“Did he call?” I ask, eyes still on the ceiling.
“Yes, he called! He found the name. And I just found our girl!”
I pop up off the bed and hurry to the desk. I look over Megan’s shoulder: She’s on Facebook, typing a witty comment to go with her friend request. I read it and laugh, then my eyes find the profile picture and my laughter is gone.
The hair is shorter and a different color, but the face is the same.
It’s…
Oh my god.
Oh my GOD.
“What’s her name?” I ask, monotone. They never change first names. This will confirm it.
Megan looks up from her note and smiles.
“Oh, it’s so cute; she’s a little Irish lass. Her name is Nora.”
I lap Megan’s bedroom three times before she gets me to sit down.
“Girl, you’re tripping,” she says, sitting facing me. “Now what’s up?”
I sigh loudly, grabbing one of Megan’s pillows and clutching it to my chest.
“I went to school with that girl in Frozen Hills,” I say, pointing at the computer accusingly. “She’s the one who spotted me in the mall.”
“Daisy!” Megan says, rolling her eyes. “That profile picture is tiny by tiny—it could be me. You’re freaking out for no reason.”
“I’m not,” I say firmly. “I know what she looks like. She lived down the street from me.”
“Wait, what?” Megan asks. “How is this the first I’m hearing about her?”
“Because we weren’t friends,” I explain. “We weren’t anything. She was popular and I was… well, you know.”
“Wait, wait,” Megan says. “I’m confused. Tell me the whole story. Speak slowly; pretend I’m Wade.” Megan winks and it makes me laugh, which takes away some of my anxiety.
“Okay,” I say, hugging the pillow tighter. “Nora Fitzgerald lived down the street from us in Frozen Hills. She invited me to her birthday party when we first moved there, but I didn’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Totally irrelevant.”
“Why not?”
“I felt inferior. She was rich and had an apron-wearing mom and wore clothes that matched head to toe.”
Megan nods once like she understands.
“So anyway, Nora turned out to be popular, and I did my own thing. Then I got stung and we moved.” I pause for breath; I feel like I’ve been running. “Then that night in Omaha, I went out with Matt and Audrey and I saw Nora—she was randomly visiting relatives or something—and she might have seen me…. But she might not have. Regardless, Mason kidnapped me that night and took me to Kansas City—”
“Poor Wade.”
“Shut up,” I say, tossing a pillow at Megan’s face. She catches it. “On the way, I asked Mason what God would do about Nora, and he said they’d watch and wait and see what she did.”
“What does that mean?” Megan asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “We didn’t really talk about it again. I found out about Audrey and went back to Omaha and sort of forgot about it.”