I dash up the stairs to Tiffany's bedroom. I slide on a pile of spilled jelly beans and fall into the dresser. When I catch my balance, I pull open the bottom dresser drawer and toss out all the clothes. The cigar box is gone. I knew it would be. I knew Tiffany would move it after I found it. But is it still hidden in this room? Or has Tiffany pocketed all her money and taken off? I rise to my feet and hold my head. Dear Lord. Where is Tiffany?

In my bedroom, I remove my jeans and shirt from the hamper and quickly dress. I hop down the hallway, struggling to pull on a pair of sneakers. Dear Lord. Dear Lord. What do I do? I stop outside Dad's office and stare in. He's on the phone now, leaning back in his chair, feet propped on the desk. He wouldn't care. He wouldn't care that Tiffany's gone. He'd probably congratulate her.

I need help. I can't do this alone.

The lights are on at Abby's house. I race across the street toward them. I lean on the bell, making it chime over and over, a high and constant ring breaking into the night. Footsteps pound down the stairs and Abby shouts, "That better not be you, Kristy Thomas!" then the door flies open.

"Oh! Shannon, it's you!" Abby exclaims and laughs. "I thought it was Kristy being annoying."

"You have to help me find Tiffany!" I cry. "I think she's done something incredibly stupid!"

The grin melts off Abby's face. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"I…I think Tiffany ran away…with Sam Thomas."

"Sam Thomas!" Abby shouts.

I nod and close my eyes a moment. "Yes, Sam Thomas," I confirm and then I tell Abby about Monday night and what I caught Tiffany and Sam doing, and what Tiffany told me afterward.

Abby covers her mouth with both hands, appearing absolutely horrified. "Oh my gosh," she gasps when I finish. "Do you think…do you think…?"

"I think Tiffany's trying to get the rest of her money," I admit.

"We'll find her," Abby tells me, firmly. "Let me get my jacket and bag." Abby rushes up the stairs and returns less than a minute later, one arm through a sleeve of a red windbreaker, the other clutching her beige knit purse. Abby pulls the front door closed behind her and locks it. "Mom's working late. Of course. Have you spoken to Kristy yet?"

"No!"

"Maybe she's seen Sam."

I don't want to talk to Kristy. I don't want to talk to any of the Thomas-Brewers. I bite my lip. But this isn't about me. I need to find Tiffany. I nod, letting Abby know I agree with her, and silently we begin the walk to Kristy's house.

The lights are on. I ring the bell. Linny Papadakis answers the door.

"Is Kristy here?" I demand.

Linny appears taken aback by my tone. He shakes his head. "No. They all went to some play at David Michael's school. I'm watching Emily Michelle," Linny replies.

"Was Sam with them?"

"No."

"Come on!" I grab Abby's wrist and run away, almost forgetting to call, "Thanks, Linny!" over my shoulder.

Back at my house, Abby and I hurry up the stairs to Tiffany's room. I instruct Abby to search for the cigar box. She takes half of the room, I take the other. Tiffany's room is such a disaster that box could be anywhere. Or nowhere at all. Abby begins in the closet. I flatten onto the carpet and pull myself underneath Tiffany's bed. Even the unseen places of Tiffany's room are littered with trash and junk. I drag out a couple cardboard boxes and stack them on top of the bedspread. I sit down and begin weeding through the boxes. They're mostly filled with old books and magazines. Nothing of much importance. I throw everything back into the boxes rather haphazardly and shove them back underneath the bed.

"I found it!" Abby yells from inside the closet. She's lying on the carpet, buried beneath coats and shirts that hang on the lower rack. Abby slides out of the closet, the cigar box in one hand. "It was inside a Dutch cookie tin," Abby tells me, holding out the cigar box.

I take it from her and sit down on the bed. Abby sits beside me. I take a deep breath and lift the lid.

The money is there.

I sigh, relieved. "She didn't run away," I say, softly. I take out the money and begin counting. It's all there and then some. She wouldn't have left her money behind. Wherever she's gone, Tiffany intends to return.

