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him a ride but quickly changed his mind. “Say, have you seen Timmy today? Or his older brother Colt?”
    The boy thought a moment. “I don’t think so. I usually see Timmy at recess or at lunch, but I didn’t see him today. I hardly ever see Colt. Even when I do, he doesn’t talk to me.”
    “Can you think of any place around here they may have gone to play?”
    “No, not really.”
    “Well, if you do see either one of them, tell them to go right home, okay? Tell them we’re looking for them, their mother and I.”
    “Are they in trouble?”
    They certainly were, he thought. But he didn’t want to say that. “I hope not. Well, bye.” Scotty waved as Scott rolled the window back up.
    By the time he arrived at the school, the parking lot was almost empty, hardly any kids in sight. The school wasn’t far from where they lived. He glanced at the flagpole by the front steps, where the boys were supposed to have been a little while ago. He sighed as he headed toward the office.
    When he walked through the door, he saw Gina across the room at a desk, using the telephone and writing things down on a pad of paper. He could tell she had been crying. She hadn’t noticed him yet. He smiled at two women sitting at nearby desks who did. “My name’s Scott Harrison. That’s my wife over there making the calls.”
    “Hello, Mr. Harrison,” one of them said, her face full of sympathy. “Please, go right over. Your wife is calling a list of the boys’ friends right now.”
    He was about to ask the woman if Gina had any luck but decided to ask her himself. “Thanks.” When he got closer, she looked up then shook her head no. Guess that was his answer. Gina looked back at the phone, crossed through a name on the list. Several other names had been crossed through already.
    “Well, thank you, Mrs. Bruckner,” Gina said into the phone. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. If you see or hear anything about my boys, can you call me at this number? Yes, it’s the school number. Or maybe try our home number if we’re not here. What? No, we haven’t called the police yet. We wanted to try all their friends first. See if we just miscommunicated with them. When your son Andrew gets home, will you ask him about this? See if he knows anything? Thanks so much. Good-bye.” She set the receiver back in place.
    He wanted to put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her, but instead he sat on the seat beside her. “No luck, huh?”
    “Oh Scott, no one has seen them. None of their friends in school, and so far none of the friends around the neighborhood. I’ve only got two more names left on my list.”
    “It’s okay. Let’s don’t jump to conclusions. Go ahead and make the calls. I’ll be right here.” There was no confidence behind what he’d said; he hoped it didn’t show. Being here, so close to her when she was clearly struggling and afraid . . . it was all he could do not to reach for her hand. During the last ten months they had only been to a handful of school events. And, of course, they pretended to still be together for the boys’ sake. They’d feign a measure of closeness; he’d open doors for her, put a light hand on her back and the occasional hand on the shoulder. But no real intimacy, and the closeness would always end abruptly the moment they left school property. He’d hated it, and in a way, he was glad they had decided to end this charade.
    He watched and waited for the next five or six minutes as Gina made the calls. Both were dead ends.
    The principal, Mrs. Johnson, walked out of her office just then. “Hear anything?”
    “I’m afraid not,” Scott said, trying to sound calm.
    “Can you think of any other place they might have gone?” she asked.
    Scott shook his head.
    “Me neither,” Gina said.
    Scott could tell Gina was about to fall apart at any moment. But he had to do it. It was time. He reached for the phone, slid closer to her, and picked up the receiver. Slowly, he put his finger