Page 24 of The Girl Who Was Taken

“I’m sorry. I’m terribly embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. I’ll come back and we’ll play again.”

“When?”

“Um, next week?”

Mr. Steinman nodded. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help? I promise I don’t mind.”

With an ushering hand on her shoulder, Mr. Steinman led her to the door. “I’ll be fine. Come again next week. Please.”

* **

Megan sat in her bedroom and scrolled though her phone. A year and a half ago, she couldn’t pick up her phone without several text messages waiting for her. Now all she managed were a few e-mails from friends who still kept in touch. But e-mails were a distant way to communicate, meant for parents and old acquaintances and readers of her book who stalked her and hoped for a reply to the desperate praise they typed in the too-long messages.

“Honey?” her mother said in a whispered voice as she poked her head into Megan’s bedroom.

The wordhoneyhad never crossed her mother’s lips until after the abduction. And the whispered calls into her bedroom were the definition of regression, as though Megan were an infant waking from an afternoon nap.

Oh, there she is!Megan could almost hear her mother squeak in the annoying baby voice of a new parent.Look who’s awake.

“What’s up, Mom?” Megan said, looking up from her empty phone.

“Claudia’s on the line. She has some exciting news.”

Claudia was the literary agent her mother had sought out when she came up with the idea for Megan to collect her thoughts about her abduction and stick them between a hardcover binding, which displayed on its cover the eerie forest from where she had escaped, and Megan’s thin-smiling face on the back flap like a James Patterson novel.

Megan’s mother walked into the room and handed her the phone. She smiled. “You’ll want to hear this.”

Megan took the phone and placed it to her ear. “Hi, Claudia. What’s going on?”

“Dante Campbell is pure gold! We knew there would be a big regional audience, but since the interview your book has taken off. I just got word that you will be eleven on theNew York TimesBest Seller list for next week.”

Megan looked up to see her mother’s smile, wide and steep across her face.

“That’s . . . awesome,” Megan said in a monotone.

“I’ve set up another interview for you. There are lots of requests coming in. I need to know your schedule so we can book them.”

“I work eight to four.”

“Of course, but would your dad give you a little time off if I set up a phone interview?”

“I guess I could ask.”

“It’s no problem,” Mrs. McDonald said, loud enough for Claudia to hear.

“Okay, MissNew York Timesbest-selling author!” Claudia said. “I’ll get a few of these set up, and we’ll touch base next week.”

There was silence for a few seconds.

“This is a big deal, Megan.”

“I know,” Megan said, trying for conviction. “I’m psyched.”

“We’ll talk next week.”

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