Bad Connection Read online

  “Do you think anything really happened to her?” Olivia glances at me as she fills her cup with ice.

  I shrug as I pick up a drink cup. I tell Olivia a lot of things, but I'm just not ready to tell her about this. Not that I have anything to tell. Not really.

  “I mean, have you gotten any feelings about her?” she asks in a hushed tone, I'm sure so that no one will hear.

  Olivia knows about the few “unusual experiences” I've had in the past. Although, up until this morning, I haven't had anything happen to me for almost a year now. I actually hoped that it was all over. That God had moved on, picked someone else… I guess I was wrong.

  “Not really,” I say lightly. “Not anything that means anything. Of course, I'm worried about her, and I've been praying for her. But that's pretty much where it ends.” Okay, I'd probably say more, but there are too many listening ears right now.

  “It's just so weird. I really thought she'd be back by now.”

  “How long has she been gone?” I ask.

  “Well, I heard her mom on the news last night. She hadn't seen Kayla since Saturday. And it's Wednesday today”

  “It really doesn't sound good.” I pick up a tuna sandwich and set it on my tray. “And I know things aren't too cool at her house—they haven't been for the past couple of years, ever since her parents split up. I guess I just figured maybe Kayla ran away to stay at a friend's house, you know, to just lay low for a while. Maybe she thought it would get her mom's attention.”

  “What friend though?”

  “I know…”

  “Well, it has gotten her mom's attention. Did you see the news last night? She was really crying and falling apart.”

  I shake my head. “I missed that.”

  “It's just so weird.”

  “Yeah. Pretty weird.” Okay, that's an understatement. The truth is, I can't think of Kayla today without feeling seriously worried.

  Where is she?

  Two

  Olivia and i pay the cashier and go fine an empty table, where we sit down and, as usual, bow our heads. We don't pray out loud. But we do pray. And sometimes we take some heat over our lunch blessing.

  Some people call us religious freaks, and one guy likes to call us “the nuns.” But we just laugh it off, No big deal. It might be harder if we had to handle it alone. Having a best friend by your side makes a lot of things easier. I thank God for Olivia on a daily basis.

  “So, if she's not at a friend's house…” continues Olivia, obviously still stuck on the Kayla mystery. “Where do you think she is, Sam? Do you think she's been kidnapped?”

  “Not according to the news the other day.” I stick a straw in my drink.

  “I know. They say she took her purse and clothes and money and stuff and that it looked like it was clearly a runaway situation. Her mom told the news that she hadn't been home all day on Saturday. But isn't it possible that someone entered the house and forced Kayla to get those things, tried to make it look normal?”

  I kind of laugh. “Can you imagine a kidnapper breaking into your house and then telling you to neatly pack your bags?”

  “I guess that sounds kind of nutty.”

  Just then we are joined by Emma and Brittany and a couple of other girls. And although we haven't been that close with these girls during the past year or so, I'm not that surprised they've been hanging with us lately. I know it has to do with our old connection to Kayla. It's like we're all worried and slightly freaked, and something about being together and talking about it seems to help some of them. Maybe it's therapeutic.

  Though to be honest, it makes me uncomfortable. Especially today. And some of the speculations, particularly this latest one from Emma, who never seemed all that concerned about Kayla in the first place, can be rather maddening.

  “Did you guys hear Emma's latest theory?” Amelia Carnes asks as she sits next to me. “About why Kayla is missing?”

  “You mean her little marriage hypothesis?” I venture.

  Amelia laughs. “Yeah, is that nuts or what?”

  “I think she just hopes it's true.” Brittany jabs Emma with her elbow as they sit across from us. “That way she won't have to keep competing with Kayla for the attention of Parker Davis.”

  “Yeah, right. Everyone knows that Parker and I are history now anyway.”

  “That's for sure.” Amelia nods over to a nearby table where Parker is obviously, flirting with Corrine Ashton.

  “I couldn't care less,” retorts Emma. “I'm totally over him.”

