Her neck tensed from the immense pressure on her chin rest. Her fingers were sore, burning. Flames among the waves. The more she played, the more the world disappeared. She no longer noticed the notes on the page or the scratching screams as the violin fought to articulate them. She fell deeper into the ocean, no longer flailing, but sinking. Lost beyond help.
She closed her eyes, and shadows engulfed her. Everything was gone now. Her worries, her anger, her confusion. It dissociated from her, sinking deeper than she floated in explosive mists. She could hear a distant squealing, but forced herself to tune it out. Instead, she focused on the darkness. It was comforting. Beautiful.
I wish I could stay here.
The door slammed open. Sam rose to the water’s surface against control. The squealing of the violin intensified until she emerged, her eyes snapping open, and the pain thundering back into her neck and fingers. She could hear the violin again. It was screaming.
“Can you keep it down in here?”
Sam released her grip on the bow, and it tumbled to the floor with a plop. Her fingers loosened on the fretboard, stiff from the constant pressure, and the only note that filled the room was that of deathly silence. The image returned to her in a wave. Benji and James, walking further away, fading into the distance. Chloe, circling them frantically, looking for a missing solution.
Tobias stood in the doorway. He had a math book opened in his hands, having run out of his bedroom once the noise grew unbearable. But when Sam faced him, he shut the book and pressed it gently against his chest.
“Samantha!” Mayor Perkins emerged from behind Tobias’ shoulder. “What’s going on with you?”
Sam set her violin on her bed and leaned over to retrieve the fallen bow.
“There’s no reason you should be playing that—”
“I think she needs some time to herself.” Tobias hugged his math book tighter.
“And you think you know what she needs more than I do?”
“I think that—”
“You think you should get back to studying?” Mayor Perkins nodded. “Yeah, that would probably be best.”
Sam wished for Tobias’ attention, but he was quick to head back to his room. “Sorry,” he said, and although Sam was positive Tobias was speaking to Mayor Perkins, she liked to believe he said it for her.
She turned from the door, packing her violin back into its case. She hoped her dad would be gone by the time she finished, but when she lifted the case and set it on her desk, he was still standing in the doorway.
“Is this about Benji?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Samantha,” he said, “I don’t think he’s mad at you. And even if he is, I’m sure he knows you did the right thing.”
She folded the music stand at the joints in an effort to be half-present. No, he had it wrong. It didn’t matter if Benji was mad at her or not. She shouldn’t have said anything. It was her fault that James didn’t have his best friend to lean on. That Chloe lost someone who meant the world to her. And Sam had to watch this misery unravel, pretending she had nothing to do with it.
“You should be trying to communicate with him instead of taking your anger out on your family.”
“I’m not!” Sam folded the music stand’s legs against the main rod in a nasty slap.
“You better watch your—”
“Can’t you leave me alone for once?” Sam chucked the folded stand onto the floor and turned away from him. She bit her lip to keep the tears from forming.
“Fine.” He set his hand on the doorknob. “If that’s what you want.”
CHAPTER 22
message
Benji rubbed his eyes in the dining room, forcing alertness as best he could. He had trouble sleeping ever since he opened the envelope, and although it hadn’t bothered him during school, it struck him the most during the weekend. He wasn’t particularly sleepy, but the exhaustion was there. His legs were sore from soccer, and each step tortured his bruised feet. His eyes burned when he opened them in the mornings after a restless sleep. The days exhausted him. He found himself oddly irritable, clenching his fists whenever an old memory filled his mind.
Rebecca placed a palm over Benji’s forehead, and he jerked himself away. She stepped away, waiting for him to speak for himself. When he didn’t, she tossed in a clue. “Mr. Trenton phoned me this morning. Told me you left school early on Friday to call me.”
Benji tried to panic, but no matter how hard he tried to tense his arms, they dangled like the limbs of a doll.
“But that’s not the part that confuses me the most.” Rebecca searched for his eyes. He avoided her. “He said you haven’t been keeping up with your work.”
“That’s true,” Benji said.
“Did something happen? Is this about how you tried to leave?” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Why haven’t you talked to me?”
“You never asked about it, so—”
“I love what you’ve been doing, Benji. I really do.” There was a bumpiness to her voice. “But I can’t help but feel concerned. Either you tell me what’s going on now, or I might—I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust you anymore. You have to see where I’m coming from.”
He wanted to shout that she’d never understand. That no matter how many stories he invented, she’d only believe the one she wanted to believe. But he knew that arguing with her would soil his plans. Today would be his last in Wishville, and it’d be best not to draw suspicions.
“I get why you’re worried, but I’m not hiding anything.” His feet ached from standing. “I’ve been bored with school, that’s all.”
“I booked you a meeting with a psychologist.” The dullness in her eyes vanished, replaced with sharp, colorless blades. “Get ready. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”
“Why?”
“I just—well—I know what’s best for you.” She blinked three times, restraining the knives of her eyes from reaching out to slash him. “Don’t take it in a bad way. You deserve a chance to really talk with someone, you know? And if that person isn’t meant to be me, then maybe I can accept that.”
