That evening, I was floating in the pool for the last time. I'd decided I needed to leave, but it would have to be under the cover of night. I couldn't take a car, not only because I wasn't the best driver, but because I didn't have a license. Also, at some point, someone would be looking for the Hineses, and I didn't want to be in one of their cars when that happened. It would be like driving around in a neon sign.

Technically, I'd been their foster child, but the circumstances of my fostering were unusual, as no one could find any sort of data or information about me when everything had gone down with Jason and Henry and the Circuit. As far as I knew, that was still true--I was a nobody to everybody. Miss Pinsky-Waters, who had been instrumental in helping me after all of it, had been to visit me a few times in the past, but I hadn't seen her in a long time. Old Lisa was dead, and now Mel and Jason were missing. There was no one for me to turn to. What I wanted to do was try to find Henry, but I was in no better position now than I had ever been to do so. I knew the Circuit was still out there, and after that freakish episode with Mac, I was pretty sure they were likely watching me. Mac had been a message--a message that they hadn't forgotten. That the moment I was vulnerable, they'd be back. The only reason I could figure is that they were angry at me, and they wanted some sort of revenge.

So if I left, it had to be as surreptitiously as possible to avoid drawing attention to myself.

Unfortunately, the exact opposite happened.

There I was, as I said, floating in the pool. It was probably around eight o'clock or so, but the evening was warm enough to swim. I didn't even have the pool lights on, though, because it was still light enough to see everything, but just as I was thinking it might be time to get out, I heard a car at the front of the house. And then voices. And then more cars--revving engines, doors slamming, more voices . . .

The Hineses had a gate. It hadn't occurred to me until that moment that Paolo and whoever had driven him had gotten through it. Something must have been wrong with it--it was broken, or I hadn't set it properly. I didn't know. But now it sounded as if a whole lot of people had come through it and were outside the front door.

I immediately climbed from the pool. Wrapping a towel around myself, I re-entered the house through sliding glass doors and hurried to the front foyer. Someone was knocking, someone was ringing--it was definitely more than one person. I stood in shock, not daring to open that door. The lights were on, but I quickly flipped them off. If anything, that made the voices outside louder, not quieter.

Idiot! I should've known better. Now they knew someone was home. I jumped into a side room and stood against the wall, just breathing,willing them away. It seemed like eons passed, and those people just talked--about what, I couldn't discern--talked and knocked and rang. They knew I was there. Maybe if I just explained to them that Mel and Jason weren't around . . . I mean, nobody would want to hang out with me. It struck me as the best plan, though truthfully, I should've just kept that door locked, because the minute I opened it, ready to let down whoever was out there, the crowd (and I mean, crowd!) of people outside shoved right past me and into the house. It was as if I wasn't even there. They paid me absolutely no attention whatsoever, no matter how much I yelled at them.

I quickly realized it was hopeless to try getting them back out. There were so many people that I lost count of them, and I didn't even recognize most. A few were vaguely familiar, but most I didn't know. Then, suddenly, I did catch a face I knew. And she was close to me!

A bit roughly, I grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her toward me. "Jess! What is this? Who are all these people?"

The girl softened her features when she saw me; she'd been ready to shout at whoever had pulled on her like that. "Amirah! I thought you weren't here."

"What? Why would you think that?"

"We thought nobody was here. We thought Mel and everyone were gone for good."

I frowned. "They are. As far as I can tell."

"You're not."

"No . . ." I didn't want to tell her they'd left me behind on purpose, to fend for myself. "Not yet. But I will be, soon." That was the truth. "But what is this?"

Jess, who had been a member of Mel's clique and who had deigned to speak to me on occasion, pushed some of her hair out of her face. She was rather pretty, as all Mel's friends were. This one had a stylish cropped cut, dyed deep auburn. "Well, word spread that the place was empty. People . . . just heard about it. You know how everything is everywhere at once on social media. And anyway, I didn't want to miss out."

She looked as if she felt guilty, but I actually didn't care at all. This was just what I needed to push me out the door. Nobody would notice if I left when all these people were everywhere. If the house were being watched, whoever was watching would have a hard time figuring out who was who, especially as night fell.

"It's fine. I don't care," I snapped, closing the conversation before she could start to fake an apology. Then I moved through the thinning line of people still trickling in through the door and hurried upstairs.

Once I hit my room, I locked the door and began changing into my clothes. No doubt people would be in every corner of the place, and I wanted a small piece of privacy so I could gather whatever belongings (and thoughts) I might need. I'd been considering leaving for weeks--since I'd arrived, really--but I'd been waiting for some clue as to where to go. As much time as I'd had, I still hadn't come up with any great ideas. I'd kept hoping I'd get some sign, and even though I had been given hope when the flowers arrived, they didn't tell me anything about where I should begin. Unless . . . was I supposed to return to the field, the place he'd given them to me? That seemed stupid. There was nothing out there, and I didn't know if I could even find the place. The only other location I could think to start would be back at the cabin in the woods, where I'd last seen Henry, although I was certain that by this point, it'd be either destroyed or entirely combed through by the police. Any evidence as to what had happened would be long gone. But it was all I could think to do.

I wouldn't take much with me. I didn't have much, anyway. I had a bit of money, and I'd also taken the stash that Mel kept hidden in her closet, which amounted to about five hundred dollars. I was surprised she'd not taken it; they must have been in a crazy hurry. I was just grateful to have it. I'd searched Jason's room, too, to see if he had any money I could take, but I hadn't found any.

So the plan, I decided in those quick moments I dressed, was to leave the house and walk to the nearest bus station, and then I'd try to get to that cabin somehow. I had a vague memory of its location.

