Free Cornerstone by Misty Provencher

shriek.
    The whole foyer goes silent. Mr. Reese raises his hand and pats the air down so calmly, that I think my head might blow off, “Okay, okay...we’ll get to that.” He says. He turns to his wife and asks, “What’s this about Garrett?”
    I don’t wait for her to explain. I start speeding through the story again, wagging my cast to get the point across that Garrett’s in danger. Mr. Reese squints like he is concentrating on what I’m saying, until I get to the part about Garrett still being in the woods. I’m still talking as he motions to his wife and the two younger boys.
    “Let’s go.” he says. His voice is anchored like concrete.
    The relief that Mr. Reese is going to finally do something is like a frozen peppermint melting in my stomach. The house erupts into movement again. The youngest Reese boys are pulling on shoes and Mrs. Reese grabs flashlights and jackets from the coat closet near the door.
    “Someone has to call the cops.” I say but the closet assembly line doesn’t slow down.
    Mr. Reese just gives my mom a brief nod and tells her, “Stay put, okay?” And he glances at me and says, “We’ll put out the call.”
    Then the four Reese’s stream out the door, slamming it behind them. My mom and I are left standing in their foyer with the Carbon Copy and the little girl and I can’t even be excited about seeing the inside of Garrett Reese’s house this way.
     
    ~ * * * ~
     
    “I’m Iris. I’m six.” The little girl has a wet lisp that I would giggle at and compliment, if Garrett was standing in the foyer introducing us. But he’s not. So, instead of thinking how adorable his little sister is, all I want to do is grab her by her wispy black ponytail and interrogate her until she spits out why everyone is acting as if this is all totally normal. Maybe she can clue me in as to why I’m the only one who seems panicked about her family running off to find a missing sibling that was last seen chasing a shovel-wielding psycho in the woods.
    My mom bends down to the little girl’s level and says, “Hi Iris. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Evangeline. And I’m a little older than six.”
    I watch, crossing my arms over my chest awkwardly and rolling my tongue in my mouth, holding back another plea for someone to do something useful. For someone, besides me, to see how frightening this is. Or maybe just for someone else to lose their cool so I can take a break from losing mine.
    I catch the Carbon Copy eyeing me. He’s dressed like a serious book worm, in a clean polo and pressed khakis. He looks like he should be wearing loafers, but he’s in bare feet. Even though he looks polar opposite of the kind that goes tromping around in mucky woods, it still seems weird to me that he’s the one staying back to babysit while his parents take Garrett’s two youngest brothers with them. I shiver, pushing away the thought of those boys reaching out in the dark woods and touching the man’s ski mask.
    What annoys me even more than the stare is that the Carbon Copy’s lips have the tickle of a patient grin, the kind you’d use when teaching a child how to play a new and complicated game. It is not an arrogant grin, but it still makes me feel like he knows all the moves and is just too polite to point out that I don’t know any.
    “Shouldn’t we call the police too?” I aim the question at my mom this time, like a spear that should pierce her subconscious, but the Carbon Copy answers for her.
    “I’m positive my parents have already called.” he assures me. “They said they would and they have their cell phones with them.”
    Instead of being comforted, I feel helpless. My mom, however, stands up and moves beside the Copy as if he’s not a complete stranger and as if this isn’t some stranger’s house.
    “I’m sure we’ll hear something very soon, Nali. Let’s not worry unless we need to.”
    “Not worry?” I try not to choke.
    “She’s right.” the Carbon Copy adds. He