The Unexplainable Disappearance of Mars Patel Page 3

They scrambled to the front desk: pencil case moved to the right, papers to the left, books piled on the chair. The rest of the class watched with mild interest. It didn’t occur to anyone to stop them. Then as a last thought, Mars lay the computer monitor facedown.

  When Ms. DeTemple came back and Aurora and Mars were back in their seats, she stopped and looked at her desk, wondering what had happened. The worst was when she tried to get the SMART Board to work and the computer screen flashed some strange, blinking images of a gorilla. Then Ms. DeTemple became really alarmed. Did she have a computer virus? Or was she just going crazy? It was a lame prank, but that moment when the rest of the class giggled and poked one another was huge.

  That’s when Mars got it. This was what Aurora did. She caused disruption. Live a little, Mars, she told him. Piss people off. She never explained why. But that wasn’t the point. Being with Aurora was what mattered. And if he could help her, he could talk to her, too.

  So he came up with the ideas, and Aurora gleefully helped carry them out: sliming toilet seats, locking computer screens with photoshopped images of Fagan wearing antlers on her head, taping beeping circuit boards under the desks in the main office, turning off the main water supply at school. Each new prank gave Aurora fresh delight. And made her like Mars more. Of course, they always got caught. Which meant detention, which meant more time with Aurora. Which was fine with Mars.

  The only person not fine with it was his mom.

  “Why all these detentions now?” she exclaimed. “Mars, what is happening to you?”

  He wasn’t sure. Except that he was having the time of his life. And his friends were, too.

  At first, JP, Caddie, Jonas, and Toothpick had been skeptical. Why waste your time pranking the school when it just meant landing in detention? And who was this Aurora anyway? None of them had talked to her before. Then one by one, Mars started enlisting their help — Jonas and Caddie played lookout while Mars and Aurora switched the light bulbs. JP distracted the Boof by enraging him with “Boof jokes” (“What do you get when you cross the Boof with a math test? A zero!”) while Mars grabbed his phone in math. And Toothpick? Toothpick simply loved the challenge of not getting caught. Even though most of the time they did, thanks to those pesky security cameras.

  Still, pulling off pranks — it was the most fun they’d ever had. Plus, detention meant they could hang out and chill together, and middle school was bearable.

  Then last week Aurora had been really upset. In English, she didn’t say a word. In the lunchroom on Tuesday, Aurora said she wanted to be alone, and she sat by herself, drawing in her sketchbook. After school, she skipped detention.

  That day, right after Mr. Q read off the attendance sheet in detention, Mars got a text from Aurora.

  Aurora

  meet me back door nr graffiti

  Mars

  wut abt detention

  Aurora

  skip

  Mars

  b there in 2

  Mars got up to use the bathroom. He’d never skipped detention before, so he figured Mr. Q wouldn’t suspect anything. He walked quietly down the hall to the back door of the school, conscious of the security cameras along the way. Would one of them see him leaving detention? Would Mr. Q get notified? Maybe if Mars hurried, no one would notice right away.

  The back door locked from the inside, so Mars used a rock to prop it open. Aurora was waiting for him. She looked like a mess. Her mascara was running, and her hair was wet. It must have just rained. It was always raining in Port Elizabeth.

  “Aurora — are you OK?” he asked immediately.

  “He was supposed to come,” she said, her voice ragged. “First he said he’d come this morning. Then he said lunch. Then he said he’d come in the afternoon. I waited here an hour. Now I get a text from him, and he’s calling it off.”

  “Who?” Mars said.

  “My dad,” Aurora said. “We were driving to Port Townsend. He was supposed to be here.”

  “I thought you weren’t talking to him,” Mars said cautiously. Aurora’s dad had left when she was little, and now lived about an hour away, near Tacoma. But she rarely saw him. The last time was a few years ago, and it had ended badly, with her parents yelling at each other and him driving away fast in his car.

  Mars had told her about his dad leaving, too, when he was three. It was something they shared — the emptiness of their dads not being around.

