Kelsey starts crying again, and Eric stares at the table like he could bore a hole through it. I don’t understand what’s happening, or why Mom’s acting like any of this is normal.
Because it’s not.
Kelsey lied. She dyed Eric’s hair. She gave him a new name. She hid him. Right?
I look to Stan for common sense, and he raises his hand, as if to say, Wait.
Mom sets two pork sandwiches in front of Eric and Kelsey and rests her hand on Kelsey’s shoulder. “It’s no bother, really. We don’t have much space, but what we do have you are welcome to. I’ll grab some sheets for the couch and we’ll get you all set up. Now eat.”
Kelsey takes a tiny bite of her sandwich and Mom nods in approval before she heads upstairs. Stan and Mr. Jessup start talking quietly, so I follow Mom. She’s got her head in the linen closet, digging in the back for the sheets that Grandma Evans uses when she visits.
“Why are you being so nice to her?” I ask.
“When I talked to John yesterday, he told me he was helping out a family friend. I didn’t realize who that was at the time. Now I do.”
“What does it matter who she is? She lied to everyone.”
“Yes, but—”
“Those aren’t their real names, you know. His name is Billy. She faked their names.”
Mom sighs and turns to give me a look. “It’s my understanding that they’ve legally changed their names for their own protection.”
“So she lied.”
“Yes, but it’s complicated, Mads.”
“Doesn’t seem complicated to me. She’s lying.”
Mom shoves the sheets. “She’s his mother!”
I’m stunned silent.
Mom leaves the linens, takes my hands, and squeezes. “Mads. Listen to me. The woman you know as Kelsey, I knew her a long time ago. She’s John’s cousin and her real name is Shailene. She came to town once or twice when we were in high school, but I didn’t know her well. I didn’t even know she had a son, or that they were the ones staying at John’s place.”
“But she lied. She dyed his hair.”
“Yes, and for good reason. I know you’re scared for your friend, but things are not as simple as they may seem. Shailene’s husband had his troubles and he took them out on her, and your friend, too. Bob hurt them very badly, for a very long time, and now they’re trying to start a new life. John says they need our help, and I trust him.”
I think of that video of Billy’s dad. How he trembled. How he cried. But he is also the person who gave my friend those awful scars on his arms.
My head spins. Right and wrong are all mixed up.
“Sometimes life takes a bad turn,” Mom says. “Some people have a hard time getting back on track. Shailene’s made a lot of mistakes, but she’s trying to fix that. I know you want your friend to be okay, but so does she. Can you try to understand that?”
I nod.
I may not trust Shailene, but I do trust Mom.
Mom breathes out real slow and looks me in the eye. “This is a lot for me to take in, too, but I promise everything will be okay, bug. For now, this is how we keep them safe. I need to ask you a favor, honey. You can’t tell anyone they’re here. Promise me.”
This is not what I expected. I don’t want to be right anymore.
I think about how Billy builds all those booby traps everywhere and what he said about his dad being mean. Mom says that every patient has a different birth because every person lives a different life, and I wonder exactly how different my life has been from Billy’s. All I know is that he has been a friend to me, and now it is my turn to be a friend to him.
I make my promise.
27
BIG BADS
I’m eating a slice of pecan pie for breakfast when Billy pads into the kitchen in his sock feet and sits across the table from me. I tried to be quiet, but he must’ve heard me from the living room. His eyes are puffy and red, like he cried himself to sleep.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
It’s weird, sitting here together.
Billy watches me take a bite of pecan pie, and his stomach growls loud enough to hear.
“Want some pie?” I ask. “We made way too much for the pig pickin’. If you don’t help eat the leftovers, they’ll just go bad.”
He grins. “Sure.”
While we eat, I watch Billy look around our kitchen. I’ve never thought of our house as small—we have two bedrooms and two bathrooms—but our kitchen really isn’t much bigger than the one in the Jessups’ trailer. Mom’s baby tomato plants line the windowsill. Stan’s fancy coffeemaker fills the counter. There are pictures of me on the fridge, including one of me and Dad at one of my birthdays, but suddenly I can’t remember which one.
