The Gaps

get back to me straight away, I will jump in a cab immediately.’
‘Don’t worry, Chlo, I’ll protect you,’ Sam says.
‘Actually, Sam, he’d tie you up and then take me. Easy as that.’
Sam flinches and I regret my words. He’s wearing shrunken Star Wars pyjamas that he refuses to admit he’s grown out of. Sam still believes in superheroes and the Force.
Mum corrals us into a family hug, holding on a little bit longer than normal. My chin sits on top of her head; our long black hair gets tangled together.
‘You’re both getting so tall,’ Mum murmurs.
Arnold huffs and rolls over. He puts his head on his paws and looks up at me, angling for a walk. I look away, over Mum’s head, trying not to get strangled.
‘Arnold will protect us,’ I say, to make Sam, and maybe Mum, feel better.
I decide to leave the hallway light on all night, and put the outside porch light on as well. Mum’s asked the landlord more than once for a security light along the driveway. It’s one of the few things we agree on with Ron and Pearl next door.
For a moment I push the front curtains aside and look over at the car spots opposite. The only time ours is used is when Dad visits, which is hardly ever. The porch light is feeble; beyond our block of units the leafy darkness quickly takes over. It makes no sense that light makes humans feel safer, when it doesn’t protect us at all. Fear has a steady grip around my throat and I regret telling Mum to go to work.
My phone beeps for the billionth time tonight, since the first news reports, and my nerves jangle afresh.
Liana.
babe you need to leave that school n come back!!!!!
My old school friends are losing their minds. My phone goes off again.
Katie.
dont get killed x
I send the knife emoji and the scream face and then put my phone on silent. I was already wondering how I was going to survive my first year at Balmoral, this is just adding to the sick joke.
At ten o’clock I watch the late news with the volume down low. It’s mostly a rehash of what’s been said in the earlier reports—they show the same outdated photo of Yin, the same identikit drawn from Yin’s mum’s description, and the same aerial footage that shows us how improbable it was that anyone broke into the compound.
There’s still no ransom demand; no one has seen anything or anyone suspicious in the area. The reporter mentions that Yin’s eight-year-old twin brothers were spending the night at their grandparents’ house. I try not to think about how distraught her brothers must have been when the news was broken to them. They’re barely old enough to understand.
My phone vibrates again and this time it’s a relief to answer.
‘Babe. Oh my god.’ Liana’s voice echoes. I’m sure she’s calling me from her backyard. ‘Do you know her? Are you okay?’
‘I’m okay. I don’t know her that well.’ I hate saying that, as if Yin should matter less to me because I’m not in her friendship group. ‘She’s in my year but I’ve only talked to her a few times.’
‘I’m freaked out Chlo. What if it was you who got taken?’
‘It wasn’t me. I’m at home and I’m fine.’ Liana’s voice is a balm, though, and I want to keep her on the line as long as possible.
‘Please, please come back to Morrison. It’s not safe there.’
‘L, I’m not rich, we don’t live anywhere near Glen Park, I’ve only been at Balmoral for three terms…it’s like, minimal risk.’
‘I don’t know what I’d do if you went missing.’
That silences me. I believe her, but this is probably the first time she’s called me in two weeks.
‘Do you know anything?’ she asks. ‘Like, insider info?’
‘No. I only found out watching the news earlier. I know as much as you do.’
After I finish speaking to Liana I search online for reports about the first Balmoral girl who was kidnapped, three years ago.
Karolina Bauer was a fourteen-year-old exchange student from Düsseldorf. Her host family were the Sheldons—they had a daughter, Maddie, in Year Twelve at Balmoral at the time. Karolina was abducted from her hosts’ home while the parents were at the next-door-neighbour’s house; Maddie was left behind. Karolina was eventually returned after a few days, unharmed and wearing nothing but a plastic rain poncho. Even though it had happened way across town, to a girl who was nothing like me, it was easy to picture.
How cold you would be, how goosebumped your bare skin under the thin plastic. Walking down the street, shivering and rustling. Numb inside, knowing nothing would ever be the same. Trying to pick the right house, a safe house with good people in it who would rescue you and call the police and give you hot tea.
Could two students from the same school be a coincidence?
Later, close to midnight, I check on Sam. He’s asleep on top of his covers, with his football boots still on and Arnold slumped across his legs. His doona cover has rockets and planets and stars on it. He’s only two years older than Yin’s brothers.
If anyone ever did something bad to him or Mum, I’d hunt them down and kill them. Adrenaline swirls in my arms and legs and gut when I think about it. I’d destroy anyone that hurt my family.
I leave Sam as he is. Mum likes to come home from the hotel and tuck him in, no matter the hour. Arnold opens one eye triumphantly as I leave; he isn’t usually allowed on our beds.
The washing machine cycle has finished, but I can’t bring myself to walk outside into the dark space behind our house and hang it out. I leave the wet clothes in a basket on top of the machine. Tomorrow morning.
One last patrol of our brick unit takes around twenty seconds and ten steps. Sam’s bedroom, my bedroom and