I place some empty mugs on a tray as I clear a recently abandoned table, the clock on the wall ticking away tirelessly as another table of customers filters outside. Ellie calls out for them to have a nice day as they go and, despite her forced cheer, her voice sounds as exhausted as I feel.

My morning got slightly better when Stella returned back from the shops, carrying with her a giant tub of ice cream. More than just the ice cream, she had come back with everything needed for a late morning pamper session. As it turned out, some quality time with my foster mother is exactly what I needed to brighten my mood.

We laughed at each other looking like sunburnt aliens as we plastered on face masks, painted our toenails, and finally curled up on the sofa to watch the corniest movie we could find on Netflix.

Oh, and we ate ice cream – lots and lots of ice cream.

By the time she dropped me at the café for my two o'clock shift, I was able to crack a smile with barely any effort, at all – and I had successfully banished the taste of rancid socks with about a pint of mint-choc-chip. Even so, the rough night's sleep has left me with heavy eyelids and a nasty case of brain fog – understandably so, in my opinion – but what's Ellie's excuse?

"You good?" I ask as I move back behind the counter with my tray of dirty pots, loading them into the dishwasher.

"Huh?" she asks distractedly, lifting her chin up from her hand, her elbow still resting on the counter as she glances over at me. "Oh, yeah. Just bored."

I don't believe her but, before I can call her on the lie, the familiar chime of the door opening distracts us both.

We watch as Lucas and Finn enter the café. They head for their normal table as, coincidentally, the current occupiers seem to suddenly be finished with it. They even move their empties to another table before they leave, and I roll my eyes as I watch them go.

I wait for Ellie to make some comment about how mob-boss the whole scenario is, or pipe up with some inappropriate and completely inaccurate comment about Lucas – but she doesn't. She doesn't even scuttle off like her jeans are on fire as he approaches us at the counter. She simply stares past him, unseeing, to the world beyond the front window as I rattle off the price of two americanos.

Lucas hands me the money and doesn't spare Ellie a glance as he returns to his table.

"Are you sure you're okay, El?" I can't help but ask as I start on the drinks. She seems...off. There's no other word for it.

"Yes," she replies quickly – a little too quickly – and, when she catches the look I give her, she adds, "I promise. I'm all good."

I still don't believe her but I decide not to push the issue further. Ellie's a talker; it's in her blood. She'll tell me what's bothering her eventually, when she wants to.

On a whim, I decide to add a small jug of milk and a handful of sugar packets to the Coleman's tray, along with some spoons. Neither of these two actually prefers their coffee plain (if breakfast last week is anything to go by). My hunch is confirmed when Finn shares a quick, surprised look with Lucas, before he shrugs and picks up the milk. Lucas mutters a quiet, "Thanks".

"How's Andrew?" I'm afraid to ask, worried that they might tell me his entire arm has dropped off and that it's all my fault.

"A complete pain in the ass," Finn replies, rolling his eyes. "But otherwise fine. You would think he's lost a limb, with how much he's complaining. But we got Doc to check him over first thing and he reckons Drew will make a full recovery – as long as no one else tries to play splat the prat with him again."

Lucas snorts a laugh but otherwise stays quiet, stirring some sugar into his coffee.

"Well... that's good," I reply, still taken aback by how blasé the brothers seem to be about one another's safety. How can they make jokes about their brother being mowed down by a car, when it almost actually happened only yesterday?

Unsure of what else to say, and wanting to keep my judgement to myself, I offer up a small smile and head back towards Ellie.

Before I get the chance to return to the counter, the front door crashes open, my name being called out by a frantic boy with a battered blue backpack.

Owen's cheeks are flushed, his shoulders heaving as if he's just run the London marathon and won – but he doesn't wear the expression of a winner. His jacket hangs half off his shoulder but he doesn't bother shrugging it back on as he rushes over to me.

"Jade, Jade! It's Oscar! You've gotta do something, you've gotta – man, Stella and George are going to flip. You can't tell them, they'll go mental! This is all my fault!" Owen skids on the floor slightly and almost goes down.

I reach a hand out to stop him breaking his face on the floor. "Owen? Hey, hey, slow down – just breathe." He stops for a breath and I move him out of the way as a customer tries to get past. The woman shoots Owen a nasty look that I have to force myself not to return.

I'm aware of the eyes on us – everyone's I'm sure, with how loud Owen's talking – but I couldn't care less. Just like I don't care that Owen is skipping school again.

Something's wrong. He's really freaking out.

"What's happened?" I ask, forcing myself to keep calm. "What's wrong?"

Images race through my brain: Oscar, injured and in pain, stranded somewhere or in some kind of trouble. Maybe they skipped school together and he got hit by a car, or beaten up, or stabbed...

I try not to panic.

Owen opens his mouth again, another torrent of words streaming out. "I – he – Oscar. He got another letter, told me about it this morning. He – I don't know what it said, he wouldn't show me. I tried to tell him, to get him to tell you, and he said he would! He said he'd tell you after school and I thought he was – I–"

And, just like that, it becomes much harder to not panic.

