Page 78 of Exchanged

He turns. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I stand next to him, and we stare out at Superior. The aurora is making a halfhearted appearance tonight, just a sliver of shifting green far out above the lake.

“I talked to my brother Charlie about next year,” Garrett says. “He doesn’t think I should go to Ellison, either.” He nods toward the path that Tyler left on. “And Tyler’s dad works in admissions at the School of Mines. He offered to help if I needed to find a different school that does rolling admissions. He said that plenty of colleges would waive my parents’ income, considering the circumstances.”

“That’s incredible,” I say, breaking into a smile. “Garrett, that solves so many things for you.”

He faces me. “I’m going to call my parents. Tomorrow. I’m going to call them and tell them that I’m not going to Ellison.”

“What do you think they’ll say?” I ask.

His skin is pale, lit by the stars and the aurora. He doesn’t look relieved or happy, but the fierceness in his eyes is back, and that gives me hope. He leans his forehead into mine. “I’m scared, Enz.”

“I’m here,” I say, and bring my lips to his. I mean for it to be a quick kiss, but he pulls me toward him with a strange desperation, pushing his tongue into my mouth and his body to me. He still kisses like the bass line in a Hans Zimmer soundtrack, but the key has shifted from major to minor, loss hovering beneath the way his mouth moves against mine.

Garrett calls his parents the next morning. I hear his muffled voice through the door of his bedroom, uttering monosyllabic responses. After half an hour, he goes quiet but doesn’t emerge. I hover around his doorway, waiting for him to come out and tell me what they said. I knock and receive no answer. I text and receive no answer to that, either.

My quintet is scheduled to play at a wedding in the early afternoon. I don’t want to leave the house.

“You can’t back out on someone’s wedding day,” Dad tells me. “Garrett will still be here when you get home.”

So I change into my performance clothes, pack up my music and oboe, and head out. The wedding is simple and beautiful, held in a small stone church in Blue Harbor. The groom cries first, which sets everyone off, including most of the people in my quintet, but I feel only a pressing sense of dread. I feel nauseous being here, playing the soundtrack for someone else’s love story, while Garrett sits alone in his room with whatever answer his parents gave him. As soon as we finish the postlude, I throw my oboe into its case and leave.

When I return home and drop my stuff in my room, Garrett’s door is ajar. I pop my head in.

His room is empty, his comforter bearing the ruffled outline of his body. His phone rests on his bedside table, askew, its corner hanging over the edge. His photos hang in their usual place on the wall, the Nassib jersey remains pinned above his bed, dirty laundry is piled near his closet. It feels too ordinary, like the room didn’t just witness a conversation that will determine the course of his future.

I head down to the front entrance, looking into rooms as I go.

“Have you seen Garrett?” I ask Dad.

He frowns. “I thought he was still upstairs.”

We move through the house, looking for him, like we’re playing a one-sided game of hide-and-seek. We don’t find him. He isn’t with Aunt Liz or Emma. I text Katrina, Trevor, and Ryan, but he’s not with any of them, either.

A few hours later, after talking to everyone who might know where Garrett is, our family stands around the island in our kitchen. We pretend not to be worried, acting like it’s normal for Garrett to leave without telling anyone where he’s going. It’s only been a few hours, we keep saying. He’s probably with friends.

Yet here we stand, watching one another over the butcher-block countertop, unsure what to do with ourselves.

“He’s not with Tyler,” Dad says, hanging up his phone. “But Tyler’s mom said to let her know if we need help looking.”

Emma swallows. Tyler’s mom is a police officer. This isn’t a big enough deal for the police. This can’t be a big enough deal for the police.

“It’s only been a few hours,” Aunt Liz repeats, trying to hide the worry in her voice. “He could just be out for a walk.”

“That would be a really long walk,” I say, eyeing the cold drizzle beginning to patter against the window. “And he didn’t bring his phone.”

“He can’t be far,” Dad says. “He doesn’t have a car. Maybe we should take a ride around town to look for him. Just to be safe.”

“Great idea,” Aunt Liz agrees, pressing a horrible hopefulness into her voice.

I follow them outside, anxiety twisting at my stomach.

Aunt Liz gets into the driver’s seat of her car, and Emma tucks herself into the passenger seat.

Dad leans over her car door. “How about you stop in at some shops and restaurants. Ask if anyone has seen him. Enzo and I can drive around and check the streets.”

Aunt Liz nods. “We’re really overreacting,” she tells me. “I’m sure he went somewhere and just forgot to tell us.”