Missing Abby (6 page)

My eyes kept drifting towards the screen. Finally I gave up pretending, and shoved the magazine away.

Sheila hadn't looked at all like Abby in real life, but now I could hardly tell the difference. We watched her say goodbye to Mrs Ryzner, walk around the shops in town – and it was even Abby's
expression;
that sort of dreamy, not-quite-there look.

Then I came on, and it was just bizarre, like someone had been hiding behind the next seat over, filming Abby and me. I watched us talking on the bus, with the familiar streets and buildings trundling past the window, and goose pimples scattered across my arms. It was like watching a pair of ghosts.
Turn it off!
I wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come.

When Sheila called out her infamous line, I winced despite myself. Jo touched my arm. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Sure,’ I said, not looking at her. On the screen, a number was flashing for people to ring if they had seen Abby.

Finally, finally, the segment ended. Debbie sat up, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes. ‘Um … so what's D&D, anyway?’

Jo sat up too, the same question on her face. Like I was some sort of expert, just because Abby had asked me to play. It wasn't as if I had gone
with
her that afternoon.

If I had, would she be missing now? No, don't think about that.

I lifted a shoulder. ‘Some sort of game she was into. I don't really know, to be honest … it sounded pretty weird when she described it.’

Remember Esmerelda? Sort of like that, but better …

Abby's back garden flashed into my mind, heavy with the scent of summer. We were sitting hunched in her playhouse – only it wasn't her playhouse; it was a dungeon in Esmerelda's castle, and the faint sunlight was light through a tiny barred window.

We'll have to try the spell, my friend – we've no choice.

No! It could destroy us both!

And it could save us, too …

A wave of longing smashed against me. Abby, please be all right …

‘Well, how did—’ started Debbie.

‘It was so stupid!’ I burst out. ‘She was always doing stuff like that – I mean, she just didn't get it, she just didn't
get
that you don't do that once you get to secondary school!’

Jo and Debbie were staring at me, their eyes like the button-eyes on teddy bears.

‘If you want to know the truth, I really couldn't stand her any more.’ I grabbed one of the magazines and started flipping through it, slapping the pages back. ‘She's why I changed schools, even – she had got so
weird
that I couldn't stick being around her!’

Jo licked her lips, glancing at Debbie. ‘Um … well, how was she weird?’

‘Well, she dressed pretty strangely,’ murmured Debbie. Jo flashed her a look.

‘Oh, she just
was,
that's all.’ I shoved
Now
aside and grabbed at a
Vogue.
‘She acted however she wanted, even if it was completely childish and stupid; she didn't care what people thought – she left herself right open for everything—’

‘For what?’ Jo's blond eyebrows pulled together in bewilderment.

I swallowed hard. Emma,
shut up
!

‘Nothing,’ I stared down at a photo of a pencil-thin model wearing a white tube dress. ‘Debbie, couldn't you do something like this?’ I forced a laugh. ‘Looks like it'd be a breeze to design – just wrap a bedsheet around yourself,
et voilà
!
’

They looked at each other. Suddenly I was terrified that they wouldn't let me drop it this time, that they'd push and question until it all came out.

But they took the hint. They didn't mention Abby again.

Even though I work up early that morning, I lay in bed for ages, staring at my ceiling. Thinking of the ceiling of my old room. Abby and I had painted a moonscape on it, with craters and stars, and a view of Earth in the distance. I remembered the two of us standing on ladders with old sheets draped over everything, collapsing in giggles as she painted a bug-eyed purple moon-man, peering out of a crater …

‘Emma?’ came a voice outside my door. Nat, lurking.

‘What?’ I flopped over in bed, clutching the duvet around me.

Nat poked her head in. Her brown hair looked wild and bedraggled, like she had been playing hard for hours already. ‘You're not up yet.’

‘Well spotted.’

She slid into the room, shutting the door behind her. She was wearing jeans and a hot pink top with
Ballerina
on it. ‘Mummy said to let you sleep. She said you're having a rough time.’

The pillow muffled my voice. ‘So why are you in here, not letting me sleep?’

‘Because it's Saturday! You said you'd play with me today.’