There was no rapid beating of his heart. No stiff arms. No sweaty forehead. He was calm, and the lies slid off his tongue. Effortless. “Okay. I don’t mind.”
“What?”
“That’s fine with me.” He forced a smile. “It might help me.”
She disarmed her eyes, and her forehead filled with creases. “I see. Well, I’m glad you’re open-minded.” She held her breath as she walked through the hall.
I got this. Benji nodded. After I handle the meeting, I’ll pack my things.
* * *
His last morning in Wishville was spent in a shiny room at the end of Main Street. Benji had always pictured the building as a dreary place, but colorful rays of golden sun bloomed from the window. He was frustratingly comfortable, and he had to pinch his arm to keep his alertness from napping.
Dr. Atkins flipped through the paperwork Rebecca had filled for her. She skimmed the pages, placed it on the coffee table between their two seats, and adjusted her the white-framed glasses that made her hickory eyes glow. “Before we begin, I want you to understand that everything you say in this room is confidential.” Dr. Atkins gestured to the clean space. “Nothing you say in this room will leave this room unless you share it yourself.”
Benji wanted to smile. He wanted to curve his mouth and fool his way to the end, but he couldn’t resolve the sense of failure that burdened him. He was in front of Dr. Atkins, of all people! He never would’ve imagined himself in front of a psychologist. The last few days he’d been normal, concealing his dread of death with a charming grin and soft arms, but somewhere in his plan, he’d messed up.
It’s okay. It’s not over. Benji folded his fingers in his lap. After I get through this meeting, I’
ll pack my things.
“You’re almost a high schooler.” Dr. Atkins refolded the collar of her blazer. “How does that make you feel?”
She spoke with a voice of flowing cream. Benji considered the appeal. For the last few days, he’d been dying to talk to someone. He’d told Oliver everything, yet it wasn’t enough to relieve himself. Multiple times he’d considered spouting the truth, but concealed it in fear that it’d ruin his plan to leave. But now Dr. Atkins sat in front of him, offering to listen and promising to keep a secret. The opportunity made him burst.
“I won’t go to high school.” His fingers tightened, and when he raised his head, colorful blotches on the hung canvases morphed into smothers of thick, black ink. The room grew hot. He felt sweat forming under his sleeves. He had finally said it. The reality that he’d bottled inside him, he’d said it. He waited for the relief to crash into him, but instead, his body grew stiffer.
“Why don’t we try something else?” Her tan skin and chestnut hair were the only colors that filled the room. The only things he could see. And Benji felt he could trust her.
Something about Dr. Atkins was familiar.
“You can ask me questions instead.” Her eyes sparkled when they met with his, and he found himself smiling genuinely. “Does that sound better?”
His fingers loosened, and he adjusted his rotten posture. “Any kind of question?”
Dr. Atkins nodded. “Fire away.”
Benji had never been skilled at solving puzzles. That was a task for James or Nina, but neither of them were with him at the moment, and he needed to solve this on his own.
“I heard she had a meeting with a child psychologist recently. The Kois were told she’s been using her imagination as a coping method for her illness.” Benji froze. That’s what Rebecca had told him only a week before Nina died.
“Dr. Atkins,” he said softly, “how many psychologists are there in Wishville?”
“Just me and Dr. Johnson, but he doesn’t work with children.”
“So you’re the only child psychologist?”
“That’s right.”
His body clenched his jaw, warning him not to speak, but he ripped apart his teeth and let his voice slip out of his throat.
“Nina Koi was one of your patients,” he said, “wasn’t she?”
“I don’t speak about my other clients.” Dr. Atkins didn’t flinch at the sight of his raging eyes. “Just how I’d never tell anyone what you tell me. So if there’s something—”
“You need to understand. Nina’s family is very close to mine.” He stood. “I have to know if she told you anything. If you don’t tell me, I won’t be able to figure any of this out. I won’t be able to know if—”
“If what she told you was true?”
The room paused.
Dr. Atkins’ stiff persona dropped, and for a moment she was simply one of the few residents of Wishville. Her smile wavered, but she kept her gaze locked on him. “If you talk first, I might be able to help.” She crossed her legs. “What exactly did Nina tell you?”
Benji sat. “She gave me an envelope with the date and time of my death.”
“And you opened it.”
“Yes.” Benji gripped the fabric of his jeans. “Of course I opened it.”
“I’ll be right back.” The room darkened as she passed the window, but the light returned as her feet left the rays illuminated on the carpet. She opened the bottom drawer of her desk. When Benji saw a glimpse of wadded papers and disorganized stationery, he almost laughed. Her calm, composed persona was all an act, not much different from Benji’s.
Benji spotted a flash of red in her hand as she sat across from him. “Why don’t we find out together?” She held an envelope in front of her, identical to the one Nina had given him. Benji froze.
“When Nina came in for the first time, she gave it to me. She said I’d know when to open it.”
