Missing Mom
by Lynn Slaughter
Devastated by her mom’s sudden disappearance and the evidence pointing to suicide, seventeen-year-old Noelle, an aspiring ballet dancer, doesn’t believe her mom would ever have taken her own life. She undertakes her own investigation to find out what really happened to her mother.
Meantime, Noelle is dealing with growing romantic feelings for Ravi, her best friend and fellow dancer. And she’s worried about her little sister, Whitney, who won’t talk about why she doesn’t want to visit their dad.
Threaded throughout the novel is also the story of Savannah, a young woman whose escape from an abusive marriage nearly two decades earlier turns out to be connected to Noelle’s investigation.
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GENREMystery |
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| Available: January 21, 2025 | ||
| Teen | ||
Excerpt
Chapter One
Noelle
Ravi and I went last in the grand allegro combination. We both loved eating up the space, and after years of dancing together and being best friends, we moved in total sync. After landing our final grand jetés, he high-fived me, and I pulled my towel off the barre to wipe off the sweat dripping down my face. I dug my feet into the rosin box for extra traction. Then I joined Ravi in the opposite corner of the studio where he stood in line behind the other dancers to repeat the combination on the other side.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. McAllister, the receptionist, rush into the studio. With her nut-brown hair and jumpy movements, she reminded me of a squirrel. Dart right! Dart left! Freeze! She drew close to Madame Tarasova and whispered into her ear. Must be serious. Everyone knew how much Madame detested being interrupted when she was teaching.
She gestured for Harold, our accompanist, to stop playing and crooked her finger at me.
I ran over. “What is it?”
“You’re excused, Noelle. Take your things and go with Mrs. McAllister.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Good work today.”
High praise from my teacher, who didn’t hand out compliments often. No time to think about that now. I grabbed my water bottle and towel and shot Ravi my “What the...?” shrug.
His eyebrows stood high on his forehead.
I mouthed, “I’ll text you,” and followed Mrs. M. out to the lobby.
Behind the closed studio door, the muffled sound of Harold pounding out the notes of the Minkus waltz resumed. “What’s going on?” I wrapped my towel around my neck.
“Honestly, honey, I don’t know. We just got a call from your little sister’s day camp. Your mom was scheduled to pick her up at four and never showed up.”
I glanced at the clock. 5:20. OMG. A twinge of something sharp poked my chest. This was so unlike Mom. Something had to have happened. I blinked hard, trying to wish away the scenes that flashed through my mind. A car accident? A random stranger mugging her in the parking lot? There’d been some break-ins and even a bomb threat at her community college last semester. Or had she fallen down the stairs at school and knocked herself out? It was a running joke in our family that Mom was “Ms. Clumsy.”
I pulled out my cell and punched in her number. My call went straight to voicemail. Then I tried my stepdad, Greg. No answer. Typical—he never picked up when he was working in his lab. He and Mom had had some words about that little habit. I took a deep breath and started to dial my dad’s number when I remembered he was in Boston at a three-day business conference.
Nothing to do but go pick up Whitney. “Can you call the day camp back and tell them I’m on my way?”
“Of course,” Mrs. M. said.
I hurried into the dressing room and pulled on my jeans and sneakers, snatched up my stuff and shoved everything into my dance bag. I knew Whitney must be freaking. Our mom was the most reliable parent on the planet. No way would she have forgotten to pick up her six-year-old.
Unless something was terribly wrong.