Page 21 of The Magic We Made

Doubtful. She doesn’t seem like the type to treat herself.

“You can see that there were probably four to five people,” she’s saying. “Most likely all female. I wear a size nine, and these prints are smaller than mine.”

She places one of her own feet beside the prints, and I can see she’s right. Her foot, like her nails and the rest of her, is long and lean—longer than any of the other prints.

“I’d say a mix of sixes and sevens, which is unusual,” she says thoughtfully. “The average shoe size for American women is between an eight and a half and a nine.”

“So you’re saying it was kids?”

“No. These treads are from adult shoes. But the width suggests women, and chosen styles suggest young women. This one—” she points at a particularly small print in the dirt beneath us “—is the most telling.”

I blink at the tiny footprint. “Why?”

“Because it’s a Silver Star.”

“A what?”

She smiles. A small smile. But it’s a smile, just the same. “Silver Stars are handmade Italian sneakers that are super popular right now, particularly with teenagers.”

I can’t help it. I stare at her. It’s partly the smile and partly something else—a growing dread that I knowexactlywho these footprints belong to.

But I’m not about to share this information with Frankie Giovanni.

“How do you know so much about sneaker treads?” I ask her instead. “Were you in Girl Scouts or something?”

“No. My family owns a restaurant.”

I guess I must have looked confused, since she explains, “After my dad died, we were all expected to work in it after school and on weekends, so I never had the time—or the luxury—as a kid for extracurriculars.”

“Oh,” I say. “Sorry about your dad. Mine’s gone, too. I guess that makes us both members of the Dead Dad Club.”

“The what?”

“The Dead Dad Club. Haven’t you heard of it? It’s not a club anyonewantsto join, but we all end up becoming members eventually. I was eighteen when I joined. How about you?”

Now she’s the one looking confused. “Seventeen... but that was twenty years ago.”

“Sure, but do you ever get over something like that? Especially if you actually liked your dad.”

“Did you not like your father?”

“Uh.” She’s staring at me like I’ve said something concerning, and I guess I have. You’re not supposed to admit that your dad was a bad guy, even when he was. It’s not socially acceptable. “He had his moments.”

“Right.” She gives a tentative smile like this answer makes sense and isn’t just a thing people say when their dad was an abusive asshole. “Well, I suppose the death of a parent is harder for some people than others, depending on their relationship. But healing and grief aren’t linear... they ebb and flow. Most people learn to tolerate the loss of a loved one over time. Death is a natural part of life. I always advise my patients to remember this, andto try to appreciate the time they’re given with loved ones and live in the moment.”

“Sure.” I smile at her to show her that I’m likemost people. “Me, too.”

She doesn’t look particularly convinced, but this might be because she’s decided to get back to my question about the sneakers. “The reason I know so much about those shoes,” she says, “is because my little sister, Cat, is a self-proclaimed sneakerhead. Silver Stars retail for about a thousand bucks. She wants a pair very badly.”

Guy once paid almost two hundred grand for a pair of Nike SB Paris Dunk Lows, so a thousand bucks doesn’t shock me as much as I think it shocks Francesca.

What shocks me instead is the realization that I know who this footprint belongs to.

A yellow romper and her brand-new sneakers,Stephanie Bridle said through her tears when I asked her—months ago—if she could tell me what Emma was wearing the last time she saw her.A pair of Silver Stars. She bought them with her own money that she earned babysitting. She was so proud of them!

Emma Bridle probably isn’t the only missing girl in the world who wears size seven Silver Stars. She’s just the only one I’m looking for. And, thanks to my “special gift,” I’ve found her.

Or rather, she found me. Too bad she didn’t stick around.Emma. Emma, where are you? What are you doing?