“What’s that?” Billy asks. He’s pointing at my list of safety checks.
I’m not sure what to say. I haven’t had to explain the safety checks to anyone other than Cress. “It’s a checklist of things to keep our house safe.”
“Like a drill?”
“Sort of,” I say, my stomach feeling queasy.
“We do drills, too. Sometimes we race to see how quick we can pack up and get out of the trailer.” He smiles, and I wonder if he knows how weird this sounds. Who does something like that? No one, unless they’re running from a Big Bad. Big Bads are the scary things you can’t forget once the lights go out. The ones that keep you up at night. They can come from any part of life, real or imagined, but if you let them, they’ll hunt you down. Like Mr. Holcomb.
“So. Kelsey’s your mom, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“And her real name is Shailene.”
He shifts in his seat. “Yeah.”
“And you’re Billy. Billy Holcomb.”
He nods, his eyes on his plate. “We changed our names. Shailene didn’t want us drawing any attention so my dad wouldn’t find out where we were.”
Shailene. Not Mom.
“Was that your dad yesterday?”
“Yeah. That’s him.”
Billy glances up and I busy myself with my pie. I want to know what happened with his family and how they ended up here, but I’m not sure if I’m allowed to ask. Things must have been pretty bad to do what they did. To leave your home, change your name and your hair. Change your whole life. You wouldn’t do that unless you had to.
The stairs creak, and Mom and Stan appear. “Good morning, sunshine,” Mom says. She plants a kiss on top of my head. She gives Billy a warm pat, too.
Stan starts fussing with his fancy coffeemaker, which emits all kinds of grumbling and growling noises, like it’s juicing the coffee from a stone.
Soon we hear a long, loud groan from the living room.
Shailene appears, her coal-black hair twisted every which way like she was tossing and turning all night. Stan offers her a cup of coffee and she whispers her thanks.
“Did you get any sleep?” Mom asks.
“Some.”
“Sorry about the couch. It’s seen better days.”
“Are you kidding?” Shailene says. “It’s perfect. Thank you. Seriously. My brain wouldn’t quit on me last night. I just want to get this over with.”
“Get what over with?” I ask.
Mom and Stan exchange a glance, and Mom comes to sit by me. “We had a long talk last night, and Shailene filled us in on their situation. Because of what Bob did, a judge decided Billy should live with Shailene, but Billy’s dad has had a hard time accepting that. Yesterday he violated a protection order. So, we’re going to the sheriff’s office today to report it.”
“What’s a protection order?”
“It’s a court order issued by a judge to protect people. In this case, the protection order says Mr. Holcomb can’t come near them, so you don’t have to worry, okay?”
I look over at Shailene, whose hands are twisted in her lap. She doesn’t look so scary anymore. She fixes a worried eye on Billy. “I don’t think you should go to school today.”
“That social worker lady says I have to.”
“The school is well aware of the order of protection,” Stan says. “They won’t let Bob get to Billy there. He’ll be safe.”
Shailene doesn’t look convinced.
“John will be here soon,” Mom says. “Let us get the kids off to school safely, and in the meantime you’re welcome to make use of the shower upstairs.” A not-too-subtle hint. Or maybe it’s only Mom’s usual brand of kindness, because Shailene actually smiles.
Mom goes upstairs with Shailene to get her a towel and a washcloth, and probably shampoo, too. Selfishly, I hope she doesn’t use up all of mine. The water comes on and stays on. Ten minutes later, I can’t help thinking how Mom would be up there shouting at me for using up all the hot water, but this isn’t business as usual. Instead the shower keeps running.
Meanwhile, Stan strikes up a cheerful conversation with Billy about the healing properties of pecans. A few minutes later, Stan hands us each a lunch, but Shailene doesn’t reappear. The shower keeps running. She’s still in there when Billy and I leave for school.
