A boy went missing today. Well, I say a boy. They showed a picture of him on the news. He's sixteen, but he looks more like a nineteen-year-old. I don't know him, but I think my Mum might. As soon as his name was mentioned she gasped. Dad was cooking dinner at the time, though, so I'm the only one who heard it.
They said he was last seen in the area where my Mum works, but when I asked her if she knew him she said no. The look on her face said differently, though. I don't know why she would be trying to hide this. Maybe she's trying to protect us. They said that if anyone sees him they should approach with caution (and let the police know, of course).
It's a shame, she was beginning to brighten up, despite her cough getting worse (it's definitely hit her chest now, and she's started coughing up small amounts of catarrh).
I've not told Dad about my hunch - if Mum really does know the boy, then I'm sure she's got a good reason for denying it. Pete agrees with me, Susan doesn't. She said "She's obviously keeping secrets from us, you should just go and get the truth and not back down until you've got it.". She's been a bit stroppy lately, ever since we fell out, and I think she's trying to make me ruin myself again. It's not going to happen. Any time we've fallen out it's always been the same. She goes in a huff, mostly disappears for a week or two, then starts coming back every few days, trying to force me into saying/doing things I would regret, and eventually she calms down and lets me get on with things again. It's annoying, to say the least, and I wish she would just grow up. She'll never grow up though. Even if she keeps on getting older, she'll still represent that part of myself, long ago, that I've grown to despise.
Anyway, goodnight everyone. I've got a write-up due for tomorrow, and I'm not even a third the way through it.