But it happened anyway.
“Don’t freak out!” Fiona cries, waving her hands. “It was a false alarm. They turned off a different street.”
I shudder, focusing on the central white pole that anchors our floating tram. Try not to picture a certain heavy gait. Brutal hands. The figure I thought I saw in the crowd below.
It wasn’t him.
Couldn’t have been.
I’ve missed seeing you.
Now I’m even lying to myself.
Chapter 6
Day 101, Wednesday
Aunt Karen said that someone moved in right across the street the day after we moved into the old house. But I’ve never seen him. He must be a gamer or something and never comes outside. It kind of weirds me out that there’s someone living there I’ve never laid eyes on. What if it’s him?
I’ve missed seeing you.
Ducking down in my seat, I munch on my toaster pastry.
“Why are you slouching like that?” Aunt Karen asks. “Sit up so we can go.”
She’s going to think I’m ridiculous if I tell her. Or maybe she won’t. It’s worth a shot.
“What if our new neighbor is, you know?”
She stares at me for a moment, surprised. “Don’t be ridiculous. You think I wouldn’t know if our new neighbor was a wanted fugitive? Give me some credit.”
I’m not ready to let it go. “Have you’ve seen this person? Actually met them?”
“Yes, I’ve met them. His name’s Justin. He’s quiet is all. I’ve known him forever. We went to school together, back in the day.”
“You did?”
“It’s a small town, Megan.”
“If you say so,” I mutter, chewing on the inside of my cheek. My instincts are whispering that there’s more to this Justin person than my guardian is saying, and I’ve learned not to ignore them. It’s too much of a coincidence that he moved in right after us. Or maybe I’m jumping at shadows.
Maybe if I know a little more about the guy, he won’t creep me out so much. “Where did he work before the school?”
“The dairy.” It’s an automatic response. She pulls up outside the school. “Got everything?”
I pull open the front flap of my backpack to reveal the recorder and push its start button.
“Good girl. See you after school.”
It’s a half hour before school starts, so there isn’t anybody here yet. Aunt Karen had to go into the grocery store early, for what she didn’t say. I figured I’d rather be at school early than have to walk from the house. The concrete steps are warm in the morning sun as I pull up a seat and take out my phone.
I’ve posted a few more images since the leaves, and I’ve gotten some good feedback. I scroll back through my feed, pausing on a photo I took of my orchids blooming where they hung in my window back home. Large yellow flowers. Small crimson blooms. Pale pink petals so tiny they don’t even look real.
A dingy white car pulls into the lot and Noah climbs out, pink box in hand. He waves when he spots me and jogs over. “Want a donut? I thought you might be in the mood for some breakfast since your aunt doesn’t cook.”
I’m a little embarrassed that I told him that. It’s true, though. I have never eaten so much takeout in my life. “I wouldn’t say no to a chocolate bar.”
“I got one of those. Actually, I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got half a dozen. Here.” He opens the pink box, holding it out.
I thank him, taking one. This was so nice of him. Besides, the toaster pastries I’ve been eating don’t last very long in my stomach.
“Okay… So for our art project, here’s what I was thinking.” Noah goes on, detailing an idea about combining my photos with his love of anime to create a collage of one of his favorite characters. I nod along, not really listening.
I’m glad he took me to meet the art teacher, Mr. Baugh, because the advanced class is way better than being stuck in art 101 with a bunch of freshmen. Mr. Baugh took one look at my social feed and told me to request a transfer. It’s not a photography class, specifically, but Mr. Baugh hopes to get filmography and photography sections going in the next couple of years. It’s nice to have classes with Noah, since I somehow don’t have any classes with Fiona, Marisa, or Viv.
“Want to get together tomorrow night to work on it? At your place?”
“I can’t. Drama club.”
Noah takes a sip from his coffee cup. “We’ll figure it out.”
I’m glad he’s not pushing, because I already know what Aunt Karen would say if I asked about having friends over.
