Favorite song?
I start to smile. Nina’s favorite song is
Happy Birthday
.
I type it in. Hit return.
The screen goes white and a tiny globe spins in the upper right corner of the screen, and then a new message appears.
Welcome, Nina Wrigley.
“Holy fuck,” Sean says.
I click on billing history archive. There are only two charges.
One for $855 at Edge Sports in Edgebridge, Illinois, three weeks before she disappeared. And one for $11.90 at a place called Sweetie’s Diner in Pointview, Nebraska, a week after she was gone.
“Nebraska,” I say. “What the hell was she doing there?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe we should go and find out.”
I turn toward Sean.
Is he serious?
He cocks his head toward the door.
I raise my eyebrows.
He grins.
Holy shit, I think he’s actually serious.
But can I really do this?
I stare down at the computer. Sean is almost a complete stranger. But somehow I feel like I already know him. And he really seems to want to help me. And right now he’s the only person in my life who does. And I need to find Nina. And this might be my only chance…
I look at Sean again. He’s staring at me, smiling, nodding slightly.
I take a deep breath.
I nod back.
And that’s how it’s decided.
T
he summer I was twelve my mother sent Nina and me to stay with our Great-aunt Cynthia at her beach house. Our mother had insisted it would be good for us to have a change of scenery, to get out in the sea air, and spend time with our aunt. “But what she really means,” Nina had told me, the night before we left, as she stuffed her old blue duffel bag with handfuls of tank tops, “is that it will be good for her to have us gone.”
“Seriously,” I had said, and rolled my eyes in agreement.
But secretly, I was thrilled about the trip. I loved my aunt’s weird house and the warm Dr. Peppers she kept in the pantry and the lemony soap in the bathroom and the fact that her house was so close to the beach that sand blew in under the door and one time we found a sand crab walking around the living room like he owned the place. But what I was most excited about was the promise of an entire summer of just me and Nina.
Nina complained a lot leading up to the trip, but everything changed after we boarded the train for our aunt’s house. We walked through the train car until we found two empty seats. Without speaking, Nina stopped, stood on her tiptoes, and pushed both our bags up into the racks. Then she turned toward me, gave me her crazy-looking Nina-grin and said, “Looks like it’s just you and me now, buddy,” and flopped down into her seat.
Suddenly she was back to her regular self. And when the ticket taker came by and said “tickets, please,” Nina turned toward me and winked like “check
this
out” and said to the ticket taker, in a flawless French accent, “Oh, but ov course, here arr our teeckets.” And the ticket taker, a nice-looking older gentleman, took the tickets and smiled, not the humoring smile of an adult who was on to her joke, but the smile of a man who thinks it’s charming that two French sisters were traveling together on his train.
And when the ticket taker walked away, Nina turned toward me and smiled. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, El, this summer we are from France.”
And I just nodded and grinned right back, because this was turning out even better than I could have hoped. I remember leaning back with my knees against the back of the seat in front of me, looking out the window at the power lines and trees whizzing by, sucking the last bits of Sprite off the ice cubes in my plastic cup, giddy with anticipation of
what was ahead. I felt like I’d won a fabulous prize in a contest I hadn’t even known I’d entered—without Nina’s friends around, I had been promoted to the number one spot. I wasn’t just her little sister anymore, I was half of Team Nina, which was just about the best thing a person could ever hope for.
The first four days were perfect. In the mornings we went to the beach, with a bag of books and Nina’s iPod, and lay out on our towels and talked in our accents and discussed the details of our made-up French lives: We were the daughters of French aristocrats and we lived in a French mansion and had a pet dog named Bijoux. Every so often, while we were walking on the beach Nina would just call out, “Bijoux? Come heeeere Bijoux? Where are you,
mon cherie
!?!” as though Bijoux was missing and we were out looking for her. At some point every day we’d go swimming and at some point after that we’d eat lunch and take a walk on the boardwalk and then maybe play Skee-Ball or something, then eat dinner. Our aunt let us do pretty much whatever we wanted, so long as we stayed together and were home by nine. Every day felt so magical and amazing and unreal in its preciousness. I must have somehow known it couldn’t really last.
