Kristi Holl - Vanished  

faiThGirLz!

the beauty of believing

BOARDING
SCHOOL
MYSTERIES

vanished
Formerly titled Fading Tracks

Kristi Holl

Thursday, 5:22 p.m. to 6:16 p.m.

Twelve-year-old Jeri McKane tore the Landmark School calendar off the wall. The rows of giant red Xs blurred as the calendar sailed through the air. Each X in February had marked a day closer to Parents Weekend at the end of the month. Only now it wouldnt happenat least, not for her.

Jeri read the message on her computer screen again.

Hi, Sweetie. It breaks my heart, but I cant make it for Parents Weekend. Its a two-day drive to Virginia, then two days for the activities, plus another two-day drive back to Iowa. Carol, my boss, said I cant be gone that longnot while sales are down so muchand I cant afford to fly. Im so disappointed. Ill call soon, and Ill be praying for us both. Love and hugs, Mom

Jeri slumped in her chair, biting her lip. When this kind of thing happened, she felt so lonely and homesick that she was tempted to give up her precious scholarship and move back home. She wondered again whether going to a great school was worth traveling so far from home. Tossing back shoulder-length hair, she dialed her moms cell phone.

Mom? I got your email and

cant take your call right now, but please leave

Voice mail! Jeri disconnected.

Back at the computer, Jeri hit reply. Her screen name, JerichoGirl, popped up, and she typed a reply:

I called but got your voice mail. Please call me tonight. I love you, Mom.

She clicked send. Within seconds, a new email popped up on her screen.

This is an out-of-office auto responder. Im not available, but in case of emergency, contact Carol at the number below.

Jeri deleted the message, trying not to let a machine make her feel rejected. If only she could talk to her roommate. Rosas parents were missionaries in Chile, and

Rosa understood the longing ache that hit Jeri so hard sometimes. Where was she, anyway? It was already 5:30 and nearly dark. Rosa should have returned from her field trip over an hour ago.

The stink of wet wool socks rose from the hissing radiator under their second-floor window. Tiny clumps of snow on the socks had melted onto the wooden floor. Jeri breathed on the frosty glass and rubbed a spot clear. Leaning against the radiator, she let the heat burn through her jeans as she stared outside. A row of mini icicles hung from the eaves like frozen fringe on a shawl. In the bare dogwood below, someone had stuck a mitten on the end of a twig. In the wind, the skeletal arm beckoned at girls who hurried by.

Jeri jerked the heavy window open and grabbed her binoculars from the windowsill. The gloomy, overcast sky seemed to seep into their room. Girls dressed in blue school uniforms rushed past Hampton House on shoveled sidewalks. Leaning out, Jeri focused the binoculars and searched in both directions for her roommates fuchsia scarf and hat.

No Rosa.

Below, a dark shape low to the ground glided toward some thick bushes. Leaning out farther Jeri focused the binoculars there, but the animal had already disappeared behind the shrubs.

A door slammed in the hallway, making Jeri jump. She dropped the binoculars into a snow pile below.

Good grief. Fuming, Jeri slammed the window, turning the row of tiny icicles into a shower of miniature daggers.

She raced downstairs, grabbing the newel post at the bottom to keep from falling on the polished floor. In the dorms living room to the left, four girls studied by the crackling fire. Handmade mountain crafts decorated the heavy oak mantelpiece. Jeri grabbed her coat from one of the antique hall trees.

Outside, she retrieved her binoculars from the snowbank under her bedroom window. Light from the living room shone out, revealing the outlines of two snow angels. Four days ago, after several inches of fresh snow, Jeri had shown Rosa how to make snow angels. She smiled, thinking of Rosa flopping around in the powdery drifts.

Jeri crept toward the thick bushes, hoping the cat or dog was still there. She squatted down, and light from a street lamp revealed a couple very large paw prints. This was some fat cat, Jeri thought, poking the bushes.

Kitty? she said softly. Here, kitty.

The bushes rustled, either from the freezing wind or the animal. Jeri poked a stick into the shrub. Come out, kitty. She parted the bushes and peered through. Rats. Gone.

Shivering, she ran back inside the sixth-grade dorm and closed the heavy front door.

Might as well leave your coat on, the house mother said, changing out of her Air Max Nikes. An athleticwoman in her forties, Ms. Carter rarely missed her late afternoon workout at their fitness center. Its time to eat.

For breakfast and supper, the sixteen girls in Hampton House walked to the dining hall with Ms. Carter and her assistant, Miss Barbara.

Be right back. Jeri ran upstairs, left the binoculars on her bed, and then stopped at Abby and Nikkis room down the hall. Abby sat sketching at her desk, a pink goose-neck lamp spilling a pool of light on her paper.

Chow time! Jeri said.

Taped above Abbys desk were her drawings of castles and cathedrals, plus several photos of Abby with her mom back in Bath, England. What a funny name for a town, Jeri thought, and what a long way from Landmark Hills, Virginia.

Coming. Abby took her blazer from the back of her chair and slipped it on. Wheres Rosa?

Shes MIA. Her field trip was done at four, but I havent seen her. Shed better show, cause she promised to have her advice column done on time.

For their media project, Jeri and Rosa (along with Abby and her roommate, Nikki) were publishing a small sixth-grade newspaper. Jeri covered current events, Abby was artist and photographer, Nikki handled sports, and Rosa did the advice column. Rosa still had to write her section, and then Jeri had to format the paper and run off twenty copies by tomorrow morning at eight oclock.

There was clomping on the stairs, and Nikki appeared in the doorway dressed in a black hat and leather vest. She strode to her side of the room, where walls held snapshots of her horse, Show Stopper, and a row of blue ribbons from her dressage competitions. No family photos at all, though, as if shed been hatched from an egg.

Abby sniffed the air, her face a picture of sheer agony. Youve been in the barn. I smell horse poo on your boots!

Youre imagining things. Nikki leaned over to checkand admireher tooled-leather cowboy boots. Then she took off her Stetson and shook out her mane of hair. She reached for her MP3 player just as the brass bell clanged.

Girls! the house mother called. Lets go!

They hurried downstairs to line up. Miss Barbara, the twenty-five-year-old assistant, hurried them along. Her yellow and orange print shirt practically glowed in contrast to her bleached white hair. As they headed outside, Jeri thought the wind just might rip off one of Miss Barbaras fake eyelashes. Braced against the cold, Jeri fell into step behind Nikki and Abby. As they passed the bell tower, chimes played the familiar Now the Day Is Over. Only six oclock, and it was nearly dark already.

Suddenly a piercing snarlalmost a screamripped through the frigid evening air. Half a dozen girls shrieked.

Abby grabbed Jeris arm in a viselike grip. What was that?