Where Secrets Hide] Chapter 1

“Zara!” The sound tore through the heavy silence of my room, yanking me out of sleep like a ripcord. My eyes flew open to the pale, early-morning light slipping in through the blinds. For a moment, I couldn’t move. The air was thick, like it was pressing down on me. My head throbbed faintly, and my limbs felt like they’d been weighed down with sandbags.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what day it was.

The silence before the voice had been comforting. It had wrapped around me like a blanket, pretending the world outside didn’t exist. But then—

“Zara Olivia Thorne!” my mom’s voice again, this time sharp, slicing through the house like broken glass. “Get up! You’ll be late!”

Late for what? I didn’t even care. I shifted slowly, my joints stiff, muscles aching like I’d run a marathon in my sleep. I sat up—barely—my hair falling in tangled waves around my face. It stuck to my cheek, damp with dried tears. My pajama shirt, a faded old camp tee, clung to my skin.

I stared down at the floor, my mind caught in the emptiness. Then I heard it—thudding footsteps charging down the hall. Each one louder than the last.

The door flew open, slamming against the wall with a bang that made me flinch.

Mom stood there, breathless. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair a frizzy halo pulled back into a messy ponytail. She was already dressed for work—half-buttoned blouse, mascara smudged under one eye.

“Get dressed,” she said, her voice stern and brittle but tired. “You can’t miss school today.”

I opened my mouth. “Mom… please.” It came out like sandpaper. “Let me stay in. Please.”

She stepped into the room, her hands hanging at her sides, fingers curling and uncurling. She looked like she wanted to sit beside me but didn’t trust herself not to collapse.

“Sweetheart… I know.” Her voice cracked. “But you have to keep going. Just one day at a time, okay?”

She reached out gently, brushing a hand through my hair, her fingers catching on a knot. She untangled it without a word. That simple touch almost made my eyes water again. Ellie used to do the same thing—braid my hair when I was sad, always too tight, always with a grin on her face like she was doing sacred work.

Mom pulled her hand back. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

She left, her perfume lingering like a ghost in the room.

I sat still for a second longer before finally forcing myself up. My legs trembled under my weight as I walked to the closet. Each step felt like wading through quicksand. I slowly walked towards my closet, my feet dragging on the ground.

I stood there, staring at my clothes.

I finally grabbed a pair of ripped jeans that clung to my skin like armor. I tugged on a dark navy off-shoulder top—Ellie’s favorite on me. She’d once said it made me look “Like a super spy,” like a movie villain with secrets. I shrugged into a black jacket I hadn’t worn since last fall. It still smelled faintly like her body spray—vanilla and something citrusy.

I sat on my bed to pull on socks, then slowly tied my shoes. My hands trembled as I tightened the knot. I stood up, walked to my mirror, and stared at my reflection.

My eyes were puffy, lashes stuck together. I looked swollen and pale. My cheeks were blotchy. I didn’t even try to fix it.

Instead, I stuck a few star-shaped pimple patches on my chin—Ellie used to tease me for how cute they were—and ran a half-hearted curl through my lashes. I applied a tiny bit of concealer under my eyes, but it barely did anything. I didn’t bother with mascara.

What was the point?

Just as I started brushing my hair, the door banged open again.

“Let’s go, Crusty!” my little brother yelled, barreling in like a gremlin in Nikes. “You’re driving me today!”

“Get out of my room, Oil Spill!” I snapped, turning with the hairbrush still in my hand.

He was already halfway across the room, grinning like the annoying little demon he was. His forehead—currently dotted with pimples—was scrunched in mock confusion.

“Tell Darren to do it!” I yelled.

“Darren’s locked in his cave. He’s just as depressed as you.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s still useless.”

My voice was dry. Then the words slipped out, sharp and fast, like they’d been waiting to wound someone.

“Fine. Get Drew to do it. You’re so brain-dead, no wonder Mom didn’t want you.”

My little brother Luke was an unexpected pregnancy mom found out when she was 3 months along. His face changed. Just for a second. Like I’d slapped him.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The silence said it all. Then he turned on his heel and stomped out.

I sat there, frozen. My hand still clutched the brush mid-stroke. Guilt twisted in my stomach like a hot knife.

But I didn’t chase after him.

I couldn’t.

The kitchen smelled like burnt toast and too-strong coffee when I finally dragged myself downstairs. The smell was sharp and sour, and it hit my nose like a slap. Mom stood at the stove, flipping something in a pan. Her hair was coming loose from its ponytail. She glanced over her shoulder at me, her expression softening—just for a second.

“I made eggs,” she said, forcing a smile. “They’re a little… crispy. But edible.”

