Pure (Book 1, Pure Series) (19 page)

           
Then I realized that I didn't actually know where Irina lived.
 
Maybe I could look Irina up online.
 
There couldn't be too many Neverovs in Elspeth's Grove.

           
"You're awfully quiet," Simon said.
 
"And you haven't touched your food yet."

           
I looked up at Simon.
 
"Sorry.
 
I was just thinking ahead to tonight.
 
I want to go see Irina's parents, and I realized that I don't know where she lives."

           
Simon took a bite of his pizza.
 
"I think her parents are divorced.
 
I don't know where they live, though."

           
I took a bite of my pizza, too.
 
"I think you're right about the divorce.
 
I remember now that William told me she was taken from her father's house.
 
I guess that means her parents live separately.
 
I should probably go see both parents."

           
Simon frowned at the mention of William's name.
 
"I really think you should stop talking to that guy."

           
"I haven't seen him at all today," I said.
 
At least not in person
, I thought to myself, remembering the very clear image that had come to me in English class.

           
Simon seemed mollified by that.
 
"You could ask Annamaria or Bryony where Irina's parents live."

           
"That's true," I said.
 
I scanned the cafeteria.
 
I didn't see either one of them.

           
While I was looking around, Simon looked up and glanced at someone behind me.
 
He sent a friendly nod over my shoulder.

           
I turned to see who it was.
 
Branden had a hand raised in a wave, and Charisse was pointedly not looking at us.

           
I turned back to Simon.
 
I couldn't help feeling wistful.
 
"Does Branden still talk to you?"

           
"Yeah, of course," Simon said.
 
He suddenly became very interested in his pizza.

           
"He does?" I asked.

           
"Yeah.
 
It's no big deal."

           
It was a big deal to me.
 
"Has Branden told you anything?"

           
"Like what?"

           
"Like what?
 
What have they been up to?
 
Have they gotten married yet?
 
When is Charisse going to talk to me again?"

           
"Everything's fine," Simon said.
 
"Don't worry about it."

           
"What does that mean?" I asked.

           
"It means 'don't worry.'
 
Things will work out."

           
I sighed and bit into my pizza.
 
I didn't understand why Simon was being so calm about it all.

           
We finished lunch and went our separate ways to our next classes.
 
As I walked through the halls, I kept an eye out for Annamaria and Bryony.
 
I didn't have any more classes with them, and I didn't know where their lockers were.
 
To my disappointment, I didn't spot either one of them.

           
The rest of the day passed without my seeing Annamaria or Bryony.
 
As the final bell rang, and the halls flooded with students, I waded out amongst them, craning my neck, frantically trying to spot someone who could tell me about Irina.

           
After a quick trip to my locker, I ran outside.
 
I figured I could watch the yard as people left for the day – that way I might be able to spot one of my targets.

           
I found a good place to stand – on a little hill with a tree – and the minutes ticked by as I watched students streaming out of the school.
 
There were a lot more people being picked up by their parents today.

           
A guy in a plain white T-shirt paused and stared at me.
 
I wondered if maybe this spot under the tree was his usual spot to meet his friends.

           
I turned around to scan the rest of the schoolyard.
 
Maybe I'd missed Annamaria and Bryony when they'd come out.
 
I didn't spot them in that direction either.

           
"Come on.
 
Where are you guys?" I whispered to myself.

           
I turned back to face the school.
 
The guy in the white T-shirt was gone.

           
I had that strange feeling again that I was being watched.
 
I glanced around quickly.
 
As I did so, a piece of paper fluttered down and hit me on the nose.
 
Then it floated gently to the ground.

           
I picked it up.
 
Scrawled on a piece of notebook paper were two names:
 
'Dolores Silver' and 'Ivan Neverov.'
 
Beneath each of the names was an address.
 
Next to 'Ivan Neverov' there was a note: out of town.

           
I looked around again and up into the branches of the tree I was standing next to.
 
No one was around.
 
The information I needed had literally fallen out of the sky.

           
I stood for several moments, stunned.
 
I looked around one last time just to be sure.
 
There really was no one near me.
 
Since I had what I needed, I decided to go with it.
 
I got out my phone and called GM.

           
She answered immediately.
 
"Katie, are you ready to come home from school now?"

           
"Uh, yes," I said.
 
I was a bit startled by how quickly she had answered.

           
"Stay in the schoolyard," GM said firmly.
 
"Stay inside the fence until you see me."

           
GM hung up.

           
I sighed and put my phone away.
 
I'd wanted to ask GM about going to see Irina's parents, but she hadn't given me a chance.
 
I knew there would be no use in calling her back.
 
GM wouldn't answer – she would be entirely focused on getting to the school.
 
