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We watch them all pile into the van and drive away. It's really quiet, obviously my turn to come up with a conversation starter, since I think I just screwed Eli out of his ride.

"I came with my sister, Hope. I assumed...I guess I'm walking. You?"

He motions to where the van disappeared down the street. "Yeah, me, too."

My place is at least a mile away and the buses have stopped running for the night. I should have asked about his plans to get home. But I didn't.

"I'm this way," I say, heading off and not bothering to ask if he needs to go in the same direction. I can't be alone just yet, so I'm hoping if I don't give him the option, he won't argue.

Thankfully, he nods and follows.

"Your band was really good." I'm still in awe about his buttery singing voice and for five minutes how light and unburdened I'd felt. He doesn't respond to my compliment and so I quickly rush on with, "Sorry you're stuck without a ride now."

"Nah. I like walking when the weather's decent."

He's being kind, kinder than I deserve, for sure, but have we really resorted to talking about transportation and the weather.

Then he says, "So a trip to a ghost town, huh? Tell me more."

I owe him at least that. Not that I know much. "My sister wants to go check something out. Honestly, I don't understand why, but my Dad, he disappeared yesterday, he's been missing ever since, and she seems to think this will help us find him." I'm sure the desperation is leaking out in my voice, even though I'm trying my best to hold it steady. I don't have a clue how to explain any of it, even to myself. "It's complicated."

"Disappeared? Like he took off?"

"Kind of. It's hard to explain. My dad's not really... he normally wouldn't leave on his own, so I'm not sure why..." When my frustration rises with each word and I can't seem to get the right ones out to explain it, he rescues me, taking over the conversation.

"I've always thought parents who raised someone like you must be, I don't know, prison wardens or leaders of biker gangs." He smiles crookedly at me, like he's making a joke. He has no idea. But then, he sees my serious face and it seems like he suddenly does. "Is that why you wanted to talk? You're really worried, aren't you?"

I shrug, because I've never felt so exposed to anyone in my life. "Yeah, I am."

He furrows his brow. "So he's been missing for how long?"

"Since yesterday evening, but he's not...stable. Mentally, I mean." I shake my head at my quiet words. I've never said this to anyone, not even Liz, although she's met Dad, so she knows at least some of it.

Eli looks back and forth over my eyes like he's reading them and I resist the urge to look away, because maybe if he can just read everything, I won't have to say it.

"He never usually leaves the apartment at night," I add.

"Is your mom helping to look for him?"

I let out a loud balk that's more of a release of stress than any kind of answer. "She's missing, too, but that part of the story is even more complicated."

We turn a corner and walk for a long time without talking. He opens his mouth to say something a few times, but then ends up shutting it again. Normally, I like it when people keep a fearful distance from me, but I wish I knew of a way to tell Eli that I'm not scary. Just really, really scared.

I let out an audible breath, a plea for him to say something, and finally he does, but the subject takes me by surprise.

"So last night at Chantal's party—?"

"I went home and he was gone." I try to swallow down my guilt, but it's probably written all over my face. I'm off at a party kissing a guy I barely know, and meanwhile, my mentally-unstable dad goes missing? And then, with him still missing, I'm hanging out at a concert at the park tonight?

To try and shake off these thoughts, I pull out my phone and dial our home number. There's still no answer, and when the voicemail picks up with Dad's cheery-if-medicated voice greets me, it kicks me in the gut the same as it does every time I call.

I can feel Eli watching me.

"Look, there's more to it than that." My voice goes hard, business-like. I go on to tell him about Hope showing up at school, how I'd never even known about my so-called sister, and then taking her home to meet Dad. I tell him about Dad's strange reactions to Hope and the bracelet that looks just like Vicki's, and Hope's disappearance from Chantal's party because the bracelet was somehow connected to my mom, who lives with Hope and I haven't seen in years, and yes, is missing, too. It all sounds so convoluted, to the point of being unbelievable, when I spell it out. "I have no idea why this bracelet might be important, but Hope had one like it, and when Dad saw it, he was strangely fixated on it, right before he disappeared. I'm going on what Hope tells me might lead us to them, because I have no idea what else to do. If I call the police, they'll put my dad away in an institution." By the end of my explanation, the stress in my voice is obvious.

He stares at me, just stares at me. I wonder if he thinks my dad needs an institution. I can't explain to him how that would kill me, to be abandoned by both of my parents and have nobody.

But, once again, he asks an unexpected question, as though he can perfectly sense my hot buttons and is more than happy to avoid them. "So this Hope girl, does she seem trustworthy to you?"

I shrug. "I have no idea. You've known her almost as long as I have. Trustworthy enough, I guess. But really cryptic."

"Maybe we'll get some more answers out of her tomorrow," he says.

"If she shows up," I mumble. As glad as I am that Eli's here with me now, I don't trust that he'll be back with his car in the morning, either. My trust issues aren't new, though.

"You're sure your dad hasn't been back home?" he asks.

"I've been calling nonstop and he would have called my cell if he'd come home. He calls to check on where I am all the time. I'm sure he'd be too worried about me." Before I can think through what I'm saying, I drop another vulnerable truth. "I'm kind of not looking forward to going back there, to our apartment. For Dad to still be gone."

I can't look at him, and he clearly has no response. We keep walking in silence until we get to my building. I look up at the four-story complex, like it's the first time I'm seeing it. Eli watches me, one arm on his backpack strap and the other in his jeans pocket.

Then he opens a hand toward me. "Do you want to give me your keys? I'll go and see?"

I've never wanted anything so much in my life. But then I blink a couple of times and straighten, needing to find my strength. "No. I can go." But I still don't make a move for the door.

