The first thing Emery did upon waking was check her phone for any messages from Adam, but there weren't any. She texted Tess to see if she'd heard from him, and she texted a couple other friends, too. But it was still early; she didn't expect to hear back for a while.

Deirdre was curled up on the couch downstairs, drinking a cup of coffee. Emery marveled at her shining, perfectly curled hair, her own being something between dreadlocks and insulation. She marveled, too, at Deirdre's perfectly curled figure, bare toes on bare feet tucked under bare legs. Her shorts and tank hung perfectly on her perfect figure as she sat in oblivious contentment, sipping from her mug and speeding through the early minutes on a show she'd streamed half of last night.

Yawning, stretching unattractively but satisfyingly, Emery plopped down across from her sister. "You have fun last night?"

Not taking her eyes from the television, Deirdre smirked. "Oh, yeah. Great times here with mom and dad. How was the party?"

Emery thought of it all, felt suddenly awkward. "Weird."

"Why? Somebody ask you out?"

"No." She saw those deep dark eyes, that auburn hair. "Do me a favor, will you?"

"Yeah? What?"

"Text Adam's brother. Ask if he got home last night."

"Why don't you text Adam?"

"I did. He didn't answer."

Deirdre put down the remote, pausing her show. "Did something happen?"

Emery shrugged. "I--I don't think so. He just left before I did, and nobody really saw him go. I just wanted to make sure."

Deirdre raised an eyebrow at her sister, but she nodded, started swiping on her phone. "I'll let you know if he gets back."

"Thanks, Dee." Emery went into the kitchen, grabbed a pop tart, and headed out to the deck. She sat on a chair, leaned back on its pillows. The air was warm and heavy with morning moisture. Emery knew it would only worsen the jungle on her head, but she let it go. What did she care? Sitting there, she took a bite of her breakfast and stared off into the yard. It wasn't a particularly large yard, but it'd been enough space for a swingset when she and her sisters had been young enough for it. In winter, the neighbors' houses were visible on either side and to the back, but right now, the foliage was thick and green, creating a sort of forested seclusion. Emery thought. She wasn't sure why she hadn't told her sister or parents about the weirdo stalking her. At first, each time she'd thought of it, he'd be gone for a while, and she'd felt that was the last of him. But now, after actually speaking with him, after a strange seed had been planted in the dark earth of her stomach, she was unsure how to go about bringing him up. There was a shame, an embarrassment that went along with thoughts of him. Emery didn't know what to make of her feelings. Why should she feel awkward? He was the one behaving entirely inappropriately--even criminally!

But who was he? Why had he looked so strange? That braided hair. It was . . . different. Emery didn't think she'd ever seen a man with braided hair. And he had been a man--he couldn't be termed a boy. Not like the boys at school. How had she not noticed he'd been a man? Could he have somehow aged over the several times she'd seen him, now? She didn't know, and she also didn't know whether she'd hold true to her threat, whether she'd call the police if she saw him again--

No! No. She had to call the police if she saw him again. He could be dangerous, certainly acted weird. And he'd talked to her as if he'd known her . . .

But that, there, gave her reason to relax a little. Relax and, unnervingly, feel slightly disappointed--because she'd told him she hadn't known him, that she wasn't who he thought she was. And now that he knew that, he'd surely leave her alone.

Adam, though--what had gone on with Adam?

"Em!"

Her mother's voice from behind startled her out of her chair. "Don't scare me like that, mom! What?" Emery turned to find her mother holding out a phone to her.

"Mrs. Lir on the phone for you."

"Oh." Emery scrambled to her feet, took the phone from her mother, gave her a concerned look, but the woman clearly didn't know what the call was about. "Mrs. Lir?" Emery addressed the phone.

"Oh, Emery. Thanks for talking to me. Is--is Adam with you? I figure he must be."

Emery's mouth fell open in slow-motion; she froze.

"Hon? He is, isn't he?"