"Oscar's gone to meet his dad?" I ask, horrified.

"Yes, yes! That's what I'm telling you!" Owen exclaims, running his hands through his hair. "Jade, you gotta help me find him. You gotta do something!"

I am doing something; I am staying calm. I am not freaking out.

"Okay, okay. Well..." I start as I attempt to push down my rising panic. It sits like a boulder in my stomach, creeping higher as it tries to work its way up my oesophagus. "Well, shit," I hiss.

The images of Oscar in my mind morph and change: his empty eyes, the haunted expression he wore the last time he saw his father.

He was so upset when we talked about his parents the other week, too quick to agree with his dad – blaming himself the same way his father does. It wouldn't take much to push him back over the edge, to turn him back into the Oscar he was when he first moved in. And we've worked so hard to find him, the real Oscar – the boy he allows himself to be when his father isn't playing the alcoholic devil in his ear.

Owen's right. I have to do something; I have to find him.

"When did you last see him?" I ask, wracking my brain for some form of a plan.

The bowling alley!

That's where they were supposed to meet the first time, according to the first letter. Maybe... hopefully...

"About twelve," Owen replies, and my heart thuds so loud in my ears, I'm convinced I misheard.

"Twelve?"

"Twelve!" Owen exclaims, and the number makes me want to cry.

"But that's nearly three hours ago!"

Panic mixes with frustration to create a murky mess inside my brain, making it all the more difficult to think clearly.

They could be anywhere by now!

"I know! This is fucking bad, Jade!" Owen stresses.

The apron's over my head in seconds as I turn towards the door to the kitchen, where Paul already stands, watching the disaster unfold. I don't even have to say a word.

"Go," Pauls says, shooing me towards the door as Ellie grabs my apron. They both look worried.

"Thank you," I mouth at them, my eyes beginning to prickle with the first sign of tears.

I turn for the door, grabbing my phone from my back pocket.

"Owen, you need to go back to school," I tell him.

"Fuck that!" he says as he follows me outside. "I'm coming with you!"

"No. You're going back to school," I tell him as I turn in the direction of the bowling alley.

Because how bad would that look? If social finds out that not one but two kids in the Crawford's care have gone missing from school?

"No, I'm not!" Owen argues again, this time angry. "You're not my mum, Jade. And you sure as shit ain't Stella. You can't tell me what to do!"

The hell I can't, kid.

I round on Owen and force him to stop walking, having to remind myself that he's not trying to be a dick. He's worried about Oscar; so am I. Under normal circumstances, we're not working on such short fuses.

But I don't have time for his worry, or his anger, or him.

"Owen, please," I sigh. "We don't have time for this. Just go back to school and stay there. Keep your eyes open and call me if he shows up there."

It only takes him a second to reach a decision. He sighs, kicks a stone into the road, and points at me. "You tell me when you find him."

Then, he turns back in the direction of the school, leaving me alone to decide the fastest route to reach the bowling alley.

A taxi might be quicker but it could take me a while to book one. Should I just run there instead? It wouldn't be as fast as driving, but it would feel a whole lot more useful than waiting on hold as I try every taxi company in town.

I need to tell Stella and George what's going on, even though Owen asked me not to. I can't not tell them. So, what do I do? Call Stella or call for a taxi? Do I even have money on me for a taxi? In this prehistoric town, most still take cash-only.

I should call the police, even though they're about as useful as a scarf in summer. Should I call Stella before or after I call the police?

...What if they're not even at the bowling alley? What if they've left town, already?

I blink back tears, struggling to breathe as I stand, frozen on the spot.

"Need a lift?" A voice asks from behind me.

I turn back to find Lucas standing outside Wilson's, his car keys already in his hand. He doesn't say anything else; he just waits.

I nod, relieved.

"Please," is all I can reply.

***

It's kind of funny.

I've always thought of Greencliff as a small, fishbowl type of town – nothing but a tiny blip on the map. Right now, however, as Lucas and I race along the backstreets to reach the only bowling alley the town has to offer, the blip suddenly feels enormous.

Lucas drives silently beside me, expertly navigating the way as I dial Stella's number for the third time, jigging my leg up and down like that'll somehow make the car go faster. The call runs through to voicemail still so I try Oscar's phone again, receiving the same result.

"Shit!" I screech, caught between wanting to throw my phone out the window and needing to call them again.

What do I do if I get to the bowling alley and Oscar isn't there? What am I supposed to tell Owen if I don't find him? What if Oscar leaves with his dad and we never see him again?

"Could you please go faster?" I can't help but ask, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. My voice wobbles, though, and the sudden rev of the engine makes me think he notices.

"We're not far," he assures me.

Please be there. Please be there. Please be there.

The traffic lights up ahead turn from green, to amber, to red. It's like they're mocking me, and I curse at the circular, glowing red piece of shit.

Lucas runs the light.