It wasn't a great plan, but this was the best time to go.

The sounds of people were getting louder. I went to my window and saw them around and in the pool, removing the cover of the hottub, splashing each other. But there were also people inside, and I figured they were starting to explore the house itself. They'd be upstairs trying to get into the rooms soon. Part of me felt violated, more so for the Hineses than for myself--who did these people think they were? There was really no time to think of it, though, and truly, this wasn't my home. It never had been, and it never would be. I didn't belong here. As far as I could tell, I didn't belong anywhere. I had no memory of belonging. I had no family, no home, no place.

A sudden rattle at the door startled me. Someone was trying the handle, and I was glad I'd locked it, but rather than give up, the person knocked once, twice. Again.

"Go away!" I shouted. "Someone's in here!"

I rapidly finished filling my school backpack with the few things I thought would be useful, but I wanted to put food and drinks in there, too. I'd have to go down to the kitchen. Nobody would notice me; they'd not even noticed me when they were shoving me out of the way. I zipped up the bag, slung it over my shoulder, and made for the door.

Once I opened it, though, I nearly ran right into Paolo. He'd been waiting there.

"Oh! Good!" he cried. "I thought you were in there!"

I had no time for the stupid butterflies he induced. "What's wrong with you?" I snapped at him. "Who creeps around outside someone's bedroom? Leave me alone."

He was tall, though, and he was blocking my way to the stairs. When I tried to pass him, he moved with me. I assumed he thought it was playful, but I was furious.

"Get out of my way!"

"Why won't you talk to me? I promise, I'm not a terrible person. Five minutes--give me five minutes!"

"I'll give you two seconds to get away from me!"

"Nadia--"

"This is your fault, right? It's because of you that everyone knew the house was empty? You told everyone what I said to you, and now my house is chaos? That's definitely not something a terrible person would do."

He held out his hands, became serious. "No, you're right. It's my fault. But I didn't tell these people--Gabe, he was with me. I told him what you said, and he posted it."

"So yeah," I snarked, "your fault." I made to get around him again, but he put out his arms.

"Why won't you just talk to me?"

"Because I don't want to!" He smiled, but that only made me more angry. "That might work for some people, but it won't work for me."

This time, I shoved his arm, and he let me go. I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen, weaving around people, frustrated at all of them for getting in my way. I just wanted to get out of there, now. And in the kitchen, people were already getting into the refrigerator and pantry. The liquor cabinet was wide open and half empty, and I saw the wine chiller missing most of its bottles, too. Gross. Who were all these people? Luckily, I found some snacks and water bottles (it seemed no one was ready for water, yet), and I stuffed them into my bag.

I was so ready to get out of there, and I was in the front hall again when someone grabbed my shoulder.

Certain it was Paolo, I spun around ready to yell at him, but it was actually some other guy, someone I didn't recognize at all. He was scruffy-looking, full beard and everything. There was no way he went to my high school--of course, I didn't think most of these people went to my high school. In any case, I didn't know what to say to him, so I just stared in expectation.

"That guy, he said to give this to you."

He held out a piece of paper, folded into quarters.

I rolled my eyes. "You can tell Paolo no thanks."

I was at the door before his next words practically stopped my heart:

"Nah, I think he said his name was Henry."

The blood rushed behind my ears. My stomach threatened nausea. I looked at the guy more closely. "What did you say?"

"I don't think his name was Paolo. He said his name was Henry."

"Here? Where? Where is he?"

The guy looked side to side, back to front. "I don't know where he went."

"Well, what did he look like?"

Bearded guy shrugged a little. "I don't know. He was wearing a black hoodie."

Everything in me seemed to light on fire. I tore the paper from the guy's hand and, without even looking at it, raced past him and back to the interior of the house. I searched everywhere, frantically, asking too many people to count whether they knew of someone named Henry, or whether they'd seen a tall, ash-blond white boy in a black hoodie. It was impossible--but I couldn't tell myself that. I wanted to believe he was here, that he was finally here! But the more I looked without finding him, the more I realized this could all be some prank, or something more sinister--a trick of some kind. There were so many people . . . easy for a Circuit member to blend right in . . . it could be absolutely anyone. And they knew how I felt about Henry.

When my reason returned, when I realized I'd been rushing like a mad person for a good ten minutes chasing something that couldn't possibly be--or, at least, that wasn't there now--I pulled myself together and remembered what was in my hand.

Sitting on a free chair by the pool, I could hear my heart beating over the din of the voices and splashing. My fingers shook as they opened the paper, but what I saw didn't reveal what I'd hoped it would. I wanted some message from Henry, some scrawled note telling me he was okay, but instead, all I saw was a five-digit number. 8-1-4-3-3.

Five digits . . . five? Too short for a phone number or a license plate . . . What sorts of numbers were five digits? The only things I knew were five-digit numbers were zip codes.

Maybe he wanted me to go to that zip code? But where was it? And what would I do once I got there? I needed web access, but there were too many people around to get the privacy I wanted. I'd have to get to a library. There was never a better time to leave; I had direction, now!

When I got to the front door, I took one last look behind me into the house. It was full of people, and yet it felt so empty. Nothing had been here for me. Even if I'd fooled myself in the beginning, this was not my home, and it never was meant to be. I didn't belong here. Opening that door and hearing it shut behind me were some of the most satisfying sounds in the world, and I couldn't believe my fortune in getting Henry's note just in time (if it were really from Henry . . . I had to hope for that).

Without another thought about all the people behind me, I headed out into the darkness, less frightened than perhaps I should have been.