I plugged in my headphones and watched my breath form swirling clouds in the raw December air. I pulled the sleeves of my sweater down to cover my chilled hands and began my journey home, staring enviously at the cars leaving the school parking lot. Will Dad ever finally stop working and take me out driving? I’m literally the only sixteen-year-old who can’t drive yet. A familiar yellow Volkswagen pulled up near me and the driver rolled down her fogged-up window.
“Jane! We’re going dress shopping this afternoon. You still need one, right? Are you coming?” my friend April asked. I paused the flow of music in my ears.
“Sorry, I can’t today,” I replied, “I have to go home and watch my brother. He needs help with his science project.”
“Again? Alright. See you Monday.” April said and sped off.

I watched the green Vermont license plate clinging to her car as the Beetle drove farther away and thought of how often I had to brush her off like this now. I wish I still had time to spend with April, but Dad couldn’t be home to watch Ryan and Ryan wasn’t old (or responsible) enough to be by himself for so long. Turning on to the main road, I pressed play on my iPod again and hummed along to Sir McCartney’s voice. “Yesterday…All my troubles seemed so far away…Now it looks as though they’re here to stay…” How true that was. I have only seen my father once in the past two days. After Mom moved out, he had to get a second job. Now he usually leaves for work before I’m awake and returns after I’m asleep. Consequently, I have to take care of Ryan every day before and after school.


I saw my father this morning, although the encounter was brief. He had just brought in the newspaper, and I could smell the cold clinging to his clothes.
“Morning, Jane. How was school yesterday?” he inquired.
“Same as always. I started a new sketch in Art. Passed my Pre-Calc test.”
“Well, that’s good. Sorry, I’m running a bit late. Tell Ryan to have a good day at school. I’ll try to get home earlier tonight.” With that, he was out the door.

I sat down at our oak table, the wood crisscrossed with scratches and one leg slightly shorter than the others, causing it to wobble. I picked up the newspaper and scanned the front page until I found a headline that caught my attention, right below a Ski VT advertisement: Third Local Child Reported Missing, Believed Kidnapped. I put on my glasses, skimmed the article, and learned that the most recent of three missing children in the Chittenden County area was a nine-year-old boy last seen leaving his school. The other two, about Ryan’s age, were also reported missing earlier this month after not returning home from school. I glanced at the clock on the microwave and, realizing I would be late, threw my notebooks, lunch, iPod, and a well-worn copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower into my backpack. I called Ryan downstairs, locked the door, and we departed for the elementary school.
***

I turned on to my street and realized I was once again fiddling with my necklace. The silver “Imagine” charm it holds was the last birthday gift Mom gave me before she left. Fidgeting with it seems to have turned into a nervous habit. I couldn’t help but to think of Ryan while remembering that article.

Almost home. A frigid gust of wind whipped the exposed skin of my face, sending my wavy brunette hair in every direction. For Christmas, I should buy Ryan something heavier than the Patriots sweatshirt he insists on wearing. He shouldn’t be walking home on a day like today. I faintly heard the rumble of a car engine in the distance.

I finally reached my driveway and opened up the mailbox, only to discover that there was nothing there yet. I turned up the walkway and climbed the stairs to the door. Fumbling around with fingers numb from the cold in my denim pocket, I managed to grab my key and unlock the front door. The wall of heat I hit as I entered the house feels wonderful. I glanced at the clock: 2:42 P.M. Ryan should be home in eight minutes, assuming he wasn’t held up by a teacher.
After unpacking my bag, I untied my purple Converse and attempted to warm my fingers. I started brewing a pot of coffee, hoping that it would warm me up. The drone of the engine seems less distant. I can tell that the noise consistently stops and starts again. Must finally be the mail truck. I glimpse the clock again: 2:53. Nothing to worry about. I’m sure the cold weather is just holding him up. The sound is getting much closer.

I peek out the window and see Ryan sauntering down the sidewalk, the mail truck a few houses behind him, now motionless. I hear the coffee trickle to a stop and go back to the kitchen to pour myself some. After pouring a cup of coffee and drinking half of it, I walked to the front door, hoping Ryan is close enough now that I can open it without the heat escaping and the whole house becoming as cold as it is outside.

I opened up the door and halted, petrified.
“Hi Jane. It’s really cold outside, can you…?” Ryan trailed off, noticing that I was looking past him.

Fear completely took over my body, paralyzing me. My eyes were open wide with shock and terror staring right past Ryan’s head.

“Who are you?” I faintly mustered, staring at the man in the navy blue uniform, no more than four feet behind my brother. I looked down at his hands: no mail to deliver. The back door to his mail truck was open.