Page 95 of Creed

“No.” I chew on my lip. “Four months ago, she didn’t stay here for a week, and whenever I met her at school, she looked happy as hell. Then, these past months, she’slookedlike hell. She’d never talk about it, though.”

“She seemed to be a little better these past two months,” Zac murmurs. “But she wouldn’t open up to me, either.”

I force back the tears that want to burst free. “Zac, what do we do? I’m really worried.”

“Call the police?”

“And say what?” I know at this point they’ll just roll their eyes at me with the ‘evidence’ I have.

“Right. There’s probably like some rule of her having to be missing for twenty-four hours or shit, right?”

With the text saying she is gone for the weekend, would they not start the twenty-four hours until after the weekend? That could mean they wouldn’t contemplate looking into Sophie’s absence until Monday night or the next day. And who knows what could happen to her during that time?

Tears well in my eyes as the panic and worry rise again.

“I’ll call the president of the university,” Zac says.

I angrily wipe my tears. “Of course, you have him on speed dial.”

“And good thing, too, yeah?” he snaps.

“Sorry.”

He sighs. “I have a buddy with campus security, I’ll see what they have to say about what happened. If that story wasn’t fake news, they should be interviewing some of the students.”

“Okay. You’ll call them right away?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know; maybe because you’re high as hell?”

He grumbles something, then sighs. “Sit tight. I’ll call you back.”

I make sure my phone ringer is on and pace the room. Jaxon comes and goes after I yell through the door that I’m not coming. I keep getting messages in the group chat about what has gone down. No one in the chat actually saw it themselves, and it’s all rumors. Some even said they were sure theyjustsaw Sophie getting on a bus and tell me not to worry. I’m not sure what to believe.

I'm obsessively checking my phone to ensure I haven’t missed a call and to make sure I have service as I pace. My lip is raw from chewing on it.

When my phone rings in my clutched hand, I jump but answer it quickly. “What did they say?” I ask Zac.

“It seems like fake news.”

“What?”

“The president just dismissed it as some kind of prank or glory story, so I called Jack, my buddy with the security team.”

“And?”

“He said there’s nothing on the security feeds that has a guy coming down any of the campus pathways on a motorcycle.”

“Did they talk to any of the students?”

“No. There’s no video to corroborate, and the president told security it wasn’t a high priority. It’s just a group trying to sensationalize shit or something. Plus, the security needed to go to a frat house because some students had done too much coke and were freaking out. The president said that was the priority to contain and do damage control so those rich assholes didn’t end up in jail or the news.”

I close my eyes, feeling at a loss.

“What if you call Soph’s uncle?”

“Antonio?” I wonder again how Zac, a casual classmate at best and a periodic study partner at most, has such insight into my roommate.

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