I was completely positive that I hadn't said anything of the sort, actually. I lay there for a few seconds, thinking about telling her to bugger off, and then I slowly sat up, collapsing the warm cave of covers.

‘OK. Come sit here, and we'll play.’

Her face split in delight, and she bounded across the room, bouncing onto the bed. I shoved my hair back. It felt ropy. ‘Right … where were we?’

‘We were entering the chamber where Jasmine awaited!’ breathed Nat, her eyes gleaming. ‘Wands at the ready!’

That's right. God, that was ages ago. ‘OK, close your eyes.’

She popped them closed, leaning against me. I put my arm around her sturdy little body, feeling her warmth, and lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘Now, Jasmine's chamber is made of … of seashells. The insides of seashells, all sort of shimmering pink and grey. Can you see them yet?’

Nat's hair tickled my arm as she shook her head, eyes still closed.

‘Keep trying. Seashells, glistening on the walls … Just think about Jasmine's palace, and you'll be there.’

‘Ooh, I can see it!’ she breathed. ‘And Jasmine's sitting on a throne of shells! She looks
evil
!
’

‘She is, but we have to go in and face her. She has green hair, like seaweed, and as we approach her, she sort of draws herself up and says—’

Both of us started as someone knocked on my door.

‘What?’ I called.

‘Phone's for you,’ said Jenny. ‘Someone called Sheila.’ She opened the door and tossed me the cordless extension, rolling her eyes as she spotted her wayward daughter. ‘I told you not to come in here, didn't I? Come on now, let Emma take her call in peace.’

‘No! We're playing a game … !’

‘We'll finish later, Nat.’ I stared down at the extension like it was about to explode in my face.
Sheila?

Nat flung herself dramatically off the bed, and Jenny drew her out of the room. As the door shut behind them, I took a deep breath and picked up the phone. ‘Um … hello?’

‘Emma, it's Sheila. From the re-enactment.’ Her voice sounded as spiky as her hair.

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Look, I'm ringing because a group of us got together last night to watch
Crimewatch.
A group of Abby's
friends,
I mean. And since we're closer to her than anyone, right, we're going to try to figure out what's happened to her. And we have some questions we'd like to ask you.’

‘But the police have already—’

‘
Duh,
yes, obviously. They've spoken to all of us, too, but we want to have a go ourselves. So we're meeting at my house this morning … if it's not too much trouble for you to come around, that is.’

What, go to her
house
? How could I face Abby's friends when they all hated me? I licked dry lips. ‘Um – how did you get my number, anyway?’ She huffed out a breath. ‘There are fourteen
Townsends in the phonebook.
T
Townsend, presumably your father, is number twelve. Look, I don't have time for this – we're all going to be here at eleven o'clock, and it's number four Auburn Street in Garemont. If you want to help Abby, you'll turn up … though I really don't expect you will.’

Click.

Of course I wasn't going. I'd have to be completely barking! It would be suicidal to go present myself to a bunch of Abby's friends – like sauntering into the lions' den, only worse. At least the lions don't have anything against you personally as they rip you to shreds.

I got out of bed, throwing the covers back. I was due to meet Debbie and Jo at one o'clock, in the town centre, and it was only around half nine now – I'd have a nice, relaxing morning, maybe go for a swim with Jenny.

I paused in front of my wardrobe, staring at my clothes. Yeah, a relaxing morning … except that I kept hearing Sheila's voice buzzing in my ears, taunting me.
If you want to help Abby …

They hated me, though. They
hated
me. My stomach lurched as I pulled on a pair of jeans. When I glanced in the mirror, my expression stared back at me, wide-eyed.

Abby would do it for me, even if we hadn't spoken for
ten
years, let alone one.

Slowly, I finished getting dressed. My fingers were cold and clumsy, and when I looked at myself in the mirror again, I didn't exactly look determined.

Turning away from the sight of my pale face, I snatched up my handbag and left, shutting the door behind me.

I told Dad and Jenny I was going into town, and then took the bus to Sheila's house. It was the number 56, the same one I had taken with Abby, exactly a week ago now. Hopefully it wasn't the same exact bus. Trying not to think about it, I stared out at the familiar shops and houses, wondering if I had gone completely mental.
Why
was I doing this?