"What now?" asks Abby.

"I don't know," I admit.

"We could call her friends."

"Frannie is her only friend."

"What about her co-workers? Maybe she's not with Sam. Maybe she's just trying to make you worry."

I nod, even though I am unconvinced. I rise from the bed and cross the room, stepping over piles of clothes. Mrs. Bryar refuses to enter Tiffany's bedroom anymore. That's why nothing is ever cleaned or put away. The bulletin board above Tiffany's desk is covered in magazine clippings and newspaper articles on gardening. I lift them up until I find the list of Tiffany's co-workers and their phone numbers. She's friendly with some of the girls who work with her. Abby could be right.

"I'll call some of these people," I tell Abby. "Go downstairs and start calling the neighbors. Maybe someone saw Tiffany leave. She can't drive, so someone must have picked her up."

Abby nods and salutes me, which I don't exactly appreciate, but ignore. Inside my room, I sit at my desk and punch in number after number. No one from Hot Dog On A Stick has spoken to Tiffany. No one has any idea where she may be. With each call, I become more and more sure that Tiffany is with Sam Thomas. And maybe that's partly my fault. I begin flipping through my address book. I call Mrs. Bryar, but she doesn't answer. I call Maria at Lily's house and Maria rather rudely informs me that she doesn't know where Tiffany went or with whom and didn't see her leave. Then Maria hangs up on me. I know I deserve it.

I can't think of whom else to call. I flip absently through the address book, scanning the names. Who would Tiffany go to? Then my eyes fall on a name in the "K" section – Claudia Kishi. Of course! I almost laugh. Tiffany isn't with Sam! This probably has something to do with her strange emancipation scheme. I dial Claudia's private number. The number's been disconnected.

Abby breezes into the room. "Any luck?" she asks and I shake my head. "Me either. I called the Papadakises and the Kormans and Morbidda – I mean, Mrs. Porter – and no one saw Tiffany leave this afternoon. I even called Bart, Amanda, Karl, and Al since they're all just around the corner. None of them have seen Tiffany. And don't be mad – I called Greer."

I make a face at Abby.

Abby frowns. "Tiffany might go to her." Abby shrugs. "You never know. But Greer hasn't spoken to her. Greer said she'd come over and help us look though."

"No! I don't need Greer's help!" I snap. Greer's already stolen my homework and my boyfriend. There's no telling what she'll attempt to steal next. "I tried calling Claudia. Tiffany spoke to her once about being…being emancipated…" I feel my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. As if that's more embarrassing than Tiffany selling herself to Sam Thomas. "But Claudia's number has been disconnected."

"Oh, yeah…she moved in with her aunt and uncle awhile ago. She's back at her parents' now. I'll try the house line."

I leave Abby in my room to make the call. I lock myself in the bathroom and sit down on the toilet and hold my head in my hands. I won't cry. So I don't. Instead, I simply sit very still, head swimming in worries and fears. Abby won't find Tiffany.

Abby knocks on the bathroom door. "Shannon?" she calls out and I rise and let her in. Abby leans against the doorway, frowning. "We're on a wild goose chase," she informs me. "I called Claudia's house. Mrs. Kishi told me that Claudia's at Erica's. I called Erica's and her brother said they're at Pete Black's. Then Mr. Black said they're all at the Sterns'. And Mr. Stern said they're at Emily Bernstein's. So, I called Emily and she screeched at me that I interrupted her homework and hung up on me. I think it's safe to assume Claudia's not there."

I sigh and drop my arms, letting my elbows dig into my thighs. "It was a waste of time anyway. This has nothing to do with emancipation. I know where she is. She's with Sam Thomas. Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"To Sam's house."

I don't tell Dad I'm leaving. Abby and I climb into my car and I'm out of the garage so fast, I almost forget to raise the door. I grip the wheel tight as I drive toward Bainbridge Estates. I can't believe Tiffany. Is she punishing me now? She punished Tyler the first time and now it's mine turn?

"I heard you broke up with…with that guy," Abby says after a couple minutes of silence.