“Are those donuts?” Fiona calls as she, Viv, and Marisa walk over from their cars.
“Yep. Want one?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Fiona says, plucking an old fashioned out of the box. Marisa takes the one covered in sprinkles.
The janitor walks right past us and around the corner.
I jump, realizing that he walked right up to us without making a sound. I have to be more alert. Relax, I tell myself. You’re being paranoid. The man didn’t pay us any attention.
“So… the school janitor. He’s weird, right?” I try to act casual as I turn back to my friends. Probably fail.
“Who?” Fiona asks, peering over my shoulder.
Marisa follows suit. “Oh, you mean the new guy, Justin?”
“He’s new?” I squeak.
“Yep. And super cute.”
Fiona grimaces.
Viv leans in conspiratorially. “I heard a rumor he got fired from his last job because he was caught with a student. You know what I mean.”
“Really?” Marisa’s bright eyes are glued to Viv.
I’m fighting to keep my eyes from glazing over. This Justin is new at the school. He’s new. Which means he could be the physical manifestation of the phantom who destroyed my life. Fiona’s voice cuts through my terror haze.
“They wouldn’t let him work at the school if any of that was true,” Fiona says, shaking her head.
“They do background checks before they hire any new staff,” Noah says.
That may be true, but what about criminals the police can’t identify? What if they don’t have a record? A background check on someone like that wouldn’t turn up a single, bloody thing.
Chapter 7
Day 102, Thursday
Esau is in a mood today, barking orders at the stage crew and making his actors run the same scene over and over until it’s beat perfect. His exacting, demanding nature is both eye-roll inducing, and something else I don’t care to think about right now.
“Again,” our director commands, throwing his black braids behind his back. The gauges in his ears are flat black under the lights. Marisa and the other actors reset the scene, adjusting their bodies into the forms Esau has told them to use. Fiona and one of the stage crew guys are on a ladder tinkering with the filters over the stage lights. White becomes blue becomes orange.
“I hate the orange,” Esau says, glancing up the ladder. “Go back to blue.”
“Got it.” Fiona switches out the filters with a deft hand, passing the unwanted ones down to me.
The actors take the scene from the top.
Esau produces an old digital camera from under his chair and starts filming, pivoting around the stage in a slow arc. His dark eyes are laser focused on the scene before him as he easily steps over a pile of cables.
My eyes widen and I duck behind the ladder to avoid being filmed. Whatever he’s doing, I can’t be on camera.
“Feeling shy?” Fiona asks, hopping down from her perch with a dull thunk. She nods toward Esau with her chin.
The director’s back is to us now, his camera zeroed in on Marisa’s face. It’s her turn to speak, but her expression has gone blank. Her eyes casting around for the words that should be on the tip of her tongue.
The others are staring at her now, waiting for her to pick up their practiced rhythm.
Silence.
Esau’s shoulders tense. The camera catches
all of it.
Marisa’s eyes meet mine, frustration in her golden eyes.
I mutter the line just loud enough for her to hear.
She picks it up, and the characters are off again.
Esau eyes me over his camera. Which is trained right on me.
With an eep I sidestep behind Fiona, feeling a lot like a little kid hiding behind its mother. I wait until the brooding director moves on.
“I need some help with the sound system up here. Fiona?” Dariel calls from the booth at the back of the room, where I can barely see his high, box faded hair over the rail.
“You coming?” Fiona says over her shoulder, gesturing for me to follow.
“Will there be kissing this time?”
“No promises,” Fiona laughs as we climb the stairs. We work with Dariel upstairs for a few minutes, trying various lighting cues and sound effects, noting where they’ll work best in the show.
“What’s with the camera?” I ask Fiona as I adjust the soundboard per Esau’s direction.
“Esau’s got a channel on a streaming site, and he’s trying to get some traction as an influencer. Last I checked, he only had a couple hundred followers.” With a shrug, she turns to Dariel. “Let’s try that last cue again, yeah?”
Dariel winks at her.
