Free Glass Heart by Amy Garvey

and we both look up when Audrey walks in with Mr. Rokozny. She’s clutching the flyers, and he waves her to the front of the room instead of into her seat.
    “If everyone could take a couple of these and put them up, that would be a huge help,” she begins, and I have to look away from the raw grief on her face.
    Audrey Diehl is the last person I would have expected to put so much into the effort to find a missing kid. Audrey’s got the attitude, and the clothes, and a sweet little ride from her daddy, and usually a flock of boys fluttering around her like love-struck birds, but the truth is, she’s not really as bad as all that. She’s not purposely mean to anyone, and she’s not completely shallow. It’s more that into every high school a prom queen must be crowned, and Audrey was born for the role.
    Still, despite the fact that I know she’s more than her cheerleading uniform, it’s surprising to see how seriously she’s taking Adam’s disappearance, and how personally. She grew up with him, true, but she’s not sitting around weeping into her yogurt smoothie—she’s actually breaking a sweat, spreading the word, babysitting for his brothers.
    You never know what people are really made of, I guess, or what they’ll do if you give them a chance.
    When the bell rings and we all file out toward our first class, Gabriel takes my hand, his fingers warm and firm around mine. I hang on, watching as Audrey pushes down the hall in front of us by herself, flyers cradled in one arm, and her bag weighted down with more. She looks like she’s heading out on a mission instead of to history or wherever she’s going.
    When I had the chance to do something right, with Danny, I did something horrifyingly selfish instead. I look up at Gabriel, who catches me and lets go of my hand to slide his arm around my shoulders. For a moment, my heart aches with both hope and regret.
    I’m not going to let myself do anything like that again.
     
    By Tuesday at lunchtime, everyone’s twitchy with lack of sleep and general exam hell. I plop my tray down on the table in the cafeteria so roughly, my yogurt slides off one end, and Gabriel makes a big show of scooting his chair a few inches away.
    “You’re funny,” I say in a tone that clearly indicates he’s not, and sit down, dropping my bag on the floor.
    For a moment we sit in silence, the tumbling wave of sound in the cafeteria rising and falling all around us, until I finally pick up my yogurt and peel the top back.
    “Maybe he’s not even gone,” a sophomore in a loud plaid shirt says as he walks by with a kid I recognize from last year’s art elective. “Maybe it’s like, you know, what they say about hiding in plain sight. Like, he’s around right here in town, but he just doesn’t want to be found.”
    “Who would do that?” The other kid is skeptical, polishing an apple on the front of his jeans as they sit down at the next table.
    I know they’re talking about Adam, but I’m not paying attention anymore. The yearbook staff is marching around the cafeteria, handing out pieces of paper.
    “We need your help, people,” Brittany Lowry announces as she leaves flyers on our table. Alicia Ferris is right beside her, although she glares at me. We’ve never liked each other, and the last time she actually talked to me I opened the sprinklers over her head.
    Not that she knows that, of course, but still.
    “We want the yearbook to be bigger and better than ever this year, and we need your contributions.” Jess snatches up the hot-pink sheet of paper in front of her, squinting at it intently. “If you’re a photographer or even have a camera—no cell phones, please—think about taking candids for us! We need them, and you can always start with your friends!”
    They walk away to take their message to the next unsuspecting table, and I bite into my apple absently. I’m thinking about the look on Alicia’s face when she ended up soaked, actually, until Jess says,