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But hadn t I checked my jewelry box and make up kit
the next morning? I remembered seeing all of my necklaces
carefully in a row, and all of my rings propped up in their
holders and just knowing, right then, that Ella had never
come home.
I pulled open the drawers anyway and looked. There
was all of my old jewelry, well most of it anyway. I rec-
ognized the dusty hole where my pearl ring used to live.
That one had always been Ella s favorite, and I wouldn t be
surprised if I found it under a rug or tucked in a drawer
in her bedroom. Or maybe even on her finger now, where
ever she was. I knew it was there the night of the accident.
I pulled out the drawers again and dug through the
rows of beads and silver, but I didn t find anything there. I
sighed, defeated. I stuffed the tangle of necklaces back into
the bottom drawer and tried to shove it closed. The jewelry
box shifted, and something purple and old poked out from
beneath it. I grabbed it.
A canvas diary with dirt smudges around the edges
stared at me.
I blew on my hands. They felt like I was holding a
handful of ice and they wouldn t stop shaking. I curled my
fingers up to my lips.
There was a notebook. Ella s notebook.
And it was in my room, under my jewelry box.
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There was only one reason why Ella would have put it
here. She d wanted me to find it.
And no one else.
I took a deep breath and pulled my hands away from
my face. My heart roared in my ears as I picked it up and
flipped to the first page.
The notebook opened. Ella s loopy handwriting scrawled
across the page.
It read, These are The Diaries of Ella Graham: Part
Two.
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fifteen
The diaries of Ella Graham weren t what I was expecting.
I thought there would be a smattering of lopsided uni-
corn sketches and snippets of stories about how Ella van-
dalized some other park bench with orange nail polish. I
was expecting pages filled with heart-dotted letters and sto-
ries filled with light.
But there was none of those things.
I flipped through the diary, ran my fingers over the
indents Ella s glitter pen left behind. I scanned through the
pages quickly, searching for one word in particular.
Wolves.
I didn t find it. I dipped into Ella s life after my exit
from Amble, entry by entry.
The first was a story about how Ella had managed
to find an escape route from speech therapy at Amble s
crappy excuse for a hospital. That part made me laugh; it
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was so Ella. She mapped out a stairwell on the second floor
that was usually empty, and wrote about how easy it was to
slip past the security station. Apparently, she felt like her
words were clear enough now that she didn t need therapy,
but Mom and Dad disagreed. So Ella started smiling and
waving cheerfully when they dropped her off, and then
started spending her afternoons in the bead shop down-
town instead.
I flipped to a random page in the middle, dated seven
months ago:
He walked me home from therapy today. He met me
outside of the outpatient center after and kissed me. He
didn t even flinch when he kissed the scars on my mouth.
I never forget that, no matter how many times he kisses
me. How lucky I am that someone will kiss me at all.
My eyes drifted to he heavy-lidded boy on the cork
board and my heart twisted. How many other boys had
winced at the idea of kissing Ella before this boy agreed to?
Shortly after that entry came more about the boy
and I imagined pink blooming on Ella s cheeks as she
wrote about him. I turn the page to another one from just
a couple of months ago.
They re going to come for me, I know it. They re going to
take me. I know he ll save me before it s too late.
I groaned, pressing my fingers to my temples. Guilt
seeped through the cracks in my heart until I was sure I
felt it shatter in my chest.
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I should have stayed in Amble, I should have fought
Mom and Dad to stay by Ella s side. But I didn t; I couldn t.
My brain and my heart and everything in me wasn t func-
tioning. Leaving felt like a relief, in a way.
I swallowed and started to flip through the rest of the
entries, all spanning the past year. From what I could tell,
most of them were about this boy, about his quiet patience
and and kind eyes. I kept scanning through the pages,
watching the months flick by.
Finally I reached page titled November just last
month but there were no other entries. A fat square of
paper slid from the creases of the diary and into my lap.
I unfolded it, pulse quickening. But it was just a map,
white-washed in the creased and stamped with the words
Amble Public Library in the corner. I scrunched my
nose. This was just a map of Michigan, one Ella could have
easily taken from Dad s atlas in the study. So why rip one
off from the library?
A tiny pinprick of red near the top of the mitten-
shaped state answered my question. I bent the map toward
the light. Frantic red ink stains encircled the town of
Alpena.
What s in Alpena? I said, and the sound of my own
voice made me jump. I blinked, taking in the dusty light
streaming through my windows. How long had I been
here reading?
I shook out the diary, just in case there were any other
secrets or stolen maps hiding in the creases. To my sur-
135
prise, a loose sheet of paper, torn at the edges, wafted to
the floor. I scooped it up and read.
I know what happened to Sarah Dunnard.
The same thing is going to happen to me if I don t get out
of here.
And then, in hurried letters:
He s going to kill me.
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sixteen
Ello? Grant s voice answered, still thick with sleep.
Grant, I breathed into the phone. My hands shook
so violently that the screen jiggled against my cheek.
Something in my voice must have alerted Grant to the
panic rumbling inside me because I heard his mattress shift
and he said, Tell me what you found.
A map, I started. And a message. Grant breathed
on the other end of the conversation and I could tell he
was in think-mode. I didn t wait for him to respond. It s
a map to a town in Michigan and a message about how
they re coming for her.
Who? Grant asked, and all the hope inside me sank.
There was a tiny part of me that hoped he would know, or
at least suspect. That the wolves of Amble had left a trail
of bloody paw prints for other people to find while I was
gone.
137
I don t know, I answered. But the map was of
Michigan. It had some town called Alpena circled. Have
you heard of that place before?
There was a long pause, and then throat-clearing.
Finally, Grant said, Yeah. I ve heard of it. It s nothing spe-
cial.
I sighed into the receiver. I think I need more infor-
mation. Can you help me?
Another pause. And then: Of course. What do you
need from me?
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