  “Maybe something came up,” Mars said. “Maybe he’ll send another text.”

  “Yeah, well, up his,” Aurora said. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I don’t need him. I don’t need people who promise things and then don’t do what they promise. A promise is a promise.”

  “A promise is a promise,” Mars agreed. He didn’t know what else to say, so he gave her a hug. As she hugged him back, he could hear her heart beating loudly.

  “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” Aurora’s voice was muffled. “Promise something and then not do it?”

  “No,” Mars said. “A promise is a promise.”

  “Yeah, I know that about you, Mars,” she said softly. “You’d come if I needed you. Right?”

  “Promise,” Mars said.

  Just then the back door opened, and the rock bounced away into a puddle.

  “Aurora Gershowitz, Mars Patel.” It was Principal Fagan, her voice like gravel. “Please report to detention right away. And this will double your hours, by the way.”

  Aurora stuck her tongue out at Fagan as they went back inside, following the principal down the hall. But she wasn’t crying anymore, her arm looped inside Mars’s so they were walking together, their shoes hitting the floor in unison.

  Mars breathed in and out. They were friends, but they were more than friends. He’d always come through for her, and now she knew. A promise is a promise.

  That was the last time he’d seen Aurora.

  The plan was pretty simple. They would meet in front of Jonas’s house at nine and knock on the front door. If no one answered, they would break in to look for clues. Mars had never done something like that before. But what could go wrong?

  At home, dinner consisted of Galaxy Clusters — clusters of oats, nuts, and chocolatey goodness floating in a bowl of cold milk. It was Mars’s standard meal when his mom wasn’t home, and lately that was often. Why she was even working two jobs in the first place, he didn’t know. Couldn’t his dad help out, too, wherever he was? Sometimes his mom prayed in the puja room off the kitchen, and he could hear her reciting words in Sanskrit while lighting a stick of incense. And then it was work, work, work. Beta, it’s all for you, she would say. I’ll keep you safe.

  Safe from what? Mars wasn’t even sure what she did. In the mornings, she went somewhere with a loading dock, and she was in charge of what came off the boat from Puget Sound. Fish? Medical supplies? Then in the evening, she went someplace else where she had to change first into dark sweats. Mars asked her once if she was going to the gym. She just laughed and said she was filing papers. Who filed papers late into the night?

  The front door opened and Saira Patel came bustling in.

  “Mars, beta, no time to eat. How are you?” She stopped when she saw what Mars was eating. “Galaxy Clusters? Again? What did I tell you? Time to eat healthy. Did you see what I left for you in the fridge? Dal and rotis and . . .” She opened the refrigerator and looked in. “Oh. I thought I left it. I must have finished it already. Manu, I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s OK, Ma,” Mars said.

  She tousled his hair. “I had a scare today with that Code Red. Glad it was nothing. Maybe some kids pulling a prank? It wasn’t you, was it, Mars? You’re still a good child, beta. Even if you need a haircut. You’re just like —” Her voice broke off.

  “Just like who?” Mars asked even though he knew who and that Ma wouldn’t talk about it. Instead, she looked at the clock. “Look at the time! I’m late! Must change and run, Mars!”

  “Late for what?” Mars mumbled, but
his mom had already disappeared inside her room. A few minutes later she came out wearing a dark turtleneck and black leggings. For a moment Mars pictured her scaling the Space Needle in Seattle or jumping into a dark hole, searching for buried treasure. Who knew?

  Then suddenly he broke into a smile. “It’s a hole, Ma. That’s what makes a basket lighter.”

  “You have some funny ideas for baskets,” she said, distracted. Before Mars could explain about the riddle from the podcast, she was already walking out the door. “Mars, I’ll be back late, sweetie. I’ll see you in you in the stars!”

  “See you in the stars,” Mars repeated, muttering. He doubted she had even heard him. They had been saying that to each other ever since he was little and she’d dropped him off at preschool for the first time. Back then she had told him not to worry, that she could see him wherever he was, even when she was far away. We are in the stars, you and me, she’d told him. Always together.

