Two Schools Out - Forever

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Anne was quite the panicky mother hen about losing one of her chicks, especially since we wouldn't tell her squat about it.

All weekend she made hysterical phone calls and hovered over us, alternately begging, pleading, crying, and threatening. But all we would say was that he had left because he wanted to and he was safe. End of discussion.

Except Anne didn't understand what "end of discussion" meant. Saying "end of discussion" really only works if the other person actually shuts up about it. Anne didn't.

By Monday morning, our nerves were all stretched pretty thin. For one thing, I felt like my left arm had been cut off, because Iggy was gone. I'd found Nudge crying in her room twice; and Gazzy seemed practically catatonic without his favorite partner in crime. Angel didn't try to be stoic but climbed into my lap sobbing. Which meant that Total joined us.

"I'm such a marshmallow," he sobbed, tears making wet spots on his fur.

It took a lot to make any one of us cry. Losing Iggy was plenty. So with all the tears and heartache and sleeplessness, and then Anne riding me, trying to find out where Iggy was, by Monday morning I was pretty much ready to snap.

I mean, I was happy for him. Way happy. But more than sad for the rest of us. And knowing that this could happen again, to any of us, made me feel like the Titanic, plowing right toward an iceberg.

"I'm going to report Jeff missing at school," Anne told us as we filed out to the car.

"Okay," I said wearily, knowing it wouldn't help. We all piled into her Suburban and she headed to school, back as rigid as a steel pipe.

"I'm going to call the police," she said, looking at me in the mirror.

"Whatever," I said, ready to explode. "Why don't you put his face on a milk carton? He's just another one of those missing kids, isn't he? This place is full of them."

Anne's face in the mirror looked taken aback, almost-was it afraid? Interestingly, after that she dropped it.

Which meant what?