The Mysterious Disappearance of Aidan S. (as told to his brother) Read online

  35

  The next morning, Mom and Dad were taking the “normal routine” thing to heart. We had breakfast in our usual staggered way—me eating while Aidan showered, then me showering while Aidan ate. The radio on the counter was exhaling the news, and we weren’t mentioned. Dad left for the office ten minutes before we left for school. Mom was still driving us; that was the one thing that had changed. They were still worried about us walking to school.

  Nobody mentioned the police, or unicorns, or storytelling.

  The phone didn’t ring, but that didn’t mean people weren’t calling. We were just ignoring them for now.

  * * *

  —

  This time when Glenn saw us arrive, he said, “Oh, wow—I didn’t think you’d show up today.”

  “The classes in unicorn school were totally full, so I had to come back here,” Aidan replied.

  It took a beat for Glenn to start laughing—like he had to be sure Aidan was joking first.

  Aidan was getting the celebrity stares again. I could see the effort it was taking to ignore them; I hoped no one else could tell.

  When we got to his locker, we found someone had put unicorn stickers all across it. Some had already been scraped off, but a few remained.

  “Very clever,” Aidan commented. “So original.”

  “Yeah, pretty dumb,” Glenn added.

  Aidan got his books. My back was to the main entrance. So it was Glenn who saw the guy first. I noticed Glenn’s expression getting confused, then turned to find this man who clearly didn’t belong here. He wasn’t old, maybe a college student, maybe a little older. He had a piece of paper in his hand, and with a shiver I realized it was the missing poster with Aidan’s face on it.

  “It’s you,” the guy said. “I found you again.”

  Aidan looked up. I didn’t see any recognition in his eyes.

  “Excuse me?” he said, tensing up.

  “It’s me. Zeke. You were there too. We were there together.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aidan said.

  The guy pushed forward, right next to him. Then he grabbed Aidan’s shoulder.

  “Hey!” Glenn said.

  “We were there together,” the guy said, his eyes somehow both wild and sincere. “In the land of Amber. When I saw the story in the paper, I knew. You came back to prepare for the merge, didn’t you? You’re another one of the advance troops.”

  People in the hallway were starting to stare now. “I’m getting help,” Glenn said, running off. Aidan tried to shrug off Zeke’s hand, but Zeke’s grip held.

  “I’m sorry,” Aidan said. “I’m really sorry. But I think you’re confused. I’ve never seen you before, here or anywhere else.”

  “NO!” Zeke shouted. “I know they told you to say that, but this is me. You’re allowed to talk to me.”

  It was then that the first teacher, Mr. Thompson, got to us. Two seconds later, the lockdown siren started to blare. Kids went running into the nearest classrooms, barricading themselves inside.

  “You don’t want trouble,” Mr. Thompson said to Zeke. “Let him go.”

  Zeke looked bewildered, but he raised his hands.

  “He’s lying,” he told Mr. Thompson. “He knows me.”

  School security arrived, and while they surrounded Zeke, Mr. Thompson gathered me and Aidan and walked us away.

  LOCKDOWN! the mechanical voice of our alarm system blared through the empty halls. LOCKDOWN!

  Instead of taking us to a classroom, Mr. Thompson led us to the main office. They put us in Principal Kahler’s office with Vice Principal Ruiz while Mr. Thompson told everyone what had happened. As soon as Mr. Thompson walked out of the office, Vice Principal Ruiz locked the door.

  “Don’t worry,” she told us. “We’ll be safe here.”

  Through the principal’s window, we could see the police cars show up, lights flashing. A few minutes later, we saw the police escort Zeke out. It looked like he was crying. He definitely wasn’t putting up a fight.

  “Poor Zeke,” Aidan said.

  This made Vice Principal Ruiz look up from her phone.

  “You know his name?” she asked.

  “He told it to us,” I explained.

  “Yeah,” Aidan said. “That’s the only way I know.”

  “Are you sure you’ve never seen him before?” the vice principal asked—a question we’d hear a lot in the next few hours.

  “I’m positive,” Aidan said. This answer would never change.

  Zeke was put in the back of one of the police cars, and it drove away. Two other police cars stayed. As soon as the first car was out of the driveway, Principal Kahler went on the PA to say the lockdown was over, and that it had been a false alarm. First period would start in five minutes, and would be shortened today so we could resume a regular class schedule.

  Through the window we could see other cars pulling into the driveway now, adults getting out.

  “Parents,” Vice Principal Ruiz explained. “No doubt, some of the students texted their parents about the lockdown. So they’re coming to see what’s happening, to make sure their kids are okay. It’s going to be a mess. I’m going to go out there, but you two stay here, okay?”

  It hadn’t occurred to either me or Aidan to text our parents. But within a half hour, they were in the principal’s office with us, having been called by the school secretary.

  Mom arrived first, hugging us close and checking us for any damage.

  “Are you okay?” she kept asking. “Really, are you okay?”

  Dad, when he got there, was more angry than anything else.

