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his father is the local weatherman, and he talks about storms and high pressure fronts more than anything else. I guess they make a cute couple.
    “Not at all,” Krystal says, smiling and grabbing her books. “I’ve got American History with Alyssa Turner.”
    Lindsey opens her mouth and sticks a finger inside like she’s gagging. “I don’t know what’s worse, history or Alyssa.”
    Alyssa Turner is the resident bitch at Settleman’s High. She hates any-and everyone who doesn’t live in Sea Point, the neighborhood where all the other Richies live. Because I liveonly two doors down from her, I guess that puts me square on her BFF list. Woo-hoo, for me.
    “I’ve got Chemistry,” I say, smiling at Lindsey. She’s different from anyone else in Lincoln. And I don’t know why, but I’m starting to like her.
    “Oh,” Franklin says, pausing.
    He and Krystal are walking in front of me and Lindsey. Jake is lagging behind me. So when Franklin stops, all of us stop.
    “Did you guys hear about the kids that are missing?”
    Krystal immediately frowns. “No. What are you talking about?”
    Franklin sort of shrugs. “I just got a tweet on Twitter,” he says motioning toward his cell phone that’s stuck in his front pocket. “It just said that this bus from Pennsylvania full of kids on some kind of religious retreat was due back two days ago. None of the parents have talked to their kids and the bus driver last checked in with the bus company on Friday afternoon.”
    “That’s way weird,” Lindsey says in a quiet tone. She’s holding her books in one hand, but the other hand moves to her temple where her fingers are massaging. “I hope they’re all right.”
    The second warning bell rings, and we all start walking to class. At first, everything seems routine just like any other school day. Except I know it isn’t. I feel it deep inside. I have a sick sense that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

five
    The dining room and half the veranda that wraps around the first floor of our house had been transformed while I was at school. Mouse brought me straight home as per my mom’s instructions. Coming through the front door, I hear the sound of crystal clinking as the caterers prepare for the party.
    There are at least twenty people dressed in black pants and black polo shirts with the catering company logo milling around the house. Strangers, is all I can think, as I bypass my usual trip to the kitchen for a snack. Casietta always has something for me to eat after school, something that isn’t precisely on my mom’s list of healthy diet food. Hey, I’m all for healthy, but every once in a while I’d like to eat something that really tastes good.
    My mother’s ban on any food that’s remotely appealing is killing me. I love cheeseburgers, absolutely adore them. Casietta knows this, and at least twice a month she makes sure she fixes one especially for me. In Casietta’s mind, if she fixes it, there’s no way it can be unhealthy. Now, I don’t know exactly what she puts into it, but it’s pretty good. However, nothing beats a value meal, which Jake and I order most of the times we visit the one and only mall near Lincoln.
    Today I’ll have to forgo the snack. My mom’s home. I hear her voice trilling through the rooms downstairs. She’s giving orders, making arrangements, all the things she does best. I’mgoing to my room. In less than four hours I have to put on this stupid outfit she purchased and go downstairs to mingle with people I barely know and probably won’t like. I guess I shouldn’t say that since I really don’t know who’s coming to this party. Lincoln’s rich and famous is what Mom had said. The classy and elite is what Dad called them. I’m thinking they’re probably all stuck-up and snooty and boring as hell.
    I slam my door closed and drop my books to the floor. Homework is a thought, but I can usually do that in the car on the way to school. I just plop down on my bed