I shuffled to the table and dropped into the chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. My backpack, heavy and half-zipped, slid off my shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud. I didn’t bother picking it up. Mom set a plate in front of me—a scrambled pile of eggs that looked more gray than yellow and a slice of toast that could double as charcoal.

“Thanks,” I said, though my voice was flat.

I picked up a fork and poked the eggs. They didn’t move.

Across the table, my little brother sat silently. He didn’t look at me, just stirred his cereal with his spoon until it was a soggy swirl of rainbow sugar milk. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing felt right. An apology would sound fake. A joke would sound cruel. So I stayed quiet.

Mom glanced at the clock, her eyes widening.

“Shoot. I’m gonna be late,” she muttered, grabbing her purse. She leaned over to kiss my head. I flinched without meaning to. Her lips were cold.

“Have a good day,” she said.

I nodded. My throat was tight.

She was gone before I could respond, the front door clicking shut with a soft finality.

The silence that followed was awkward and dense. I pushed the eggs around my plate until the edges turned rubbery. Eventually, I gave up, stuffed the toast in a napkin, and shoved it into my backpack.

I grabbed my water bottle and took a sip. It was warm. Disgusting. I left it anyway. At least it gave my hands something to do.

“Ready?” I said, glancing at my brother. My voice was hoarse again, like I hadn’t used it in days.

He gave a tiny shrug and stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder without a word. He didn’t even glance in my direction as he walked to the door.

I followed, grabbing my keys from the bowl on the console table. They were tangled with a hair tie and a receipt from a Starbucks run Ellie and I had made just two weeks ago. I crumpled the paper, but didn’t throw it away. I stuffed it into my hoodie pocket like it mattered.

The drive to school was silent.

The radio stayed off. The air vents blew cold and smelled faintly of old french fries. My little brother stared out the window the whole time, earbuds in, lips pressed tight.

I parked in the back lot near the dumpsters where the senior kids liked to loiter and pretend they were cool. The sky was gray. Heavy. Like it might rain but hadn’t decided yet.

We got out. I didn’t say goodbye.

I just walked toward the main entrance, dodging a puddle with the reflex of someone used to doing everything alone.I stepped into school, and it was like every hallway had frozen mid-sentence. The stares were heavy—too long, too curious, too pitying. I didn’t want their looks. I didn’t want their silence either. All I wanted was Ellie walking beside me, laughing about how the cafeteria fries tasted like cardboard. But Ellie wasn’t here. She hadn’t been for over a week. I spotted my group near the lockers—Cassies head resting on Andrea’s shoulder, Ira scrolling on his phone like nothing could touch him, Tyler slumped with his hoodie over his eyes, and James half-laughing at a joke no one really told. They all looked up the moment they saw me. Cassie and Andrea broke away and came over, their faces already creased with sympathy. Cassie’s lip trembled slightly before she said, “Zara… we’re so sorry about Ellie.” My chest tightened. I hated how her name felt like a funeral now. “She’s our best friend too,” Andrea said softly, voice cracking. “But just—stay away from Finnick, okay? He’s losing it. He shoved two kids into a locker this morning.” Of course he did. Finnick was Ellie’s stepbrother. Just someone who’d made it his full-time hobby to torment me since middle school. The only thing we had in common was Ellie—and now, her absence. And as fate would have it, we were paired in science. I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Can someone just put me in witness protection already?”

Cassie and Andrea giggled. “Let’s try to focus on something else right now, ladies.” Mrs. McElroy appeared out of nowhere, like an aging vampire summoned by teenage feelings. Her black dress clung to her like a curtain and her glasses had corners so sharp they could probably cut glass. Her bun was pulled so tightly it looked like it was fighting gravity—and winning. Her wrinkled face was pinched like a paper bag someone had crumpled and tried to reuse. “I want you three in class. Now. Unless you’re dying to spend lunch in detention,” she snapped.

“I’m just grabbing my things from my locker, Mrs. McElroy.” I said, She nodded and walked away.

My locker was still the same. Dinged-up blue metal, the corners decorated with faded stickers and a crooked magnet shaped like a cat. I spun the dial slowly, but my fingers kept slipping. My hands were sweaty.

The door creaked open, and there it was.

Ellie’s notebook.

She’d left it in my locker the week before she disappeared, saying she didn’t trust her “gremlin stepbrother” not to snoop through her stuff. I hadn’t opened it since. It sat there like it was waiting for her to come back and claim it. Like it knew something I didn’t.

I reached for it—then stopped.

Behind me, a voice.

“Boo.”

I turned, already knowing who it was.

Finnick.

Of course.

He leaned against the locker beside mine, all smug grin and too-sharp cheekbones. His dirty blond curls were slightly flattened on one side like he’d just rolled out of bed, and his hazel eyes glittered with something between boredom and cruelty. He twirled a pencil between his fingers like it was a dagger.

