasn't upset but he wasn't thrilled either.

Yet there was something in his voice that almost sounded like relief.

As far as I'm concerned, confessing was the easy part. Now I need to piece together what few clues I have about her disappearance and hope they lead me to the truth.

There's something bigger going on.

That day back in March, when Emma disappeared, was like any other. She was in a good mood—no, she was in a great mood. But that wasn't out of the ordinary. Emma's known for her bubbly personality. Her quick wit, and easy-going demeanor.

Maybe there was more going on beneath the surface? Something she didn't want me to see? There's always been a restless energy about her, but that day she seemed almost—peaceful. Her face more relaxed, her smile a little wider, eyes brighter. When I asked if she wanted to hang out after school, she told me she had to study for a test. Emma doesn't settle for less than perfect grades, so I didn't think anything of it.

But it was a Friday. Who studies on a Friday? And by morning, she was gone.

The next thing I knew, our soccer game was canceled and Emma's face was plastered across every channel on TV. Yet our first major clue didn't come until weeks later, when they'd found her pick-up lodged in a swampy cornfield.

There has to be something I'm missing. But what?

"You look like you're far away." Mom's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Aren't you going to the football game?"

The football game. It will be the first one I've missed since freshman year. "I'm not in the mood."

"Do you want to talk about it?" She's curled up on one end of the couch with a book in her lap, while I'm stretched out on the other end, blindly scrolling through my phone. When my eyes focus on the screen, I realize I've typed Emma's name into the search engine.

I tuck my cell into my back pocket and give her a shrug.

"It doesn't have anything to do with Emma, does it?"

I feel my face blanch. How does she always know what I'm thinking? It's like she can scoop the thoughts right out of my brain and pick them apart to make sense of them.

I bring my knees to my chest, and pull my sweatshirt over them. "Sort of." I hesitate. "I told her about me and Smith."

The grandfather clock ticks, filling the silence between us. And then, "Oh." Mom's mouth makes a perfect circle. "It didn't go well?"

"She was pissed." Mom fixes me with a look and I roll my eyes. "Sorry, but it's true. There's no other way to say it."

She closes her book and sets it on the end table next to her, focusing her attention on me. "How did you leave things?"

I think back to how Emma didn't even acknowledge me when I said goodbye. "Well, I assume she's not speaking to me anymore."

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry." Her face softens. "But you did the right thing. Keeping that from her would only make things worse. I'm sure when she's had some time to think things through, she'll be more understanding. I'll bet it just came as a shock. They dated for a long time, you know."

I'm painfully aware of how long they dated. "I hope you're right. And I am glad it's not hanging over my head anymore. I wanted to tell her from the start, but Smith was afraid of how she'd react. I know he was only thinking of her recovery, but it felt like the easy way out."

"Was he okay with you telling her now?"

"He said he wanted to tell her himself, but I felt like I'd be waiting forever if I left it up to him." I let out a long breath. "He's been acting weird ever since she came back."

"How so?"

My heart stutters as I swallow past the growing lump in my throat. I don't want Mom to see me cry over this. I don't want her to worry. She's spent enough time doing that. "His procrastinating, for one thing. And he never tells me how he really feels."

A deep V forms in her forehead. "That doesn't sound like Smith. I would have thought he'd be more open than that."

"I mean, he usually is. Just not about the serious stuff."

She gives me a weak smile and motions for me to come closer. And just like when I was little, I crawl across the cushions and lay my head in her lap. She immediately weaves her fingers in my hair, brushing through the strands. It has the same soothing effect as it did when I was five. "It's difficult to show others what's on the inside."

A sneaky tear slides down my cheek and sinks into her pants. "But why is he so stubborn? I'm always honest with him, even when I don't want to be."

"Because we don't want to make ourselves more vulnerable. When we're vulnerable, we're weak. And no one likes to feel weak. Maybe he has some guilt over his relationship with Emma? Or over his relationship with you? Maybe there's something from his past that keeps him from sharing? Or maybe he's just afraid of getting hurt? Have you ever talked about how he felt when she disappeared?"