I snort in response. Kristy and her big mouth.

"Kristy's just worried about you, you know," Abby continues. "She's pretty conservative, you know that. I guess that's why you kept it from her. You could have told me."

"Anna knew."

"I figured."

I'm silent for a while. I turn through the gates of Bainbridge Estates. I say to Abby, "I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't understand."

"You're right. I don't understand. But your business is your business. I am in no position to judge. I've made my fair share of mistakes. Trust me on that," Abby replies, then turns to look out the window, out at the dark night.

I pull up to the curb in front of Janet's house. The house is dark. Janet's Honda sits in the driveway. Abby and I jump out of the car and hurry up the front walk. Next door, the dogs are barking, loud and rough, the mere sound of them frightening. Across the street, another dog answers them in tiny, sharp yips. I see Janet's point. I ring the doorbell, leaning on it like I did Abby's. Abby stands a step behind me, hands in the pockets of her windbreaker.

"I don't think anyone's home," she tells me.

"Yes, they are!" I snap at her. "Tiffany and Sam are here!" I back up onto the front lawn, gazing up at the upstairs windows. There's no movement in Janet's room. I pick up a pebble from the flowerbed and throw it at the window. It bounces off the pane.

"Shannon!" Abby cries, shocked.

I throw another pebble. And another.

"Shannon! Sam's car isn't even in the driveway!"

"It's in the garage then!" I yell and continue throwing the pebbles. Some miss and bounce off the side of the house. "Sam Thomas!" I shriek. "Get out here! I know you're up there!" I start throwing the pebbles at the other windows. At any window I can hit. I lose all control. I can't stop. "Tiffany! Tiffany!"

"Shannon!" Abby sounds panicked, but it barely registers.

"Tiffany!"

The front door opens next door. "What's going on out here?" a voice calls. The person steps onto their porch. "Shannon? Abby?"

I throw my last pebble and turn toward the voice. Mary Anne Spier's standing on the porch next door. She's wearing an atrocious pair of green plaid pants. Her stepmother appears behind her, along with the elderly woman I saw Janet arguing with, and an elderly man.

"What are you doing?" Mary Anne calls out, then hurries down the porch steps toward us.

"Are you throwing rocks?" Mrs. Spier asks, sharply.

"No," Abby and I lie in unison.

Mary Anne reaches us and folds her arms over her chest, teeth chattering. "What are you doing here?" she asks us.

"What are you doing here?" I retort.

Mary Anne wrinkles her nose at me. "Sharon's parents live next door. We're here having dinner. Now, again, what are you doing here?"

Abby and I exchange a glance.

"We're looking for Tiffany," Abby says.

"We think…we think she may have…run off with Sam Thomas," I admit. The possibility doesn't seem real when I speak it. It makes my head swim again.

Mary Anne's eyes bug out. "Really?" she squeaks. "Oh, gosh." She turns around to face her stepmother and grandparents. "Does anyone know where the Gates' are?" she calls to them.

All three shake their heads.

Mary Anne turns back to us. "Have you checked the bus station?" she asks. "Or…or hotels?"

I gulp. Neither occurred to me. "We should try hotels," I tell Abby. "If Tiffany's trying to…you know…that's where they'll be."

"I'll come with you," Mary Anne offers. "Let me get my coat!" She takes off across the yard, leaping over the low wooden fence. Her foot catches on it and she stumbles. Under different circumstances it would be funny.

"Is everything okay?" Mrs. Spier calls to us when Mary Anne slides passed them into the house.

"Fine!" I lie. "Everything's under control!"

"She's an adult," Abby whispers.

"I don't even know her," I snap back. I'm not involving some strange woman in my family problems. It's bad enough that Mary Anne's joining in the search. The more people who know, the more people will talk. I still don't want others knowing what Tiffany did.

Mary Anne flies out of the house in a white parka, a purse banging against her leg. "We're looking for her sister! I'll be home later!" Mary Anne shouts to her stepmother without pause. She runs around the fence this time, then the three of us climb into my car.

"Try the Strathmoore first," Mary Anne suggests.