On the fifth day Nina met Nick. I knew from the first moment he came up to us, tall and lanky in low-hanging surf shorts, bearing two “lemonade Popsicles,” that he was going to ruin the rest of my summer. I wanted him to go away. I wanted to tell him that really lemonade was our least favorite
flavor of Popsicle. And if he knew anything, he would have known that most reasonable people like cherry the best and then grape and then orange, in that order. I also wanted to mention that, by the way, when lemonade is made into a Popsicle, you’re just supposed to call it a
lemon
Popsicle, you don’t need to say the “ade” part. But Nina just accepted the Popsicles with a flirty smirk and a coy
merci
. And in that moment something shifted. Up until then I’d thought the accents were about me and Nina having a joke together, but as it turned out, I was very wrong. I was welcome to participate in the joke, but it was her joke. Not mine. And watching Nina “ex-Q-zeh mwa see voo play” with Nick gave me that sudden sickening feeling that comes along with the dawning of some obvious but unfortunate realization—my sister was a person even when I wasn’t with her. And most of what she did in the world had nothing to do with me.
After that, Nina and I had a new routine: We’d get up, pack our bag, and go to the beach, and then I’d spend the rest of the day all by myself under the umbrella, with the books and her iPod, while she went off with Nick and his group of surfer friends. I was always invited along, but I never went. They were only asking because they felt obligated, which made sense since they were all sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen and I was only twelve.
At night Nina and I would lie in our beds in the room we were sharing, with the window opened and the warm salt
air blowing in past the blue and white striped curtains. “Isn’t it wonderful here?” she’d say. “Don’t you just want to stay here forever?” But she was talking to herself then, not to me.
And that is how the summer passed.
The night before we were set to leave, we packed our stuff and went to bed. Sometime in the middle of the night I awoke to the sound of Nina sneaking out. I still remember what she looked like climbing through the bedroom window in a white sundress, running across the lawn, her sun-bleached hair flying behind her as she went. I got up then, stood there at the window waving, but she never looked back to see.
She returned sometime before dawn that morning, and cried quietly into her pillow. Somehow I knew I was supposed to pretend to be asleep.
I
t’s an hour later, and we’re in the car, zooming west. I turn toward Sean, I still can’t quite believe we’re really doing this. “And you’re
sure
?” I say. “I mean, you’re
sure
you don’t mind doing all this driving and everything?”
Sean shakes his head. “Ellie, I once drove to Canada for pancakes in the middle of the night because I didn’t like the syrup they gave me at IHOP. I love driving. It’s like playing the world’s most realistic driving video game! Besides,” he turns toward me and grins. “After this you’ll owe me.” I blush and grin back.
I guess if there’s one thing I have learned about the world, it’s this: Things can always, always, always change, and those big changes often come a lot faster than you think. No matter how many times I learn this lesson, it feels like a new one. Less than three hours ago I was standing behind the counter at Mon Coeur, about to cry, and now I’m in a car on my way to Nebraska with a cute guy that I barely know.
There’s a chirping sound, like a bunch of birds singing at once. Sean reaches behind him on the seat where his phone
has fallen out of his pocket. “What’s that say?” Sean asks. “I have a phone call?” He flips his phone open and holds it to his ear. Through the back of the phone I can hear a guy’s voice calling out, “Hello? Hello? Hello?” Sean doesn’t say anything, just takes the phone away from his ear and snaps it shut. “Wrong number.”
“How did you know it was a wrong number if you didn’t say hello?”
“I get them all the time. I’m pretty sure there’s some girl out there who gives my number out as her fake, like for when she’s getting hit on by a guy who wears too much gel or has sores on his face and she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.”
I smile. But before I can even respond, my phone starts buzzing.
“I guess she gave out your number, too?”
I check the caller ID. “It’s my friend,” I say. “The one who thinks I should give up.”
“So pick it up and tell her to fuck off,” Sean shrugs.
I laugh, even though I would never, ever do that to Amanda. I hit
Ignore.
Truth is, I’m worried that even hearing her voice will somehow break the spell that has made this all possible. Amanda has a way of bringing me back to earth, whether I want her to or not. The phone starts buzzing again. “It’s Amanda again,” I say. I bet she’s just going to keep calling over and over until I pick up. I can’t avoid her forever.
I flip open my phone.
“Heeelleeeeeew,” Amanda says. I can already tell she’s drunk. It’s only seven-fifteen.
“Hey,” I say. There’s loud dance music pumping in the background.
“Ellieeeeeeee? Sorry, honey, I can’t hear you, hold on one second,” and then she yells to someone in the background, “Can you turn it down please. Adam…can you? TURN IT DOWN A LITTLE PUH-LEASE!” and then into the phone, “Hey, babe! What are you doing?!!” And then she turns away from the phone for a second, “I’M TALKING TO ELLIE, MY BESTEST BESTEST BESTEST!” And then into the phone again, “Adam wants to know why you’re not here.”
