I didn’t worry at first.
By ten o’clock, I was driving through the neighborhood, searching for him.
By midnight, I was sitting in a police station to report him missing.
The police officer asked questions, took notes, and eventually told me, “Sometimes teenagers leave for a couple of days. Arguments with parents, that sort of thing.”
“Daniel’s not like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes teenagers leave for a couple of days.”
“Daniel is kind and sensitive. He’s the kind of kid who apologizes when someone bumps into him.”
The officer gave me a sympathetic smile. “We’ll file a report, ma’am.”
But I could tell he thought I was another panicked parent who didn’t know her own kid.
I never could’ve imagined how right he was.
***
The next morning, I went to Daniel’s school.
The principal was kind. She let me watch the security footage from the cameras that covered the main gate.
He thought I was another panicked parent who didn’t know her own kid.
I sat in a small office and watched the video from the previous afternoon.
Groups of teenagers poured out of the building in clusters, laughing, pushing each other, checking their phones.
Then I saw Daniel walking beside a girl. For a moment, I didn’t recognize her. Then she glanced over her shoulder, and I got a clearer look at her face.
“Maya,” I whispered.
Maya had visited Daniel a handful of times. Quiet girl. Polite in a way that seemed careful.
