Chapter 1
Rebecca
2020 - Present
Rebecca had thought her sister’s safe return would end her obsession with child abduction cases, yet somehow her walk has led her to the same Missing Person poster for the second day in a row.
The first time she had the excuse that sidewalk construction blocked her normal route. But today she actually chose this direction, although it brought her to a dark and dreary section of town. The buildings on either side of the street are stark and far-reaching, marked by splotches of mud and graffiti at their lower levels. Trash spills out from alleyways, suspicious-looking characters lurk in doorways, and the stench of urine overpowers every other smell.
As before, she has paused at the flyer tacked onto the utility pole near the X-rated bookstore. It looks like someone produced it using their crappy inkjet printer at home. The black ink is faded, and the white spaces are grimy. At the bottom, the paper has been cut into matching strips with the phone number printed on them. It’s an old-fashioned thing to do in the age of the cell phone. But maybe it’s only her place of privilege that makes it difficult for her to imagine someone tearing off a slip of paper instead of saving the number on their cell with a photo.
A thirteen-year-old child is pictured on the notice. Rebecca knows his age because it says so at the bottom. He has coffee-colored skin, rosebud lips, and charcoal hair cut close to his scalp. No smile. He looks impatient. Is it because he really doesn’t want his picture to be taken? Or he’s anxious to be somewhere? Or he’s weary of a world that’s become all too much for him?
The text underneath the photo says, MISSING. Ethan Pitt. Last seen on … a date that’s roughly a year ago. The text includes the name of the city where he lives, and an exhortation to call the number “if you have any information regarding his whereabouts.”
She doesn’t call the number, but does Google his name and the date he vanished. One small news item turns up, reporting his disappearance several days after it happened. That’s all. There is no further mention of him on the Internet. No way to know if he simply ran away and later returned home, or if he’s still missing, or if his body has been found and whether his death was ruled an accident, suicide, or murder.
Simply no information at all.
Her thoughts fly to her sister Sadie. It was a huge story when she was kidnapped. She was an adorable little white girl. Though they failed, law enforcement put a great deal of effort into searching for her. Local police and the FBI vied for control of the investigation. News services swarmed their family and friends. Until they didn’t.
Who cries for Ethan Pitt? she wonders.
Chapter 2
Ethan
Ethan slouches in front of the classroom, his hands trembling as he clutches the paper. “Amari is gathering wood for the fire when he hears the first scream coming from the village. Soon the air is filled with the cries of women and the shouts of men. Though the sound terrifies him, Amari runs fleet-footed back to the king tree and peeks out from behind it to find out what has happened.
“The invaders have pink skin, pinched features, and thick clothing that covers every part of them except their faces and hands. They have surrounded the villagers, including Amari’s own parents and older sister. When Chikere—a young man who carves wood into animal shapes—tries to escape, one of the invaders snaps a rope at him. It cuts into his back and causes him to bleed. His anguished cry pierces Amari through the heart.
“The invaders bind the villagers one to another using a chain made of a hard, inflexible material like stone, not like the grasses his mother weaves into rope. They work quickly, before the villagers can figure out how to resist them. The invaders are, in fact, smaller and weaker than the men of Amari’s village, but there are more of them, and they have used the advantage of surprise to good effect.
“Amari watches, frozen in fear and indecision. What can he, a thirteen-year-old boy, do to save his loved ones? He remains in hiding while everyone he knows in the world is shepherded away by the invaders.
“During the night, he curls up into a ball and weeps. But in the morning, the sunrise brings him new courage. He takes the spear that belongs to his father and a small supply of food and water before setting out to track the invaders and save his village.”
Ethan lowers the paper and glances at Mr. Flannery, hoping to be allowed to sit down. But his teacher is slumped at his desk, looking oddly shrunken in his jacket that seems too large for him, and his neck extending forward like a turtle’s. He peers at his students through his oversized black-rimmed glasses with the same expression he always wears—like he’s resigned to bearing the burden of the world upon his shoulders.