“Who’s Adam?” I hear a loud “woo-hoo” in the background.
“Adam is this total
asshole
.” Amanda’s laughing. “Eric never showed up but I DON’T EVEN CARE!”
And then I hear a shuffling noise and a guy says into the phone “Hey, Ellie,” and in the background I hear Amanda yelling, “GIVE THE PHONE BACK!!!” and then her hysterical laughter, like having her phone taken away is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to her.
“Hello,” I say.
“What are you up to, how come you’re not over here?” the guy says.
And then more shuffling. “Sorry.” Amanda’s back. “He is
such
an asshole.” More laughter. And then Amanda
yells into the background, “YES! OF COURSE SHE’S HOT!” And then back to me, “How’d you get home from Mon Coeur?”
“Got a ride.”
“From Brad?” She sounds confused, like she can’t imagine anyone else other than her being willing to drive me home. “Brad’s Thomas?” This is annoying.
“Sean drove me.” She’s waiting for me to explain. “No one you know,” I say.
“Oh,” she says. “Sorry, can you hold on a sec?” I hear more laughing in the background and a splash. There’s a shuffling sound and then I hear Amanda yell, “PUT ME DOWN, YOU BEHEEEEEEEEMOTH!!!” She’s laughing, and then she’s back. “Well, where are you now?”
“In a car,” I say.
“Where are you
going?
”
“To Nebraska.” I glance at Sean. Our eyes meet and he grins and waggles his eyebrows.
The music in the background gets suddenly louder. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
“I SAID I’M GOING TO NEBRASKA,” I yell. “GUYS, TURN IT DOWN I’M ON THE PHO-WOAH-N,” Amanda yells. The noise in the background fades. “Hello? What did you say, Ellie?”
“I’m on my way to Nebraska,” I say.
“Ellie, what are you even talking about? ”
Amanda sounds annoyed. “Nebraska isn’t even a real place.”
“I think it probably is, actually,” I say. “I saw it on a map once.”
“Well, not a real place anyone actually
goes
to,” Amanda says.
“I’m going there,” I say. “Right now.”
“Okay, fine,” Amanda says. “You’re on your way to Nebraska, yeah, sure. Whatever, Ellie. I would have thought you’d stopped being weird by now, but I guess I was wrong.”
“I’m not kidding,” I say flatly.
“You’re not kidding,” Amanda says. She suddenly sounds very serious, in a drunk sort of way. “
Why?
”
“Just because.”
“
With who
?”
“Sean.”
“Sean
who
?”
I turn toward Sean. “Sean, what’s your last name?”
“You’re going to
Nebraska
with a guy whose last name you don’t even know?”
“Lerner,” Sean says.
“Lerner,” I say.
“Where does he go to school?”
“My friend Amanda wants to know where you go to school, Sean.”
“Beacon Prep,” Sean says. “Boarding school in Lake Forest for preppie rich kids.”
I turn toward Sean and raise my eyebrows.
“Beacon Prep,” I say into the phone. “Boarding school in Lake Forest for preppie rich kids.”
“I know that place,” Amanda says. “Mom’s friend Helen’s nephew goes there. Where do you know him from?”
“Sean, where do I know you from?”
“The future,” Sean says.
“What?” says Amanda. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“I met him at the Mothership,” I say into the phone.
“You met a guy
there
? You didn’t even tell me.” I think I hear the tiniest hint of jealousy in her voice, but I might be imagining it.
“I guess I forgot,” I say. And then neither of us says anything for a while.
“Alright,” Amanda says. “Weeell…I guess I’ll let you go then.” I can tell she’s pissed.
That makes two of us.
“Okay,” I say.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Ellie,” Amanda says. “Bye.”
“Bye,” I say. I lean back against my seat and watch the trees zip by.
“Well, that sounded fun,” Sean says.
“She didn’t seem to understand the concept of Nebraska.”
The sun is going down now, and we are both quiet. I feel Sean looking at the side of my face. I glance over and he looks away quickly, back at the road. Then he turns toward
me and grins this crazy grin. His eyes are sparkling. He rolls down the window and sticks his head out. “FUCK YEAH, NEBRASKA!” He looks at me, “Try it,” he says.
I roll down the window and the wind rushes in, whipping my hair in my face.
“HOORAY, NEBRASKA!”
“GO, GO, NEBRASKA!”
“YAHOO, NEBRASKA!”
“WORD TO YOUR MOTHER, NEBRASKA!”
The mood in the car has shifted, just like that.