Shattered Read online

  “Hey, are you expecting someone, Nia?” Hal asked from the window seat.

  A second later the doorbell rang. Jumping up, Hal grabbed the duvet off my bed to conceal the contents of Amanda’s box. Meanwhile, I got up and opened my bedroom door a crack to listen. My father wasn’t home from work yet, and Mama was out at yet another auction meeting, but I’d heard my brother creep in earlier.

  I sat crouched at the top of the stairs, looking down as Cisco emerged from the family room. He was rubbing his eyes, as if all that MTV-watching had finally exhausted him. I wondered why he wasn’t at soccer practice, and if my parents knew that he’d apparently given himself the day off.

  He opened the door to reveal a woman standing on the doorstep. She was probably in her thirties, and I’d never seen her before.

  “Who is it?” Hal whispered curiously.

  I shook my head and tried to listen.

  “How can I help you?” Cisco asked.

  Minus the magic wand and crown of jewels, the woman looked like someone straight out of a fairy tale. Her golden-blond hair was swept up in a twist. Her face was like a porcelain doll’s, with starry blue eyes and angular cheeks, and she was wearing a long pink coat that at first glance looked more like a dress.

  “I need to speak to Nia Rivera,” the woman said, peering beyond Cisco into our house. She reminded me of a 1950s movie star, which I thought was sort of intriguing, because the first time I’d met Amanda, she made me think of the movies, too. “Who is it?” Hal repeated, as if I didn’t hear him the first time.

  I shushed Hal with one of my usual glares, resisting the urge to throw something at him. Instead I motioned for him and Callie to come join me at the top of the stairs.

  “Is she home?” the woman persisted. “She has something that belongs to me, and I’d really like to retrieve it.”

  “She isn’t home at the moment,” Cisco lied, ever the protective older brother, able to detect danger when he sees it. “She’s out with some friends.”

  “Oh?” the woman asked. A tiny but not terribly pleasant smile curled across her seashell lips. “Might those friends be Callista Leary and Hal Bennett?”

  Callie and Hal exchanged a look of surprise.

  “And you are . . . ?” Cisco asked.

  “Forgive my lack of manners.” The woman extended her hand to him. “My name is Waverly Valentino. I’m Amanda Valentino’s aunt.”

  Callie let out a gasp, slapping a hand over her mouth.

  Meanwhile, Cisco kept a firm grip on the door so the woman couldn’t inch her way inside. “How do you know my sister?” he asked evenly, demonstrating his usual near-nauseating charm and unflappable composure.

  “I don’t, exactly,” she explained. “But my niece is missing and I heard that Nia and her friends were looking for her.”

  “And where did you hear that?”

  “The vice principal of their school.”

  “Mr. Thornhill?” Cisco asked, surprise evident in his voice. “When did you talk to him?”

  “Just the other day,” she said.

  “She’s lying,” Callie whispered, as if it weren’t completely obvious. It was no secret that Vice Principal Thornhill had been mysteriously attacked in his office, and therefore unconscious for weeks. More than that, when we tried to visit him at the hospital, we found that he wasn’t there. He’d been discharged in the care of a Dr. Joy to a rehab facility.

  The woman plucked a tissue from a pink vintage clutch. With a large and floppy leather flower on the front, the purse reminded me of something Amanda might have carried. “Forgive me,” Waverly said, blotting her tears with the tissue. “I get really emotional when talking about my niece. What I really need is to get that item back from your sister. I’m sure she won’t mind. Maybe you’ve seen it . . . maybe it’s in her room and we could go have a look? I’ll only take a moment of your time.” She tried to squeeze her way a little farther inside, but Cisco had anticipated her moves.

  “I don’t think that’s possible. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, ma’am,” he said.

  Sighing, the woman took a card out of her purse. She handed it to Cisco and made him promise to give it to me just as soon as I got home. “All right, young man, if you’re sure . . . it’s important that you have her call me, otherwise I will have to go to the police.”

  “I’ll let her know. Have a nice day,” Cisco said briskly, doing his best imitation of our father at work, shoving the card into his pocket and closing the door firmly behind her.

