Sixty-Two ☼ Phan

Sixteen

Panic ensued. For Chris, at least.

"I have to go find her," he said, on his feet and pacing.

We all watched fretfully. He was a very unpredictable person, and I could not tell if he actually planned to act on his words or not. It seemed the others had similar thoughts, judging by their faces.

"Think this through, Chris," Peej said slowly.

"There's no time to think anything through."

"Yes, there is, so sit down," I attempted.

Chris stopped mid-pace, in the center of the room with a look so serious llI'd have called you nuts if you told me an hour before that this boy would be wearing it. He ignored our advice and turned.

"What all did they tell you?" he asked, staring at the floor.

Our eyes fell on James. Uncomfort rose into his frown.

"Nothing," James defended bashfully. "Just her name, things like that. The last place she was seen."

"Which was?"

"Her cabin, Chris."

He looked terrified. "How long?"

"Chris," James tried to calm him, but he was not having it.

"How long?" Chris repeated, almost angrily.

A hesitation.

"About a day or so."

Chris closed his eyes. I could see the strain, the immense responsibility now towering over him. He had a choice, to either go after her or leave it to the professionals. What he chose would affect himself as well as, quite possibly, others. A fine line between safety and danger that was up to him to decide if it existed. If he thought danger was there, he could cross it. Or he could not. His choice.

Peej was standing, tense, with one foot in front of the other, the same way one would go into a handstand. He looked like he wanted to run over and hug his friend but couldn't decide whether or not it was a good idea. His leg shifted, and he slid it next to the other, holding onto the end of his bed frame.

James still had that same expression. Guilt. But there was no need for him to be guilty, even if he had been the one to tell Chris. The news would have came eventually, either bad news too late or good news that had never needed worried over.

Phil was looking up at the ceiling, his eyes reminding me of that time he cried in the forest with Louise. They were glazed, wet and damp and threatening to spill any moment now if triggered by the right word or thought. But why was he sad? More than likely, he didn't even know the girl.

I had no idea what to say, or what to do. Nothing could prove useful to the situation, nothing good could come out my mouth if I opened it. I simply couldn't relate to him. I couldn't find a single thing to link his problem with one in my past. Yes, my dad had died. But that was different. When it happened, I knew right away. He was dead and that was that, no anticipation. No wait. Chris, though, his sister could have been dead right then and there and none of us would have known.

"I have to go," he decided finally.

"Chris," Peej started, but didn't continue. Not cut off, just out of words.

"That's my sister out there, you know? She could be anywhere. Doing anything." Chris looked at Peej, who turned slightly. "Or worse."