Two days later, I awoke sick. Not physically sick; I was ashamed of myself, and that outweighed any other physical pain I might have had. It had taken me a while to admit that I'd been the one who was to blame for Jude's anger. I'd caused him to hate me, so I'd have to be the one to apologize.

I went to breakfast a mess. My mother said things to me, but I didn't hear them. All that was going through my head were possible ways to tell Jude I was sorry.

"Eat something," my mother ordered.

I stared up at her, then back down at the fried egg occupying the plate in front of me. My head rested in my hands. "No," I replied stubbornly.

She sighed. Then, sitting down next to me, she got a look in her face that told me I wasn't going to be let alone. "Nat, honey. Why don't you want to eat this egg?"

"You know why," I bitterly replied, not even turning to her. The smell of the grease was making me nauseous. How could she expect me to touch it? And on a Saturday, too.

Very quickly, my mother's tactics turned hard. "You listen to me. You will eat this egg. It's just food – good food – and good for you. You are too stuck in a rut over everything, and you've got to get out of it." It sounded like she was hissing. I thought of snakes. She stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Do you hear me? You are not to get up from this table until that egg is eaten. And I mean that!"

I was too angry to reply. There was no way I was going to eat it, no matter what she said. I would sit there and let it grow mold before I touched the disgusting thing. Before long, my sisters were coming down into the kitchen. I hadn't even lifted my fork. They glanced at me but were too busy with themselves to ask me any questions. Both of them took the eggs my mother plopped onto their plates, and then they sat down at the table. They started to eat. I was mad.

"Can I read the paper?" asked Allison in a half-awake state.

My mother handed her the roll, not yet having pulled the paper out of its plastic wrapping yet. Allison opened it up and began to read the front page groggily. After a few moments, she said, "Hey, Nat. Do you know this kid? It says he's in your grade."

I looked at her with little interest, but when she turned the paper to me, I gasped. There, on the front page, was a good-sized picture of Jude. His face was as blank and expressionless as I'd ever seen him.

"Says he went missing the day before yesterday," she continued. "It says--" She flipped the paper back toward herself and scanned the lines for a couple of minutes, "--his father called the police shortly after he ran off. They had search parties out last night, but they couldn't find him." Her eyes widened for a moment, then she shrugged it off. She said to my mother, "Why would a kid just run away like that? He probably deserves to get into trouble for it."

Coming to the table, my mother took the newspaper from Allison and studied it herself. "Oh . . . I hope everything's all right," she said in concern. "The poor father. He must be so worried."

"Yeah," Vanessa laughed, a grimace on her face. "What a bratty kid. If my kids ever try to run away, I'll send them off to boarding school. Not really. But seriously. What kind of a kid would do that to their parent? It's just inconsiderate."

"How do you know?" I cried suddenly, startling all of them. "You don't even know him."

My mother lowered her brow in my direction. "Do you, Nat? You've never introduced me to friends. The only one I've met is that girl named Jill, and she was very nice, but I haven't seen her in a while. I didn't know you knew anybody else."

"Nat doesn't have friends," teased Vanessa.

"Who cares," Allison broke in. "Mom, listen. I have to go to the art supply store today and get some stuff for a project. So can you take me there after breakfast?"

They turned to normal, everyday conversation. Jude was missing – it was hard for me to believe. My stupid sisters were always too wrapped up in school or their own social lives to care about anybody other than themselves. They didn't think about other people's feelings. Somebody had to tell them that they were wrong. Maybe that somebody wasn't me, but at that moment, I felt only anger and desperation about Jude.

I jumped up from my seat, shaking the cold, untouched egg on my plate. "You're all just a bunch of jerks! You don't care about anybody but yourselves! Don't you see that Jude is missing and probably somewhere alone and in pain? That doesn't matter to you, though. Nobody matters except Allison and Vanessa. You wouldn't even care if the other of you went off and died in a corner, as long as you had your classmates to be mean to or your supplies to do your homework with. I hate both of you! You don't care about anything! You're the worst excuses for human beings, and I wish you weren't even my sisters!"

My arms were shaking something terrible, and my cheeks were hot. Allison and Vanessa were just gaping at me; I couldn't tell whether they were angry, but I didn't care if they were.

"Nat," said my mother, approaching me and squeezing my arm. I heard all sorts of things in the low, menacing way she said my name. She was mad at me, but she was also shocked and upset. The emotion that rang most clear, though, was the anger. "I want you upstairs in your room . . . now. You're grounded until further notice. I think you and I are overdue for a long talk. Now go."

I guessed she'd forgotten about the egg. That made me only a little grateful. Most of me was too upset to calm down. I stormed up to my room and slammed my door. It was unlike me to show so much emotion, but now Jude had gone missing, and I wondered in dismay if it was due to me. I had been the one to bring up the article, and I'd been the one to tear his beloved family picture in two. He'd probably cherished that photograph for his entire life! If Rebecca Black was really his mother, then she'd been dead for a long time. Jude hadn't even known her. If his father had done something to him to make him run, I would make sure he went to jail for it. Mr. Wood was a terrible person – I was sure of that. He was no kind of father. He wasn't like mine had been . . . nothing like mine at all.

My chest shuddered. It startled me. I didn't want to cry. Not now, not ever. I moved the thoughts aside, although it was harder to do it this time. Instead, I tried to think about my mother and the lecture she was probably going to give me. I couldn't just sit in my room and wait for it to happen. I had to get out. I had to find Jude. That was the only thing that felt right to do.

Moving to my window, I unlocked the pane and pulled it up. There was a screen on the outside, but I easily punched through it. The cold air blew into my room like it was trying to pull me out with it. Don't worry, I thought. I'm coming. I dressed fast, layering a second sweater over the one I already had on and grabbing a set of gloves and a hat off my dresser. Then, looking down through my window, I saw that it opened onto a section of roof over our side door. It was a bit of a jump, but I was going to do it. Quickly, I let myself through feet first and hung onto the windowsill until my tennis shoes touched solid roof. After that, it was just a matter of jumping from the rooftop onto the brittle grass. Soon enough, without my family even realizing it, I was out of the house and on solid ground. I'd escaped.

"Nat?" called a voice behind me, giving me a start. "What in the world were you doing? I saw you sliding down off your roof as if you were on a sled! Is it some sort of new game? Can I try it?"

I spun around, recognizing the voice. Jillian Lee stood almost directly behind me. She had been coming to my house. "What are you doing here?" I asked in a hushed tone.

She stubbornly crossed her arms. She wanted me to answer her questions about why I was sliding off my roof, but I wasn't going to. She didn't deserve to know. She – the so-called friend who'd abandoned me and laughed at my misery. "If you have to know--" She paused, giving me one more chance to tell her about the roof. I remained silent, much to her aggravation. Stamping her foot, she cried, "I was coming to tell you about the rabbits! Just because you haven't spoken to me in weeks doesn't mean that I shouldn't tell you about them. Why, you're the only one who saw the dear things to begin with, and I wouldn't feel right if I didn't let you know about them."

I didn't have time to listen to her talk about rabbits. What did I care about weak little animals, anyway? I turned and started to jog away from her, toward the direction of town. I didn't even give her a reply.

"But Nat!" she called after me. I wanted her to stop. What if my mother heard? "Don't you want to know? Don't you even care?"

I thought I heard deep disappointment in her voice, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. I kept going. Never look back, I told myself. Never look back. It only ends in pain.