I barely step onto the bus and Cress shouts my name. “Mads! Mads! Check out my new earrings!” It’s not only her earrings that are new—they’re cute silver hoops—but her braids, too. She’s had braids before, but this time there are red streaks woven through her hair. She looks like a rock star. When she smiles, her red braces bands match her new hair.
She stops smiling when she sees Billy follow me onto the bus.
I drop into the seat next to her, and luckily Billy keeps walking and doesn’t say a thing.
Cress grabs my arm as soon as I sit down. “Atlanta was so fun this year!”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She flops back against the vinyl seat. “My cousins started a band in my aunt’s garage. We got to see them play, and all these people came. It was so great. They’re like a rock band, but with spoken word, too. Mia didn’t even complain once. I wish you could’ve been there. You know what? Their videos are on YouTube. I’ll text them to you.”
She taps at her screen and my phone pings, but I’m too busy trying to figure out what looks so different about her all of a sudden, besides the hair and earrings. It’s like her whole being has changed. Like she’s stepped into her next self. Is that makeup on her eyelids?
“Anyway.” She smiles. “What’s the huge news you texted about? I wrote you back last night, but you didn’t answer.”
It feels like a million years since I sent that text. I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to lie to Cress, but I made my promise to Mom.
“It turned out to be nothing.”
Cress’s smile wavers. She glances back at Billy, her lip between her teeth. “What’s going on with you two? Why did he get on at your stop?”
“He switched stops.”
“Mads. Blood oath, remember?”
My face gets hot. I feel like I’m going to throw up, but it’s not all my fault. Cress went away and she came back different. Or maybe she was different before she even left. She was the one who took Diesel’s side over mine when she should have had my back.
“You broke the blood oath first,” I say as heat courses through my body.
“What?”
“With Diesel. You kept talking to him after he stole my bike. You broke our blood oath over a boy.” I know this is mean to say, but the words tumble out.
Cress’s mouth falls open. “But he gave it back to you!”
“How do you know that?”
“He told me,” she says, her voice soft. “You’re totally wrong about him.”
I want to shout at her, but Cress doesn’t lie. Ever. And I know that. But I don’t like how she keeps taking Diesel’s side, or that she talked to him before she talked to me. I get this gross feeling that even though Cress is back, she’s still gone. Part of me is jealous, because I don’t know how to do what she’s doing. I don’t know how to step forward into my next self.
“You know what,” she says after a long minute of listening to the bus windows rattle, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I should have. Want to stay over on Friday?”
Relief floods through me.
“Okay,” I say, and we both smile.
One of my scariest Big Bads is that Cress will ditch me one day. That kind of thing happens all the time in middle school. If you don’t have the right hair or clothes, you’re an instant target. Wear something ugly, and whispers and stares follow you all day. Say something wrong, and you’ll hear about it until the end of time. This one time last fall, a girl I didn’t even know punched me in the arm as she passed me on the stairs. For a second I thought I’d imagined it, but later on I found out that someone told her I had called her a loser. I didn’t even know her. Now every time I see her in the halls I wonder if she’ll hit me again. So far she just ignores me—but if that happened with Cress, I wouldn’t know what to do.
28
STRANGERS
The weird thing about having strangers living at your house is that they’re always there. Usually, visitors are only around for a meal or a party or a weekend, and then they leave. And you’re glad. Because even when it’s your best friend sleeping over, you aren’t your normal self with strangers around, and that can get exhausting. Plus, they’re always looking at your stuff and touching it.
Or at least Shailene does.
Wednesday after school, Billy and I snack on frozen grapes while Shailene goes through the living room, picking up our different family pictures and asking questions.
“This is your father, right?” she says, admiring Mom and Dad’s wedding photo.
“Uh-huh.”
