“No! It’s because of him. He’s the one who can’t accept what we have. He’s the one in the wrong, not us.”

  “He’s a good man, Cassie.”

  “I know that. Or at least I always thought he was, up until now. If he’s the reason I can’t be with you, then I don’t know how I can ever forgive him.”

  Now Nick turned to me urgently. “But you have to, Cassie. He’s your family, and he only wants what’s best for you. He wants you to live your life fully. To be young and carefree and explore your options. And then when you are ready to settle down, to meet someone your own age. Someone at the same place in his life. And that’s not me. It can’t be.”

  “Did my dad say that? Because he’s wrong, Nick. He’s wrong. What I need is you. The man who makes me feel so alive that every day is a gift. The man who makes me feel so special. The man I think about every waking moment. I want you. What my father wants shouldn’t factor into it.”

  “But it does. I’m sorry, but it does. There’s no future for us if your family won’t accept us. And he is right about our ages. You should be out there, living life to the fullest. Choosing your major. Meeting guys your age. Maybe studying or working overseas. You’ve got all this time ahead of you. When I was your age, there was so much I wanted to do. That’s where you are now, but it’s not where I am. I’ve done that, and now I’m ready for… a different phase of my life to begin.”

  He squeezed my hand and then let it go. “I’m sorry, Cassie, but we can’t do this anymore.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I CRIED OFF and on for the next seventy-two hours. At times I’d cry myself to sleep, and when I’d wake up, I’d wonder why I had a headache. Why I had such a sense of impending doom. And then I’d remember what happened and start crying all over again.

  Mom would come up to bring me food, rub my back, try to get me to get out of bed, but I didn’t want to leave my room. Sometimes, just for a change of pace, I’d spend a few hours sitting in the window seat in my room, watching the rain hit the windows. The wind smacked palm fronds against the glass, but otherwise, it was just the rain, running down the panes in little streams.

  “Please, Cassie, you have to eat something.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She went to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, returning to wipe down my face. “I know things look bleak right now, but you have to eat. Come downstairs. We’ve got some candles set up, we can listen to the storm together.”

  “I’m not going down there if he’s there.” And then a moment or two later, her words sunk in. “Candles?”

  “The power’s out from Tropical Storm Ginger—didn’t you notice?”

  But I hadn’t. Electricity didn’t matter much when a steady stream of salty tears leaked from behind my closed eyelids.

  “Come downstairs. Please, Cassie. For me.”

  Since she was the only member of my immediate family still speaking to me, I supposed I could do this for her. “All right.”

  She left, and I freshened up a little, changing into jeans and a sweatshirt. Something about the storm outside made me want to bundle up a little. As I went through the motions of being a normal, non-heartbroken person, I couldn’t stop thinking about Nick. In such a short time, he’d come to mean so much to me. I loved him. I wanted a future with him. Why couldn’t he see that? But even if he could, my dad never would.

  Moving carefully down the dark steps, I entered the living room, relaxing a little when I saw that it was just my mom. She handed me something. I sniffed it—hot chocolate. It weather was as hot as ever, but the fierce winds and driving rains made us both in the mood for comfort and warmth.

  I sat on the sofa and tucked my feet up underneath me, sipping my drink. Mom had some tea, and for a while we sat in silence in the dark. A perfect metaphor for my life right now.

  And then Dad came in. He did a double-take when he saw me, and I stiffened, but neither of us acknowledged the other. Instead, he turned to my mom.

  “I’ve got to go to school.”

  “What?” Mom yelped a little louder than necessary—I suspect she’d spilled her hot tea in surprise. “Have you seen the way it’s blowing out there? It’s not safe, Rob.”

  “I know. That’s why I have to go. There’s a girl missing. A fifteen-year-old named Ariel.”

  Now my head swung around. Mom asked the question I wanted to ask. “What do you mean missing?”

  “She never came home after school yesterday. At first her mother thought she was with a friend. But then with the storm, she started getting worried. She said that Ariel hasn’t been herself lately. The girl’s been acting moody. Depressed. The mother’s very worried about her.”

  “Have the police been called?”

  “Yes, they’re looking too. But they’re spread really thin with all the downed power lines, and tree branches blocking the road. They’re doing the best they can, but it’s not enough.” Dad looked out the window at the dark shapes blowing, and I followed his gaze. To think that a girl was missing in this storm. It was an awful thought.

  “But why do you have to go to the school?” Mom wanted to know. “Did Ni—did the administration ask you to?”

  “No. They just sent out a message to all of us,” Dad said, holding up his phone. “And it made me think. The police searched the school and are looking other places now, but that place is huge. It’s laid out like a maze,” he said, and for the first time he looked over to me. I nodded once. He was right.

  “What if she’s still there? Hurt or scared or something. We live so close, it’s easier for me to get there than other teachers. I just can’t sit here knowing that there’s the small chance she could be there.”

  “I’ll go too,” Mom said, but she looked apprehensive. She’d always been unreasonably fearful driving in any kind of inclement weather.

  My father knew that. “You stay here, Gwen. A tree branch could come crashing through a window at any minute. Someone needs to watch things here at home.”