“Pink skin?” Malcolm asks. No one ever waits to be called on in this class. It takes much worse infractions to trigger their teacher’s temper. The cold venom that emerges during those rare moments is a terrible thing to witness, however.
“They have sunburns,” Ethan says. “You know? White guys in Africa? They’re gonna have sunburns.”
Mr. Flannery, whose fungus green sweater contrasts with his own pasty hue, makes no comment.
“Why’d you say the women cry and the men shout?” Yolanda asks. “Seems really gender-biased.”
Ethan was expecting this. He saw her scribbling a note to herself when he said that. Yolanda’s comments are always about gender bias. “Yeah, I guess,” he says. “I’ll change it.” It’s easier not to argue with her, and anyway, he doesn’t care about the kids in the back who snicker.
“What’s a king tree?” This from the new student. Ethan doesn’t remember his name.
“It’s just what they call it. The biggest tree around, you know?”
“Ethan, you can sit.” Though he enunciates every word, Mr. Flannery’s sentences have a way of sounding flat. “Class, after hearing this first chapter, who wants to read more?”
Several hands shoot up while others give an unenthusiastic wave. The troublemakers in the back raise bored eyes to the clock.
Ethan drops into his front-row seat with relief. He wasn’t happy when his teacher picked him to read his homework aloud, particularly since he didn’t come up with the story idea himself. It begins like many told to him by his uncle over the years. Still, Ethan added his own details and came up with the wording. Uncle Ray never gave him written copies of his stories, though he had binders full of his handwritten scrawl. According to his uncle, Ethan has a way with language and he’s miles ahead of other kids his age in writing skills. His problem is a lack of original ideas. When he started the assignment, he stared for hours at the blank page before deciding there wouldn’t be any harm in borrowing from Uncle Ray.
Mr. Flannery zeroes in on Teshi, who’s bent over her desk doodling on a piece of paper. “Why didn’t you raise your hand when I asked who wanted to read more of Ethan’s story?”
Ethan is thinking, Why’d he have to ask her?
“I do wanna read it.” Teshi says.
“Okay then. Why?”
“Cuz Ethan wrote it. Gotta be good. Learned that shit from his uncle.” Teshi flashes Ethan a knowing smile. The two of them hung together a lot in elementary school, and Teshi has listened to plenty of Uncle Ray’s stories.
Mr. Flannery tolerates swearing unless someone goes on a rant. “You mean you trust Ethan to tell a good story?”
“Like I said. Got it from his uncle.” Teshi seems one slip of the tongue away from accusing Ethan of plagiarism.
“How else does Ethan hook us into his story?” Mr. Flannery’s gaze flicks across the room.
The bell rings, putting an instant end to any discussion. Chairs scrape as students leap up, forcing Mr. Flannery to raise his voice. “Work on your next chapters. I’ll be picking someone else to read next time.”
No one is listening anymore as they jostle to be first to the door. When Ethan reaches the hallway, Teshi catches up to him. “Weird,” she says. “The pink faces, the king tree … feel like I heard that shit before.”
He twists the dark brown and blue braided leather wristband his father gave him and tries to move past her. But there’s a scent surrounding her, something delightful like peaches and honey, that makes him pause and look up. For the first time, it hits him how pretty she is. She used to be a scrawny little thing, and now she’s taller than him. Though she’s still thin, curves are forming in all the right places. Her smile radiates warmth and light and makes him helpless to do anything but smile back.
“Did you see these?” She nods down at her feet.
“Who’d you have to rob to pay for those fire Air Jordans?” he says. Teshi’s family is dirt poor and probably ten bucks away from homeless. Maybe that wasn’t nice of him to say, but he hasn’t gotten over being annoyed with her.
His jab doesn’t faze her, though. “What you gonna pay me to find out?” She parades her feet down the corridor, in no hurry to get to her next class.