Auburn Street was just a minute or so away from where I used to live. I stood on the doorstep of number four for ages, watching my finger hover over the doorbell. Finally I clenched my jaw and jabbed it hard. Crossing my arms over my chest, I listened to the sound of approaching footsteps, willing myself not to run.

The door flew open and it was Sheila standing there, wearing a black T-shirt with a dragon on it, and about twenty silver earrings. Her eyes widened when she saw me. Then she tossed her head and the familiar sneer dropped back into place.

‘Oh, so you actually came. Well, come on then – we're all upstairs in my room.’

She shut the door behind me and stalked up the stairs, her back ramrod-straight. I swallowed and followed her, neither of us saying a word.

I don't know what I expected – black and more black, I suppose – but Sheila's room had these amazing fantasy posters everywhere, and a prism hanging in
front of the window that scattered tiny rainbow-lights across the room.

‘That's Rob, and that's Gail,’ said Sheila, flopping onto the bed. ‘This is
Emma,
everyone.’

Rob gave me a sort of salute – a gangly, dark-haired boy in a flapping black trenchcoat. Gail was heavy-set with crimson hair, wearing a black corset-type dress with dramatically flowing sleeves. She nodded at me. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ I hugged my elbow, feeling stupidly trendy in my flared jeans and tight brown top. I sank down on the floor beside Sheila's desk.

Suddenly I saw that there were four cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. Every one of them had a black and white poster of Abby taped to the front.
MISSING: ABIGAIL RYZNER, known as ‘Abby’
. I looked quickly away.

‘Should we wait for—?’ started Rob.

Sheila's earrings rattled as she shook her head. ‘No, he said he might be late. Let's just get started.’

Gail drew a notebook out of her bag, opening it to a page with lots of writing. She cleared her throat, not looking at me. ‘Um – right, Emma. What did Abby say when she first saw you?’

For a second my brain felt completely out of step. I took a breath. ‘Um – well, you know, we said hello … it wasn't anything important.’

Sheila rolled her eyes. ‘You can't
know
it wasn't important. Come on, what exactly did you say?’

So I struggled to recall exactly what we had said, and Gail scribbled down all the banal stuff about
how's
your mum, how are your brothers.
It had been such a nothing conversation, so why did I feel like they were taking my clothes off?

‘What did you talk about on the bus?’ asked Rob. He had a scattering of acne, and dark eyes that squinted at me like I was a theorem he was trying to work out.

I looked down, picking at a bit of carpet fluff. ‘Um … she said that she was getting ready to start GM-ing, or whatever it's called, and that her game was going to be more exciting or something … she showed me this book, the
Monster Manual …
’ Gail wrote it all down without commenting, the black lace of her sleeves making a spider-web pattern against her arm.

Against my will, my eyes were drawn to the four boxes again. Feeling sick, I jerked my gaze away, looking instead at the D&D books bulging in Sheila's bookshelf. She had the
Monster Manual,
too.

Sheila's eyes were narrow blue slits, sneering at every word I said. ‘What was in her knapsack?’ she barked.

I felt my face redden as I glanced at her. ‘You already know that from the re-enactment—’

‘Remind us, will you?’

‘Fine!’ My voice wavered. ‘There was the box with the necklace in it, and the book – and I think a bottle of Pepsi—’

Her nose jabbed at me like a pointing finger. ‘You
think
? Can't you even
try
to remember?’

‘I
am
—’

‘Look, let's go on to something else,’ broke in Rob,
tapping his fingers on the thigh of his jeans. ‘What sort of mood was Abby in? Did she seem upset or anything?’

Sheila flopped back against the headboard with her arms across her chest. ‘Probably she was fine until Emma here told her to piss off. Right, Emma?’

A prickling burned my throat. ‘We were
both
upset; it wasn't like—’

Gail looked up from her notebook. ‘Yeah, but do you think the stuff with you was all that was upsetting her? Or was there something else?’

I looked away, trying not to think of the cautiously happy look on Abby's face when she first caught sight of me. I could feel them all watching me. ‘It was just

– the stuff with me, I guess,’ I managed finally. Sheila's mouth twisted. ‘Yeah, what a total surprise. Right, next question. Did you—’