Jonah’s the first person I text about Kaylie, and we keep texting as I sit through class. I’ve got this goofy picture of him from when I screencapped a video chat. He was eating a sandwich super awkwardly, the contents spilling out the end. I zoomed in on his doofy, open-mouthed face as he goes in for a bite, blonde hair all bed head wild. It makes me smile every time it pops up when he sends a message. He thinks I should take some stalker pics of her and send them Patrick’s way, to see if he can do that voodoo that he do with a computer.

My phone buzzes with his next message: You know he could do it. He’s like one of those hacker nerds on TV who are super smart but socially awkward.

I smirk but send him a short reminder: Patrick played sports and did a ton of charity work when he was in school? Pretty sure he was popular as hell.

For the rest of class I do my best to pay attention and take notes like I normally would. When the bell finally rings, I pack my things up nightly and finally look at the message lighting up the front of my phone.

Jonah: Patrick has too much going for him. Let me have this.

The rest of school is uneventful, though I do get some mild harassment in the halls. Nothing too bad--a quick shove, some shouting. When the news first came out, it was all fake blood and broken dolls all the time. I don’t even know if it was the same people or if it was a bunch of copycats, but bloody dismembered dolls became just an average part of my everyday life. Open locker? Splash. Get to class? Doll strung from whiteboard Hannibal-style. Brought a lunchbox to school? You better believe that my ham and cheese sandwich has mysteriously transfigured itself into red-covered wreckage.

Nowadays, the dolls are rare. The shouting is less enthused. The shoving, tolerable. There’s not too much to worry about in terms of personal safety, and threats disappear as easily as they come. If my Kaylie had come home, I might be worried for her to start school. That’s when I’d admit it was time to try homeschooling like Patrick and Mara. They swore by it. Patrick could study his weird interests at his own pace, and Mara could count gardening as classwork. Jonah, though, loved school since it gave him time to escape from home. He’d rather be bullied than stuck where he didn’t feel he belonged. And school would be an escape for me too, as soon as I got out and into some university. I’d even write a sob story essay about my dad to get in.

Mom always said we’d move as soon as we found Kaylie, but I don’t suppose that’s happening any time soon.

By the time I get home, Kaylie has completely moved into the new bedroom. I stop at her open door and stare as she herself lies on her back in bed, staring at the ceiling. She lies on top of the sheets, which mom seems to have changed for her arrival. It used to be the same floral sheets for a year. Now it’s crisp, white sheets like some sort of hotel.

If she notices my presence, she doesn’t acknowledge it. After I take in the sight of this girl, I step further into the hall before changing my mind and stepping.

“Hey Kay?” I say, and she turns her head toward me without speaking. “Glad you’re back home.” She blinks slowly and then looks away.

“Thanks,” she says softly, eyes on the ceiling.

Kaylie hated going by Kay. ‘I won’t be boiled down to a single letter!’ she yell at people who tried. Kay may not actually believe I’m happy to see her, but at least I don’t have to call her Kaylie anymore.