I like Fiona. She’s a capable stage manager. She knows how to do pretty much everything backstage and puts people where they’re the best fit. She busts her butt when it counts, but she also knows how to have fun with it. Unlike someone else I know.
From up in the booth, it’s easy to track Esau’s movements with his camera. He spends the next several minutes filming the actors before getting some footage of the stage crew painting a backdrop.
Marisa forgets another line and I call it down to her.
“What’s Esau’s handle?” Nudging Fiona with my elbow, I wait with my fingers poised over my phone. I’m curious about Mr. Grumpy’s social. She helps me find it, and immediately I can see some areas where Esau could improve. I’m not internet famous, but I have a few favorite creators I follow, and it’s easy to see the differences in their most popular content and what Esau’s doing.
“You gonna tell me your deal about being filmed?” Fiona asks.
Dariel climbs out from under the sound board with a cable snaked around his arm. “BRB, boss lady.” He bounds down the stairs, placing the cable with careful hands.
I lean over the edge to make sure Esau isn’t anywhere nearby before I answer. “Would you believe me if I told you I just don’t like having my picture taken?”
Fiona’s braids wave back and forth as her head shakes. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
I raise an eyebrow, daring her to mention my scar.
She doesn’t.
My attention returns to the soundboard. “Aunt Karen has a thing about the internet. She says it destroys privacy. You should hear her ranting about how it’s her job to protect me from creeps, especially on the computer. I shudder to think what she’d do if she found out I was on Esau’s feed.”
“So she’s one of those.”
I nod in the affirmative. Hope that’s enough of an explanation. There’s no way I’m telling Fiona about the tiny crack in my guardian’s expression I glimpsed when I told Aunt Karen about the note. She tried to hide it, but it was there.
“Anything else we need to do up here?” Dariel asks, eyeing Fiona with a flirty grin as he climbs the stairs.
“Shut up.” Fiona grins.
“Pritchard! Get down here.”
“Ohhhh, somebody’s in trouble.”
“Shut up, Dariel,” Fiona says through a chuckle.
Great… What does the great grumpus want now? I take my time on the stairs, knowing that each second it takes me to get down there needles Esau. I can’t help it. Getting under his skin gives me more satisfaction than a lot of things these days.
When I finally reach the stage, he’s glaring, corded arms crossed over his chest. “Didn’t know you were an old lady,” he says. “Should we install a ramp to help you get around faster?”
“What do you want, Esau?”
“Your new job is feeding the actors their lines if they need ‘em.”
“No more gophering?”
One of his thick black eyebrows lashes upward. With a grunt, he walks away. It’s not exactly a promotion, but I’ll take it nonetheless. Anything is better than pinballing all over campus on the stupid errands he’s tasked me with every other time the drama club has met. Maybe I won’t need to shower as soon as I get home tonight, slick with sweat from running.
The rest of practice goes smoothly, with most of the actors not needing much prompting. They’ve pretty much got their lines down with a few hiccups here and there.
Marisa, though, isn’t doing well. Whenever Esau is listening, she gets even worse. By the end of the meeting, her face is red with frustration. Strands of her black hair stick to her neck.
“You need to have everything memorized by Friday. Your performance today was unacceptable.”
Marisa cows before Esau, eyes on the floor. She nods, chewing on her lip.
“Friday, all right?”
I can’t stand by while Esau presses someone into submission. I won’t. “She heard you.” Stepping forward, I put an arm around Marisa’s shoulders.
“Excuse me?” Esau’s dark eyes blaze.
“She knows what she needs to do, okay? You can drop it.”
“No, I can’t drop it. As the director, it’s my job to make sure the show runs smoothly. You want Marisa to embarrass herself in front of everyone? Because I don’t.”
I’m seething with rage as my new friend’s eyes start to glisten. “Where do you get off? In case you hadn’t noticed, your stomping and growling has everyone on edge. Marisa was doing fine until you started barking at her. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s you. Your actors are too stressed out by you, Mr. Grumpy, to remember their lines.”
