Page 22 of April Flowers

Margot’s head spun. Had she told the teenager that? Or did the teenager know her mother somehow? Then again, the teenager had just said she didn’t know who Lillian Earnheart was.

What was going on?

“What’s your name?” Margot demanded.

The girl shrugged. “I haven’t seen your mother. I came here looking for you.”

Margot felt as though she’d entered a twisted fairy tale. She put her face in her hands and breathed out all the air from her lungs.

Finally, she managed, “Why do you know who I am? Who are you?”

The teenager smiled and beckoned. “Let’s go inside.”

Margot sighed. “I don’t have a key. I can’t.”

“I found a way in,” the teenager said. “Come on. Follow me.”

With that, the teenager was whisked out of the boathouse and back into the light. Margot picked her way back through the chaos of fishing line and detritus, reaching the lawn just as the teenager picked the side door lock and waved for Margot to follow her.

Am I helping a stranger rob my mother’s house?Margot wondered.

But there were too many questions at play. She had to follow her. She had to understand.

Right before she entered the house—the house where she’d grown up, the only house she’d ever lived in before her escape to Boston—she reached for her phone, hoping to hear from Sam about her mother. But nobody had written to her except for Pete.

Pete had said: I left my cooking supplies at your house. Let me know when it’s feasible for me to come by and get them.

But in another text message immediately afterward, he made sure to add: I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t think we should see each other anymore. You aren’t good to me.

Margot let out a strange and exhilarating laugh. Pete felt as though he existed in another lifetime, as though he’d cooked Valentine’s dinner for her on another planet entirely.

From within the house came a sweet voice, “Are you coming, Margot?”

Margot shoved her phone back in her pocket. What could she do but go in?

Chapter Nine

Like a kid with an attitude problem, Noah was back in the counselor’s office. But this time, both he and Mr. Marcum stood, facing each other, their faces red. Noah was angrier than he’d been in a long time. He felt he couldn’t control himself, couldn’t stop his anxious thoughts from spewing out of his mouth. Attack mode.

“What do you mean? You don’t know when she left? You didn’t notice?”

Mr. Marcum flared his nostrils. “It seems that Avery’s fifth- and sixth-period teachers forgot to take attendance today. It’s possible she slipped out around lunch.”

“What kind of school are you running?” Noah demanded, immediately hating himself for taking it so far, for making it Mr. Marcum’s fault when he knew it wasn’t.

In reality, it was Noah’s fault. He’d known something was amiss today when Avery wanted to go to school so badly. It was too soon. But why hadn’t she called him to get picked up? Why hadn’t she called to say,I need help, Uncle Noah!

Because she was stubborn? Stubborn, like Mona was? Stubborn, like Noah was?

Stubbornness ran in the family. She came by it, honestly. But why did she have to make his life so hard right now? Why did she have to rub salt in the wound of his heart?

“Do you know what she’s been through lately?” Noah asked, surprising himself.

“She probably got overwhelmed and left campus,” Mr. Marcum said. “There are all sorts of coffee shops and restaurants a mile away from here. She’s probably holed up with a Coke and her phone, texting old friends from Boston. I would check there.”

“You don’t have any ideas for me? You don’t know how she slipped out?” Noah demanded.

“She’s new,” Mr. Marcum reminded him, as though he needed reminding. “The teachers and guards don’t know her face. Maybe they thought she was just visiting.”

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