Who R U Really?

by Margo Kelly

  “No point.” I knew if he did, somebody in this prison would hear me. I felt like I was the one under arrest. I couldn’t talk to anyone or do anything without my parents’ permission. They’d taken away my privileges, freedom, and friends. I said goodbye to Tim and handed the phone back to Mom.

  “Get up and get ready for the day. There are a lot of chores that need to be done.”

  Great. She left without another word. I slid off the bed and reached into the backpack for Tim’s cell phone. I made sure it was on silent mode, and then with my back to the door, I checked for messages. I hoped for one from Janie. Nothing.

  Out of habit, my fingers traced Derek’s numbers.

  The screen on the cell lit up with an incoming text, and the first five words of the message displayed on the screen. It said it was from Tim. I clicked on View Message and read it. He was using his brother’s cell to text me and wanted to know what he could do to help me. I answered.

  Get my freedom back. Get Janie home & healthy. Find out truth about Derek.—Thea

  Tim’s reply came, and we swapped texts for a few minutes.

  You did not seriously just list Derek as something u want me to help u with.—Tim

  I just need to know the truth.—Thea

  U know the truth.—Tim

  But the police couldn’t arrest him.—Thea

  Thea, believe your parents and the police. Don’t contact him.—Tim

  There was a knock on my open door. I slipped the phone into my pajama pocket and turned around.

  “Hurry up. We’ve got errands to run,” Mom said and walked away.

  Instead of getting dressed, I sat next to my closet and pulled the cell out again. I sent a quick text telling Tim my mom almost caught me, and I had to stash the phone. He replied with an encouraging “be strong” message. I slipped the cell back into my pocket.

  I knew I should agree with Tim, and I knew I should believe my parents and the police, but the detective had returned the equipment in less than a week. They couldn’t arrest Derek. Maybe Mom had ruined the investigation before it ever began by warning Derek about contacting the police. Or . . . maybe Derek was innocent. I needed to hear his side of the story . . . but I was relieved that the relationship was over. His unhappiness was too much of a burden for me, and yet I wanted a chance to say goodbye, or something. Maybe I just wanted someone to talk to. Derek and Janie were the ones I talked to everyday, and both were gone . . . but Derek wasn’t really gone. I still pictured a twenty-year-old playing computer games somewhere in Georgia. That’s who he was to me.

  Another knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts. Mom looked down at me sitting on the floor.

  “You haven’t even moved!”

  I didn’t answer her.

  “Well, since you’re nowhere near ready, your dad, Seth, and I will go do errands. We’ll be back in less than an hour. Get dressed. We have plans to do things as a family today.”

  I sat there until I heard them leave and shut the front door. Then I went to the bathroom for a shower, but I didn’t get very far because there were no clean towels in the linen closet. After checking the laundry room, with no luck there either, I checked Mom and Dad’s bathroom, where I found two clean towels neatly folded.

  I began to leave their room, but I heard my cell phone ring. An incoming call. It continued to chime. I listened and tried to zone in on the location of the sound, but it stopped before I found it. What would I do if I found it anyhow? Read the text messages and listen to the voice mail. That’s what I’d do. The phone beeped indicating the caller had left a message. The beep came from Mom’s dresser. I looked closer and found a cord coming out of one of the drawers.

  I dropped the towel on the bed, opened the drawer, and grabbed the phone. I read the list of missed calls. All from Derek. It took me a while to count how many from the last week. Thirty. I listened to the voice mails before reading the texts. Most of the messages were the same . . . asking why I’d done this to him; why wasn’t I responding to him; why didn’t I love him anymore. The final voice mail, left minutes ago, was different.

  “Thea, this is Derek. This will be my last message. I don’t understand why you’ve done this to me. To us. I need to know you’re all right. If you want to end our relationship, that’s fine. But please talk to me one last time to say goodbye. Please. I won’t call or text you again. I hope you will call just to say goodbye.”

