Young Writers Society

This clearly is the best day of my life. First, I won both of my back-to-back basketball games this morning, then I came home and got the mail and found out I'd been accepted into MIT after all, and not only that but I have a scholarship too, and me and you have a double date tonight with Nick and his girlfriend Chelsea.

I am the first one to show up at the restaurant. This is in itself is a bit strange; you are coming with Nick and he's always on time, and I'm always the one to show up late. Chelsea, well, she's just unpredictable.

I check my watch again - you were supposed to be here five minutes ago - and look up to see a waiter, who is clearly a flamer, staring at me.

"Sir," he says, "would you like to go ahead and order?"

"No, no," I say. "They'll be here."

"Of course," he says skeptically, like I have yet to face reality, and heads back to the kitchen.

I sigh and look around the restaurant. I happen to be the only person here alone. I catch a whiff of ridiculously strong bubble gum perfume and wrinkle my nose, then look to see Chelsea sliding into the seat across from me. "Hi, Cole," she gushes too enthusiastically.

"Hi," I say flatly, then just stare at her and try to comprehend how this complete waste of space could potentially be my sister-in-law. I mean, Nick and Chelsea have been dating since junior year of high school and they're both twenty now; everyone is already foreseeing a wedding. As for you and me, we've been dating for as long as it's mattered and everyone's been planning our wedding practically since we met. Us getting married is pretty much a given.

Don't get me wrong, I like Chelsea. I really do. She's just an airhead, that's all. "Where are they?" she asks me, cracking her gum.

I flinch. "I don't know. I was going to ask you the same question."

She pouts and pulls out her cell phone - the case is completely studded in pink crystals, go figure - and hits a few buttons. "Neither of them has sent me a message."

She stares at me like I'm waiting for something, so just to appease her I check my phone too, even though I already know there won't be any messages. I'm right. There's not. "Me neither," I say.

The flamer waiter comes back then. He smiles at me quaintly. "First date?"

I don't know who's more disgusted - me or Chelsea. "Oh, no!" I say, completely appalled at the thought. "We're not dating. I mean, we are, just not each other. We're waiting for our dates to show up."

"Uh huh," he says slowly. I must be confusing the hell out of this poor guy. "Well, would you like to go ahead and order?"

"No," I say, at the same time Chelsea says yes.

He looks from me to Chelsea and then back again, so I just shrug.

"Can I have a water, please?" she says. "With lemon."

He nods and looks at me, but I just shake my head, so he leaves.

"So how was your day?" Chelsea asks me.

"Awesome, actually," I say. "I-"

"Mine was terrible," she interrupts me emphatically, then launches into some story about someone spreading rumors about her, and then something about a purse. I sit and try to pretend like I actually care.

Right then, my phone rings. Thank God, I think, grateful for an excuse to be away from her. My phone screen says it's Nick. Even though I probably don't need to, I go outside to answer it just to leave Chelsea.

It's dreary and pitch black outside, with the exception of a few glowing circles lit by the street lights. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. "Hello?" I say when I pick up my phone.

"Hey, Cole, it's Nick." He sounds out of breath.

"Where are you? Me and Chelsea have been waiting for you and Zephyr for, like, ever." He goes deathly silent and my heart flips. Something is wrong. Before he can say anything, I add, "Nick, what's going on?"

"Uh, Cole, are you sitting down?"

"Am I... am I what?"

"Are. You. Sitting. Down," he repeats.

"Well, I was, until I came outside because you called..."

"You might want to sit down."

"Okay..." I murmur slowly, planting myself on a grimy concrete bench in front of the building next to Olive Garden and bracing for whatever is to come.

"It's Zephyr," he finally says, and I jump up, wondering why he had me sit when clearly what I should have been doing was running. "She's gone." At that, my knees go weak and I collapse back onto the bench again.

"What do you mean, 'she's gone?'"

"I mean, she's gone. As in, she's missing. As in, I have no idea where the hell she is."

I try to catch my breath and stop myself from hyperventilating. "Okay," I finally manage to choke out. "I'll be there in ten. Wait, make that five."



When I pull up to the Collins' house, every light is on and Nick is waiting on the front porch.

I jump out of my car, not bothering to turn it off or even put it in park, hoping by some supernatural stroke of fairness it will be okay because too many bad things cannot happen to a person at one time.

"Have you tried calling her?" he asks me as I jog up.

I nod. "I was trying to call her the whole way here."

"And she didn't pick up?"

"No."

"Dammit. I've been calling her too, but I thought for you... I thought she'd at least consider picking up the phone for you."

I pass him and walk into your house. The oh-so-familiar odor of cinnamon and home hits my nose and my stomach clenches. It's like I've been punched; I fall to my knees just inside your front door. You can't possibly be gone. This can't possibly be happening.

As incomprehensibly terrible as it is to imagine that someone took you, it's even worse to imagine you leaving of your own accord. What could have possibly driven you to this?

Then, I come to my senses. Maybe you didn't run away. Maybe you're just out.