Esau’s eyes are narrowed to slits. He looks between Marisa and me. Grunts. “That’s enough for today. See you all on Thursday.” He goes backstage, helping the crew clean up so everyone can leave.
Dariel calls down to me from the booth, asking for help with some cables.
“Just a sec,” I call back. Drawing closer to Marisa, I whisper, “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. These lines… ugh.”
As one of the show’s leads, Marisa does have a lot to memorize. It took me a long time to get my lines down when we did this play at my old school, and I’m a pro at memorizing. There’s so much I wish I could say to Marisa, tell her about my experiences. Instead, I give her a tap on the shoulder. “I’m around if you want to practice sometime.”
“Really? Thanks.” She stoops to gather her stuff and I high-step it up the stairs to where Dariel’s waiting. There’s a small window behind the sound booth, covered in black cloth to block out the light. I push it aside and peer out to the mostly empty parking lot.
But in the far corner there’s a dusty sedan. Blue. And if I squint, I can just make out fluffy dice hanging from the rearview mirror.
In my head, I know it’s an overreaction, but my heart plunges into my shoes.
“Hey Dariel, whose car is that? The blue one?”
Dariel takes a look over my shoulder. “Dunno.”
“Be right back.” I run down the stairs and out the door, ignoring Esau’s indignance when I brush past him. The car’s engine starts as I hit the asphalt of the parking lot and sprint toward it. Tires screech and the acrid smell of burning rubber hits my nose as it lurches toward the exit.
My heart beats in time with my feet slamming over the hard ground. I’m almost there.
Too late.
The car speeds away before I can see more than a glance of a hand on the steering wheel. It was a man, I’m sure, but beyond that…
“Everything okay?” Fiona asks from behind me, making me whirl around.
Catching my breath, I nod. “Fine.”
/> Fiona looks formidable with one hand on her hip. “If you say so. Let’s go back inside.”
Everything is not fine, but what’s one more lie?
Chapter 8
Day 106, Monday
Closing my locker, I startle.
Esau is leaning against the wall, looking at me with an inscrutable look on his face.
“Hey.” I roll my eyes, not looking forward to the lecture I’m about to get for speaking out of turn in drama.
Lockers slam around us as people exchange books and binders, or dig through the detritus in their assigned spaces for an errant bag of chips or red vines.
Marisa, Fiona, and Viv approach, but Fiona takes one look at Esau standing next to me and keeps the girls moving down the hall. I stare after them, wishing they’d stopped to rescue me from Mr. Grumpy Pants’s forthcoming tongue-lashing.
Esau draws my attention back to him with a hand on my arm.
My mouth opens in surprise as I look down at his brown fingers on my pale skin. I don’t know what to make of the gentle touch.
He withdraws, dropping his hands behind his back. “How are your classes going?”
I stare, my brain stalling, still trying to figure out why he’s talking to me. The way I look around down the hallway for a sightline on any of my friends must be comical, because when I turn back to Esau, he’s smirking.
“Your classes?” he prompts.
“No one makes me move heavy scenery around or peel gum off the floor, so I can’t complain.”
He strokes his jaw and I can’t help wondering if he’s suppressing a chuckle. Esau’s ebony eyes meet mine. “Look, I have a favor to ask.”
My chin hits the floor. “You’re asking me a favor? Seriously?”
Esau’s teeth clench. “Forget it.” He turns away, but I catch the sleeve of his white t-shirt. The look he gives me over his shoulder makes me drop my hand as if it’s been burned.
“Wait. What was it you were going to ask? I’ll help, if I can.”
Exhaling out his nose, Esau opens his phone and holds it out to me. “Fiona said you’re good at this stuff.”
Taking the device, I peer down at Esau’s social media account. I scroll through, and immediately I can spot several mistakes he’s making. My teeth nibble on the inside of my cheek. Esau does not take suggestions well, so I hesitate even though I could school him on what he’s doing wrong.
Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) Page 4