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clues, and I’m going to start following them. I can start with the lady at the historical society—she can give me the list of people who bought tickets to the ghost tour. If we can find the Traveler, maybe we can ask some questions and figure out what Rudy’s doing.”

Mario gives me a grudging nod. “Whatever you do, make sure Finn is watching your back.”

“And I’m watching his.”

“You’re more important.” His eyes hold mine. “We can’t allow the convergence, Jessa. Too much is at stake.”

Finn, I think. Finn is at stake. And all the other Moms and Dannys and Dads and Bens—and Jessas.

The fate of them all, resting on me, and I have no idea what I’m doing.

42

Missing

I wake with the alarm clock when it goes off, and with no sign of Finn. I’ve slept through the night, and according to Danny, Finn said good-bye around seven o’clock last night. That doesn’t mean he left, though. Without me awake enough to open the door and sneak him back in, he probably sat outside all night. At least the cold would have kept him awake.

I text him to let him know I’m heading out; then I dress and hurry out the door to school, expecting he’s going to fall into step beside me. He doesn’t, and by the time I reach the school, the first frisson of unease is unfurling in my stomach. I figured he would be waiting for me at school, but he’s not there, either. I give his phone a call this time, but it rings and rings. And rings.

I’m starting to feel some panic, and to make it worse, Ben is leaning against his locker as I walk in, and he turns pointedly away the second he sees me.

I know he doesn’t want to talk to me, but I need his help.

“Wait! Ben!” I call out to him as he’s walking away. He takes a few more steps, and then he finally stops. He doesn’t bother turning around.

“What?” The irritation in his voice is clear.

“Please.” I move around in front of him. “Ben, I need your help. I know this is the last subject you want to talk about, but have you seen Finn?”

“He take off on you?” Ben asks, and he looks like he doesn’t particularly care if that’s what happened.

“No,” I snap. Then my eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know. He’s gone. And he’s not answering his phone or his texts.”

“He’s probably just running late.”

“No, that’s not it. He’s gone. He’s just gone.” My voice cracks on that last word. “Otherwise he’d be talking to me.”

Ben bites his lip. “Did you tell him? About us?”

I look up at him guiltily. “Yeah. I did.”

“Maybe he’s reevaluating after hearing that.”

I know I deserve that, but it stings anyway.

The bell rings for class, and Ben looks backward over his shoulder. “I gotta go.“

There is no sign of Finn in calculus, and the panic is turning into an outright fear, trickling down my spine. I slide into my seat next to Ben in Mr. Draper’s class, and I’m nervously drumming my fingers on the desk. Ben looks over at me, but when I catch him, he just turns away.

When the bell rings, I am out of my chair and walking before I even realize it. I am barely able to see through the fog of fear that is overtaking me and the sting of unshed tears in my eyes.

What if Finn fell asleep?

Oh God, why didn’t I think to check outside the house? If he’s asleep, he could be in danger.

I am just reaching for my phone to text him again when it suddenly vibrates and my message icon lights up again. I look down at the screen, and it’s all I can do not to shout.

Finn. Hallelujah!

I slide into my seat in creative writing class, and all the air comes out of my lungs in a whoosh of relief.

I stare at the phone, feeling like someone has their icy-cold fist wrapped around my stomach. And not just any someone.

Almost a full minute passes, and then the Traveler returns a video. It’s only four seconds long, and it’s clearly Finn. He’s got a cut on his left cheek and he’s squinting from the flash. Everything around Finn is dark. There’s nothing in the background that can tell me anything. I can see in his eyes that he’s desperate to tell me something, but all he manages to get out before he’s cut off is “Jessa—”

I switch to text, punching the keypad angrily.

Whoever this Traveler is, she’s awfully sure of herself, and a few seconds later, I can see exactly why. She’s attached a picture. At first it just appears to be some random crowd scene, but then I zoom in and see clearly that it’s my mom and my brother. They’re in the parking lot at the retirement home, and they’re talking to a coworker, completely unaware that a murderer is right behind them.

I am going to be sick. I fight the nausea back, and try not to hyperventilate. Ms. Eversor finally strolls into the classroom with her coffee mug clutched in her hand, calling out a cheerful good morning in a voice that makes me want to scream at her.

She moves to the whiteboard and turns her back as she maps out the next issue of The Articulator, so I carefully pull out my phone, watching the video again and again. I even turn my phone into the light and up the brightness on my screen in an effort to see his surroundings. I don’t know why I bother. He’s probably in a closet. Or a car trunk. Or his own grave, for all I know.

Oh God. Why did I think that?

I’ve got to get out of here. I have to find Finn, but how? If Finn were here, he’d probably come up with something, but I can’t seem to focus. My mind has been taken over by a blank

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