  I held the phone with the tips of my fingers. I wanted to call him. Instead, I scrolled through the text messages. Some didn’t make any sense. One said he had to talk to me in private. Several begged me to answer him. I couldn’t stand the idea of causing him so much pain.

  I unhooked the phone from the cord. Tapped in Derek’s number. And let my finger hover over the Send button. Janie’s voice rang out in my mind: Put the phone down and go take a shower! I could see her swaying her head and shaking her finger at me telling me I’d better put it back or she’d put it back for me . . . I pressed Cancel and pocketed the phone.

  I grabbed the towel and headed toward my bathroom. Once there, I set both cell phones—mine and Tim’s—on the counter and studied them. I picked up Tim’s phone and texted him.

  Call me.—Thea

  A few moments later the cell screen lit up. An incoming call.

  “What’s up?” Tim asked.

  “What time is the movie?”

  “Your mom changed her mind?”

  “Yup.” I needed out of this house. I needed air. Mom would ground me for three lifetimes, but I needed a distraction. I did not want to be tempted to call Derek.

  “We’re going to leave here in about thirty minutes. Do you want us to pick you up on the way?”

  “No. My mom can drop me off at your house.”

  “Awesome! See you soon then.”

  “Yup.” I set Tim’s phone back down on the counter next to mine. Without looking at myself in the mirror, I undressed and stepped into the shower. I tried to keep my mind blank; otherwise, I’d have to think about my actions. I focused on the tasks of washing and scrubbing my body. I started with my hair and lathered it up. I leaned backward under the spray of water to rinse and heard a thud. I strained to listen. Another thud came from somewhere outside the bathroom, but this time it was more like a door closing.

  My family must’ve gotten home. I hurried to finish my shower. When I stepped out, I quickly dried off, slipped my clothes on, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I pocketed both my phone and Tim’s and wished I had left mine in Mom’s room. If she caught me with it now, I’d be dead.

  When I opened the bathroom door, I hollered to my family, “Hello!?”

  No response.

  I walked barefooted down the hall and around the corner to the kitchen. “Hello?” I repeated. Nothing. My stomach tightened. They weren’t home after all.

  I needed to get out of here.

  I headed back toward my room to grab some socks and shoes, but when I started down the hallway, my heartbeat quickened. A framed portrait lay on the carpet. An empty spot on the wall indicated where it should have been. Could one of the thuds I’d heard earlier been someone bumping into the wall and knocking the picture down? My fingers twitched as I bent and picked up the photo. The glass in the frame had cracked. I hung the damaged portrait back on the wall.

  The house’s heater clicked on, and I jerked my head toward my bedroom door. Had I left it closed? I stepped softly and tried to listen for anything unusual. I turned the door knob and flung the door wide open. It bounced against the door stop. I scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary. My comforter hung over the edge of my bed and extended to the floor. With my bed on risers, it’d be simple for someone to squirm under it. I kicked up the comforter and dropped down on my stomach to look underneath. Nothing. I sat back against the wall and tried to calm down.

  After a few deep breaths, I yanked on my socks and shoes and grabbed my winter coat. But before leaving my room, I decided to write a quick note to Mo
m telling her I went to the movies. She’d be furious, and I’d have to deal with that, but I didn’t want her to think I’d run off with Derek. I taped the note to my bedroom door and headed down the hallway. I reached into the bathroom to flip off the light and halted when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Dark circles shadowed my eyes. I made no attempt to hide them with makeup or mascara. My ever-present freckles no longer bothered me. They were a part of me. I slipped my arms into my coat and moved down the hallway.

  I walked toward the front door, and a strange shiver ran up my spine. My hand quivered when I reached for the deadbolt. My finger touched it, and static electricity shocked me. Where could that have come from? We had a stone floor in the entryway; there was no way I could have shuffled my feet to create static electricity. “Never ignore your body’s warning signals.” The instructors had said it over and over during our self-defense classes. But my body signals had been screwed up the last few days. I wasn’t sure I could trust them anymore. I swung the door open and headed outside.

