— Giomanach

I drifted awake on Monday, aware that the house was awfully quiet. Was I actually up before my parents or my sister? It didn't seem possible. They were all morning people, insanely perky long before noon, a trait I could not fathom. It should have been the great tip-off that I was adopted.

I squinted at my clock. Nine forty-eight?

I bolted upright. "Mary K.!" I yelled.

No answer from my sister's room. I cast my senses out and realized I was alone in the house. What is going on? I wondered, sitting up.

A cough tore at my throat. Within the next instant everything that had happened last night came back to me. The enormity of it overwhelmed me. I dropped back against my pillows again and took a deep breath.

Nine forty-eight. Calculus would be starting soon. It suddenly hit me that I would never share my calculus and physics classes with Cal again, and anguish clawed at me. How stupid are you? I asked myself in disgust.

I staggered to my feet and padded downstairs. A note from my mom lay on the kitchen counter.

Sweetie,

I think you need to rest today. Dad gave Mary K. a ride to school, and she'll go to Jaycee's later. There's leftover chili in the fridge for lunch. Give me a call and let me know how you're feeling.

Love, Mom

P.S. I know you won't believe me yet, but I promise you will get over this.

I blinked, feeling both grateful and guilty. There was so much they didn't know; so much I could never tell them.

I stuck a Pop-Tart in the toaster and got a Diet Coke from the fridge. The first sip, though, convinced me it was a mistake. The bubbles of carbonation stung like little pinpricks as they went down my throat. I made some tea instead and skimmed through the newspapers. The local paper only came out twice a month, and of course there was nothing in The New York Times or the Albany Times Union about a minor fire in Widow's Vale, two hours away from either city. I could watch the local news later on TV. I wondered if my school would have some kind of explanation for Cal's disappearance.