Emery shook herself. "No, no, Mrs. Lir. I--didn't he come home after the party?"

A pause on the other end. "I don't think he did . . ." Another pause. It was as if neither wanted to state the obvious. "Did he leave with you?"

"No . . . he left before me. I--I didn't see him go. I just heard he'd gone home."

"His car isn't here."

"Oh . . ."

There was a tense sniff on the other end, then, "If you see him or hear from him, you tell me right away, all right?"

"Definitely," Emery ended the call, handed the phone to her mother.

"Everything all right?"

The girl made eye-contact with the woman. "Adam didn't go home last night."

"Oh . . . oh, no. Well I'm—I'm sure there's some easy explanation. Nothing ever happens around here."

Emery didn't like that rationale. Her mother went back inside, and she was left with her thoughts. She'd go see Tess in a little bit. Tess would have better logic than her mother would.

She thought of Adam, anxiety blooming inside her. He'd been in the district only since ninth grade, and the minute he'd arrived, he'd been popular with absolutely everyone. He was slender and brown, dark hair and sparkling eyes. But aside from his attractiveness, he was purely charming, always friendly, always ready with a curious comment or interesting story. Even teachers liked him; rather than find his chattiness disruptive, they tended to engage with him on any number of topics. Adam was well-loved by all, clever and comely, kind and funny. So when he'd taken an interest in Emery, she'd been rather amazed. It wasn't any sort of romantic interest--it'd been more an interest of convenience. They'd been hired at that frozen yogurt place over the summer and quickly found they shared a similar goofy sense of humor. They'd shared many stories about their classmates and their childhoods, rambled about clothing and customers and music, bantered about any number of random things. And he'd been not so much protective of her as a fighter in her corner. He'd stood up for her when customers became rude; he'd always made sure she had a ride somewhere or knew about what was going on; and he'd accosted or offered to accost the stranger each time the stranger had upset Emery.

Oh, what could have possibly happened to him? She prayed that he was all right.

About to rise, unwilling to sit in frustration any longer, eating her pop tart as if everything were all right, Emery did a double take at the bushy foliage at the far end of the back yard. Was something there? Half out of her chair, she narrowed her eyes to better make out the dark shape she thought she saw amongst the green. A flash of gold, a sudden movement, assured her that she wasn't seeing things.

"Adam?" She wasn't sure why she called his name; perhaps she was connecting the two strange events of the morning. In any case, fear didn't hold her back. Not in the morning sunshine. Descending the deck stairs, Emery padded barefoot across the dewy grass. Her pajama pants dampened along the hem, but she took little notice of it. The closer she drew to the end of the yard, the more certain she was that something was there, hiding in those bushes. It moved more than once, shifted its blackness, and for a moment, Emery paused mid-stride, wondering whether she should go tell her parents, but then she figured it'd be gone by the time she came back. And besides, it wasn't huge; it was likely a dog or a cat.

And a dog it was. Emery's nerves calmed when she realized it couldn't be larger than a coyote or large fox; it wasn't growling, either. She could see through the leaves that its tongue was hanging out in a bit of a pant, and its eyes--they were round and golden, absolutely shining gold. They were the most striking eyes she'd ever seen on a dog or any animal.

Crouching, Emery reached a hand out to it, called to it. She had a tender heart for dogs; she'd had one that'd died a few years back. The creature came out, hesitatingly, nervous no doubt, but Emery's kind cajoling calmed it, and soon she was rubbing its soft head.

The dog looked like a miniature wolf, pointed ears and long snout, and its fur was sleek and shiny black to the point of glinting blue under the sun. It was a beautiful creature, most especially because of those golden eyes. The nearer Emery drew to the dog, the more liquid those eyes seemed, like nail polish in the bottle, the gold shifting and rolling. They were mesmerizing and also a little disconcerting. But the animal was friendly, and she rubbed around its neck in attempt to check for a collar but was unsuccessful in locating one.

"You hungry?"

