I’m reading past bedtime again. I click the alarm clock so that it displays the time in glowing pink numbers. I point it at the book so that I can see the words in the dark. I’ve read this book before. I get to that one part in my mind, though in reality I’m pages away.

Now I’m crying, so I put the book down, open with the pages pressed against my bed so I don’t lose my page. I sit up on my knees, perched on top of my pillows, one hand pulling the blinds out of the way, the other pressed against the glass. I love the feeling of the cold on my skin. I lower my hand to the window sill and look at the star.

It’s the brightest star in the sky. I always know exactly where in the sky to look for it. I call it the Evening Star. I know there is a star called that. I think it’s the bright one, though I could be wrong. I don’t know that much about stars.

_Please let me find her, _I think. I like to talk to the star. Making a wish or just saying whatever comes to mind. It’s be a shooting star, so it may not be able to grant my wishes, but I like to think it can hear me.

I remember making waffles in the kitchen with my sister. One minute in the microwave, then put them back in the freezer for ten seconds. I’m not sure why we did that last part. I just made since to our little kid brains. Meanwhile, she was locked in her room again. Kate and I didn’t question it. She just had a bad headache. But then we were taken away. I just want her back. Where is she? Why can no one find her.

_ _I hear footsteps in the hallway. I can recognize them as Grandma’s. I lie down quickly and pretend to be asleep, covering the book. But Grandma lifts up my blanket, sees the book, and takes it, telling me to go to sleep. She goes out to the kitchen. I can hear her talking to Grandpa as she puts away the dishes. I can’t tell what they’re saying, but I’m sure it must be about me. A couple minutes later, I hear paper tearing. I put my blanket over my head, grab my stuffed cat, and start telling myself a story inside my head.