  I was left with a distinctive chill. Waverly Valentino did not seem like a person to cross.

  CHAPTER 3

  We dashed back to my room and eased my door shut behind us. Hal sprinted to the window again. “No sign of her. She cleared out fast.”

  “Did Amanda ever mention an aunt to either of you?” I asked them.

  Hal shook his head and Callie couldn’t seem to remember.

  “But she talked about so many different people,” Callie admitted, sitting back down on the floor beside the blanket-covered mound of Amanda’s box. “Sometimes it was hard to keep up.”

  I took a seat on the edge of my bed. “She must know we have the box.”

  “Which means that she’s probably connected to Mrs. Bragg somehow,” Hal said.

  “Why do you think she lied about talking to Thornhill?” Callie asked. “I mean, it doesn’t make any sense. Every-one in town knows he’s in rehab—somewhere.”

  “Maybe it’s a veiled threat,” I guessed. “Or that she wants to get the message across that she knows we have the box.”

  “My vote,” Callie began, “is that her whole story was probably a lie. I’m sure she’s not Amanda’s aunt, and she’s definitely not going to the police either.”

  “Why definitely?” I asked, thinking about Hal’s most recent run-in with Orion’s (less-than) finest. Officer Nick Marciano had questioned him about Thornhill’s attack. But instead of asking all the obvious questions—where Hal was on the night of the attack, if he’d returned to the school or seen anything—the officer seemed far more interested in our search for Amanda.

  “Because she’s obviously in league with the Braggs,” Callie continued.

  I shook my head, because nothing seemed obvious to me. “Now that I think of it, maybe this Waverly person wasn’t lying about Thornhill.”

  “How could she not have been?” Hal asked, standing by the window, checking to make sure that Waverly was really gone and not lurking somewhere.

  “Ever think that maybe she spoke to him someplace else?”

  “As in wherever he is?” Callie asked.

  “It’s possible,” I said. “We just can’t make any assumptions at this point.”

  “Agreed,” Hal said.

  There was a knock on my bedroom door. Without waiting, Cisco invited himself in. Although I just see him as my massively annoying, smotheringly protective older brother, his popularity and good looks are matched by a good nature and kind heart that even I have to admit is admirable. I could see Callie slightly wilting in his presence. He has that effect on girls; the tall-dark-handsome thing is hard to resist. (Why didn’t I get at least a little bit of the tall?)

  “Care to fill me in?” he asked, handing me Waverly’s card.

  Her name and phone number were printed across the front in shiny gold lettering. In the bottom right-hand corner was an eye; it looked like a logo. “Wonder what this is.” I pointed to the eye.

  “I thought that maybe you could tell me,” Cisco said pointedly. “And what’s the mysterious item of hers that you supposedly have?”

  I bit my lip, surprised at how riled he seemed. My brother was normally super even-tempered.

  “I’m not leaving until you spill,” he insisted.

  “Well, you know that Amanda’s missing,” Callie said, flustered by Cisco’s proximity. She glanced at me; I looked at Hal. Were we going to include him? I felt their approval, and we all relaxed.

  “Don’t insult me,�
� he said, shifting his big brown eyes to mine.

  The whole school knew about Amanda’s disappearance, though everyone had their own theories about where she might have gone. Some believed she’d moved to Greece—that her family had purchased a vineyard, and that Amanda was taking Greek lessons by day and stomping grapes at night. Others said that her mother was here illegally—that immigration had finally caught up with her, and now they were all on the run. Less exotic theories existed as well—stories involving the loss of a house, winning the lottery, or a mysterious inheritance. Some didn’t even believe she had really disappeared: one girl, Tammi Black, claimed she saw Amanda at Unique, a thrift store just outside of Orion.

  No one really knew what to believe.

  “It’s not exactly privileged information that we’re looking for her,” I explained.

  “It’s also not exactly privileged information that you’re keeping secrets.” Cisco shot me an evil grin. “But I suppose I could always ask Mama and Papi. Maybe they might know who that Waverly person was . . . and what you stole of hers.”