Benji pressed his back against the chair. The sweat on his palms were cold, and when he crossed his arms, a chill ran through his body.
“I’ll open it first, okay?” Before Benji could say anything, her finger was stuck into the crease of the envelope. After a blink, it was open.
She peeked inside before offering the envelope to Benji.
Pure danger traced his fingertips for the second time. He hardly made contact with the envelope, holding it tenderly. Before committing, he glanced at Doctor Atkins. She nodded, and he reached inside. A paper slipped out in a hurry, escaping its prison. The job was almost halfway done. He was about to unfold it, but a stronger curiosity stopped him.
“Did she say anything before she gave it to you?” he asked.
Dr. Atkins smiled, although it wasn’t a stable one. “She told me it would help a friend understand.” She nodded her head, encouraging Benji to proceed.
He unfolded the paper and leaned forward, reading Nina’s message.
“But I don’t understand.” Benji squinted at the page. Two words. They didn’t change.
Not today.
“Does it mean anything to you?”
“No.” Benji tossed the page onto the coffee table and sighed. “It means nothing.”
The ticking of the wall clock filled the room.
Benji ran his hands through his hair. “What am I supposed to understand?” With each tick of the clock, the pain in his head grew thicker.
Dr. Atkins cleared her throat. “Benji, this is only an idea, but have you ever considered the possibility that,” she paused, “maybe Nina couldn’t really tell the future?”
Benji peeled his hands from his head.
“I can’t share information about my other patients, but I can tell you that supernatural powers don’t exist. Sometimes kids play pretend.”
“But there were so many signs that—”
“You can collect evidence to support any claim, no matter how ridiculous it is. It doesn’t mean you’re unintelligent. Even geniuses can be fooled into believing ridiculous notions. Luckily, Wishville’s strong. We spread the truth, so everyone can stay on the same page. But what happens when someone sides with a different view?”
Benji didn’t respond, so she answered for herself. “It’s frightening, Benji. It’s frightening when people are too curious. When they talk about things that aren’t really talked about.” She leaned forward slightly, smiling broadly. “It’s perfectly natural to be curious. It’s what leads you to facts. But sometimes those facts aren’t true. You’ve got to understand that.”
Every time she paused to breathe, the ticking of time haunted Benji again.
“I have evidence.” He spoke so fast that his words jumbled together like tangled yarn. “She told me when she’d die, and she was right.”
“When did she predict it?”
“The day before.”
“There’s many cases of people who predicted when they’d die. Sometimes people can sense when they’re reaching the end. It’s instinctive.”
“What if she didn’t have that feeling? What if she actually knew?”
“Have you considered something called a coincidence?”
“I swear, she could tell the future!”
Dr. Atkins nodded. “Okay.” More nodding. “I see what you mean. Yes. And from talking with you today I have a feeling I know what’s going on.” She paused, waiting for Benji to look at her. “Sometimes your brain changes what you remember in order to support what you want to believe. Be honest with yourself. Do you want to believe Nina could tell the future?”
Benji thought on that for a little. For some time. A long time. He closed his eyes. Messed with his fingers. Bit his tongue. In the end, he found himself nodding. I don’t want to believe Nina had something wrong with her.
“Do you think that might be the reason why you allow yourself to be so easily convinced of something that goes against
science?” She pointed to the envelope. “If after reading the message we opened today, you still don’t understand, I don’t see why you would think there is something to understand. Do you think these beliefs you have are healthy?”
His sore muscles grew so tense they went numb. He observed the room, remembering where he was. The thoughts rushed back to him. I’m at a psychologist’s office. My mom sent me here. She thinks I’m crazy. His face boiled. He wasn’t sure where the anger came from, but it did, and he wished to scream.
Am I going crazy like Nina? He grabbed his head in different places, hoping he could reach a conclusion. Or am I the only person in this town who’s actually sane?
CHAPTER 23
pitch
Every other Sunday night, Stricket would drive to the convenience store in the square for his staple groceries. Today was Chloe’s chance to take action. Perhaps the only chance where she’d have enough willpower to pull through with it.
With a bag from the supply closet hauled over her shoulder, Chloe hiked up Eudora Hill for the second time in her life. Although her calves burned and her neck ached from the pressure of the bag, it was another pain that made her stop. “I’m doing this for Benji.” The bag slipped as her fingers loosened, but she tightened them and continued walking. “I can fix this.”
Yesterday, Benji had verified the connection between him and Stricket. Chloe had heard the stories before. Stricket was crazy. He infected Benji’s mind with his cold lies. It must have been him who was responsible for Benji planning to leave earlier this month. It would explain all of it. Benji’s peak of curiosity. His odd questions. Why he cut his hair, made new friends, and sat motionless in class. Stricket was the puppet-master behind it all, and Chloe was here to cut the strings.
Chloe watched her boots as she walked, avoiding any rocks or twigs that might cause her to slip. When a vibrant green replaced the dull dirt below her, she paused and raised her chin to face a house standing boldly on the hill. A darkness filled the windows. The lights were off.
Leaving Wishville Page 13