Page 84 of Pumped

“Fuck. Where is she?” Everest runs down the steps to the sidewalk, hands on his head, a look of panic on his face.

My brain kicks into crisis mode. We need to split up and search for her. She’s a little girl. She can’t run that fast. She couldn’t have gone far.

I reach back to shut the door behind me, then follow Everest down the steps. “You go that way. I’ll go this way. Use your phone to stay in touch.” I push Everest toward the right and then take off in the opposite direction.

“Ivy!” I check the sunken patios that lead to the garden-level entrances of brownstones. I run up stoops to check every house’s vestibules. I zigzag back and forth across the street, screaming Ivy’s name.

With every spot I check that’s empty, my heart rate kicks up a notch. With every second that passes without finding her, fear squeezes me a little tighter, crushing my chest and twisting my stomach.

This is my fault. She ran away because of me. If I hadn’t been arguing with her all day. If I hadn’t been so hard on her and just given her some time to cool off instead of… instead of…

Fuck! What if she gets hurt? What if someone kidnaps her? What if we can’t find her and she just vanishes into thin air? It’ll be my fault. I’ll never forgive myself. I won’t be able to live with myself.

“IVY!”

At the end of the block, I scan the intersection, looking for any bit of blonde or pink I can find. Which way would she have gone? Left or right? I don’t know. There’s no way to tell.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I yank it out, stabbing the accept button.

“Did you find her?” I yell before I’ve even gotten the phone to my ear.

“No. You?” Everest sounds as panicked and scared as I feel.

Why the fuck would I be asking him if he found her if I already have? “No. I’m…” I spin in a circle, just in case I passed right by her somehow. Still nothing. Where would she go? Where would she feel safe?

“I’m going to check the ice cream place she likes.” The idea comes to me almost after the words leave my mouth. “You check the park.”

“The park. Right. Good idea. Okay.”

I hang up and navigate to my photos app to find a recent photo of Ivy. There’s one of her from the zoo, laughing at the camera with a butterfly on her head.

“Excuse me, have you seen this little girl?” I shove my phone in the face of a pedestrian walking past me. “She’s six years old. About this high.”

The older woman squints at the screen, but then shakes her head, casting an apologetic look at me. “Sorry, I haven’t.”

I don’t wait for her to finish talking before taking off down the street again. “Excuse me, have you seen this little girl?”

“No, never seen her. Sorry.”

“Ivy! Ivy!” I half-walk, half-run, checking every hiding spot I see, making my way toward the ice cream place we often take her to. It’s only a few blocks away, but today, it feels like it’s in another state entirely.

“Excuse me, have you seen this little girl?”

“Naw, man. Good luck, though.”

Fuck.I stop every single person on the street, but none of them have seen any sign of Ivy. And with every “sorry” and every look of pity, I die a little bit inside.

Where thefuckis she?

The ice cream shop is at the end of the next block and I hope to god she’s there. No, I pray—genuinely, for the first time in my life—to whatever god or higher power that might exist. I’ll do anything—anything—as long as she’s okay.

The windows of the shop are covered with posters, so I can’t see inside. I grab the door handle and wrench it open to throw myself through.

“Ivy?!”

Everything in the shop grinds to a standstill as all head swivels in my direction.

“Ivy?” I ignore anyone taller than four feet, weaving around them looking for my little girl.

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