  “And maybe they might also know why you skipped soccer practice today,” I volleyed. “I’m sure Papi is really pleased, since he’s counting on you to be named MVP for the fourth year in a row.”

  Soccer at Endeavor was huge and all-important—the team practiced year-round, indoors and outdoors, regardless of the season. Everyone was counting on Cisco to bring the team to Nationals.

  “Why don’t we start over?” he suggested, calling for a truce.

  “Fair enough.” I gave a small, satisfied smile, knowing I had won this round.

  “We think Amanda might be in serious trouble,” Hal started, “but we know she’s still out there. I mean, she keeps leaving clues for us.”

  “Clues?” Cisco’s brow furrowed.

  “Yes,” I said, filling him in on what we had, what we knew, and that a website had been created.

  “You may have heard about it?” Hal said. “Theamanda-project.com?”

  Cisco gave a subtle nod. “Why doesn’t Amanda just call you?”

  I rolled my eyes, tired of asking the same question myself. “Apparently, that’s not the way she works.”

  I realized then that I should share my Amanda treasure as well; we needed all of our gray matter on this one. I reached for the copy of Ariel again, still mystified by the heart someone had drawn around the title on the front cover. “There’s something I have to show you,” I said, holding the book out.

  “When did you get that?” Hal moved from his window perch to get a better look.

  I took a deep breath and told them everything—from my first encounter with Amanda to finding the book under my pillow.

  “So there’s absolutely no doubt that the book is from her,” Hal said.

  “But what’s with the heart?” Cisco asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know if Amanda was the one who drew it.” Part of me assumed that Amanda would never deface something so rare. But another part felt like I didn’t know Amanda at all.

  “It had to have been Amanda, though. It is so like her.” Callie grabbed the hospital bracelet that we’d found in Amanda’s box. The bracelet was tiny, from a maternity ward, but it appeared as though someone had tried to make it even smaller by fashioning it into a ring. “Ariel Feckerol,” she said, reading the name off the label. “At least I think that’s what it says. The type is kind of worn off.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked, completely taken aback by the name, and wondering why I hadn’t made the whole Ariel connection when we’d first discussed the bracelet.

  “Unless it’s a coincidence,” Cisco offered, taking the book from me. “I mean, it’s possible.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences.” I shook my head. “Especially where Amanda’s concerned. She’s always so purposeful about everything.”

  Callie slipped the ring onto her finger, but it fell right off. “This had to have been worn by a man,” she said. “I mean, look at the proportion of the radius,” she added, referring to the large size.

  “A man named Ariel Feckerol?” Hal raised his eyebrow at her.

  “What’s the date on the bracelet?” I asked.

  Callie turned the band sideways to check. “February thirteenth. Fifteen years ago.”

  “I don’t know.” Hal sighed, running his fingers through his sandy hair. “Maybe the proof is in the poetry. Maybe there’s a verse in that Ariel book that’ll help make sense of all this.”

  “I already thought of that,” I told them. “But I read the book—practically memorized it—and I couldn’t find any clues. It’s not as if Amanda stuck a bookmark in a certain page.”

  “So—why a heart?” Hal grabbed the book from Cisco. “And what took you so long to tell us about this?”

  The truth was pretty simple: I hadn’t wanted to share the book with anyone. The gift just seemed more special when it was only between Amanda and me.

  “As if you were completely open with us about going down to Baltimore to see Frieda,” I retorted. Frieda was Amanda’s artist friend who warned him to stay away from Callie and me because we were in more danger as a trio.

  “And, if memory serves,” Callie began, tapping her chin, “it seems there might’ve been something else that you failed to tell us.” She was no doubt referring to the pocket watch that Amanda had secretly left for him.

  “Point taken.” He looked sheepish. Hal ran his fingers over the heart design and a bright pink smear rubbed off on his finger. “Lipstick?” he wondered.

  “More like lip liner,” Callie corrected. “Lipstick has a smoother finish.”