  “He seems to be totally over you too,” observes Olivia.

  “It's mutual.” Emma blows the wrapper off her straw, right in Olivia's face.

  “So that doesn't have anything to do with your story about Kayla running off to get married?” I ask.

  “Nothing whatsoever.”

  “But why are you so sure of this now, Emma?” asks 9 Amelia. “You never mentioned it to anyone before.”

  “I was at her house last night. Her mom let me get on her computer, and I was reading some old e-mails.”

  “No way!” Brittany leans forward. Actually, I think we're all leaning forward now. “She wrote about it in her e-mails?”

  “Was there really any talk of marriage?” I ask.

  “Well, these were old e-mails,” Emma admits. “We're guessing she may have deleted the more recent ones, to erase the trail, you know. But judging by the old e-mails, we could tell that this guy was really into her.”

  “What's his name?” I ask.

  “His first name is Colby. But we couldn't find his last name anywhere.”

  “Do the police know about this?”

  Emma nods. “Yeah, Kayla's mom has let them go through her room and their whole house. They downloaded everything from her computer and took some other things too.”

  “Still,” I persist, “I don't get why you think that Kayla would run off to marry this Colby kid. I mean, how would they even support themselves? Get real! What kind of life could two teenagers possibly have down in San Diego? Slinging hamburgers at McDonald's and living out of their car or maybe on a beach?”

  “Yeah,” says Amelia. “Even if Kayla was that desperate, she's not that stupid.” '

  Emma nods and smiles, and I get this feeling that she's holding something back. Like a poker player who's got a couple of aces, she's waiting for the right moment to lay down her hand.

  “Okay,” I say to Emma. “What is it? What do you know that you're not telling us?”

  “Yeah,” says Brittany. “And don't tell us Kayla got pregnant online either.”

  We kind of laugh again. But I can tell the laughter is getting thinner and weaker. Maybe humor worked for us on Monday, when we all just assumed that Kayla had pulled a fast one. And even on Tuesday when we figured she was holding out to punish her mom over this latest boyfriend. But now that it's Wednesday, well, I think we're all getting pretty worried.

  “Okay, this is the deal,” Emma says as if she's divulging a big secret. “This Colby guy is in his twenties. He's not our age at all.”

  Everyone looks properly shocked, and it's obvious that Emma is pleased. I suspect she's enjoying all this attention. No wonder she keeps dragging it out.

  But now that I think about it, I remember something like this. “Yeah, I kind of recall Kayla saying the guy she met was older, but I assumed it was just like a year or two. Are you sure he's really that old, Emma?”

  “Well, according to the e-mail I read, he's a graduate of UCLA, and he has a good job and a nice apartment and a cool car and everything.”

  “That's just weird,” I say. “Why would a guy like that be interested in someone like Kayla?” Okay, even as I say this, I realize it could be taken all wrong. Still, it doesn't make sense.r>

  “Kayla's a pretty girl,” offers Brittany. “And you gotta o admit she looks great in a bikini. Didn't you say that they met on a beach, Emma?”

  “Yep. That's what she told me.”

  “She said that to me
too,” I admit. “Seems like he was a surfer.”

  “Kayla went on and on about what a great time they'd had'at the beach,” says Emma.

  “Even so,” I say, “if this Colby dude really is a college grad with a good job and everything, well, why would he get involved with a minor? There are laws against that, you know.”

  Olivia shakes her head. “It really doesn't make much sense.”

  “Maybe Kayla told him she was older,” suggests Emma. “I mean, she could easily pass for twenty-one. Don't you think? Any of us could.”

  “Yeah.” Brittany points at Emma. “And some of us even have the fake ID to prove it.”

  “Shut up!” Emma shoots back.

  Brittany just laughs. “But it's true; Kayla could pass for being older.”

  “Still, why would she go down there now?” I ask. “It's less than a month until winter break. She could've gone then.”

  “She was obviously desperate to see him,” says Emma. “Remember she said he was hot? Maybe she was worried that some other chick was going to turn his head and steal his affections.” She laughs.

