Charli
I sent Chelsea another text message. It was my daily routine: each morning before class and each afternoon on my way home. I was beginning to wonder if she'd changed her number. That was the thing with text messages: the sender had no way of knowing if the recipient actually received the message. It wasn't like email that would bounce back a non-receivable message. And it had.
Chelsea's email address, the one she'd had the entire time we were in California, was no longer active.
I scrolled back through my text messages. It had been over three weeks. Not only couldn't I reach Chelsea, but I also couldn't reach her mother. All of my calls to Tina Moore had gone straight to voicemail where her mailbox was full. In desperation, I looked her mother up on the Internet. I didn't know
