On the day of the concert, Lia kept a vigil. Ten, eleven, noon … the day dragged on and not a word about Ryan. In her mind, not so far removed yet from a child’s realm of fairytale endings all but presented in birthday wrapping and tied in a pretty bow, she’d felt quite certain that Ryan would come home safely in time for the concert as a sign that some celestial creature had heard her prayers.
In the eleventh hour, even Lia felt that things would have been so much easier if she’d vanished instead of Ryan. On the one hand, it would have made a good story. As one of only a tiny handful of black girls (what, were there three, four others in the entire town?), Lia’s story would have stood out. Everyone’s attention would have been captured by the sweet-faced, dimpled-smiled girl staring out i
