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can’t.
    She is sure of it now. Derek isn’t someone who can lie without setting off alarm bells. But now she’s worried that after what she said, he decided to go home and get the bracelet he says he bought her for their anniversary (which isn’t even an anniversary; how can anything be an anniversary after only one-sixth of an annum ?), the one he said he was planning to give her on New Year’s Eve, so that he can prove to her that whatever Ronan thought he saw, it wasn’t the bracelet in question.
    It had snowed the night before. Heavily. And it was cold. She’d felt the bite in the air in those few minutes outside with Ronan. What if something happened to Derek on the way home? What if he fell or was hit by a car? Or what if someone had mugged him or tried to rob him and he put up a fight? She finds it hard to imagine something like that happening in her neighborhood or his, but their neighborhoods aren’t the whole town, and bad things happen everywhere. You just have to read the local paper to see what some citizens get up to in their spare time. It’s a stereotype to think that muggings or worse happen only in LA or New York or Detroit.
    It hits her like an iceball. She should tell Mrs. Maugham exactly what she’s thinking. Or maybe she should tell the police. If they’re looking for Derek, it will be helpful for them to know where he might have gone, which path he might have taken. She should definitely tell someone.
    But first she wants to clear up once and for all the other thing that’s been eating at her, the less important thing. She knows where she put that bracelet, but it isn’t there now. She’s as close to positive now as she can be that Derek didn’t take it. So where is it?
    Unless it grew legs and walked away (as her mother would say), it must still be in her room. It only stands to reason.
    Jordie goes back upstairs and begins one last methodical search for the bracelet Ronan gave her. She doesn’t rip through her drawers like she did before. This time she searches them carefully, removing things one by one and putting them back in their places before moving on to the next drawer, the next piece of furniture, the next flat surface, the next patch of carpet.
    â€œWhat’re you looking for?” asks a voice at the door.
    It’s her sister, Carly, two years younger than Jordie, although you’d never know it from all the makeup she wears, not to mention the skanky clothes. Jordie can’t imagine why her parents let her out of the house looking the way she does.
    â€œNone of your business.” Jordie closes the second-to-bottom dresser drawer and opens the bottom one, although she isn’t sure why. She keeps sweaters in that drawer; there’s no way she would put anything valuable in there. She never has.
    There is no bracelet.
    â€œI know you’re looking for something.” Carly is leaning against the doorframe, her toes not quite touching the edge of carpet that marks the interior boundary of Jordie’s room. It’s an irritating habit she picked up for those times when Jordie refuses her entry into the room. It’s a habit made all the more alluring by the fact that it drives Jordie crazy and neither girl is allowed to close her door in the other’s face. Privacy, yes. Rudeness, no.
    â€œWell, since you’re so smart, then you should already know what it is.” Jordie slides the bottom drawer shut and stands with her hands on her hips, wondering where to turn next. She tries to visualize the last time she saw the bracelet. It’s been months since she wore it, well before she and Derek started seeing each other. She closes her eyes for a moment and tries to picture the last time she had it on—or took it off.
    She and Ronan had had a fight. That was it. Except it wasn’t a fair fight—not in the sense of being two-sided anyway. Ronan was great with his fists. Put him up