her watch. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”
She left without telling Justine whether she had won or not. Justine lay there with her eyes closed, feeling the room whirl like a merry-go-round around her. In a few minutes, the smell of cooking eggs wafted its way up the stairs. She could hear the blender going madly. Em hurried up the stairs when the meal was ready, all arranged on a breakfast tray for Justine.
“Thank you,” Justine said sweetly. When Em placed the tray across her lap, Justine went for the green smoothie first, tipping it up to get a frothy green mustache and swallowing nothing. She laughed and wiped her face. “Mmm, those are getting better,” she said.
Em laughed in delight. She leaned over and gave Justine a kiss on the forehead, away from the bump. Justine didn’t even pull away.
“I’m sorry I have to go out, when you’re not feeling well,” Em apologized. “Do you need anything else? Are you going to be okay here alone? Should I see if someone could look in on you?”
Justine shook her head.
“No, I’m just gonna stay in bed,” she said. “Listen to music or something. I’ll be just fine.”
“Okay. Well, you call me if you think it’s getting worse. If you throw up or anything. Okay?”
Justine nodded obediently. Em fussed for another moment, straightening her pillows and adjusting her blinds. Then with a look at her watch and a squawk, she was leaving.
“I’ll see you tonight, baby. Sorry I have to run.”
“Bye.”
Then the front door slammed, and she was finally gone. Justine got to her feet, and the first order of business was to flush the vile green concoction down the toilet. She rinsed the rest of the froth out in the sink, and took the cup and her plate of eggs down to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, she was sitting at the computer with a double espresso and a quarter of a cup of cheddar melted over her eggs.
“Now this is breakfast,” she said in satisfaction, and opened up her browser.
At first she just fiddled, checking her email and various social networks and feeds. But even online she didn’t have any real friends, so that didn’t take very long. Justine took a bite of her eggs while she waited for a missing persons website to load. They put too many people on one page. The numerous pictures made it slow to load, even with a good connection. Once the top row of pictures was loaded, she started to scroll slowly down. She didn’t know how she was ever going to find it, but she kept assuring herself she would know it when she saw it.
The website seemed to have ordered the pictures with the most recent at the front. Which meant that if Justine’s own picture was in here, it would be many pages back. She started skipping back three to five pages at a time, watching the photos getting older and degrading in quality. If her pictures was in here, it would be at least twelve years back. Justine had memories of Em from when she was three. Longer ago than that was a blank. If Justine had been kidnapped, the records would be at least twelve years back.
Justine considered the things she knew about herself for sure. She was a brunette, not a blond. No identifiable birthmarks. Her eyes were blue.
She reached the right year of disappearance, and stopped scrolling, looking carefully at each little girl three or younger. What if she’d been older when she’d been kidnapped? She’d always been at the head of her class. She was smarter than the others. What if she was older than them too? Any girl four and younger, Justine decided. Four or younger, brown hair, blue eyes. That was still a lot of pictures to consider. She studied the faces of the little girls. There were so many of them, and she couldn’t see any resemblance between herself and the pictures. There were Em’s pictures of Justine when she was a baby, but that didn’t work, because they couldn’t really be her. When had Em taken her? When did the pictures stop being the other baby, and
She left without telling Justine whether she had won or not. Justine lay there with her eyes closed, feeling the room whirl like a merry-go-round around her. In a few minutes, the smell of cooking eggs wafted its way up the stairs. She could hear the blender going madly. Em hurried up the stairs when the meal was ready, all arranged on a breakfast tray for Justine.
“Thank you,” Justine said sweetly. When Em placed the tray across her lap, Justine went for the green smoothie first, tipping it up to get a frothy green mustache and swallowing nothing. She laughed and wiped her face. “Mmm, those are getting better,” she said.
Em laughed in delight. She leaned over and gave Justine a kiss on the forehead, away from the bump. Justine didn’t even pull away.
“I’m sorry I have to go out, when you’re not feeling well,” Em apologized. “Do you need anything else? Are you going to be okay here alone? Should I see if someone could look in on you?”
Justine shook her head.
“No, I’m just gonna stay in bed,” she said. “Listen to music or something. I’ll be just fine.”
“Okay. Well, you call me if you think it’s getting worse. If you throw up or anything. Okay?”
Justine nodded obediently. Em fussed for another moment, straightening her pillows and adjusting her blinds. Then with a look at her watch and a squawk, she was leaving.
“I’ll see you tonight, baby. Sorry I have to run.”
“Bye.”
Then the front door slammed, and she was finally gone. Justine got to her feet, and the first order of business was to flush the vile green concoction down the toilet. She rinsed the rest of the froth out in the sink, and took the cup and her plate of eggs down to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, she was sitting at the computer with a double espresso and a quarter of a cup of cheddar melted over her eggs.
“Now this is breakfast,” she said in satisfaction, and opened up her browser.
At first she just fiddled, checking her email and various social networks and feeds. But even online she didn’t have any real friends, so that didn’t take very long. Justine took a bite of her eggs while she waited for a missing persons website to load. They put too many people on one page. The numerous pictures made it slow to load, even with a good connection. Once the top row of pictures was loaded, she started to scroll slowly down. She didn’t know how she was ever going to find it, but she kept assuring herself she would know it when she saw it.
The website seemed to have ordered the pictures with the most recent at the front. Which meant that if Justine’s own picture was in here, it would be many pages back. She started skipping back three to five pages at a time, watching the photos getting older and degrading in quality. If her pictures was in here, it would be at least twelve years back. Justine had memories of Em from when she was three. Longer ago than that was a blank. If Justine had been kidnapped, the records would be at least twelve years back.
Justine considered the things she knew about herself for sure. She was a brunette, not a blond. No identifiable birthmarks. Her eyes were blue.
She reached the right year of disappearance, and stopped scrolling, looking carefully at each little girl three or younger. What if she’d been older when she’d been kidnapped? She’d always been at the head of her class. She was smarter than the others. What if she was older than them too? Any girl four and younger, Justine decided. Four or younger, brown hair, blue eyes. That was still a lot of pictures to consider. She studied the faces of the little girls. There were so many of them, and she couldn’t see any resemblance between herself and the pictures. There were Em’s pictures of Justine when she was a baby, but that didn’t work, because they couldn’t really be her. When had Em taken her? When did the pictures stop being the other baby, and
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