But adolescence has a way of stirring up what you think is settled.
On the surface, Emily seemed fine.
She was a little quieter, maybe more attached to her phone, a bit obsessed with oversized hoodies that swallowed half her face — but nothing that screamed “emergency.”
She left for school every morning at 7:30 a.m. Her grades were solid, and whenever I asked how school was, she always said it was fine.
Then the school called.
I picked up immediately. I assumed she had a fever or forgot her gym clothes.
“This is Mrs. Carter, Emily’s homeroom teacher. I wanted to check in because Emily has been absent all week.”
I almost laughed — it was so unlike my Emily.
“That can’t be right.” I pushed my chair back. “She leaves the house every morning. I watch her walk out the door.”
There was a heavy pause.
“No,” Mrs. Carter said. “She hasn’t been in any of her classes since Monday.”
“Monday… okay. Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to her.”
I ended the call and just sat there. My daughter had been pretending to go to school all week… so where had she actually been?
When Emily came home that afternoon, I was waiting.
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