Of course the creature didn't reply, and yet it seemed to offer a quick nod. Emery went into the house, brought out a bowl of fresh water and some leftover chicken, and placed the food and bowl on the lower patio at the bottom of the deck. The dog happily trotted over and satisfied itself.

Emery left it to its business and went into the house, informing her parents and sister that the animal was out there. Then she showered, changed into clothing, brushed her teeth and took care of her hair, all in a bit of a daze. She forgot about the dog in the midst of her concerns about Adam. More than once she checked her phone and asked her sister for any news, but there was none to be had. So Emery left the house and biked the few blocks to Tess's. The day was incongruously pleasant against the turbulence beginning to brew inside of her. As warm as the air was, she was chilled riding through the neighborhood. How could everyone be going about their ordinary business—picking up newspapers, mowing lawns, chatting with neighbors—while Adam was missing? It seemed so unkind.

Tess wasn't even awake when Emery arrived at her house. Emery had practically thrown her bike into the yard and run to Tess's door, but her twin brother opened it. Even though she was used to Charlie (had known him for years), Emery had begun to feel anxious in front of him ever since about the ninth grade when he'd hit puberty and suddenly grown attractive. She'd never reveal the attraction to him or Tess; it'd make things more awkward than they needed to be.

"Tess home?" Emery asked as Charlie let her in and shut the door behind her.

"Still sleeping."

"Well I'm going to wake her up."

"Better you than me!" Charlie called over his shoulder as he returned to whatever he'd been doing and Emery started up the stairs.

Up she went, through the house she'd known since about kindergarten, looking at the cat-picture-and-band-poster-covered door to Tess's room. It was open a crack, but Emery wouldn't have felt any reservations going in even if it hadn't been. She'd known Tess way too long to feel any sort of boundaries with her. In fact, she was probably closer to Tess than she was to either of her sisters.

"Hey, wake up!" Emery ordered, plopping down emphatically on the edge of the mattress.

Tess rolled over and groaned a little. "Five more minutes, mom."

"Seriously," Emery said, though she couldn't help laughing a little. "Adam never went home last night. I've been trying to text you, but I couldn't wait any longer."

Groggily, Tess sat up. Her short wavy hair stuck out in funny ways. "What are you talking about?"

Emery huffed, somewhat frustrated. "Adam's mom called me asking if I knew where he was, because he never got home last night."

"That's crazy." Tess frowned; she was beginning to understand. "We saw him—"

"At the party, but we didn't see him leave. And listen. When I got home last night that guy was there again—the stalker."

"What?"

"And I asked him where Adam was, because he was maybe the last person to see him, and he told me Adam went home. But he was obviously lying! What if he did something to Adam?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—you talked to him? The stalker?"

Emery tried to shake the vision off him from her thoughts. "Yes, just for a minute, but that's not the point. The point is that I think he knows something about Adam."

Tess just sat staring at her friend in disbelief. "What else did you say to him? Was he creepy?"

Knowing she'd get nowhere until she explained everything, Emery went through seeing the guy on her driveway, him saying he knew her, telling him she'd call the police, and she ended with, "But you're missing the main point: he lied about Adam."

Grabbing a large pillow shaped like a duck, Tess squeezed it to her chest and looked somewhat absent. "What a creep. We have to go tell someone."

"I know. But I've been trying to figure out what to tell them. That there's some weird guy I can't identify or find who may or may not know what happened to Adam?"

"That's good. Yeah. Let me get it together and we can go to the police station."

Emery sighed, not sure it was good at all, and got out her phone to occupy her while Tess got ready. She still didn't have any word from her sister, but in one of her friend chats, people were beginning to ask about Adam. Maybe Mrs. Lir had called others, and word was fast spreading that he was missing. Everyone was talking back and forth, but no one had any information of value. There was no way she'd add her bit of info; it would've felt disrespectful to Adam, somehow, and also, Emery was painfully aware that she wanted to keep her stranger a secret--and not entirely because she was embarrassed by him.