At least that would give me a few minutes to think.

           
If the mysterious note could be trusted, Mr. Neverov was out of town.
 
So even though Irina had been taken from her father's house, I figured I should go to see her mother first.
 
Irina's mother surely would have been told everything that had happened the night Irina disappeared, and she would also know about any recent developments.
 
Maybe she would even know when Mr. Neverov was coming back.
 
All I had to do was make the visit sound reasonable to GM.

           
I glanced up at the road beyond the fence just in time to see GM gliding to a graceful stop in front of the school.

           
I hurried over, and reflexively I checked to make sure the iron charm was tucked under my sweater.
 
In my haste to get out of the school to look for Annamaria and Bryony, I had neglected to put on my coat.
 
I didn't know exactly why I hid it, but I still harbored a half-formed suspicion that GM would not approve of the charm.

           
I got into the car.

           
GM looked at me disapprovingly.
 
"You should have put on your coat while you were waiting for me.
 
It is too cold for you to go without it."

           
"Sorry," I said.
 
"I just didn't think about it."

           
I pushed my backpack off of my lap and onto the car floor and started to pull my coat on.

           
"No, no," GM said.
 
"Don't bother with that now.
 
I will get you home quickly."

           
She turned on the heater and eased the car away from the curb in preparation for her usual rapid acceleration.

           
"GM, wait!" I cried.

           
GM hit the brakes and turned to look at me in surprise.

           
"I didn't mean to startle you," I said apologetically – I had spoken much louder than I had intended to.

           
"Is something wrong?" GM asked.

           
"No.
 
GM, can we go somewhere else?
 
Before we go home, I mean?"

           
"Where?"

           
I was relieved that GM didn't sound angry – she simply sounded puzzled.

           
"There's a girl – Irina Neverov – she's one of the two students who disappeared.
 
I wanted to go see her mother – to talk to her."

           
GM smiled sympathetically and patted me on the hand.
 
"Of course, Solnyshko.
 
I remember Irina has been your friend ever since the two of you were little girls."

           
I suddenly felt guilty.
 
Irina and I
had
been friends back in elementary school, and I realized that GM thought I wanted to comfort Irina's mother, when I actually wanted to question her.
 
I had to console myself with the thought that if I succeeded in my investigations, I might be able to return Irina to her parents.

           
"Where does Irina's mother live?" GM asked.

           
I consulted my heaven-sent piece of paper and gave GM the address.
 
"I don't have any directions, though."

           
"We'll find it, Solnyshko.
 
Don't worry."
 
GM pulled away from the curb gently, and then took off as she usually did.

           
I had to smile.
 
Even when she didn't know exactly where she was going, GM still drove like she was on a racecourse.
 
She never used GPS, either, preferring to rely on what she called her 'inner map.'

           
GM guided the car through traffic expertly and very soon slowed for a moment near a worn and faded sign that read 'Hunter's Glen.'

           
"I believe we will find that address in this development," GM said.

           
She turned into the neighborhood and after a few turns, we pulled onto the street that was listed on my note.
 
We stopped in front of a house with green siding.
 
I glanced up at the number on the house.
 
We had found the right place.

           
"I think this is it," GM said quietly.
 
"Would you like me to come in with you, or would you like to go in alone?"

           
"I'd like to go in alone."

           
GM nodded.
 
"I'll wait, Solnyshko.
 
Do not hurry."

           
"Thanks, GM."
 
I got out of the car.

           
I walked up the short concrete drive toward the house, pulling on my coat.
 
I was nervous as I approached the door.
 
I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to say to Irina's mother.

           
I knocked at the door tentatively.

           
There was no answer, and my nervousness increased.

           
I knocked again.

           
I could hear someone hurrying toward the door, and the door flew open.

           
A woman in a drab skirt and blouse with frazzled hair escaping from a ponytail appeared in the doorway.

           
She looked at me suspiciously.
 
"What do you want?"

           
I was about to speak when the woman darted a glance over my shoulder, and her eyes narrowed angrily.

           
I turned and followed the woman's gaze.
 
She was staring at GM's sports car, which gleamed in the fall sunlight.

           
"You're another one of Irina's fancy friends aren't you?" she asked.

           
"You don't understand," I stammered.
 
"That's not my car."

           
"Spare me," the woman snapped.
 
"What do you want?"

           
"I'm sorry," I said.
 
"I don't mean to intrude.
 
I'm hoping I can talk to you about Irina.
 
May I come in?"

           
The woman's stony expression did not change, but she stepped back to allow me to enter.

           
I followed the woman into a small living room.
 
A pile of neatly folded laundry sat on one chair, and stacks of newspapers and mail sat on a coffee table.