Missing Pieces

by Meredith Tate

“Can you believe we actually found it?”

  “No! It looks the same.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Have you ever brought Lara here?”

  “I don’t love Lara.”

  Stop.

  Piren Allston

  Holy shit.

  “What?” Trace’s jaw drops. She sets her cup down on the bench.

  “Wait…no!”

  “You can’t just say stuff like that!” She jumps from the bench, flailing her arms. “Of course you frigging love Lara!”

  “I know! I do!”

  “Shit like that gets you a one way ticket to Lornstown!”

  “I know! I love Lara. I love her!”

  “You better!”

  “I do!”

  “Good!”

  “Good!”

  She rubs her forehead.

  I lean back on the bench, left leg jiggling like a gelatinous mass.

  Nice going. Way to fuck up the night.

  My ragged breath rips like razors through my lungs.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Why the hell did I say that? And why to Trace?

  Trace sits back down beside me and stretches her legs out into the snow, gazing pensively up at the sky. Nausea swirls in my belly. I rest my head in my hands, elbows on my knees, grasping my hair in fists.

  I can’t look at her.

  After a silent eternity, Trace nudges my arm with her elbow.

  “To us.” She holds up her cocoa in a toast. “To the best friend I’ve ever had.”

  I weakly raise my own cup. “To us.”

  We gulp our final sips.

  “Let’s go home.” She brushes the hair from my eyes with her frozen fingers. “It’s late.”

  A thousand fluttering insects crawl through my chest. I thrust my hands in my pockets and stand up.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  “Great adventure,” she says.

  “It was.”

  Our eyes lock for a moment. Then she turns back toward my car.

  Tracy Bailey

  I press my cheek against the cool glass, fogging the window with every breath. Telephone poles fly by outside, blurring in and out of focus through my drooping eyelids. A heavy stone settles in my stomach.

  Piren’s an idiot. I can’t let him talk like that. I won’t let them mar his face.

  “Do you…want to talk?” he asks.

  I can’t.

  I clamp my eyes shut, letting the seatbelt constrict my rising and falling chest.

  “…or not…”

  Did he mean it?

  Piren Allston

  Trace’s face hides behind a curtain of hair in the seat beside me.

  She’s pretending to sleep. Why the hell won’t she talk to me?

  My hands grow restless around the steering wheel.

  Breathe.

  The headlights prick two tunnels of light ahead, illuminating the deserted road to Trace’s apartment. A lonely stoplight flashes red, and I gently tap the brake, slowing to a stop.

  Saying good-bye to someone you want to spend every minute with is the worst damn feeling in the world.

  My motionless best friend curls away from me. The window grows foggy and damp as she breathes.

  My best friend. My Trace.

  She’s so lovely. So peaceful.

  I want to touch her. I want to feel her warmth.

  I stretch my trembling hand toward her and something flickers inside me. Inches from brushing her shoulder, I snap my arm back. A lump sticks in my throat as I force my eyes shut, wrapping my fingers back around the steering wheel.

  Pull it together.

  “Hey.” I nudge her leg. “You awake? We’re…back.”

  Eyes down, she withdraws her face from the window. “Yeah.”

  I park beneath a dim street lamp in The Terrace lot.

  “That your place?” I point toward the nearest apartment. Trace nods, shuffling back into her jacket. Overgrown bushes suffocate the front door. Moonlight basks her porch in a ghostly glow, illuminating paint-chipped rails. The place is eerily still, almost haunted. Lifeless. It doesn’t feel like a home that would be inhabited by Trace.

  Curtains flutter in the window, and Sam’s face pops into view.

  He waited up for her?

  I can’t make out his expression; he’s too far away. Something in my chest jolts.

  Not safe.

  “Good night,” she mutters, opening the car door.

  “Trace.” I throw my arm out in front of her. “Wait.”

  She glances up at me, her eyes swollen and pink.

  I swallow hard. Has she been crying?

