The Vanishing of Sidney Hall Page #3

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lost children on milk cartons.

You've been number one

on The New York Times

best seller list

for eight months.

And still, no smile.

Please, tell me.

What ails you? What can I do?

I'm having

panic attacks, Harold.

That's good. All of my clients

have panic attacks.

Yeah, but you know,

none of your other clients

have my kind of pressures.

None of my other clients

have your kind of talent.

If you weren't

having panic attacks,

I'd be very worried.

No, it's

It's different this time.

I'm seeing things.

Things that aren't there.

Like right now, it looks like

you're not wearing pants.

I'm not wearing pants.

Sidney, do you know

what I have in this folder?

No.

It's starts

with the letter "P."

- Protest letters?

- No. Not protest letters.

Christ, man!

You've got to get optimistic.

Forget about Montana.

Everything that

we have worked for.

Everything that we

have talked about

has come down to this.

Open it.

The Pulitzer Prize.

You're a finalist.

We find out the winner

later this month.

Good, you've heard of it.

Ugh.

Oh.

Whatever you want,

it's not as important as what

I'm doing right now.

Love you, bye bye.

My mother.

So, can I get a f***ing smile

now or what?

This guy, Francis, uh, Bishop,

should I be worried about him?

Francis Bishop is the literary

equivalent of Valium.

Forget the other guys,

you're a shoo-in.

Prologue to Paris.

- That's a good title.

- No.

No, that's a bad title.

That's the worst title

since Gone With The Wind.

More importantly, I'm throwing

a big party tonight.

There's going to be women.

Alcohol.

Women drinking alcohol.

I don't do parties, Harold.

You know that.

Well, that's a damn shame.

Cause you're going to be

the guest of honor.

Even worse.

So, that's a yes?

It's late and I'm confused.

I'm confused about a boy

who writes the most

beautiful stories in his

school newspaper.

I read each one carefully

and paste it in my journal

when I'm done.

And then I think

about approaching him.

But quickly realize

that I'm not very good

at being social.

And he's clearly

not good at being social.

I guess I'd tell him that

he's the most talented person

I've never met

But I have met him.

Maybe that was a dream.

Love, Melody.

I don't think anyone named

Melody goes to this school.

You know, Melody might not

even be her real name.

Do you recognize

the handwriting at all?

It's nice. It's very elegant.

I should only be so lucky

with my students.

What do you think?

I mean, what should I do?

Who is she?

Maybe you already met her.

Have you met anyone recently?

Not really, I mean

I have to find her, though.

Oh, I have a great idea.

So you walk up to every girl

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