“You seriously came back?” he asked. “Thought you’d pull the dramatic leave-school-forever card.”

After the news of Ellie’s disappearance, I had taken a break off of school for about a week.

“Buzz off, Finnick,” I muttered, slamming my locker shut.

He raised an eyebrow. “Touchy. You sure you’re okay? I heard grief makes people… unstable.”

I ignored him and walked away, my fingers gripping the strap of my backpack like it was the only thing keeping me from turning around and punching him in the throat.

I didn’t stop until I reached science class.

Inside, the room smelled like antiseptic and vinegar—clean but sharp, with an underlying note of something burned. The lights were harsh overhead, flickering faintly like they hadn’t fully woken up. I took my usual seat in the back, slipping into the hard plastic chair and sinking down as low as I could.

The bell rang. A few students trickled in, loud and alive and normal. I couldn’t stand them, not because I hated them but because they were something I wasn’t.

Mr. Greaves walked in last, holding a stack of ungraded lab reports like a peace offering no one asked for.

“Morning, class,” he said, voice flat as usual. “We’re continuing our discussion on chemical bonds today.”

I stared down at my notebook. My pen tapped out a rhythm I didn’t remember starting. I stared at the empty desk in front of me. I turned to see the class pet, Mike a little bearded dragon staring at me like a mafia boss waiting for his debt to be paid.

Finnick sauntered in late, of course. He shot me a smirk as he slid into the seat beside mine. We weren’t even supposed to sit together—assigned seating had gone out the window last semester—but somehow he always ended up here.

“Excited for today’s experiment?” he whispered, grinning. “We’re mixing dangerous things. Might be fun.”

I didn’t respond. Just clenched my jaw and kept my eyes on the board.

My mind was a million miles away anyway—back in my locker, back with the notebook I hadn’t opened, back with Ellie and the last thing she ever said to me.

“You’d tell me if I started acting weird, right?” she’d asked that day.

And I’d laughed. Brushed her off. Called her dramatic.

But now? Now the words sat in my chest like stones.

Finnick grabbed the chemicals from the supply closet and on my way to grab some other tools we might need, he bumped into me. I came crashing down as I fell to the ground. Finnick had been distracted, talking to a kid called Andy. Andy was the only good human being in the walking dumpster fire’s friend group.

“Woah, are you alright?” I thought I heard Finnick say. No has to be Andy.

Andy helped me up. “You good?” he asked, worry filling his eyes. “I’m alright…I think.” I grabbed the back of my head, feeling for the spot where I’d fallen.

I found it and winced, the sharp pain throbbing at the back of my head.

I grabbed the supplies off the floor and walked back to my desk. Finnick sat down next to me, “My bad Za-” he started. “Save it.” I snapped back.

Then we heard it. Heavy footsteps. Slow, deliberate, measured—the kind that echoed down the hallway like a warning bell, sharp and impossible to ignore. The sound bounced off the walls, reverberating in the silence of the classroom, dragging every eye away from their distractions. Everyone went still, as if the air itself had thickened and squeezed the breath out of the room. My heart started to thump faster, pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.

The door slammed open with a force that made the wooden frame shudder. Two officers stepped inside, their presence swallowing the space whole—like a storm front rolling in, dark and unstoppable. The sharp scent of leather and metal filled the air, mingling with the faint chemical sting of old markers and dry-erase boards. The tall woman’s voice cut through the tension, steady but urgent, slicing the silence like a knife.

“I need to speak with Zara Olivia Thorne and Finnick Elliot Henderson,” she said, her tone both commanding and calm.

“Immediately,” added the man beside her. His voice was lower, darker—like the deep rumble of thunder warning of a coming storm.

The blood drained from my face. My skin felt ice-cold against the warmth of the room, and a hollow emptiness spread through my chest. All I could think was: What now?

We shuffled out of the classroom, the chill of the hallway pressing against my skin as if it wanted to seep into my bones. The lights flickered overhead, casting sharp, irregular shadows that danced along the scuffed lockers. The walls seemed to close in, narrowing as we walked, amplifying the sound of our footsteps—each one a sharp tap, tap, tap, reverberating off the linoleum floor. The stale, recycled air smelled faintly of sweat and old paper, and somewhere nearby, a locker creaked open and slammed shut, breaking the heavy silence.

Kids skipping class leaned lazily against the lockers, their eyes tracking Finn and me like we were characters in some twisted crime drama. Whispers trailed behind us, slicing through the hallway noise like jagged blades. Maybe we were suspects. Maybe we already were.