I shake my head. "No. The Strathmoore's expensive. It probably costs more for one night than Sam paid…um…" I let my voice drop off.

There's an awkward silence.

"Yeah, let's head out of town," Abby finally agrees. "The Sleepy Bear is closest and then we'll try Kozy Kabins and The George Washington."

I nod and turn onto Main Street, heading to the outskirts of Stoneybrook. The Strathmoore is the only hotel actually in Stoneybrook. It's downtown and rather fancy. I've attended a lot of parties and weddings there. Sam would never pay so much money for a cheap tryst with Tiffany. Dear Lord. I just thought "cheap tryst" in connection with my little sister. Dear Lord.

We've left Stoneybrook when Mary Anne leans forward between the seats. "Since no one's offering the information, I have to ask. Why do you think Tiffany ran off with Sam?"

Abby and I look at each other.

"I won't tell Kristy," Mary Anne promises.

I grip the wheel tight and grimace. "You tell her, Abby."

And Abby does.

Mary Anne is stunned into silence.

No one speaks the rest of the way to the Sleepy Bear. For being the last days of November, the parking lot is fairly crowded. We roll through slowly, searching for Sam's car. We don't see it, but I pull into a space in front of the hotel entrance anyway. Abby volunteers to run in while Mary Anne and I wait. We watch her disappear through the front doors, then stand in line at the registration desk behind a middle-aged couple.

"I talked to Kristy last night – " Mary Anne starts.

"Kristy's a blabbermouth," I interrupt.

Mary Anne doesn't speak for a moment. "That's Kristy," she agrees. "She steamrolls over everyone. That's a good point and a bad point about her." Mary Anne rests her chin on Abby's seat. "She's really upset over what you've done."

"You know, Kristy Thomas is the least of my worries right now, Mary Anne," I snap at her. I lean back against my seat and drum my fingers on the steering wheel. What is taking Abby forever and a day? "I know Kristy's playing games with me. She's going to call the cops still, isn't she?"

"Kristy isn't going to call the cops," Mary Anne says. "I admit, Pete, Ross, and I were going to. We thought you were being taken advantage of. We didn't realize that you were…"

A liar.

"…well…you know," Mary Anne continues. "Claudia and Erica told us to mind our own business. And Lauren…I don't know what Lauren wanted to do. Probably torment you for the rest of your life. You don't have to worry about her anymore." Mary Anne flips on the overhead light and turns the rearview mirror toward her. She wipes at the corner of her mouth.

I start to feel guilty. We aren't really friends. We hardly know each other. And yet, Mary Anne dropped everything to come along. She didn't come to be nosy or lecture me. "Thanks for coming with us," I tell her, quietly. Inside at the registration desk, Abby's arguing with the desk clerk. I sigh and quit my drumming. "I know you had to leave your dinner."

Mary Anne flips off the light. "That's okay. We were finished eating. It's probably best I left when I did. Sharon's decided she likes me this week, but who knows how long that'll last."

"Oh."

Abby runs out of hotel, curly hair flying behind her. She jumps in the car. "Drive!" she bellows at me. "They're calling the cops!"

"What?" I shriek, throwing the car into reverse.

"They wouldn't tell me if Sam was checked in, so I told them he was here with a minor. They said they're calling the cops!"

"Great, Abby," I mutter, speeding out of the parking lot.

We're a few miles down the road when Abby says, "You know, I bet they weren't really going to call the cops."

Dear Lord, I hope not. "Which way to Kozy Kabins?" I ask.

"Keep going straight," Mary Anne instructs. "Then make a right at the fork in the road."

Five minutes later, we're pulling passed a wooden sign that reads: Kozy Kabins in a cartoonish scrawl. Like at the Sleepy Bear, I roll slowly through the parking lot passed the individual cabins. I don't see Sam's car anywhere. I make a slow right and go around the back where more cabins sit near the lake. There aren't many cars. Then my headlights fall on one and illuminate it.

I suck in my breath. Abby's jaw drops.