  “Yeah,” Brittany says in a sarcastic tone. “Wonder where she'd ever get an idea like that, EmmaT

  “Hey, I went out with Parker before Kayla did.”

  “One date does not count as going out with a guy, Emma,” says Amelia.

  “But I really liked him.”

  “Whatever!” Olivia shakes her head, and I can tell she's losing patience. “Back to Kayla now.”

  “That's right,” I say. “Back to Kayla. Seriously Emma, do you really think she went down there to marry this Colby guy?”

  Emma smiles, perhaps a little too smugly. “I think so. And furthermore, so does Kayla's very own mother.”

  “But on the news last night,” Olivia reminds her, “her mom was so broken up. She was falling apart.”

  “Duh.” Emma nods. “It's not like she's going to tell the whole world that her sixteen-year-old daughter ran off to marry a man in his twenties. Ya think?”

  “Maybe not…” I frown as I consider this. “But something still doesn't quite ring true.”

  Olivia gives me a curious look. “What do you think, Sam?”

  I kind of shrug. “I don't know, but it just seems a little freaky that this Colby guy… I mean, this grown man who supposedly has it all together is seriously interested in Kayla, wanting to marry her? Even if she was pretending to be older, it still doesn't make sense. Surely he could tell that she was, well, you know, kind of immature.”

  “Ya'd think,” agrees Amelia.

  “Unless he's really a nerd,” suggests Olivia. “Kayla might've exaggerated his good looks.”

  “I wonder if there are any photos.” I glance at Emma.

  “Nope. The police already searched everywhere. Nothing like that was found.”

  “I don't buy that,” says Amelia. “Why would Kayla be so eager to run down there and marry this guy if he really was a nerd? Kayla is definitely not into nerd-types.”

  “Good point.” Brittany nods.

  “Okay, maybe it's just a hunch,” Emma says, “but I remember this time when Kayla and I were talking—back before the thing with Parker happened—and Kayla was saying how much she hated living at home. And you guys know how weird her mom's been since her dad left. Anyway, Kayla told me that the first chance she had to leave, she'd be outta there. She even told me how she would imagine Prince Charming coming to take her away. And yeah, it seemed silly at the'time, but looking back… I think that's just what she was looking for.”

  “And you think she found her Prince Charming in Colby?” Olivia asks.

  Emma nods. “And that's what I told the police.”

  “Did they buy it?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I think they're looking into it.”

  “Have they called her aunt in San Diego?”

  “Of course, Samantha.” But Emma just shakes her head. “She hasn't heard a word from her.”

  “Yeah,” I admit. “I guess that wouldn't be too smart. I mean, if she really does want to get married and not © be found.”

  “So is that it?” asks Olivia. “We just figure Kayla has married Colby and that they'll live happily ever after?”

  Amelia laughs. “Yeah, right. What are the odds of a marriage with a sixteen-year-old and a UCLA grad making it?”

  “Maybe if it's just about the sex?” Emma suggests with a devious twinkle in her eye.

  “You would say that,” says Brittany.

  “Well, I think it's very sad.” Olivia frowns.

  I nod. “I think it's tragic.”

  “You mean the part about the sex?” teases Emma.

  I shrug. “Whatever.”

  “Okay, here comes the sweet little Christian lecture about how we should all be saving ourselves for our future husbands.” Emma looks directly at Olivia and me.

  I glance at my watch. “Don't worry,” I say as I stand and pick up my tray. “There's no time for a sermon right now, but if you'd like to schedule something for, say—”

  “No, no. That's okay.” Emma winks at me.

  “Thanks for enlightening us about Kayla,” Olivia tells Emma. “I think…”

  “I personally don't know what to think,” Brittany admits as we walk over to dump our trays.

  “Yeah.” Amelia nods. “It's pretty bizarre.”

