I both know she’s alive. The question is: What would you do to find her?—A
Gasping, Emily opened the keyboard to her phone and started to type. I’ll do anything.
There was a return message almost immediately. Do exactly as I say. Tell your parents you’re going on that church trip to Boston. But instead, you’ll go to Lancaster. For more, go to your locker. I’ve left you something there.
Emily squinted. Lancaster . . . Pennsylvania? And how did A know about the Boston trip? She envisioned the crumpled-up flyer sitting at the bottom of the hall trash can. Had A seen her throw it away? Was A here at school? And more specifically, could she actually trust A?
She looked down at her phone. What would you do to find her?
Quickly, she sprinted up the stairs back to her locker, which was in the Foreign Languages wing. As French students sang along to “La Marseillaise,” Emily spun the dial and opened her locker door. At the bottom, next to a spare pair of swim fins, was a small grocery bag. Wear me, said messy Magic Marker scrawl on the front.
Emily’s hand fluttered to her mouth. How had this gotten here? Taking a deep breath, she picked up the bag and pulled out a long, plain dress. underneath that was a simple wool coat, stockings, and odd-looking shoes with little eyelet buttons. It looked like the Little House on the Prairie Halloween costume Emily had worn in fifth grade.
Her hand touched a piece of paper at the bottom of the grocery bag. It was another note, seemingly banged out on an old typewriter.
Tomorrow, take a bus to Lancaster, go north for about a mile from the depot, and turn at the big sign of the horse and buggy. Ask for Lucy Zook. Don’t dare take a cab to get there—no one will trust you.—A
Emily devoured the note three more times. Was A suggesting what Emily thought she was suggesting? Then she noticed typing on the other side of the note. She flipped the paper over.
Your name is Emily Stoltzfus. You’re from Ohio, but you’ve come to Lancaster for a visit. If you want to see your old BFF again, you’ll do exactly what I say. And . . . oh, did I forget to mention? You’re Amish. Everyone else there is, too. Viel Glück! (That’s German for “good luck”!)—A
Chapter 7
An Old Friend is Back
When the final bell of the day rang, Spencer plodded gratefully to her locker. Her limbs ached. Her head felt like it weighed a million pounds. She was ready for this day to be over. Her parents had told her she could take a few days off school to recuperate after the fire, but Spencer wanted to get back into the swing of things as soon as possible. She vowed to get straight A’s this semester, whatever it took. And maybe by spring, Rosewood Day would take her off academic probation and let her keep her spot on the lacrosse team—she needed it for college applications. There was still time to get into an Ivy League summer program, and she could sign up for Habitat for Humanity to round out her community service.
As she pulled her English books from her locker, she felt a tug on her jacket sleeve. When she turned around, Andrew Campbell was standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets, his longish blond hair pushed off his face.
“Hi,” he said.
“H-hi,” Spencer stammered. She and Andrew had started dating a few weeks ago, but Spencer hadn’t spoken to him since she told him she was moving to New York to be with olivia. Andrew had tried to warn her not to trust olivia, but Spencer hadn’t listened. In fact, she’d kind of called him a clingy loser. Since then, he’d ignored her at school—which was a nearly impossible feat, since they had every class together.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I guess,” she answered shyly.
Andrew fiddled with the ANDREW FOR PREZ! pin on his messenger bag. It was from the previous semester’s campaign for class president, which he’d won over Spencer. “I was at the hospital when you were still unconscious,” he admitted. “I
Gasping, Emily opened the keyboard to her phone and started to type. I’ll do anything.
There was a return message almost immediately. Do exactly as I say. Tell your parents you’re going on that church trip to Boston. But instead, you’ll go to Lancaster. For more, go to your locker. I’ve left you something there.
Emily squinted. Lancaster . . . Pennsylvania? And how did A know about the Boston trip? She envisioned the crumpled-up flyer sitting at the bottom of the hall trash can. Had A seen her throw it away? Was A here at school? And more specifically, could she actually trust A?
She looked down at her phone. What would you do to find her?
Quickly, she sprinted up the stairs back to her locker, which was in the Foreign Languages wing. As French students sang along to “La Marseillaise,” Emily spun the dial and opened her locker door. At the bottom, next to a spare pair of swim fins, was a small grocery bag. Wear me, said messy Magic Marker scrawl on the front.
Emily’s hand fluttered to her mouth. How had this gotten here? Taking a deep breath, she picked up the bag and pulled out a long, plain dress. underneath that was a simple wool coat, stockings, and odd-looking shoes with little eyelet buttons. It looked like the Little House on the Prairie Halloween costume Emily had worn in fifth grade.
Her hand touched a piece of paper at the bottom of the grocery bag. It was another note, seemingly banged out on an old typewriter.
Tomorrow, take a bus to Lancaster, go north for about a mile from the depot, and turn at the big sign of the horse and buggy. Ask for Lucy Zook. Don’t dare take a cab to get there—no one will trust you.—A
Emily devoured the note three more times. Was A suggesting what Emily thought she was suggesting? Then she noticed typing on the other side of the note. She flipped the paper over.
Your name is Emily Stoltzfus. You’re from Ohio, but you’ve come to Lancaster for a visit. If you want to see your old BFF again, you’ll do exactly what I say. And . . . oh, did I forget to mention? You’re Amish. Everyone else there is, too. Viel Glück! (That’s German for “good luck”!)—A
Chapter 7
An Old Friend is Back
When the final bell of the day rang, Spencer plodded gratefully to her locker. Her limbs ached. Her head felt like it weighed a million pounds. She was ready for this day to be over. Her parents had told her she could take a few days off school to recuperate after the fire, but Spencer wanted to get back into the swing of things as soon as possible. She vowed to get straight A’s this semester, whatever it took. And maybe by spring, Rosewood Day would take her off academic probation and let her keep her spot on the lacrosse team—she needed it for college applications. There was still time to get into an Ivy League summer program, and she could sign up for Habitat for Humanity to round out her community service.
As she pulled her English books from her locker, she felt a tug on her jacket sleeve. When she turned around, Andrew Campbell was standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets, his longish blond hair pushed off his face.
“Hi,” he said.
“H-hi,” Spencer stammered. She and Andrew had started dating a few weeks ago, but Spencer hadn’t spoken to him since she told him she was moving to New York to be with olivia. Andrew had tried to warn her not to trust olivia, but Spencer hadn’t listened. In fact, she’d kind of called him a clingy loser. Since then, he’d ignored her at school—which was a nearly impossible feat, since they had every class together.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I guess,” she answered shyly.
Andrew fiddled with the ANDREW FOR PREZ! pin on his messenger bag. It was from the previous semester’s campaign for class president, which he’d won over Spencer. “I was at the hospital when you were still unconscious,” he admitted. “I
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