I picked up my phone and called Mark.
He didn’t answer.
I sent him a message asking whether Emily had mentioned any problems at school.
He replied twenty minutes later.
She’s fine, Zoe. Why?
I stared at the message.
Something about those two words bothered me.
She’s fine.
It sounded too much like Emily’s own answers.
I typed, Her teacher called. We need to talk about Emily.
Then I put my phone down.
Mark didn’t respond.
The following morning, I decided I would find out what was happening for myself.
At 7:25, Emily came downstairs wearing her usual jeans, sneakers, and oversized gray hoodie.
She ate half a piece of toast while checking her phone.
“Have a good day,” I said.
“You too.”
She kissed my cheek automatically, grabbed her bag, and walked outside.
I waited until she was halfway down the driveway before picking up my keys.