  CHAPTER 27

  I walked to the end of the driveway, and hesitated for a moment. Was I being foolish? I searched the length of the street. No one. I inhaled the cold air and reaffirmed my decision. I refused to be locked up in a house all day. The world would not end if I went to a movie with Tim. I turned left toward his house and moved quickly to keep myself warm. About halfway there, I reached the small elementary school that we all attended, a lifetime ago.

  I glanced at the time on my cell. Ahead of schedule, I took a detour to the playground hidden at the back of the school. A breeze picked up a pile of dry broken leaves and spun them along the asphalt. A swing set creaked in the distance. I crunched through the fallen leaves and checked the fence line. The frigid day kept kids away from the playground. With my phone in hand, I sat in one of the swings and pushed back and forth, my feet on the frozen ground.

  Alone.

  I’d disappointed my family. Let down Janie. Lied to Tim. And I had trusted Derek. What now?

  I could call Tim and tell him I changed my mind. I could be back inside my house before Mom ever even knew I’d left. There’d be no consequences . . . except for the fact I’d have to live with myself for the rest of my life. Doubting. Wondering. Submitting to the will of the adults around me. The police. The counselor. The parents. My breathing quickened. I tilted my head toward the sky and fought back the tears. I refused to cry. I would not be weak any longer. I could make my own choices for my own best interest. I could discover the truth for myself. Get my questions answered. Move on. With peace. Knowing.

  I could call Derek.

  Let him tell his side of the story. What was the worst that could happen? He could tell me more lies. But, maybe, he’d tell me the truth. He’d have a rational explanation for everything that had happened. He’d put my mind at ease. And I could move forward with my life, knowing that I stepped up and took control of this situation. Did he truly love me? The hours we’d spent confiding in each other. The way his voice made my body tingle. I was certain of it. He loved me more than anyone else.

  I removed a glove, tapped his number into my keypad, and before I could change my mind, I pressed Send. I lifted the phone to my ear, and along with the ringing, I heard another sound.

  Behind me.

  A ringtone.

  “It’s me and you, eternally—” The DeathTomb lyrics.

  Lightning struck along my spine. My phone slipped from my grasp and hit the ground below. My world stopped spinning. The breeze stopped blowing. And the swing stopped creaking. Maybe if I stopped breathing, this wouldn’t be real. Just my imagination.

  “Thea . . .”

  I recognized his voice.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t turn around. A trickle of sweat rolled down the back of my neck. I clamped my hands around the chains that suspended the swing. He stood so close behind me his body heat warmed my hands. Every fiber in me tightened. Run. Get up and run. But fear and disbelief froze me to the seat of the swing. It could not be him.

  His fingers stroked my hair, and I flinched ever so slightly. “Thea . . .” He moved to the side of me and then to the front, never removing his hand, but letting it glide from the top of my head to the side of my face.

  I reluctantly opened my eyes, and he knelt in front of me.

  Truth.

  I gasped, and a tear ran down my cheek. He wiped it away, and I trembled.

  Sculpted. Defender. Mercenary. Eight-pack. Instructor. Brick wall. Derek. Kit. Jackson.

  “Say something,” he pleaded. The stench of sour milk from his breath hit me. I coughed and moved to cover my mouth, but Jackson grabbed my wrist and restrained me, his strength undeniable. This was really happening. He was stronger and bigger than me . . . bigger than one hundred of me. I studied him. His hair, limp and greasy. His face, stubbly and tired. He’d clearly not showered in days. His mustache, no longer neatly trimmed, had overgrown his lip and hung in a sad little frown.

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  “It’s me,” he said.

  “Derek?” I choked out the word.

  Jackson wrapped his massive arms around me and embraced me tightly. His navy wool jacket scratched against my neck like sandpaper. “Yes.”

  Over his shoulder, I searched the fence line, hoping someone would come. But no one did.

  “Can’t breathe,” I said, needing him to release me.

  “Sorry.” He pulled back, but his hands still gripped my shoulders.