  “I hope they lock that guy away. Storming into a school and assaulting a child.”

  “Now, Jim…,” Mom said.

  “No,” Dad replied. “I mean it.”

  “He was just confused,” Aidan said quietly. “He honestly believed I’d been with him in the land of Amber, whatever that is. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was just…glad to have found someone else.”

  “Please,” Dad said, “don’t defend him. What he did was wrong, Aidan. They had to lock down the whole school!”

  Mom shook her head. “I just wish I’d known that the people who left those messages might actually show up. I thought we were being pranked. Now I know.”

  People. I noticed that she’d said people, plural.

  Principal Kahler came in then, along with Officer Pinkus, Vice Principal Ruiz, and Mr. Lemon, the guidance counselor.

  Officer Pinkus asked us to tell them what happened, so we did. At one point, they called Glenn and Mr. Thompson out of class so they could say what they’d seen too. Then they were let go, and it was just our family again with the administrators and the officer.

  Mom launched in with, “What I don’t understand is how this could happen. How can a madman just walk into this school and find my son?”

  Principal Kahler was ready for this question, and explained that the school security guards had been distracted by a scuffle between students, leaving the front doors “momentarily unguarded.” This just happened to coincide with Aidan’s arrival at school; the speculation was that Zeke had been waiting the whole time for Aidan to get there. When he saw Aidan, he followed him in.

  “This is a highly unusual situation,” Principal Kahler added. “But we will make sure this never happens again.”

  Nobody asked why it was “highly unusual.” It had been one thing when Aidan had been a missing kid. Now there was another layer on top of that, and nobody knew what to do with that layer.

  As if sensing this, Aidan said, “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no reason to be sorry,” Officer Pinkus said at the same time that Mr. Lemon asked, “For what?”

  Aidan chose to answer Mr. Lemon. “For opening my mouth in the first
place,” he said.

  You were only telling the truth, I wanted someone to say. But Dad just nodded. Mom reached over and patted Aidan on the shoulder. Principal Kahler and Vice Principal Ruiz gave each other a look. Officer Pinkus studied Aidan.

  And I…well, I didn’t say anything either.

  * * *

  —

  It was the middle of third period by the time we were told we could go back to class.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mom asked.

  Both Officer Pinkus and Principal Kahler assured her we’d be safe. Security had our class schedules and would be close by at all times. And at least one patrol car would always be in the driveway, to signal a police presence.

  I wondered, though, if Mom’s question was about more than just our physical safety. I wondered if she had some sense of what it would be like for us to go back to class after all that had happened.

  The principal was actually going to have the security guards escort us to class, but Aidan said, “Please, no,” and a compromise was reached, that they would follow us discreetly, but not parade us into class in front of everyone else.

  Still, everyone knew. That was clear the minute I walked into math class. The teacher knew. All the other students knew. Even the cutouts of Alan Turing and Albert Einstein on the bulletin board looked like they knew.

  But we all pretended it was normal, that I was late to class for a normal reason.

  Busby was seated on the other side of the room, and I could see her buzzing to talk to me. Tate was closer, but he was much more inclined to be worried about being caught talking in class. So it wasn’t until the bell rang and class was over that the two of them unloaded everything they had to say.

  Not surprisingly, Busby did most of the talking as we walked to fourth period.

  “They’re saying that your brother was almost kidnapped! That maybe the person who kidnapped him the first time came back. Or it was another kidnapper. And if Glenn hadn’t run for Mr. Thompson, the crazy kidnapper might have gotten him. That’s what a lot of people are saying. Other people are saying this guy was your brother’s accomplice when he ran away, and that they came up with the unicorn story together. But that doesn’t really make sense. Oh, and Kelli McGillis was trying to call her mother to give her all the details and Ms. Walters confiscated her phone, which caused Kelli to throw a total fit, so now she has detention. I thought you’d like that part.”

  “It wasn’t a kidnapper,” I told Busby and Tate. “It was just some sad guy who thought he knew my brother but didn’t.”

  Busby sighed. “I know. But I’m just telling you what other people are saying.”

  “Let us know what we can do,” Tate added. “Not about this, but about…everything.”

  He left it at that, and I appreciated that unlike other people throughout the day, my friends didn’t ask me to explain any more. They were there for me whether or not they had a full explanation, because I was their friend.

  * * *

  —

  I didn’t see Aidan again until the end of school. He was waiting at my locker for me. Glenn was nowhere in sight.

  “You already got your books?” I asked as I figured out mine.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I decided it would be better to wait here than wait outside.”

  “How did it go today?”

  “It went.”

  I smiled. “Be more specific?”

  Aidan shrugged. “Kelli blamed me for the lockdown, and said that it could have been avoided if I’d stayed home. Trinity, this other girl in our class, pointed out that the psycho—her word, not mine—wouldn’t have known about my story if Kelli’s mom hadn’t put it in the paper. Then Keegan had to defend Kelli and said that the whole thing was me crying for attention, and the best thing everyone could do was ignore me. I wanted to agree with him, but didn’t want to call attention to myself.”

