Fly Away by Nora Rock Page B

waiting for us. Some of the girls barely even looked up at her.
    â€œCheer up,” Coach said. “At least you got it done, right? That shows a lot of spunk.”
    â€œAny news about Arielle?” Jada asked, ignoring the coach’s praise.
    Coach shook her head. “Not yet. We had her parents email a photo to the police…”
    â€œBut?” I asked, knowing she was holding something back.
    â€œWell, girls, Arielle is eighteen. The Toronto police, and our police back home too, consider her to be an adult. Unless there’s evidence of foul play—and there isn’t—they won’t start searching until forty-eight hours have passed.”
    â€œWhat?” Ashleigh exclaimed. “She’s alone in a city she doesn’t know.”
    Coach nodded. “Her parents are frantic. They’re on their way down. But Arielle’s turned off her phone. And other details have come to light”—she hesitated for a moment—“that suggest she might not want to be found.”
    No one spoke. A cold, heavy feeling settled into the pit of my stomach. “What other details?” I asked, quietly.
    â€œWell, contrary to what she told her parents, Arielle never submitted her application for university residence. And she’s not the type to miss deadlines. Her parents are worried that she’s given up on going to U of T next fall.”
    I thought back to the end of January and Arielle’s vague answers to my questions about residence. Why hadn’t I pressed her? I’d been so wrapped up in my struggles as a flyer, and my problems with Liam, that I’d missed the signs that something big was going on with Arielle.
    I slumped to my knees on the sidelines. Would I have been able to stop her if I’d taken the time to ask some questions?
    â€œYou okay, Marnie?” Coach Saylor asked.
    I nodded without looking up.
    â€œYou know,” said Ms. Wilkinson, “you girls didn’t eat much at breakfast. What do they sell at the snack bar?”
    Coach reached into her pocket for money. “Priya, Samara, Amy Jo, why don’t you head up to the snack bar and see if you can get some pizzas? And some sports drinks.”
    The girls took the money and headed off. The rest of us sat down on the sidelines. A few girls were whispering about Coach’s news, but the majority stayed quiet, watching the remainder of the morning’s competition groups without real interest. The Friday morning results were to be announced at 1:00 PM. After that, we’d be free to go back to our hotel. With the performance we’d given, we’d probably missed the cut anyway. We wouldn’t be needed for Saturday’s round. We could go straight back to Stratford today, if we wanted to.
    With that thought to comfort me, I sat obediently and waited for my pizza. I tried not to think about Arielle on some crowded street—or bus—all alone.
    Bus…What had Shona meant when she mentioned the number fifty-two bus? Was it a real bus, or was she making it up? I promised myself I’d ask her about it when I got the chance.
    To our surprise, when the judges announced the morning results, we found out we’d tied for third in our division. It was far below what we were capable of, but still good enough to qualify for the Saturday round. When they called our team name, we were so sure we’d been eliminated that only Shona and a couple of other girls jumped up to run out onto the mats to get their ribbons. Shona stood there next to one of the judges and glared at the rest of us until we finally clambered to our feet and walked on.
    Yay, I thought. Third place.
    When I got back to the sidelines, I saw Sharon and Barb whispering to Coach Saylor. Coach put a hand on Sharon’s shoulder and turned her around to face us.
    â€œGirls,” Coach said, “I understand that, in light of Arielle’s disappearance, some of you are eager to get home.