  After a long moment, she nodded. “Please be careful, Rob. Really careful. If it’s not safe to get there, just turn back, okay?”

  “I promise,” he said. He moved toward the closet with the raincoats, and I stood up and did the same.

  “Cassie?” Mom said, fear in her voice again. “You have to stay here, too.”

  “I know that school as well as anyone,” I said, my voice rusty from disuse. “Better than most. I’m going.”

  She came over and gave us both hugs. Without speaking my dad and I donned boots and jackets and then backed the SUV out into the storm.

  * * *

  The storm was worse than anything I’d seen in a long time, though usually I wasn’t out driving during tropical storms or hurricanes. There were tree branches and debris all over the road, but nothing that blocked both lanes.

  The high school itself had fared pretty well. No windows appeared to be broken. But it looked dark and foreboding. If Ariel was in there, it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. But if she was out in the storm, it was worse.

  Dad pulled up out front, leaving the SUV at the curb, well away from any trees. He handed me two flashlights, grabbed a few of his own, and we ran for the front door of the building. By the time he got it unlocked, we were both soaked.

  Once inside, I did my best to wring out my hair and clothes. I should have brought some dry things in a plastic bag, but I’d live. Finding Ariel was more pressing. We left our jackets by the door and headed deeper into the school, losing the light from the windows behind us.

  “Where should we start?”

  I jumped at the sound of Dad’s voice. It was the first direct thing he’d said to me in days.

  “I was thinking maybe G-wing. There are so many unused classrooms down there.” G-wing was one of the oldest parts of the school. Originally, the school had been an elementary school that held just a hundred students or so. Since then, it had gone through numerous expansions. The resulting building today was a lot like a labyrinth.

  We walked in silence past the hallways leading to the cafeteria and gym. The sound of the storm was no longer audible, but the air felt still and oppressive. Leading the way, I rounded a corner and saw a beam of light in front of me.

  “Ariel?” I called out. But then a tall figure materialized out of the dark.

  “It’s just me.” It was Nick armed with flashlights of his own. I wanted to run to him. I wanted to throw myself in his arms. I wanted to beg him to be with me, but I couldn’t do any of those things. Not with my disapproving father right next to me. And not with a girl missing.

  “We’re going to go search the G-wing.”

  “Good idea,” Nick said, his eyes jumping back and forth between my dad and me. “I searched A, and I was about to go to E.”

  “Let us know if you find anything,” my dad said gruffly.

  “You too,” Nick said, and we went our separate ways.

  * * *

  Cautiously, I crept along the narrow hallway. Dad and I had split up when we’d gotten to G-wing. Here at this end, it was possible to hear the storm again. All in all, my two flashlights did little to make this place seem less like a haunted house. If a ghost drifted out from the wall, I really wouldn’t have been too surprised. Scared to death, but not surprised.

  “Ariel?” I called. My voice was still scratchy, probably from all the crying, but I kept calling. It was such a pretty name. I just hoped that its owner was safe somewhere.

  At the end of the hallway, I looked out into the night. The trees were blowing as hard as ever, but as they whipped back and forth, I got glimpses of a dark shape, another building. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to picture what this area looked like when it wasn’t dark and scary as hell. Ah. That must be the old Goodwin Theater. Fifty years or so ago, it had been used for student plays and productions.

  Would there be any chance that she’d gone out there? But even as I pressed my nose against the glass on the heavy door, I rejected that idea. There was no way I’d go out there in this kind of storm, and I doubt she would have, either. The moment I stepped outside, assuming I could even push the heavy door open in the wind, I’d be locked out. And the door of the old theater would be locked too. But wait…

  Some memory was struggling to the surface… something from my last year of high school. I remembered squealing as Brad chased me, threatening to tickle me if he caught me. We’d playfully run up and down hallways, with so many places to hide, darting up and down the stairs when the other got too close.

  Stairs! That was it. There was a way to get to the Goodwin Theater from the basement.

  Ten minutes later, I was covered in dust and panning my weakening flashlight beam over an ancient, eighty-seat theater. Spiderwebs were everywhere, and the red velvet covering the seats was in tatters.

  “Ariel? Ariel, are you here?”

  Nothing. Just stillness. Darkness. And then… a sob.

  “Ariel? Is that you? Please tell me. I’ve been looking for you. My name is Cassie. I used to go to school here.”

  My words echoed in the silence, but this time I felt certain I wasn’t alone. “Are you hurt? I want to help. Please say something.”

  At long last, a small voice floated through the darkness. “I’m here.”

  Thank god. I almost slumped to my knees with relief. “I’ve got an extra flashlight. Tell me where you are, and I’ll bring it to you.”

  No answer.

  “Ariel, are you hurt?”

  A long pause and then, “No.”

  I honestly couldn’t tell where the small voice was coming from. The noise of the storm was still pretty loud. I moved cautiously down an aisle, pointing my flashlight all around.

  “I’m going to bring you that flashlight, okay Ariel? Won’t that be nice so that you can see?”

  Another pause, and then. “Yes.”