I turn down the hallway - sometimes I think I know your house better than my own - and guard myself mentally before entering your room, so I don't have a meltdown or something.

Nothing is out of place, and it takes me a minute to realize that is exactly what is so off. Your bed is made - you'd just said something to me last week, "What's the point of making your bed if you're only going to sleep in it again?" - there are no clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, your desktop is uncluttered. I cross the soft tan carpet and swing open your closet, holding my breath like someone might jump out at me. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised.

Again, it is perfectly organized, and this is what is so strange. Then I notice the hanging clothes - the bar is only half full. Weren't there more clothes than that before? I turn and pull open one of your dresser drawers. Even though I happen to know for a fact it's the jeans one - we've been living in each other's pockets way too long - there is only one pair, and it's the old ones that you complain don't fit you anymore.

Without bothering to close the drawer, I pull open the one above it. Empty. And the one above that? Empty too.

I sink down against the wall and put my head between my knees. "Holy shit," I breathe.

"We need to do something," Nick says. I look to see him standing over me; apparently he was right behind me this entire time.

But what? What the hell do we do?

You are a planner; you think through everything thoroughly. Therefore, you must have been considering this beforehand.

I should have seen this. I am supposed to be the one who watches out for you.

"Have you talked to Freesia?" I ask. Freesia is your mom, and for some reason she is also the first thing that pops into my head at a time like this.

"No," he says. "She's in Europe on business for the next four weeks. She left yesterday."

We look at each other and I suddenly realize we're thinking the same thing. Freesia will be gone for four weeks. That's plenty of time. If we tell her about you, she will come running back right away, and will of course get the police involved, which is exactly what you probably don't want. And besides, this must be an awfully big business thing; I happen to know she's been hoping for a promotion for months. Four weeks is a long time.

We're going to have to find you ourselves.

* * *

"I still think this is crazy," Nick says, looking at me like I've sprouted a sixth head or something.

"Does anyone in the world know Zephyr better than us?" We're standing in your kitchen now, crowded around the island with a national map, highlighting places you are likely to go.

"Nobody knows Zephyr better than Zephyr," he corrects. "She's kind of a private person."

Actually, I'm your other half and the only person who really knows you. But he can keep thinking whatever the hell he wants as long as he'll go along with this crazy plan.

Right then, my phone rings where I left it on the countertop and we both lunge for it. I get there first and flip it open without even bothering to check who is calling.

"Zephyr?"

"Cole?" the voice on the other end says. It's not you. It's Chelsea. Oh shit.

"Uh, hey Chelsea," I say, looking at Nick for guidance. His eyes are round as saucers.

"Where are you?"

"Where am I?" I repeat, so Nick knows what we're talking about. "Uh, what do you mean?" I know exactly what she means; I just need time to think of a response.

"You went outside to answer the phone and you didn't come back! So I went out there to make sure you were okay and you were gone!"

I look at Nick, but he's just making crazy hand motions I can't decipher. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I say. "It's, uh... Chessie is sick. My parents were at an office party and Chess was throwing up and she needed me at home."

"Oh," Chelsea says, instantly all sympathy. "Well is she doing better?"

"Yeah," I say. "But you know, I really gotta go..."

"Oh," she says again. "Have you talked to Nick or Zephyr?"

"Nick and Zephyr?" I look at Nick again, and he makes slicing motions across his throat with his hand. "...died?" I whisper, and he shakes his head emphatically.

"What?" Chelsea asks blankly. Nick pretends to throw up.

"Oh. Yeah, I talked to him a little bit ago, but his phone died in the middle of our conversation so that's probably why he hasn't called you. Zephyr's sick too."

"Aww," Chelsea says. The sympathy is back. "There must be some kind of bug going around."

You could say that. "Yeah," I mutter. "But like I said, I gotta go. See ya!" I hang up without bothering to wait and see if she has anything else to say. I shake my head at Nick. We're going to need some kind of excuse; it'll only take so long before anyone else notices you are gone.

Neither of us says anything, so I take it the topic is being postponed until we have ideas, and head back to the map. We only have one city highlighted and it's our hometown of Delphi - point A.

Nick picks up the highlighter and changes the dot on Delphi into a star. "Where would she go?" he murmurs. I can't tell if he's asking me a real question or just talking to himself, so I only half-listen. While he is thinking aloud, rattling off the names of places, I absentmindedly slide open and closed the drawer in front of me.

Something catches my eye and I freeze with the drawer half agape.

"Nick?" I whisper, picking up a small bottle and holding it up for him to see.

"What?" His eyes focus on the bottle and the highlighter falls out of his hand.

It's your seizure medication. The one you are supposed to take every day. And there are still lots of pills left inside, which means you didn't take any with you. Which means you could have seizures.

Which means no one might be around to help you.

Nick and I just stare at each other, shocked; our search for you has taken on a new urgency.

___________________________________

This is all I'm going to post for today, sorry, I don't have any more points! But, again, *choruses with group* you can read the full completed story here: http://www.wattpad.com/1589650-c-h-a-s- ... logue-cole