“Handsome fella. I was sorry to hear about what happened to him. I wanted to send your mom a card, but I was short on cash.” She frowns in real sympathy, which is surprising but nice. It’s like she’s shedding a few of her porcupine quills.
But she’s still a stranger.
“Do you miss him?” she asks.
I nod. What kind of a question is that? Of course I miss him.
“You’re lucky,” she says. “You had someone real special in your life. Someone worth missing. Most people aren’t like that. There aren’t many people worth knowing at all, and most of them will leave you worse off than before you met them. Trust me, I know.” She gives me this buddy-buddy smile, and I want to tell her there’s no way I trust her. “How do you like the new guy?” she asks, making Stan’s spectacles over her eyes with her fingers.
Normally I might laugh at that, but right now I’m annoyed. I don’t like her talking about Dad and I don’t like her talking about Stan.
“He’s fine,” I say.
“Yeah, he seems like it.” Shailene sighs, rubbing her tired eyes. No one has said anything about what happened when they went to the police on Monday, but there’s a mountain of paperwork on our dining room table that Mom warned us not to disturb.
Shailene leaves the pictures and walks over to us. “Sometimes I wish things had gone down differently for me, but then I wouldn’t have this handsome fella, now, would I?”
She ruffles Billy’s hair as his face goes red.
“Augh, Mom!”
Her face lights up. “What was that? What did you call me?”
“Nothing, Shailene,” Billy says with a scowl.
“You’ll crack one of these days,” she says. “I can be patient.”
This whole conversation is super awkward, so when Billy asks if he can go outside, and Shailene says he can so long as he “acts smart,” I follow him into the garage.
Frankie jumps all over him the minute she sees him.
“Want to go for a bike ride?” I ask.
He shrugs. Then I remember he doesn’t have a bike. “You could borrow Stan’s bike.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s okay. He won’t mind.”
Billy stares into Frankie’s amber eyes and says, “Can Frankie come, too?”
“It’s not easy to bik
e with her on the leash.”
“I can handle it.”
“Fine. It’s your funeral.”
We set out with him riding next to me, leading Frankie as I pedal slowly. We get to the main road and go a little faster, sticking close to the curb. After a few minutes of hills, we hit a flat stretch and Billy props his feet up on the handlebars, but then Frankie spots a squirrel and yanks her leash so hard he shouts and veers off the road, then flops over into a ditch. I race to see if he’s hurt, but he’s lying there laughing as Frankie licks his face.
“Told ya,” I say.
“Yeah. You did.” He laughs more, even though he’s covered in grass stains and his shirt is wet. When he sits up, we find a small pocket of water under him, chock-full of tadpoles.
“There are so many,” he says, poking his finger into the squirming mass.
Frankie lunges at the water but I hold her back. She does not need to eat tadpoles for dinner. “I think they’re bullfrogs.” A memory plays, of Dad showing me the tadpoles in the swampy part of our creek. “They lay their eggs in shallow water, but this will dry up soon.”
Billy raises his dark eyebrows. “What should we do?”
“We need to get them to deeper water.”
Really, there’s only one place to take them.
Billy takes his shirt off to make a sling for the tad-poles, and there it is—a perfectly round birthmark on his pasty-white chest, exactly like the missing-child report said. It’s weird to think I’ve really found Billy Holcomb. It doesn’t feel good, knowing the truth while lying to everyone else, but maybe solving a mystery only feels good when you can share it with other people.
While we walk, I keep thinking about all the questions I want to ask him, but I’m not sure how to start. I don’t even know if he wants to talk about what happened when he went missing.
Finally I blurt out, “The news said you were abducted. Is that true?”
“Yeah.” His eyes are on the tadpoles. He shifts his grip on the T-shirt. “When I got to school, there was this car at the curb. The lady inside said my dad sent her to get me. I thought she was from his shop. She was wearing this big hat, but when I noticed she was going the wrong way, she took the hat off. It was Shailene. She looked different, but it was her.”
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