  “Sounds like a great day,” I said, pulling my book bag onto my shoulder and slamming my locker.

  “Well,” Aidan said, surprising me, “I think Zeke’s day was probably worse.”

  * * *

  —

  Busby found us then, and chatted about something that had nothing to do with Aidan, and then we were in the car with Mom, who kept asking if everything had been okay with the rest of our day. It wasn’t until we were back in our room, just the two of us, that I got to talk more with Aidan about what had happened.

  “Were you scared?” I asked.

  “Yes. But do you want to know the truth?”

  I nodded.

  Aidan went over to our door and closed it before continuing.

  “Okay,” he said quietly. “Here’s the thing. For about five seconds, I was excited. I thought that maybe Zeke had been in Aveinieu, and if he had been there, then it would prove to everyone else that I had been there too. It wasn’t until he mentioned the land of Amber and the plot to merge worlds that I was like, Oh, this guy doesn’t know Aveinieu at all. He’s lost in another world. That’s when I wanted to get out of there. But let me tell you—if he’d said the word Aveinieu, if he’d been able to tell me back a little of what I saw there…he would have been my new best friend.”

  “But he was crazy!” I said.

  “As crazy as I am?” Aidan asked.

  “No. You’re not crazy at all.”

  “But maybe he did go somewhere else. Maybe the land of Amber exists. Who are we to say? It’s just not the same place I went to.”

  What Aidan was telling me scared me. Because I imagined him older, being just like Zeke, if he held on to Aveinieu the same way Zeke held on to whatever world he believed he’d been to.

  “That isn’t going to be you,” I said.

  Aidan shrugged again. “I hope not. But right now, that definitely seems like one of the paths.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, at least not at first. It wasn’t until Aidan had swooped up his laptop and gone to the attic to do his work that I thought to say, “Well, figure out how to stay on one of the other paths. Please.”

  36

  Dad was late for dinner, and in a bad mood when he got there.

  “I had to stay at work because of the disruption this morning,” he explained as he sat down, even though nobody had asked for an explanation. Then, worse, he added, “It’s unclear to my boss whether any of this is covered by our attendance policy. I told him, fine, I’d take it as a vacation day. And he actually had the nerve to tell me the precise number of vacation days I had left.”

  “He was so understanding when Aidan was missing,” Mom said. “He told you not to worry about it.”

  “Well,” Dad said, pushing over the silverware to free his napkin, “that seems to have changed.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Mom said.

  “Doesn’t it?” Dad replied.

  It was like they’d forgotten Aidan and I were there. Until Aidan put down his fork and said it again: “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Mom said.

  But Aidan looked at Dad and said, “Obviously it’s not.”

  Dad started to serve himself. As he did, he told us, “Look, the point here is that my boss is more of a jerk than I thought. That’s it.”

  Let it go, I tried to signal Aidan. He’d been eating his chicken without seeming too disgusted with it. I wanted him to go back to that.

  But he pressed on.

  “No, this is all my fault. Everything. I know that.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Dad said.

  “But it is! You said it yourself last night. I ran away. And, even worse, I ran away to a place you don’t actually believe exists. I wish you hadn’t forced me to tell you. I wish I could have thought of a better story in time. But I couldn’t. So I told you the truth, and you don’t believe it.”

  “Stop,�
�� Dad said.

  “What?” Aidan jutted out his chin defiantly. “Are you saying you believe me?”

  “We’re trying to believe you,” Mom offered. “Truly. We are.”

  Aidan shook his head. “But you never ask me about it. Lucas is the only one who does. You just want to hear me say something else.”

  “We’re being patient!” Dad said, too loud. “We’re giving you space to get to the point where you can tell us what really happened.”

  Mom jumped in. “What he means is that we’ll listen to whatever you want to say. Whether it’s about Aveinieu or somewhere else.”

  Aidan stood up. “You don’t want to hear any of it. Either you’ll think I’m lying or you’ll think I’m like Zeke. I don’t like those choices.”

  “Sit back down and eat,” Dad said.

  But this time it didn’t work.

  “I’m not hungry anymore,” Aidan said. Then he left the room.

  “Get back here!” Dad yelled after him, moving to get up himself.

  Mom stopped him, holding out a hand to gesture him in place.

  “Let him blow off some steam,” she said. “It’s been a hard day for all of us. And if this is what he needs to do, let him do it.”

  We heard his footsteps. Up to our room. Then farther up to the attic.

  I wondered what we would have done if he’d gone for the front door.

  37

  I wasn’t sure he’d want to see me, so after dinner I went to our room instead of the attic. I could hear his movements: sitting down, standing up. Then it went still for about five minutes and I thought, This is ridiculous. I wasn’t getting anything done. I was waiting for him.

  So I went up to the attic.

  He wasn’t on his laptop. His books were closed. Instead, he was sitting in front of the dresser.

  Its doors were open. It was still empty.

  He turned to me when I came in, but didn’t really change his expression.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.