We survive, receiving only angry honks from other cars as they're forced to slam on their breaks. In any other situation, I would be horrified. Right now, I don't care.

Finn's words of, "Well, us Coleman's don't apply to the rules," run through my head and I let out a hysterical bubble of laughter. He wasn't wrong.

My phone blasts in my hand and I answer the call, listening to Stella's apologies over being on some call with a publisher.

"Stella, Oscar's in trouble," I rush out, not caring about some deadline that's been pushed back, or brought forward, or whatever the hell she just said. "He got another letter and Owen can't find him in school. I'm headed to the–"

"What letter?" Stella interrupts, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"The one from his dad..." I remind her, as a sudden bad feeling makes me think that Oscar might've told me a slight fib. "The one he found in his locker the other week?"

Stella's silence confirms my dread, and a bucket of ice pours over my spine as I realise that Owen and I are the only ones who know anything about that first letter. Oscar never went to Stella and George like he told me he would.

"He told me he'd tell you..." I break the silence.

"Well, he didn't," Stella replies, and something in her voice sounds wrong. I can't tell if she's angry or worried – most likely, she's both. "So, you're going to, Jade. Start from the beginning."

So, I do. I tell her everything, starting from how I found the boys arguing in their room, and finishing with the story of Owen bursting into the café not ten minutes ago.

"I sent Owen back to school and told him to keep an eye out, in case Oscar turns up. I'm on my way to the alley now," I finish, feeling twice as terrified as I did before Stella called back. I didn't realise that was even possible.

"Call me if you find him there. I'm calling the police," Stella orders. "And I'll call George's work so he can go out and look, too. Hopefully, they've not gone far but..."

She doesn't finish the sentence but she doesn't need to. She knows, just as well as I do, that they could be anywhere by now.

"They'll arrest him, right?" I ask. "Oscar's dad, when we find them." When, not if. "He's in violation of his restraining order." Then, I ask the dreaded question that's been stirring around in my brain since I first set off with Lucas. "Stella... what's going to happen when social finds out?"

There's a definite pause before she replies. "Let's just find him first."

Then, she hangs up.

Crap, crap, crap!

"This is all my fault," I whisper, tears finally spilling over.

I should've gone with Oscar to find Stella and George that day. I should've ignored my stupid bladder for a few minutes longer.

"No, it's not," Lucas says, his voice strangely gentle.

But that's what he's supposed to say, right? That's all he can sat as I sit here, crying my guilty conscience out all over his dashboard.

"It is," I tell him and, after speaking those two words, I find myself unable to stop. "I should've said something. I should never have left it to Oscar. He was already on the fence about it – I knew that. I should've..." I trail off and shake my head, more tears falling. "But I was too wrapped up in myself. I was too focussed on my exams and getting good grades, on someday being able to blow out of this shitty town."

Lucas is silent as I vent, so I sniffle and keep going.

"And now Oscar is missing, and Stella and George are going to be in so much trouble with social because – a psycho father in breach of his restraining order? – that's the sort of shit they're supposed to report, you know? Which means there will probably be an investigation and if that goes bad then, well," I let out a single, humourless laugh, "back they all go!"

Still, Lucas doesn't say anything.

"Back to Greencliff Care Home for Kids, where they'll all get split up again and bounce from couple to couple, stuck with letchy men and dirtbags only interested in the monthly paycheques. I'll probably never see them again – not even Bailey – and I doubt the Crawford's will want me around anymore, after I've fucked things up so monumentally. I'll be stuck on a waiting list for some crappy council flat, and then it'll be bye-bye to all the money I've saved for university because – let's face it – the government doesn't give a flying fuck about the care kid rejects." I laugh again, this one twisted and broken. "And how selfish am I? Worrying about myself whilst Oscar is still out there, alone and scared at best case, stuck with his asshole of a father at worst case... and all the while I'm sat here in a car, ranting to Lucas fucking Coleman, of all people!"

I stop talking and gulp in a deep breath, feeling the sudden urge to hit something. Lucas is my nearest target but seeing as he's driving – and probably not above stabbing someone – I leave my hand curled in a fist on my lap.

"One problem as a time, okay?" Lucas says after a short silence. "First, let's just focus on finding your brother."

My heart swells at the word. He called Oscar my brother and, although he might not realise it, that means a lot.

And he's right, of course. We find Oscar and then we – my family – can figure out anything else life throws our way... together. Finn called me a survivor once; I can survive this, too.

I unlock my phone and scroll through my photos, searching for one of Oscar so I can ask people if they've seen him. I find one, a picture of Oscar at his birthday party six months ago, grinning away without a care in the world.

My heart twists painfully.

"Jade?" Lucas speaks up. I look towards him, scrubbing the tears off my cheeks as I realise I never responded before. He keeps his eyes on the road ahead, shifting gears and driving faster still. His next words help to straighten my twisted heart a little.

"We will find him."

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(Early update day!! Let me know your thoughts! What do you think will happen next?)

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