"Is that…is that Tyler Austen's Firebird?" Abby gasps.

I exhale and suck in another sharp breath. "Yes. Yes, it is," I reply, flatly.

"Who is Tyler Austen?" Mary Anne asks, leaning forward.

Abby explains because I can't. All words escape me. What is wrong with Tiffany? I park four cabins down from the one Tyler's Firebird is parked in front of. Slowly, the three of us climb out of the car.

"Don't freak out at her," Abby whispers. "Don't go beating down the door."

We stop on the porch of cabin number seventeen. It's a cool night in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by stillness and silence, and it's very apparent what's going on inside the cabin. I slump back against the porch railing, eyes closed.

"I'll get them to open the door," Mary Anne says and steps forward. She pounds her fist on the door. "Hello!" she calls, loudly. "It's the manager! The bathroom above you has flooded! I need to…check the pipes!"

"They're in a cabin," I tell her. "There's no room above them."

There's no light other than the moon, but I'm certain Mary Anne's blushing.

But the door opens anyway. In the doorway stands Tyler Austen in a pair of plaid boxers.

"Crap!" he cries when he sees me.

I shove my way passed him and flick on the lights.

"Shanny!" Tiffany screeches. She's on the bed wrapped in a white sheet. Her hair is damp and mussed. "God! Don't you have a boyfriend to be deceiving and screwing right now?"

I pick her shirt and skirt up off the floor and toss them at her. "Put your clothes on and get in the bathroom now."

Tiffany throws the clothes back at me, but she stands and flounces into the bathroom still wrapped in the sheet. Abby and Mary Anne hover in the doorway, where Tyler stands, white as Tiffany's sheet. As I follow Tiffany into the bathroom, I hear Abby say, "So…excited for baseball season to start?"

I shut the bathroom door and lean back against it. "I've been looking for you for the last two hours," I tell her in a measured voice.

"So? I never know where you are," Tiffany shoots back. "Oh, wait, you're at the library."

"I thought you were with Sam again."

"That cheesehead?" Tiffany scowls. "No! I called him yesterday to get the rest of my money and he refused. Thanks to you busting in on us, he didn't get to finish. Thanks a lot for that, Shanny!"

I close my eyes and breathe in. "Two days ago, I caught you having sex with Sam Thomas and now I catch you having sex with Tyler Austen. Two different guys in as many days, Tiffany! What are you thinking?" I demand.

"Tyler and I are back together."

I stare at her. Is she insane? "Tyler called you stupid," I remind her.

"No, he didn't!" she protests. "I misunderstood. Tyler explained it all to me today. He's been trying to explain all along, but I wouldn't listen. He didn't mean I'm dumb. He just meant that he doesn't care if I'm not a good student because he likes me as a person."

"And you believe that?"

Tiffany looks wounded, then angry. "Of course!" she shouts.

How convenient for Tyler to explain this now after he knows she's sold herself to someone else. I sigh and frown at her. "Why are you here?" I ask.

Tiffany rolls her eyes. "Because we obviously can't have sex in my bedroom without you bursting in. And apparently, we can't have sex here either," Tiffany answers, haughtily. "I'm making it up to him."

"Not anymore. We're leaving." I open the bathroom door and grab her wrist and pull her through the doorway.

Tiffany pulls back. "No! I'm not leaving!" she yells.

"Yes, you are!"

"No!" Tiffany slaps at me with her free hand and knocks me upside the head. I drop her wrist. Tiffany steps back into the bathroom and slams the door. The lock turns.

"Shannon, let's go," Abby says, stepping into the room. She crosses to me and takes my hand, tugs it gently. "You can't make her leave. And do you really have a right to anyway?"

I glare at Abby, but allow her to lead me out of the cabin. I narrow my eyes at Tyler as I pass him in the doorway. His ears turn bright red. He shuts the door when we're on the porch.

"I'll drive home," Abby says. It's more of a command than a friendly offer.

When we're in the car, leaving Kozy Kabins, I lean my head back against the seat and cover my eyes, so Abby and Mary Anne won't see me cry.