  “Never mind.” I slowly withdraw my arm, focusing on the crease in my sweatshirt. “See you tomorrow. Good night.”

  She smiles downward. “Night.”

  Please be okay.

  Tracy Bailey

  It’s after one in the morning. I take a deep breath and push open the front door. Glimmering moonlight shines in the threshold of our dark apartment, basking the entrance in elongated shadows; they stretch from beneath my feet, into the hall. The spookiness sends a chill down my back.

  Something’s wrong.

  My body freezes in the doorway, legs tingling with the urge to run back outside.

  Don’t be a baby; just go in, for God’s sake. This is your home!

  Pulse charging through my chest, I force my feet into the smothering darkness. My hands twitch at my sides, alert and ready to deflect an attack.

  No one’s here.

  I fumble with the switch, flipping on the hall light.

  “Sam?”

  Where is he?

  I swoop around the corner, tensing my arms.

  Nothing.

  “Sam?” I flick on the kitchen light. “You in here?”

  Nothing.

  “Sam?” I call up the stairs.

  Hairs prickle on the back of my neck.

  He’s here. Somewhere. Waiting.

  A single light shimmers down the hall, beckoning me closer. I creep toward it, heart jackhammering in my chest.

  I press my back to the wall outside the living room. Shaking hands splayed to guard my face, I leap inside.

  Sam leans back in his armchair. Calm. Peaceful.

  Creepy.

  His fingers lie still on the edge of the armrests.

  Why the hell is he so calm? Isn’t this the part where he freaks out?

  “Hi, Sam.” I creak open the closet door and drape my coat over a hanger. “You startled me. I thought you’d be sleeping.”

  He doesn’t budge. “I love you, Tracy Bailey.”

  “I love you, Sam Macey.” There’s no light in his eyes.

  I kick off my shoes, not turning my back on him.

  “Late night?”

  “Yep.” I pull off my scarf, laboring to hide my quaky hands. “Lot of sorting.”

  “I saw Allston’s car. Why didn’t you drive yourself home?”

  “Car died at the Lab. Need to get it towed tomorrow, I guess.”

  “You could have called me.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t want to bother you.” I keep my chest squared to him.

  “Tracy.” His brows crease in an expression sickeningly akin to my father’s. “It’s one thirty in the morning. Don’t you check your phone?”

  “It was on silent. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, don’t do it again. I was worried sick. I’ll drive you to work tomorrow.” He remains poised, feet planted on the floor, hands on the chair.

  I watch him through the corner of my eyes. “Okay.”

  “You should get some rest,” he says with the slightest hint of amusement. “Don’t want you falling asleep on the job tomorrow.” His fingers twitter on the armrest, but he doesn’t move.

  “Sure.”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  I exit the living room, then break into a run in the hall. I race to my bedroom, shut the door, and lean my back
up against it. Chest heaving, I catch my breath, pressing my ear to the door, waiting for ominous clomping footsteps on the other side.

  Nothing.

  My pulse slows to a normal rate, and I collapse on my bed, keeping my eyes on the doorknob. After a few minutes, I slide under the covers.

  Nothing.

  He didn’t do anything to me.

  That was weird.

  Piren Allston

  I tiptoe into my apartment. Lara slouches over the kitchen table, rubbing her bloodshot eyes. Knitting needles lie scattered around her, intermingled with spools of multicolored yarn. She jerks her head up.

  “I love you, Lara Goodren.”

  “I love you, Piren Allston.” She jumps from the chair and puts her hands on her hips. “Where the hell were you?”

  “Had to work late.”

  “It’s two in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry. It was a long—”

  “Were you with Tracy?”

  “Yes! We were at work together all day! Happy?”

  If she could shoot knives from her eyes, I’d be dead. I force my droopy eyelids open, bracing myself for interrogation.

  Her lips form an icy line. “I—I ju—How cou—You—Ugh!”

  She shakes her head and stomps off. Her bedroom door slams in the distance, disseminating floating dust from the counter.

  I lean against the fridge and close my eyes.

