Meg Cabot - Missing You

MEG CABOT

MISSING YOU 1-800-WHERE-R-YOU

For all the readers who asked for it

Contents

One

My name is Jessica Mastriani.

Two

Jess, Rob said, looking past me into the living room,

Three

New York isnt like Indiana.

Four

You need me to WHAT?

Five

Are you kidding me? was what Ruth demanded, after Id

Six

At precisely eight oclock the next morning, I banged on

Seven

Better let me in, I said.

Eight

Rob was on the phone when I tugged open the

Nine

I returned to my parents house to find a party

Ten

Everyone, if you could take your seats, please.

Eleven

I dont know what I was thinking. Maybe I just

Twelve

But, seriously, Jess, Rob said. Howd you know?

Thirteen

I turned around to find Mom on the front porch,

Fourteen

When I came downstairs the next morning, it was to

Fifteen

Both Randys were busy gaping at me when the intercom

Sixteen

When we emerged from the DAs office several hours laterI

Seventeen

It was all about me. Every page in the albumand

Eighteen

It wasnt until Id gotten out of Chicks truck that

Nineteen

Ruth?

Twenty

He woke up before I did.

Twenty-one

It wasnt until the ambulance had taken Randy awayin police

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other Books by Meg Cabot

Credits

Copyright

About the Publisher

One

My name is Jessica Mastriani.

You might have heard of me. Its fine with me if you havent, though. In fact, I kind of prefer it that way.

The reason you might have heard of me is that Im the one the press kept calling Lightning Girl, because I got struck by lightning a few years ago and developed this so-called psychic power to find missing people in my dreams.

It was this very big deal at the time. At least in Indiana, which is where Im from. There was even a TV show about me, based on my life. It wasnt EXACTLY based on my life. I mean, they made a lot of stuff up. Like about me going to Quantico to train as an FBI agent. That never happened. Oh, and they killed off my dad on the show, too. In real life, hes actually alive and well.

But I didnt mind (though my dad wasnt too happy about it) because they still had to pay me. For the right to use my name and my story and all of that. It ended up being quite a lot of money, even though the show is only on cable, not even one of the main networks.

My parents take the checks I get every month and invest them for me. I havent even had to touch the capital yet. I just spend a little bit of the interest now and then, like when I run short on cash for food or the rent or whatever. Which isnt that often lately, because Ive got a summer job, and all. Not the worlds greatest job or anything. But at least its not with the FBI, like on the TV show about me.

I did work for the FBI for a while. There was this special division, headed by this guy, Cyrus Krantz. I worked for them for almost a year.

See, it wasnt supposed to go the way it did. My life, I mean. First there was the whole getting struck by lightning thing. That so wasnt in the plans. Not that anyoneanyone sane, anywaywould CHOOSE to get struck by lightning and get psychic powers, because, trust me on this, it completely sucks. I mean, I guess its all right for the people I helped.

But it was no bed of roses for me, believe me.

Then there was the war. Like the lightning, it just came from out of nowhere. And like the lightning, it changed everything. Not just the fact that suddenly, everyone on our street back in Indiana had an American flag in their front yard, and we were all glued to CNN 24/7. For me, a lot more changed than just that. I mean, I hadnt even finished high school yet, and still, Uncle Sam was all, I WANT YOU.

And the thing was, they needed me.Really needed me. Innocent people were dying. What was I going to do, say no?

Although the truth is, I tried to say no at first. Until my brother Douglasthe one Id always thought would be the most against my goingwas the one who went, Jess. What are you doing? Youhave to go.

So I went.

At first they said I could work from home. Which was good, because I really needed to finish twelfth grade, and all.

But there were people they needed to find, fast. What was I supposed to do? It was awar.

I know to most people, the war was, like, somewhere way over there. Your average American, I bet they didnt even THINK about it, except, you know, when they turned on the news at night and saw people getting blown up and stuff. This many U.S. Marines were killed today, theyd say on the news. The next day, people heard, We found this many terrorists hiding in a cave in the hills of Afghanistan.

Well, it wasnt like that for me. I didnt get to see the war on the news. Instead, I saw it live. Because I was there. I was there because I was the one telling them which of those caves to look in for those people they needed to find so badly.

I tried to do it from home at first, and then later, from Washington.

But a lot of times, when Id tell them where to go look, theyd go there and then theyd come back and be all, Theres no one there.

But I knew they were wrong. Because I was never wrong. Or I guess I should say mypower never was.

So finally I was like, Look, just send me there, and Ill SHOW you.

Some of the people I found, you heard about on the news. Other people I found, they kept secret. Some of the people I found, we couldnt get to, on account of where they were hiding, deep in the mountains. Some of the people I found, they decided just to keep tabs on, and wait it out. Some of the people I found ended up dead.

But I found them. I found them all.

And then the nightmares came. And I couldnt sleep anymore.

Which meant I couldnt find anyone anymore. Because I couldnt dream.

Posttraumatic stress syndrome. Or PTSS. Thats what they called it, anyway. They tried everything they could think of to help me. Drugs. Therapy. A week by a big fancy pool in Dubai. None of it worked. I still couldnt sleep.

So, in the end, they sent me home, thinking maybe Id get better there, once everything was back to normal again.

The problem with that was, when I got home? Everything wasnt back to normal again. Everything was different.

I guess thats not fair. I guess what it was, was thatI was different. Not everyone else. I mean, you see stuff like thatkids screaming at you not to take their father, things blowing uppeopleblowing upand youre only seventeen years old, or whateverhey, even if youre fortyit makes it hard just to come back home a year later, and, likedo what? Go to the mall? Get a pedicure? WatchSpongeBob SquarePants ?

Please.

But I couldnt go back to doing what Id been doing, either. I mean, for the FBI. I couldnt findmyself , let alone anyone else. Because I wasnt Lightning Girl anymore.

What I was, I was discovering slowly, was something I hadnt been for a long time:

I was normal.

As normal as a girl like me CAN be, anyway. I mean, I CHOOSE to wear my hair almost as short as some of the marines I worked with.

And I will admit to having a certain affection for hogs. The motorcycle kind. Not the roll-around-in-mud kind.

And I will admit, my idea of a fun day has never been to yak on the phone or instant message my friends, then go see a fun romantic comedy. For one thing, I only have one, maybe two friends. And for another, I like movies where things blow up.

Or at least I used to. Until things around me actually started blowing up on a more or less regular basis. Now I like to see movies about cartoon aliens that come to live with little girls in Hawaii, or fish that are lost. That sort of thing.