"Sweetie, I'm sure it was just a dream," her mother said delicately.
Meg shook her head and pointed stubbornly at the door, which admittedly looked much less foreboding in the morning sunlight. "But it seemed so real. I mean, she was standing right there. She talked to me."
Mrs. Larsson put her arm around her daughter's shoulders. She had to admit, if only to herself, that Meg wasn't the sort of child to let her imagination run away with her. She'd always been very practical and focused; she got that from her father. But Meg was also eleven years old, the age when many children truly began to grow up and change in the most unexpected ways. The three things most important to her daughter were hockey, bike riding, and her best friend. Now that one of them was gone...well, it was bound to be a stressful time.
"Megan?" she said.
Meg looked up. Her mother only called her that when she had something very important to say.
"I may have told you this story before. But when I was 12 and Great-Grandma Hilda passed away, I had a dream that she was still alive, and that felt pretty real too. For a while I guess I let myself believe it was real."
Meg squinted. "That's kinda weird, Mom. I mean, if it wasn't true, then why..."
"I suppose it was easier to do that than to accept that my grandma was gone. I loved her very much," Mrs. Larsson smiled. "Sometimes, when someone we really care about goes away, we do things like that to make ourselves feel better. Do you understand what I mean, Meg?"
Meg nodded silently. She understood, all right: her mother thought she missed Riley so bad that her mind was playing tricks on her. But that was silly. Riley wasn't dead, and Meg wasn't asleep when she saw her. Beyond that, she didn't know what was going on here. Calls to her friend's cell phone last night had all gone unanswered.
Please come back, Riley. You're scaring us. Sadness hugged himself and stared glumly off into space.
Y-YOU'RE sc-scared?! Fear said incredulously. I d-don't think I'll ever st-stop shaking!
Anger turned on them irritably. Can it, you two! And don't go giving Meg any more wild ideas. When we see Riley again, we'll find out what she's doing here and then we'll take her to our parents. It's that simple.
I hope so, because we really do not need people thinking Meg is crazy, Disgust shuddered. That would be a disaster. Or as Joy here would say, 'a real downer.'
Meg couldn't stop thinking about it all through the school day. She kept an eye out for Riley in every class, but saw no sign of her. Meg supposed that if she ran hundreds of miles away from home, she wouldn't bother going to school either. But if Riley wasn't here and she wasn't at Meg's house, then where had she gone? Not back to her old house; a new family was already living there.
By the time she suited up for the Prairie Dogs' big game, she'd almost managed to forget about it. If Meg was focused in ordinary life, she was a laser beam on the ice. Her new teammate, Bridget, was the same way. It was probably why they played so well together. Riley was a great player herself, but she could be easily distracted.
On the other hand, Riley had been a lot of fun to hang out with, and Bridget was very serious. Even now as the short, stocky girl came out to join Meg on the ice, she didn't smile; she just raised her stick in a friendly salute, which Meg returned.
"Ready?" Bridget asked.
"Born that way," Meg answered. "So...one game away from regionals. You nervous?"
"Nope," Bridget's eyes gleamed with confidence. "You?"
"Kind of," Meg giggled and bit her lip.
The new girl thumped her gently on the shoulder pad. "Don't sweat it. If we score more points, we win. Just like any other game, right?"
Meg had to smile. That was her new friend in a nutshell. The girls hurried to their positions as the game began.
She's so cool! Joy exclaimed in Meg's head.
She's not like Riley, though, is she? Sadness said wistfully.
Enough yakking, Anger warned them. It's face-off time!
Ω
Ω
"What happened in the third period? I gotta say, you really had your old man sweating out there," Mr. Larsson chuckled on his way through the door. Aside from his mustache and receding hairline, he looked very much like his daughter. Meg and Mrs. Larsson followed him into the house, both still grinning and breathless.
"I got thrown off my rhythm with Bridget, that's what! I can't believe it. It's never, ever happened," Meg threw her hands up in the air. "And then it was like, I was depending on her so much before that I had to remember how to play all over again!"
Her parents dissolved in laughter. Mr. Larsson cast his car keys on the table, sat at the kitchen table, and started to relax for the first time since before the game.
"So yeah, that was the whole third period," Meg gratefully dropped her duffel bag on the floor and hopped up to join him as her mother took a bottle of her favorite sparkling grape juice from the fridge.
"Well, two out of three ain't bad," her father winked. "You did good, Little Red."
"You too, Big Red."
"Just think of what Riley's going to say when you call her up and tell her all about it!"
Meg paused and glanced uncomfortably at her mother. She got a sympathetic smile in return.
"Well, to all our friends and teammates who were there for us today, or would be if they could, I'd like to propose a toast," Mrs. Larsson moved quickly to restore the mood, pouring the juice and pecking both of them on the cheek.
"And to escaping with a win!" Meg raised her glass.
Her father did likewise. "And to continued improvement. Because a win is a win, but a really good win is a victory."
"...That means early morning practice tomorrow, doesn't it?"
" 'Fraid so, champ."
She slept a little better tonight. Thoughts of the game helped distract her from the big unmentionable in the back of her mind, and Meg dozed off without incident until a 3 A.M. call of nature. She stumbled back to her room shortly afterward, flopping back into bed with her eyes half-open.
"Geez. Thanks a lot," came the voice. "Now I've gotta go."
It was so familiar, after years of sleepovers and camping trips together in the Minnesota woods, that Meg in her quasi-conscious state didn't think anything of it. There was a rustle nearby, and the shadow of someone slipping out the door. She smiled and closed her eyes.
Seconds later, she sat up. Warm Joy and icy Fear gripped her heart as one.
She looked at the carpet beside her bed, where she could have sworn she heard blankets or a sleeping bag being kicked aside. It was bare. Next she darted out into the empty hallway. No one there either. Finally she peeked into the bathroom and turned on the light, checking even the shower stall and the linen closet.
Meg began to tremble. She wanted to race into her parents' bedroom and wake her mother. But Mom was apt to repeat the same story she told this morning, only in less comforting tones. Dad, meanwhile, would bite her head off.
They'd never believe her. She had to deal with Riley alone for now.
She reentered her room, which looked much bigger and darker than it had before, and switched on the lamp by the nightstand before sitting carefully on the edge of her bed.
"Riley?" she said. Her throat was so dry it came out a whisper.
No answer.
"I know you're here. I want to talk to you," Meg waited in vain, until tears began to blur her vision. "Please? I don't like to say stuff like this, but I...I miss you. Really bad."
There was nothing, save for her drapes moving slightly in a night breeze.
She fought the lump in her throat and spoke again. "Do you remember when I used to sleep over at your house, and your dad would always say 'lights out, girls'? So that one time we...we unscrewed all the light bulbs on the second floor and came down and showed him? He got that funny scowl on his face, and your mom couldn't stop laughing, and..."
And nothing.
"I guess it was a dumb joke anyway," Meg said. "But that's what I'm gonna do now. Lights out."
She unscrewed the bulb from the lamp and settled back into bed.
"You're not supposed to be here, and I know you're in trouble. That's why you don't want anyone to see you. So if you need to talk to me in the dark, you can."
The silence stretched on into eternity, and though she tried to stay awake, exhaustion and nagging doubt wore down her defenses. As Meg's eyes closed again, the breeze outside died down until the drapes by her window were still.
Something rustled.