He speaks quietly. "Well, we need to go and make sure, double-check he's not in there and unable to call out for some reason."

I almost whimper at this suggestion, but he's right, and I ball my fists and march toward the front door. He follows me up the steps and inside the building without a word. It's after midnight, so our building is silent.

When I open our apartment door, I take all of thirty seconds to check the whole place. "He's not here. Hasn't been here." I grab the phone handset from Dad's desk and check the voicemail. I go through and delete my slew of desperate-sounding messages, all of them except the first one—begging Dad to call my cell ASAP. I place the phone down and grip hard at the roots of my hair, needing to wake myself up, because this has to be a bad dream.

"Did he pack anything?" Eli asks. He's looking around in awe, like he never, ever, thought he'd be in my apartment.

I head for Dad's room. Eli follows, but stands in the doorway. Dad's clothes are still strewn all over the bed. I yank open the closet, and the dresser drawers. When I find Dad's gray robe, I throw it on top of the other clothes on the bed. "He must have at least changed clothes before he left," I tell Eli. "But I can't really tell if anything else is missing. Hope went through his stuff earlier and emptied it all out here."

"Razor? Toothbrush?" he suggests.

Those hadn't even occurred to me. He follows me into our small bathroom. Dad's shaving kit is on the counter and both of our toothbrushes are in the holder above the sink. Pill bottles litter the rest of the counter, which means Dad doesn't have his meds with him, wherever he is. He keeps a small stash in his car, but those are probably really old.

"Nope. It's all still here." I turn back to Eli, waiting for further direction.

He strokes his chin, thinking. "So he probably didn't plan to go anywhere. He either had a sudden reason he needed to leave, or he..."

He trails off and I finish his thought for him. "Or he was taken by force."

"But if he changed his clothes, I don't know, that doesn't sound like kidnapping to me. If your parents are both missing, maybe they just needed to have an overdue talk?"

I've been unconsciously holding my breath since Eli got here, waiting for him to come to the realization that we need to call the police, and doing anything else would be heartless. This, right now, is the first moment when I feel some sense of assurance that Eli may not think that. And so maybe I don't have to think that, either.

Of course, he's right, and the alternative is that my parents left together, except I have my doubts they're only gone for a short conversation. They've been gone for over twenty-four hours. More likely, I'm too much for both of them. They've both left me, and I'm really on my own now.

Eli stifles a yawn, and heads back for the living room.

When we get there, he glances at the couch, and then at me. "Hey, I know we don't know each other that well, but..." He glances at the couch again. Then at the door. Then at the couch again.

It probably takes too long to realize what he's hinting at, but when I get it, my voice comes out way too high-pitched and enthusiastic. "Oh! You want to crash here? Sure! That's great. No problem." He must hear the relief in my voice, so I go on, trying to even my voice out in order to cover. "Do you need anything?"

He shakes his head and pats his backpack. "I keep some stuff with me. Sometimes I crash at Sebastian's."

"I'll get you a blanket." I head for the hall closet, needing something to do, needing to keep my focus on blankets instead of my parents leaving me, but then return quickly when another thought occurs to me. "You know, if my dad comes back in the middle of the night, he'd probably pop an artery if he saw you on our couch."

Eli glances at the apartment door, his shoulders slumping. "Oh, yeah. Of course. I didn't think..." He reaches for his backpack, which he'd just set down.

"No, no. You can stay," I say, overlapping my words with his. Both of our statements are suddenly so uncomfortable, hanging in the air. "I meant that you should stay in my room." Only a second later, I realize by his reddening face, I've only increased the discomfort with what he thinks I'm suggesting. "I mean I'll take the couch." I pat a pillow on the couch and start spreading out a blanket, turning away to hide my three-hundred-degree face. "You know, in case my dad comes in."

I head for my room and he follows. I'm having a hard time comprehending that Eli, the guy I kissed last night, will be staying in my room. In my bed. But it really is the only answer, and I feel like keeping him here will keep me believing, even for a few hours, that maybe my parents are truly only off having a conversation. Then they'll both be back.

My room is messy, as usual, but even more so since the tornado of Hope searching it. Eli only stares around as I scoop a handful of black clothes from the floor and dump them in a hamper. The walls are the same cheerful pink from when I was a little girl and I can't help seeing this oddity through Eli's eyes. He looks at my desk, piled with papers and black eyeliners, my open closet, crammed with black clothes, and then back to the blank pink walls, with only a single poster of a ballerina on one wall. It had been Megan's favorite poster, and to this day I can't look at it without seeing my little sister doing a happy twirl.

My bed's a mess, too, but Eli doesn't seem to mind. He pulls the pink comforter back, and drops onto the edge like he's exhausted.

Then he looks at me with serious eyes. "You okay, Kass?"

I feel my insides crumble a little at his question. People don't ask me questions like this. People don't care.

The idea of both of my parents abandoning me hits me again with full force. The loneliness of this thought is almost too much to bear.

I clear my throat and force a nod. Then I brace myself against the doorframe, before my legs decide to drag me straight over toward him to collapse at his feet. I clear my throat again. "You know where the bathroom is, right?"

He nods, now with a small sweet smile. He feels sorry for me.

"Okay. Well. If you need anything else, let me know."

I head for the living room and let out a long-held breath as I get to the couch. I stare down at it for a long time before I finally decide I should be satisfied with knowing I don't have to be alone in my apartment, at least for tonight. He's here. He's right in the other room.

I fight hard at the urge to go back to him, but remind myself that if I stay out here on my own, lay down and go to sleep and get up tomorrow with a clearer head, I'll have nothing else to feel guilty about.

And with a smart, trustworthy guy like Eli to help me, maybe we really will find my dad. 

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