Where Is Araminta Green? (ONC 2024)

Chapter 2: Seventeen Minutes

After three blissful hours of sleep, Jordan was on the move again, with Kiki in tow. The cat bounced down the stairs while he lumbered behind her, rubbing his eyes and yawning. His current sleep schedule must be more fitting for a cat's crepuscular rhythm than for a human.

Stumbling down the last step, Jordan ended up banging his foot into the dresser below. "Dammit," he mumbled, biting his lip to not scream from the pain that radiated through the affected toe. Meanwhile, Kiki skittered off toward the kitchen, attracted by voices that may belong to someone who could fill her food bowl. Being a weekday, the rest of Jordan's family—his parents and younger siblings Darcy and Chase—were all awake and about to start their day.

"Jordan, is that you?" his mom called from the kitchen. "I didn't think you would be up yet, so I didn't put out a plate for you."

"Yeah, I'm up..." Jordan mumbled, snatching his jeans jacket from the hanger in the hallway while he tried to ignore the pain in his foot. He was on a mission and didn't have time for physical ailments. "But I'm going outside. I need to... do some stuff for the podcast."

He hadn't told them what the podcast was about. His parents only knew he was back in town for four weeks to do a school project related to his hometown. Because Jordan had seen the concern in their eyes two years ago when the police came by to talk to him about Araminta's disappearance several times. They'd been worried about how the ordeal affected him. So he didn't want them to know Araminta was still on his mind. Constantly.

"Okey..." his mother replied, probably biting her tongue to not ask him exactly what he was going to do outside. She and his dad seemed to have decided to treat him as an adult during his brief stay, even if it took them a lot of effort not to monitor him the same way as his kid siblings and require information on exactly what he was doing and with whom. "I'll put away some pancakes for you that you can eat when you return. And there is coffee in the pot if you want."

The mention of coffee was probably his mom's way of showcasing that she considered him an adult because Jordan had never drunk coffee when he lived at home. But late nights studying in college had made him appreciate the perkiness-inducing beverage. He would enjoy both the coffee and pancakes once he returned. By that time, his family would have left already, so Jordan's only table companion would be Kiki, trying to snatch pieces of bacon from his platter.

The sound of breakfast chatter and the sight of two neatly packed backpacks in the hallway reminded Jordan that he wasn't part of his family's daily routine anymore. But he also wasn't just a guest in the house. The role of the half-adult child, back for a moment but soon gone again, was difficult to master. With one foot in the adult world and one in childhood, Jordan longed for independence while also finding comfort in old patterns.

But he wasn't here to enjoy nostalgia from his upbringing. He was here to find Araminta, or at least attempt to do so. And that quest started here and now. Stepping out on the stairs, Jordan inhaled crisp morning air, hoping it would put him into the focused mode of a journalist looking for a scoop.

Pulling out his voice recorder—a Christmas present from his grandparents—he pressed the start button. "It's 7.15 am," he started. "About the time Araminta must have left her house that morning." He looked across the hedge toward the house next door. No one lived there anymore. "In this episode, I attempt to recreate her steps before disappearing, in the hopes of discovering some kind of lead."

The voice notes were mostly for himself, a handy way to remember what steps he'd conducted once he sat down to put together the collected material into an episode. But some lines would perhaps end up in the end product, as field recordings added to the authenticity of the piece.

Jordan stepped out on the sidewalk and turned to the right. Toward the looming house next door. After Araminta's disappearance, her parents had escaped to their summer house up the coast, seldom returning to what must be a place filled with painful memories. But they hadn't sold the house. So now it just stood there, reminding everyone in the neighborhood of how quickly life could shatter.