  As I walk toward the science department, I'm thinking do about the “sermon” that I'd really like to give Emma. I'd like to explain that the reason God wants her to save sex for q marriage is only because He loves her so much that He wants her to have the best life possible. I'd like to say the same things my dad said to me back when I had just 5” turned twelve. Of course, it had seemed a little premature at the time, but then not long after our little talk, he was gone.

  Three

  My first unusual dream involved a guinea pig and my dad. Oh, my dad wasn't in the dream, but he helped me to resolve it. I was about six at the time, and I had this vivid dream where I was actually the lost brown and white rodent.

  The next morning, I explained to my dad how I'd been stuck in this cement tunnel-like thing. At first he didn't take me too seriously, but when I couldn't let it go and went on and on with detailed descriptions of how it felt to be trapped and how it was cold and damp and scary and how I knew that it was Porky—my neighbor's missing guinea pig—who was really trapped in the tunnel-like thing, Dad actually started to listen.

  Suddenly he remembered some new houses that were going up on the street behind us, and he'd seen a truck just a few days before bringing in some of those “tunnel-like” things—he told me they were called culverts.

  So he and I walked over to the site, and he explained the situation. I'm sure the construction guys never would've taken me seriously, but Dad, ready for his shift, was wearing his police uniform, and maybe the workers actually thought he was doing an official investigation.

  Whatever the case, we went straight over to the one culvert that had been partially installed, and Dad talked them into moving some rocks and stuff. And there, trapped inside the cement tube, was Porky, the lost guinea pig.

  “You got ESP or something?” one of the guys asked me as I cuddled the shivering guinea pig up to my chest.

  “ES what?”

  Dad just laughed. “It's a gift,” he told them. I had a few more dreams after that, not terribly dramatic, but when they turned out to be true, my dad took notice.

  I was about twelve, not long after my Dad gave me his little sex talk, when I experienced another unusual dream. I didn't really understand it at the time, but I could tell it meant something.

  I'm not unlike other people in that I have lots of dreams. And as far as I know, lots of my dreams don't mean a thing. They're just plain old dreams. Learning to differentiate between what is purely my brain entertaining itself while I'm catching z's and something that's meant to be a message from God hasn't been easy. In fact, I still don't have it totally figured out.

  B
ut the dream that caught my attention that time was about my dad. It wasn't exactly a bad dream, but I did wake up feeling extremely sad. I think I was actually crying. Although I wasn't-even sure why. I mean, the dream really wasn't that big of a deal. Or so I assumed at the time. I suppose I just brushed it off as nothing.

  In that dream, Dad and I had been walking together along the top of this big stone wall. At first I'd been holding his hand because I was afraid I was going to fall. The wall was so tall and steep that I couldn't even see the ground below us, just mist. But after a bit I started to relax.

  It was fun hopping along from rock to rock, and I must've let go of his hand. And maybe I'd been talking or just not paying attention, but after a while I looked up and realized that my dad and I were no longer walking together. We were walking on two separate walls, about fifty feet apart, and between these walls stretched this huge gulf of just nothingness.

  My dad waved to me from where he was walking on the other side, and he seemed perfectly fine. But I was confused and scared and couldn't figure out how I would get over there to join him. Not only that, but the more we walked, the farther apart the two walls became. There seemed no way to get back to him, and I woke up totally frustrated. But thinking it was just a weird dream, I never told anyone about it. Just mulled it over myself and then sort of forgot it.

  Until three days later, when my dad was killed while on duty, shot by some creep who got caught cooking meth in his basement. Dad died instantly, and we never got a chance to say good-bye or I love you or anything.

  The minute I heard the news, I remembered my dream. That's when I knew that it had been a warning. But I also knew that I had failed to heed it. I had failed my own father—the only person who really understood my gift, the only person who really got me. Consequently, I was drowning in guilt. And I was mad at God.

  During the next couple of years, I didn't completely turn my back on God, but I was so hurt and confused that I tried to ignore Him. I also never wanted to experience that “gift” again. The “gift,” I had decided by that time, was actually a curse in disguise. Something to be avoided at all o costs. I wanted no part of it.