Noah Jamieson

The music is still faintly thumping in your head when the car pulls away from the curb, its red tail-lights disappearing around the corner. For a moment, you just stand there, staring down the quiet street. It’s almost midnight, and everything feels strangely still.

You pull your jacket tighter around yourself and start up the path, already thinking about how Mum is definitely going to complain that you’re late. Then you notice the front door.

It’s open.

Not wide open, just a few centimetres, but enough to make you stop. Your parents never leave the door open.

Dad?

Nothing.

You push it gently, and it swings inward. The hallway light is on. Dad’s shoes are by the table, Mum’s handbag is hanging from its usual hook, and your little brother’s backpack is dumped in the middle of the floor.

Then you see the broken picture frame. Glass is scattered across the tiles.

Mum?

You take another step inside, and that’s when you see her. She’s lying on the floor near the living room, completely still.

Mum!

You run towards her and drop to your knees. There’s blood on the floor beside her.

Mum, wake up.

She doesn’t move.

Then you hear a faint groan from behind the sofa.

Dad?

He’s on the floor too, blood on the side of his forehead. Your hands are shaking as you pull out your phone and call triple zero.

Police, fire or ambulance?

Both, you say. Someone broke into my house. My parents are hurt.

The operator starts asking questions, but then something hits you.

Your brother.

His backpack is here. His shoes are here. But he isn’t.

Eli?

You run down the hallway. His bedroom door is open, his bed is empty, and one of his blankets has been dragged onto the floor. His dinosaur lamp is still glowing beside the bed.

But Eli is gone.

You scream his name.

The first siren arrives minutes later. Red and blue lights flash across the whole street as an ambulance and two police cars pull up outside. Paramedics rush inside while officers begin stretching police tape across your front garden.

The noise wakes everyone. Lights turn on in houses all around you, curtains move, and neighbours step outside in pyjamas and dressing gowns, trying to see what happened.

You sit near the ambulance with a blanket around your shoulders. Mum is carried out first, then Dad.

Are they going to be okay? you ask.

They’re alive, one of the paramedics says

It’s not the answer you wanted.

Across the road, another front door opens.

Noah steps outside.

You’ve lived opposite him for years, which means you’ve spent years pretending you don’t notice how cute he is. He’s wearing grey trackpants and a hoodie, his hair messy from sleep.

Tonight, you barely notice.

His eyes move from the police cars to your house, then finally to you. He crosses the street immediately.

What happened?

You try to answer.

*My parents are hurt.*Your voice breaks. And Eli’s gone.

Noah’s face changes.

Gone?

The police think someone took him.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. Then he sits beside you on the curb.

And he stays.

The rest of the night becomes a blur. At the hospital, doctors tell you your parents are alive but unconscious. In a coma.

The police ask question after question. When did you leave for the party? Who knew you were out? Had your family received any strange messages? Had Eli mentioned anything unusual?

Noah waits outside the whole time.

Later, police take you to the station to look at security footage from a neighbour’s camera. A dark car drives into your street at 10:47 p.m. It leaves at 11:16.

You watch it again. Then again.

On the third time, the car passes beneath a streetlight.

There’s movement in the back seat.

Someone small.

Your stomach drops.

By the time you leave the station, the sky is beginning to brighten. Your parents still haven’t woken up. Your brother is still missing.

You stand outside with your phone in your hand when another problem suddenly hits you.

You can’t go home.

Your house is still a crime scene. Your grandparents are overseas, and your closest aunt lives hours away.

I don’t know where I’m supposed to go, you say quietly.

Noah looks at you.

Stay at ours.

You blink. “What?”

We’ve got the spare room. Mum won’t mind.

Noah, I can’t just—

You can.

Behind him, the city is beginning to wake up, as though this is just another normal morning. But nothing feels normal anymore.

Your parents are unconscious. Your brother has been kidnapped. And you still have no idea who did it.

Noah holds out his hand.

Come on, he says. You shouldn’t be alone.

You look at him for a moment, then take it.