  “You lied.” The words escaped my lips before I had time to filter.

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed, and his hands squeezed tighter. My stomach knotted, and Seth’s advice came to mind: You need to gently say no so you don’t crush the guy. Choosing what I said from this moment on was crucial. Jackson could easily crush me.

  “About your age,” I added, trying to soften the accusation. His grip relaxed, but not his expression.

  “I told you, that if you knew who I really was, you wouldn’t want to be with me. I’m too old for you.” He released his hold on me and rubbed his unshaven chin. “I’m so sorry.” He clutched the swing and pulled me closer to him. “I love you. That hasn’t changed.”

  I needed to figure a way out of this. But my brain was stuck between knowing this was Jackson—the man who looked out for me, defended me to Mom, and taught me—and knowing this was Derek—the guy who said he was twenty, lived with his drunk father, attempted suicide, and loved me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the person in front of me. And, yet, I still needed to find a way to outfox this kitsune-shin.

  “Do you still love me?” he whispered. Tears welled in my eyes. I did not want to cry. But the harder I tried to hold it back, the more my cheeks quivered. “Thea, it’s okay. You’re safe. Everything’s going to be fine.” He rubbed his bare hands against my thighs. “You look cold . . . here . . .” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the end of my pink scarf; the rest of it wound out like a snake. He draped it around my neck and knotted it close to my throat; his fingers grazed across my skin.

  “I needed something of yours,” Jackson whispered, “since we couldn’t be together.” He lifted the end of the scarf and touched it to his lips. My toes clenched inside my shoes, and my knees jerked. I pictured Jackson in my bedroom, fingering my things. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Thea, I don’t ever want to lose you, and I will fight hard to keep you in my life.” His eyes narrowed.

  I willed my tears to recede and decided not to antagonize him. If I wanted to run, I’d have to free myself from this swing first. He had me pinned on three sides, and I wouldn’t be able to get out of it backward quickly enough. Strength. Psychology. Confidence. Jackson taught these traits in his class. Right now, strength was on his side, but I could draw on the power of the other two traits to distract him.

  “Please. Explain. Your side.” I struggled to speak, but I needed to get him talking.

  “From the moment you came into my self-defense
class, I was drawn to you. When I heard you played Skadi, I realized fate had brought us together. I haven’t connected with anyone like you in real life for decades. Thea, you are the whole package—your soul intoxicates me as much as your body does. And sometimes . . . we can’t help who we fall in love with. But I worried you’d think I was too old for you. So, I connected with you online and told you I was younger.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me who you were?”

  “I wanted to . . . so many times . . . I hoped once you got to know me, you could accept my age. But before we got that far . . .” His jaw clenched. “Your friends. Your mother. They interfered.”

  My vision blurred when I recalled the classes with Jackson. I had to figure out how to make him move away from me. “What about your dad? Your mom? The suicide attempts?”

  “All true. But that all happened over twenty years ago. You’re the only person I’ve ever told.” I bit the inside of my cheek. He had said he tried to take his life recently because he couldn’t talk to me. That must have never happened. I needed him to keep talking until he let his guard down.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Forty-seven.” He fiddled with one end of his mustache, watching my reaction. I held still.

  “What about Georgia?”

  “I grew up there and went to school there. I even own a house there.”

  “What about Lokelani?”

  “I never touched her.”

  “But you knew her real name?”

  His lips tightened, and I knew he’d made a slip.

  “Yes, I knew her name, but that doesn’t matter anymore . . . Let’s go and talk somewhere else,” he said. His words rushed out. “Come with me. My car’s out front. We can go anywhere you want. Somewhere warmer. Or we could take that walk in the park we fantasized about . . .” His hands moved to my waist. I chewed on the inside of my cheek again and tasted blood in my mouth. For a split second, I wondered if I should try to appease him and go with him, but then I remembered all of the “stranger-danger” warnings: never let him take you to a second location. I could not leave with him. Plus, if he did kill Red, if that was true, it meant he could kill me, too.