The officers led us into the old science lab—a place I hated with a passion. The sharp tang of bleach and the acrid smell of burnt rubber from broken Bunsen burners clung to the air. The fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered above, casting pale, sickly light that warped the worn surfaces of scratched-up tables and stained countertops. Shadows pooled in the corners, dark and secretive. I shivered and tugged at my sleeve.

I swallowed hard. Why now? Why today? Why wasn’t this happening the moment Ellie disappeared? A tight knot formed in my throat, squeezing harder with every passing second.

One of the officers—the tall man, with his gravelly voice that seemed like it had ground down over years—pulled out a manila folder and flipped it open with a crisp crack.

“When was the last time you two saw Ellie?” His question was direct, sharp.

My throat felt dry, sandpaper rough, and I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out. My voice had disappeared, swallowed by the weight of panic.

Finn jumped in, voice shaky but quick to fill the silence. “I last saw Ellie a week ago. We were going to a party. We argued… she left early and took a cab home. I stayed at the host’s house.” His words stumbled out unevenly, and I noticed his arm—the scratches lining it like angry red scars. I wondered briefly if those were from the kids he shoved into lockers that morning.

But I noticed, there was fear in his voice. Like he wasn’t telling the full story.

The woman, with her bun pulled so tight it looked like it could snap, gave me a sharper stare. “And you?”

Her tone wasn’t just a question—it was an accusation. Like I was the one who’d made Ellie vanish.

I blinked hard, my mind scrambling through a fog of fractured memories. That night was a blur, a half-remembered dream I wasn’t sure was real.

“Ms. Thorne!” The man’s voice barked again, rough and impatient. I flinched involuntarily. “This isn’t the time for daydreaming. We need answers. The world doesn’t slow down for you.”

Martinez’s voice cut in again. “Well?”

I forced myself to speak, voice brittle and hesitant. “The last time I saw Ellie… it was a sleepover. She was venting about Finnick. They’d fought again.”

“Was this on September 6th?” the woman interrupted sharply.

“I think so. Close to midnight,” I whispered.

Williams turned his attention back to Finn. “That fight… when was it?”

“September 6th.” Finn’s eyes flicked away, voice flat as he answered.

“Continue.” Martinez nodded at me, expectant.

“She dropped me at home after the sleepover. Said she was heading to Tyler and Ira’s party. I tried calling her that night, but she didn’t answer. The next morning she picked up, but she sounded… off.” My voice caught. “That was the last time I heard her voice.”

I glanced down at their badges again. The woman, Officer Martinez. The man, Officer Williams.

Names I wished I could forget.

“Did she have issues with anyone? Family? Friends?” Martinez pressed.

“She and Ira had some fights, -they used to be together in the first semester of Sophomore year. Tyler didn’t like her either… but I don’t think he’d hurt her.”

Williams nodded slowly, turning to Finn. “And you? Before your parents got married… weren’t you Ellie’s bully?”

Finn paled, the color draining from his face. Like he was ashamed. Impossible “I—yeah.” he said, sounding defeated. “But I’d never hurt her. Not like that.” he quickly added

“Did you two fight? Over boys, drama?” Williams asked me.

I shook my head, recalling the only big blow-up. “Once. There was this guy, Zack. Big fight, but it passed.”

“Did she ever talk about running away?” Martinez’s voice was softer, but edged with something heavier.

Finn opened his mouth but hesitated. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper. “Once. My dad—her stepdad—yelled at her. Really bad. She packed a bag. Said she was staying with Zara.”

My stomach clenched and twisted. The memory burned cold.

“When was this?” Martinez pressed.

“August 15th. Right before school started.” Finn’s eyes looked haunted, shadows trapped beneath them. Something dark still lingered in his gaze.

I felt it too—fear, anger, guilt—all tangled up in a tight knot inside my chest.

“Zara, was Ellie at your house on August 15th or 16th?” Williams asked.

“No… but I think we met up that day.” My voice wavered.

“Do you know who she texted last? Was she seeing anyone in secret?” Martinez asked, leaning in.

“We talked on the morning of September 7th. About twelve hours before she went missing.” I hesitated, swallowing hard. “There was this guy. Lived across the street. Sketchy. She said he was like a therapist, not romantic. She was dating my brother Darren.”

Martinez leaned forward, voice sharp as a knife. “If you know anything—anything—you’re hiding, now is the time to say it. Protecting someone now could cost a life.”

Williams added, voice heavy with warning, “Come by the station if you remember something. But understand—delays have consequences. One of them might be Ellie’s life.”

They exchanged glances, cold and calculating, then turned back to us.

“So, to recap. She had problems with her stepdad. Fought with Ira, Tyler… and you, Mr. Henderson?” Williams said.

Finn nodded silently.

I remained quiet, the room closing in around me. My phone buzzed softly in my pocket. I glanced down, heart skipping a beat.

A message.

From Ellie.