  “Good,” I said, mustering cheerfulness I didn’t feel. “So, did you get stuck here in the storm after school? Maybe you wanted to go home, but the weather was too bad?”

  “I didn’t want to go home.” The soft voice seem to be coming from my left. Once I reached the rickety old stage, I could veer that way.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want them to find out.”

  “Them who, Ariel?”

  “My mom. My stepdad. They’ll hate me.”

  “They’re very worried about you. They want you to come home. Why would they hate you?” I’d reached the far aisle, and I could hear her sobs more clearly now.

  “Because I did something bad. Something wrong.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure they’ll understand. That’s what parents do.”

  “No, they won’t. They’ll be disappointed.”

  “Disappointed why?”

  “Disappointed that I’m going to have a baby.”

  Oh, that poor girl. She was pregnant? And she hadn’t told anyone? That was something that someone my age would have trouble dealing with by herself, let alone a fifteen-year-old. “They’re your family, Ariel. They love you. They’re worried about you and they want you home safe. That’s all that matters right now.”

  A figure was lying on the carpet, halfway up the aisle. Cautiously, I moved toward her. “There you are. Let me get that flashlight for you.” And as I moved toward her, as the light hit her torso, I gasped. I’d been wrong. Getting her home was not the only thing that mattered right now. Because I’d misunderstood her before. She hadn’t meant that she was having a baby in the future.

  She meant she was having one right now.

  Chapter Twelve

  “OH GOD, IT hurts,” Ariel cried. I was on the floor behind her, holding her upper body against me as I’d seen a midwife do in a movie once. Not that I knew what I was doing. I hadn’t the slightest clue. “You’re going to just be fine. An ambulance is on its way,” I said, omitting the part about how they said it might take over an hour in this storm.

  But closer help was on its way, too. “And my dad’s here. Do you know him? Robert Davis, he teaches history. And Principal Conner is here, too.”

  “Principal Hotter?” she said weakly, surprise in her voice, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I should have known that the high school girls would’ve had some kind of nickname for a man as handsome as Nick.

  “Cassie?”

  Nick was here, thank god. “Over here! In the aisle on the left.”

  A beam of light swept over our heads. “Regular left or stage left?” came his slightly exasperating question.

  “Just find us!” I shouted, and a minute later he did.

  He knelt down next to us and took Ariel’s hand. “I’m Principal Conner. I’m very glad to see you.”

  “You too,” she said weakly and then cried out again.

  “Is she having contractions?” he asked, looking above Ariel’s head at me.

  “I think so. She’s crying out pretty frequently. Where’s my dad?” He should be here. Of the four of us, he was the only one who’d been present at a delivery. My delivery. So, technically, I guess that meant that both of us had been there.

  “I couldn’t find him. But I heard him in the distance, heading this way. I think he got your text. He’ll find us eventually.”

  Ariel cried out again. “It really hurts.”

  “Squeeze my hand when it gets bad.”

  But she wasn’t looking for pain-management techniques. “Please,” she said, panting. “Please don’t tell my mom.”

  There was a curse as something clattered from across the way. It sounded like my dad had found the theater. “We’re over here,” I called out and then spoke to Ariel as he made his way toward us. “Your mom needs to know about this, Ariel. She can help you. That’s what parents do.”

  My dad appeared, took in the sight of the three of us huddled on the ground, and immediately started wedging flashlights in the seats around us to give us light. “You called an ambulance?”

  “Yes.”

  Ariel cried out again. I needed to distract her. “Why didn’t you tell your mom about this?”

  “I just couldn’t. I knew she’d be so mad. When I got bigger, I wore all these baggy clothes, and I stayed away from home as much as I could. I figured I could refuse to tell the hospital my name and then afterward, ask them to take it to one of those safe haven places, like a fire house. Then mom would never know. But then this pain started, and with the storm, I didn’t know how to get to the hospital, so I stayed here. Please don’t tell my mom.”

  “Listen to me,” I said hugging the younger girl tightly trying to support her weight as she leaned against me. “Your mom will understand. She’ll help you. That’s what parents do. They support their children, no matter what.” I couldn’t quite bring myself to look at my dad when I said that.

  “It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” Ariel said, weeping. “We can’t get to the hospital and the baby’s going to die.”

  “Don’t say that,” Nick said sharply. “We’re here to help. Mr. Davis here has been a father for twenty years. He knows what to do with a baby. And I take a first aid and emergency response class every Tuesday night.”

  “You do?” Dad asked.

  “Yes. I figured it was a good idea since I’m in charge of a school with a thousand teens who think they’re invincible.”

  “Does the class cover childbirth?” I asked.

  “It does—starting next week,” Nick said, and I groaned. I was pretty sure that Ariel wasn’t following this. Sweat poured down her body, and she was whimpering pretty much constantly now.

  “I think she’s getting close.” I could actually feel her body tense with each contraction, and they were even closer together now.

  “Okay, Ariel, listen to me. Are you listening?” Nick said. He pushed her hand at me and I took it, squeezing it as he had. “Does it feel like you should push?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice a long hiss of pain.