A Ghost Girl's Shoe

     It took several days for anyone to notice.
     She wasn't particularly disliked by anyone, but she had gotten used to a status of "invisible" a long time ago.
     The first to notice was her English teacher. His star student's grades were suddenly dropping with no explanation, and then he checked the attendance: she hadn't been there in a week, a week with two essays due, and no explanation of her absence. Her other teachers looked at their own records, but it was more of the same. Their best student was slipping with no explanation but for not being in class for a week. The principal was alerted.
     A phone call to the parents did nothing to assuage the school's concerns. The parents were surprised to hear this, and ventured into their daughter's room for the first time in seven years. It wasn't that they didn't care, but they didn't always have time for her - she had long ago become self-sufficient, used to making her own meals and doing the chores of the house, not that her parents would ever admit such a thing. Her room was in pristine condition but for the building layer of dust. The police were notified.
     General unease had invaded the police department. A girl had gone missing and her parents hadn't noticed! At first, it seemed a standard runaway case, at least until they discovered she had perfect grades and test scores, had just aced her SAT and ACT. There was no obvious reason for her disappearance, no incriminating evidence on her computer or in her room.
     Then he found the shoe.
     Detective Monroe gingerly held the size 8 1/2 black high-top sneaker. Carefully turning it over in the light, he detected blood smudges and smears. The whole thing was a stroke of luck he had difficulty fathoming. The only reason he was here on the forest service road was to speak with some park rangers. No one thought it could be foul play,t here was no reason to think so, and so it was assumed she had gotten lost. He had meant to arrange a search party with the rangers, but after leaving his truck, had tripped over the shoe. The blood on it, the size, the oddity of the placement... It seemed it must be the missing girl's. This certainly hadn't been left by a bear or mountain lion, they didn't leave perfectly preserved shoes behind. It wasn't dirty as if dragged through the dirt, it wasn't torn or ripped up. No, this shoe had been knocked off of her foot, and left behind. Maybe the abductor hadn't noticed. Or maybe they hadn't cared.
     After all, a whole week before her parents noticed, and on accident.
     He pulled an evidence bag from his truck and carefully enclosed the shoe. Then, he called it in and headed back to the station. This screamed of something foul.
     There was a line for entering in evidence. He took a seat in one of the old, brown department chairs, and waited. Sitting slightly forward, legs apart, he rested his forearms on the top of his thighs and took a close look at the shoe in the bag.
     Was she scared? He wondered if she knew how long it would take for her absence to be noted. He wondered about the girl who seemed to be a ghost in her own life. Did she know her abductor? Did she think no one would find her? Where was she?
     He wondered who she was as a person. Though the evidence of her life indicated a quiet, no-nonsense type, the few friends of hers they had managed to track down were adamant that she was funny, smart, loyal, and could be trusted with any secret. When asked why they hadn't noticed her disappearance, the shame was evident on their faces. If she had called for assistance, they would have dropped everything and come to her air, but she hadn't. They were too caught up in their own lives to notice.
     Was she sassing her abductor now with back talk and wit belaying her teenage status? Was she gagged and bound?
     His turn at the window came. As he handed over the paperwork and shoe with a strange reluctance, one last question came to mind:
     Was she even still alive?