  Well, was she with him right now?

  Mars scooped up another spoonful of cereal and leafed through a brochure for Pruitt Prep. He’d gone through it so many times, the corners were dog-eared. The brochure had come in the mail a few months before, and he didn’t know how they’d gotten his name or address — he hadn’t even taken the GIFT test yet. The brochure was full of pictures of what students did there. Like build robots and cars and create special foods to make you smarter. One girl had invented an artificial plant that didn’t need anything but sunlight, and two guys came up with infinite Ping-Pong — Mars wasn’t even sure what that was, but they might still be playing it now. Infinite loops, artificial intelligence, speed. This was the stuff of Pruitt Prep.

  Mars looked back at the envelope from Pruitt Prep. At least he assumed it was from them. The envelope had no return address, just his real name on it, the one he never used:

  A star in the making. That was what Mr. Q had said in detention today. Was it just a coincidence?

  Mars finished his cereal and studied the pages with pictures of the front of the school. Seeing them now, something puzzled him. In one picture, the front of the school was covered with tall trees. But when Mars turned the page, the next photograph of the front showed a clear sky with no trees in sight. And there was a moon! How could the same building have two very different views from the front? Mars picked up his phone.

  Mars

  can u edit trees out of a photo

  Toothpick

  Affirmative aka wonders of digital editing

  Mars

  Because buildings don’t move

  Toothpick

  Affirmative

  Mars

  cool see u soon

  Toothpick

  Over and out

  The sky was dark by the time Mars reached Jonas’s house. They had agreed to meet across the street next to a large pine tree.

  “Hi, Mars,” Toothpick said, his voice muffled.

  Mars blinked. “What are you wearing, Pick?”

  Toothpick had a dark ski mask covering his face so that only his eyes and nose showed. “I bought this when I was learning to ski on Bear Mountain. I thought I’d use it now.”

  “I already told him he looks ridiculous,” JP said. “This isn’t ski school.”

  Toothpick glanced at JP’s soccer uniform and cleats. “This isn’t a soccer match, if we’re getting technical.”

  “That’s different. I didn’t have time to change after I got back,” JP said. “We beat Bremerton 2 – 0. Thanks for asking.” JP pulled out a sandwich. “And I’m still eating dinner.”

  “Where’s Caddie?” Mars asked. “Is she still coming?”

  “I’m here. I’m here.” Caddie came up to them with a slight limp and a hole in the knee of her jeans.

  “Whoa, what happened, Cads?” JP asked.

  Caddie held out a hand. “I’d rather not say. It’s too embarrassing. Let’s just say a certain rosebush under my window and I aren’t friends anymore.”

  “All right, guys,” Mars said. “Everyone’s here. Next step, one of us rings the doorbell, so we don’t all call attention to ourselves.”

  “I’ll do it,” Toothpick volunteered. “And if no one’s home?”

  “We break in . . .” Mars whispered. He paused.

  “Scared, Mars?” JP asked. “’Cause I’m ready to bust in there and get the job done.”

  Mars smiled. “OK, JP. But let’s try not to break anything yet, huh?”

  The gang watched Toothpick cross the street to Jonas’s house. He walked silently and confidently, as if he’d done break-ins all his life.

  “That’s Toothpick: always chill,” Mars said.

  “Except for that stupid thing on his face. I’m sorry, but if I saw somebody walking by at night in a ski mask, I’d call the police.” JP licked their fingers, finishing the last of a grilled chicken sandwich.

  Caddie looked at Mars. “Did your mom ask you where you were going?”

  He shrugged. “She’s not even home. Like always.”

  “My parents are cool,” JP said.

  “They’re OK with you here?” Caddie asked, surprised.

  “Oh, I don’t tell them stuff,” JP said, grinning. “They think I’m asleep in bed.”

  “My parents would kill me if they saw me here,” Caddie said. “They think I’m studying for the GIFT in my room.”

  By now, Toothpick was back. “No sign of Jonas or his family. I tried ringing the doorbell, then I scaled the perimeter.”