"He was devastated. We all were."

She's quiet for a moment as her fingers continue to work through my hair. "I'm afraid the answers aren't always easy, kiddo. Relationships aren't either. They're a lot of work, and both parties need to give 100-percent to make it a success. Take your father and me, for example. We had some wonderful times together, but that's not always enough. And it wasn't anyone's fault. Sometimes, things happen and people change. Maybe you should tell Smith how you feel?"

I let out an ill-humored laugh, and wipe away another tear. "Yeah, right. Because that'll be a comfortable conversation."

Mom gathers my hair in her hand and gives it a gentle tug. "I just said relationships aren't easy. How's he supposed to know if you don't tell him? You're shutting him out. It's the same thing he's doing to you, don't you think?"

"So, I'm just supposed to ask if he'd rather be with Emma than me?" The question is out of my mouth before I have a chance to think it through.

She drops my hair in her lap. "Is that what you're worried about?"

Shit. Me and my big mouth. "I don't know what to think anymore. I don't know how Smith feels, and I don't know what's going to happen between us. And no matter what does happen, I don't know if Emma will ever forgive me, or how we'll get past this if she does. This is going to sound awful, but I don't even know if I like her anymore. She's changed so much. And I don't know what to think about that stupid investigation because there's never any answers, just more questions. And my brain is so tired of thinking about everything all the time."

A sudden gasp escapes her lips. "Oh my gosh, I forgot to tell you! Carmen called today. She said the police found Emma's missing tennis shoe."

"What?" I jolt up so fast Mom jumps. "Where did they find it?"

Her brows pinch together. "They found it a few miles back in the woods. They'd searched the area before but must have overlooked it."

My mouth drops open wide. "Did her mom say if they have any more leads?"

"No, that was it."

I can feel my face crumble. "When were you going to tell me?"

"Excuse me?" Her eyes search my expression. "I thought I just did."

"But only because I brought it up!"

She folds her arms across her chest and continues staring. "I don't know, Arbor. I guess I didn't think about it. I don't understand why you're getting so worked up. Are you okay?"

Of course, I'm not okay! "This is the first clue we've had in ages. How could you not say anything?"

"Arbor Elisabeth Hayes, you'd better watch your tone. I didn't keep it from you on purpose, I simply didn't think of it. What in the world has gotten into you?"

Sparks shoot through my veins and heat my face. I need to calm down. It's not like Mom kept it from me intentionally. It just slipped her mind, that's all. But this little bit of information is huge. It proves that Emma was where she said she was, hidden way back in those woods. Maybe it even proves that someone did take her, because why would she be in the middle of nowhere by herself?

I stand up and scrub my hands over my face, a renewed energy buzzing through my veins. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. But this means we're one step closer to finding out who took her. Then maybe Emma will go back to the way she was before."

"Arbor, honey." Mom cocks her head in a way that makes me think she feels sorry for me. "Emma may never be the same."

"That's what everyone keeps saying, but what if? Maybe she's acting weird because she's afraid? And when she finally feels safe, she'll switch back to her old self?"

From the look on Mom's face, I can tell I haven't convinced her. But it doesn't matter.

"You know what? I think I'll go to the football game after all. There's no point in moping around here like a total loser—no offense."

Mom chuckles and shakes her head. "Well then you'd better get out of here before you miss it. This loser's not staying up late anyway. I have an early meeting tomorrow. By the way, I may have to miss your game again."

"It's fine." I lean down and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

She smiles, tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "You're forgiven."

I give her a grin and grab my keys. "I'll be home by midnight. Love you!"

"Be careful," she calls as I shut the front door.

Cool air rushes past me, swirling leaves around my feet. I hop in my car and turn the music off before it consumes my senses. School's a fifteen minute drive away, and I'll need every second to come up with a plan.

One more clue about Emma's disappearance means there are others, and if the police are having trouble finding them, then I'll just have to do it myself.

Jordan Pacey has some explaining to do, whether she wants to or not.