  Using the hem of his shirt, Hal proceeded to wipe a corner of the heart away. Within seconds, the bottom V-shaped part was gone.

  “There’s your answer,” Cisco said. “Had to be your friend. No way lipstick could survive in a used bookstore for very long.”

  Callie nodded. “Amanda must have drawn it.”

  “Ariel,” Hal said, reading the title aloud.

  I looked down at the business card, wondering if there was any connection between the contents of the box and the woman. Did someone named Ariel work at an eyeglass store, or a place that performed eye exams? “We should call this woman. I doubt that any of what she’s saying is actually legitimate, but maybe we’ll still be able to get some answers. I don’t think we can pass up a lead like this.”

  “Hold up,” Cisco said. “I’m not sure I like the idea of my little sister getting involved in all this—of any of you getting involved in it, for that matter. I mean, isn’t it bad enough that Thornhill was attacked? Do you honestly want to risk being next?”

  “Let’s also not forget when he was attacked,” Hal said.

  “Shortly after he went to the police to talk about Amanda’s disappearance,” Callie whispered.

  “Nia?” my mother called from downstairs. “I’m home. Would you like a cup of hot cocoa . . . thick enough to stand your churros in?”

  “Great,” Cisco said, cringing at the fact that our mother was back unexpectedly early from her meeting. He’d either have to confess to skipping practice, or tuck himself away in his room until an opportune time to sneak downstairs as if coming in straight from practice.

  “Be down in a second,” I called. “Callie and Hal are here, too.”

  “Absolutely, pollita, I’ll make plenty,” she called back. The understatement of the century. She was pleased I suddenly had friends.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” Cisco reminded me. “Are you really planning to make yourselves the next victims?”

  “What do you think?”

  “That’s why I’m asking, Ni.”

  “All I’m going to do is call this Waverly woman tomorrow,” I said firmly, looking back down at the card, ignoring his big-brotherly concerns. For now.

  CHAPTER 4

  The following day at school, everyone was buzzing about the talent show on Friday.

  “I was going to back out
of it,” Hal said, referring to playing guitar in his boy band Girl Like Me. “Considering everything that’s going on with Amanda. But the guys are really counting on me.”

  “Well, personally, I think it’s great,” Callie said.

  We were in the library during a free period, originally to discuss our impending phone call to Waverly, but we had yet to even broach the topic.

  “I mean, Amanda would want you to be in the show, don’t you think?” Callie continued, giving him one of her dimpled grins.

  Hal shrugged, embarrassed by Callie’s attention, though he also seemed to enjoy it. I could tell by the way he was smiling, even when he bit his lip, and how pink his face was, like he’d just spent an hour in the sun.

  “We should probably get down to business, don’t you think?” I asked, trying to shift the focus to the topic at hand.

  But they kept carrying on about the talent show—how Hal needed to run to the music shop later; how Callie, having recently declined her I-Girl membership priv-ileges, obviously wouldn’t be in the annual I-Girl lip-synch routine.

  A tragedy to say the least.

  “Are you doing anything, Nia?” Callie asked me.

  “Are you serious?” I peeked over at Ms. Wisp, aka Ms. Whisper, the school librarian, who was too busy sorting books to care that we were speaking audibly. “I wasn’t even going to go.”

  “You have to go,” Hal said. “I’ve been working on a song for weeks, and I’d really like you to hear it. I want you both to hear it, of course,” he corrected himself.

  Just then, there was a crash in the corner. It was Zoe Costas, this girl who takes pictures for the school newspaper and plays sax in several bands. She had knocked over a stack of books from a table near us. As Ms. Wisp rushed over to pick them up, I realized that if we ever got back to talking about our search for Amanda, we should be careful about who could overhear our conversation.

  Case in point: I heard some loud gum-popping noises behind me and I turned, startled to see Heidi and her I-Girl clones—I’d thought the library was to them what fast-food restaurants are for my mother: consciously uncharted territory. While Kelli and Traci appeared to be feverishly finishing up some assignment, Heidi shot us a dirty look.