The Secret of Ella and Micha

the black and purple dress I have on and the boots on my feet. “I forgot to do laundry so I had to wear some of my old clothes, which don’t match any of my new shoes.”
    “Well you look nice.” She gives an elongated pause. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”
    “It depends on what you’re doing?” I ask. “Are you… where are you planning on staying?”
    She shuts off her phone and then discards it onto the bed. “I’d like to stick around with you for a while, if you don’t mind. We could hang out. I don’t have anything scheduled for the summer and I’m not going back home.”
    “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
    “No, not really.”
    “Okay… well, I need to find a job,” I say. “I have to save up for the rest of my tuition since it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting that internship.”
    She puts a headband in her hair. “The one at that art museum.”
    “That’s the one and it doesn’t start until mid-June,” I explain. “But that’s only five weeks away, so I figured they’d have notified me if I got it.”
    “You never know. Sometimes things like that move slow.” She folds up a shirt and packs it into her bag, then ties a ribbon on the back of her shirt. “Although, if you get it that’d mean you’d have to go back to Vegas, right?”
    Nodding, I head for the door. Two weeks ago the idea of returning to the desert would make me happy, but something’s changed. I still want to go, though leaving will be a little bit harder.
    I collect my phone off the dresser, noting the flashing voicemail on the screen—Micha’s unread message. My finger hovers above the button as I step into the hall. He told me I wasn’t ready for what was on it? But am I ready for it now?
    “I don’t know why you think it’s so bad here.” Lila follows me. “Yeah, people are a little rough, but they’re not all bad and everywhere has bad stuff. You can’t hide from it.”
    “That’s very insightful.” I close my phone and put it away.
    “Bad comes in different forms,” Lila continues. “Whether it’s drug dealers on the corner or if it’s corrupt rich people or just your run-of-the-mill douche bag.”
    I don’t know much about Lila, other than she’s rich, her dad works as a lawyer and her mom stays home. She likes clothes, is great with numbers and was the only reason I passed pre-calculus.
    My brother’s door is open and he walks out as we’re passing by. He has a black and red polo shirt on and a pair of cargo pants. There’s some kind of gel in his hair and it looks shiny.
    “Hey, have you seen dad?” he asks, giving an acknowledging glance at Lila.
    I point at the shut door at the end of the hall. “I thought I heard him come in late last night and go into his room.”
    “He did, but he got up this morning.” He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “I heard him stumbling around in that bathroom and crying all night, but now I can’t find him and I didn’t hear him leave. His work called the house, saying he didn’t show up, so he’s not there.”
    My fists clench so that my nails dig into my palms. “Did you check in the bathroom?”
    Dean’s eyes travel down the hall to the bathroom door and he shakes his head. “I haven’t and I don’t want to.”
    “Hi, I’m Lila,” she introduces herself and offers her hand. “You must be Ella’s brother, Dean.”
    Dean is vaguely amused and shakes her hand. “Yeah… how do you know Ella?”
    “I was her roommate,” she responds, pressing her hand to her chest, faking being offended. “Didn’t she ever mention me?”
    “We don’t talk that much.” I eye the bathroom door again and my stomach twists. “We need to find Dad.”
    “I’m not looking in that bathroom, Ella, but if you want to, go ahead.”
    With legs flimsier than wet noodles, I walk down the dark hallway and stop in front of the door, having a flashback of the day my mom died. The door was closed and the house was soundless, except for the running of water. My hands tremble as I open the door.
    The room is bare, the tub empty, and the tile floor is clean, except for a small stain. There are no towels on the hooks and the mirror on the wall across from me shows my reflection. My auburn hair is curled perfectly in place, my lips are lined with gloss, and my green eyes are immense and reveal everything.
    “Dad isn’t in here,” I tell him, unable to look away from the mirror. “Are you sure you didn’t hear him