Free The Presence by Eve Bunting Page B

said. Whatever this was, I felt a quick rush of sympathy for Donna. I knew how it felt to lose a friend. And how odd that she and I, who looked a little alike, had had a similar experience.
    "Well." He glanced at me. "There were drugs involved. The paramedics got to Donna in time. They were too late for her friend. After that, Donna went kind of psychotic." He stopped. "You don't want to hear about this, Catherine."
    "But I do," I said.
    "The rumor was that Donna had supplied the drugs, so you can see why she felt so guilty."
    I nodded.
    "Then she met some guy, and he helped her a lot. He was good to her, she said."
    The bell was ringing for the end of intermission, and people were moving in laughing, talking groups toward the entrance.
    I put my hand on Collin's arm. "Wait a sec. Who was this guy? Was his name Noah? Was Noah the one who gave her the ring?"
    Collin had started walking toward the auditorium, quite quickly. I could tell he didn't want to go on with this conversation, but I had to know. "I have no idea what the guy's name was," he said. "And I never noticed any ring."
    "Did you talk with Donna at all? I mean, after she met this—this person?"
    Collin shook his head. "Ryan Murphy talked to her the day before she disappeared. She told him she was happy now, that everything had been cleared up." He glanced down at me. "Ryan told her mother what she'd said. He told her Donna probably just took off with the guy, which is bad enough, I guess, but could be worse."
    I walked beside him, looking up into his face, already knowing in my heart what must have happened.
    Oh, Noah! You helped Donna. I don't think she went off with you, because you're still here. But you gave her peace and courage and helped her get past her shame and guilt. You cleared everything up for her. Will you do that for me? Or am I believing just because I want to believe? No. It's possible. Really possible. I was so filled with hope and excitement that I felt like skipping and dancing like a child. Without meaning to, I clapped my hands.
    Collin laughed. "You
are
getting into the Christmas spirit."
    I smiled up at him. Should I try to tell Mrs. Cuesta that I thought Donna was probably OK? It would help her so much. But how could I explain my thinking? I needed time to come up with a way to do this.
    We were back in our seats. The orchestra was playing, the curtains sliding soundlessly open. The auditorium filled with applause.
    "Here come the mice again," Collin whispered to me, and he took my hand as if he thought the giant mouse king would freak me out. And when the mice went offstage, he kept my hand warm and safe in his, and I was happy.

    Later, he kissed me good night, standing under the Christmas lights on Grandma's porch.
    "I had a good time," I told him shakily.
    "Me, too. I'm wondering if I could tag you for tomorrow night." He turned down my coat collar in an absent-minded way. I left it like that even though my face probably didn't look as nice without its frame.
    "I know it's kind of pushy, and I know your grandma probably wants to have you to herself for some of the time you're here, without me horning in. It's just..."
    "It's just?" I prompted.
    "Well, I've only got four more days to..." He stopped again and then said, with that nice grin, "four more days to make an impression."
    "I'm impressed," I said. "But about tomorrow night—I'll have to see first if Grandma has anything planned." And I thought, by tomorrow night, I might even have more of that Christmas spirit.
    "I should let you go in." He held on to my hand. "Can I call tomorrow?"
    I nodded. "That would be great. Good night, Collin. Thanks for tonight."

    Grandma was playing Solitaire on her laptop when I came in. "You look like a happy girl," she said, glancing up and smiling. "I'll stop this in just a minute. I'm almost finished—darn!" She placed the king of hearts up in a space in the back row. "Did you know," she asked absently, "that each king in a deck of