  “Say what?” JP asked.

  “Good job, Pick. That leaves us with plan B.” Mars’s voice dropped low. “Look for rocks.”

  “I was worried about this,” Caddie said.

  Toothpick watched as everyone searched the ground. JP looked for the biggest rock. As they approached the house, each with a rock in hand, Toothpick finally spoke. “I guess your plan was to use the rocks to break a window?”

  “Shush!” Mars whispered.

  Toothpick pulled up his ski mask. “Wow, it’s hard to breathe with this on. Anyway, the rocks aren’t necessary and might call attention to us.”

  “What other choice do we have?” Mars whispered, his breath exploding in a sigh. “If we don’t go inside now, maybe the only clues there to help us find Jonas will disappear. This is our best option right now.”

  “Affirmative,” Toothpick said. “I just meant we didn’t need the rocks. I know the code to disengage the alarm and open the door.”

  For a moment they stared at him.

  Then JP started laughing. “That’s my friend!”

  Mars let his rock fall to the ground. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”

  After Toothpick punched in the code, he opened the door and they all went in.

  “I don’t believe it!” Caddie said. “Where’s the furniture?”

  The home was stripped clean.

  “He was just in school,” she said. “How could his family move out so suddenly?”

  Toothpick pulled off his ski mask. “Plus, Jonas didn’t say anything.”

  Mars was opening a closet and looking inside. “Yeah, well, maybe he didn’t know.” He went to the staircase. “I’m checking Jonas’s room.”

  “I’ll come with you, Mars,” JP offered right away.

  “Pick and I will finish the first floor,” Caddie said.

  The lights were out upstairs, so they had to use the streetlights coming through the windows to see. They opened the closets in every room and looked behind the doors.

  “How can anyone disappear in a day?” Mars wondered.

  “They had help, Mars,” JP said. “When my uncle got a new job in Portland, his company moved him in a day. The moving company packed up everything, and boom, they were done.”

  By now they’d reached Jonas’s room. Mars went to look out the window. Not because he expected Jonas to be standing outside on the street but because Mars needed a minute. This whole disappearing thing was getting under his skin.

  The rain had lifted, but the sky was still overcast
. Your typical October evening in Port Elizabeth. But Mars wasn’t checking the weather. He was looking at the outline of the horizon, where the Puget Sound met the sky in the distance. Sometimes he thought if he looked long enough he would see something out of the ordinary — something more than just boats. It was silly. But when people went missing in your life, you found yourself looking for them in the strangest places. Like maybe they were there in the shadows of your life all along, but you weren’t looking where you should be.

  Now JP had found something in Jonas’s closet. “Hey Mars, take a look at this.”

  It was a torn manila envelope.

  “Let me hold it up to the window,” Mars said. But before he could get a look, they both heard it: ding. A text notification. Mars reached for his phone, where a text flashed on the screen.

  Aurora

  ad astra

  Mars’s eyes bugged out. “It’s from Aurora!”

  JP was looking at their phone, too. “Ditto.”

  Caddie and Toothpick came clamoring up the stairs and into the room.

  “We got a text from Aurora!” Toothpick called out.

  “We all did, Pick,” JP said.

  “Ad astra,” Caddie said. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s Latin,” JP said. “Ad means ‘to.’ Not sure about astra.”

  “How do you know Latin?” Toothpick asked.

  “I don’t,” JP said. “But my dad is a classics professor. You pick things up, you know.”

  Just then they heard them coming down the street: sirens. They all looked at one another.

  “You don’t think . . .” Caddie wondered.

  The sirens got louder.

  All this time Mars had been quiet. He was looking at the manila envelope in his hand, where the streetlight hit it. It was postmarked two days ago.

  “Quick, somebody look up ad astra,” he said.

  “On it,” Toothpick said.

  Meanwhile, the siren had stopped in front of Jonas’s house. It was a police car, its flashing lights turning everyone’s faces blue and red. There was a voice over a loudspeaker. “This is the police. Please exit the house at once. We know you’re in there. We can see you.”