Page 11 of Psyop Kings

She chuckles. “That seems like a stretch. Let me guess, you’re knee-deep in Professor Bolton’s infamous conspiracy theory project.”

“Yes, but this has nothing to do with that. She just disappeared without telling anyone.” My frustration builds. “Do you have a contact number for her parents?”

Shaking her head, she mashes a button, and the screen minimizes. “I’m afraid I can’t give you that information, hon. I’m sorry.”

“What if she’s hurt?”

Mrs. Caplan frowns. “I’m sure she’s fine.” She lets out a soft sigh and then gives me a pitying stare. “Some students find that they’re way out of their depth when they come to college. I’ve seen them do lots of strange things. Ghosting their friends is more common than you think. She’s probably just embarrassed she quit. It’s not an easy thing to admit.”

This woman truly believes everything’s perfectly fine.

It’s not fine.

“I don’t know what to do,” I mutter. “What if you’re wrong and she’s been kidnapped?”

Her smile falters and I can see it in the twitch in her eye that she’s losing patience with me. “There’s nothing for you to do except go back to your room or class or wherever you’re supposed to be right now. I’m sure when the time is right, MissBenson will reach out to you. If not, it’s something you’ll have to accept. I’m sorry I can’t help you any more than that.”

Gritting my teeth together, I stand and try not to hiss in frustration. “I guess I’ll just have to make a police report then,” I threaten. “I won’t let her disappearance get swept under the rug.”

Mrs. Caplan also stands. She reaches over and pulls open a drawer. I see a blue pamphlet in her hand. My stomach does a nervous flip.

“Is that CUP—”

“This service is totally free for students,” Mrs. Caplan interrupts. “At USC, we care deeply about our students’ mental health. I strongly encourage you to go have a chat with the folks over there. It’s just one building over.”

I pluck the pamphlet from her hand and stare at the picture of a woman with her face buried in her hands.

Depressed? Anxious? Overwhelmed? We can help.

Heat creeps up my cheeks. I quickly turn away from her so she doesn’t see my visible shame. Muttering out my thanks, I stalk out of her office, making sure to toss the pamphlet on chemistry girl’s desk on the way past.

I’m not crazy. I’m not.

Megan Benson is missing, and no one seems to care.

I care.

I’m going to find you, Megan.

That’s what friends do.

They don’t give up.

Iwon’tgive up.

Romy

It’s been three maddening days. Three days of unread texts, unanswered calls, and voicemails that will no doubt also go ignored.

Is that what this is?

Is Megan ghosting me?

No.

No matter how much I want to put this on me, I can’t. It’s not about me. I’m making it about me because my obsessive, anxious thoughts always go there, but deep down, I know the truth.

Something happened.

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