by Darcia Helle

Created on: August 03, 2008

Excerpt from my novel, Enemies and Playmates.

After a restless night with little sleep, Lauren went downstairs and found her mother in the kitchen. A mug and nearly empty pot of coffee sat on the table in front of her. Lauren sat beside her. "Morning mom," she said.

Kara simply nodded, her gaze fixed on the mug in front of her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her skin sallow. Lauren said, "Didn't you get any sleep last night?"

"Stephen never came home," Kara said quietly.

"He does that sometimes. I'm sure he's okay."

"I've got a horrible feeling"

"He probably stayed with a friend," Lauren said.

"I hope you're right."

Lauren hoped the same thing. She didn't feel nearly as confident as she sounded. This certainly wasn't the first time Stephen hadn't come home. And their father had been berating him for years now. None of that was new. But last night was the first time she and their mother had taken a stand against him. They had all been against him, at least in his mind.

"You know," Kara said, "I don't know his friends anymore. I've been sitting here all night thinking about it. I have no idea where he could be, who he could be with. I don't even know who to call."

"He's been very secretive lately," Lauren said.

"But I should know who my son's friends are." Kara shook her head, dabbed a tissue against her swollen eyes. "I shouldn't have come down on him the way I did. I should have handled the situation differently."

"It's not your fault, mom."

"I should have done something years ago. I saw him retreating into that shell. I saw what was happening but" Kara's voice trailed off. She twisted the tissues in her hands and stared at the back door.

"I have an idea where he might be," Lauren said. "I'll see if I can find him."

Lauren went upstairs, brushed her teeth, threw her hair into a ponytail, then pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. Five minutes later she was back downstairs. Kara still sat at the table, staring blankly at the back door. Lauren kissed her cheek and said, "I'll be back soon."

The bright sun was deceptive. A brisk wind blew, chilling Lauren to the bone. She realized she should have grabbed a jacket but didn't want to take the time to go back inside for it. She had a sudden sense of desperation, like the fragile house of cards that was her life was on the verge of toppling around her.

She hopped into her Pontiac and turned the ignition. She pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands to grasp the cold steering wheel. And she muttered a quiet prayer

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