  Churning pain writhes through my stomach. It won’t go away.

  It hasn’t stopped since I started this job.

  Tracy Bailey

  I tossed all night, waiting for my bedroom door to fly open at any second.

  It didn’t.

  I hardly slept three hours. By the time I finally succumbed to sleep, light peeked through the blinds, basking my bedroom in the soft glow of morning.

  Nightmares of Piren’s Banishment tormented me as I drifted through cycles of consciousness. His marred face swam through my dreams, mingled with visions of Sam, bludgeoning my best friend to death. Every few minutes, I rocketed upward, tangled in sweaty sheets.

  I finally awaken to the harsh chime of my morning alarm. Blinking away a sleepy haze, I rub my stinging eyes. Pillow lines form craterous indents across my cheek. Lovely.

  I cloak myself in my bathrobe and stumble into the kitchen in a groggy daze. When my toes brush the cold tile floor, I stop dead in my tracks.

  What the…?

  Sam bends over the stove, fully dressed and showered, sautéing eggs. Sizzling bacon crackles in a pan, permeating a mouth-watering, smoky aroma through the room. I cautiously step closer to observe the full scene as he gallivants around the kitchen.

  Isn’t he tired? What is he, a vampire or something?

  “There’s a plate for you on the table,” he says with a wink.

  Sure enough, a full breakfast waits on my placemat, complete with a folded cloth napkin.

  “Um…thanks?”

  What the hell?

  I plop down in my seat, too tired to mask the perplexity in my sideways expression.

  “I love you, Tracy Bailey.”

  “I love you, Sam Macey.”

  He floats back to the stove as if dancing on a cloud. As he cooks, he hums a cheery tune, flipping fried eggs in the air on his spatula. I scrunch up my face, too exhausted to lift my weak limbs.

  Is this just a continuation of my bizarre dreams?

  “You look lovely this morning,” he says, kissing the top of my head, “as usual.” He places a glass of orange juice on a coaster beside me.

  I glance at him through the corner of my eye. “Thanks.”

  Sam never calls me lovely. And I’m in my ratty bathrobe. And I smell like hell.

  “Can you drive me to work today?” I paw at the napkin in my lap. “Or should I take the bus?”

  “I’m driving; don’t you worry.” He rubs his hands together and takes a seat opposite me, delving into his own heaping breakfast.

  I try to return his smile, but all I can muster is a wide-eyed gape.

  Is he cutting me a break? Did an alien ship kidnap my Partner in the night and replace him with a clone?

  I finish my eggs, shower, and throw on my work clothes without incident. I go to brush my teeth, and Sam vacates the sink without an argument. My alien-invasion theory grows more plausible by the second.

  He kisses my cheek and hands me my coat, still humming his cheery breakfast-cooking tune.

  I climb into Sam’s car. He’s got the radio on, but immediately flips it off when I sit down.

  I wrinkle my nose. It always smells funny in here.

  He starts the engine. “I hope you enjoyed your breakfast.”

  “I did, thanks.” I can’t wipe the dumbfounded look off my face.

  “I left a message at Chuck’s auto. They’re gonna tow your car and take a look at it this afternoon.”

  “Oh, cool…Thanks.” I buckle my seatbelt. “One less thing I have to deal with today.”

  My Partner’s giddy humming progresses to full-blown whistling.

  I toss my purse in the backseat. “Why so jovial?”

  He grins. “Gonna spend the whole day with my Partner.”

  “What?” I pinch the lever beneath me, thrusting the car seat forward.

  Sam turns left out of the parking lot. The Lab is to the right.

  I squint out the window. “Where are we going?”

  “Work. Surprise!”

  “What do you mean?” My forehead crinkles. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “Thought I’d surprise you, but you’re too quick.” He roughly ruffles my hair. “My little former-top-sophomore-student Partner still has her wits about her.”

  I knock his hand away. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re working with me now. A spot opened at Doc’s office, and they’ve offered it to you—Partner Priority.”

  “Wait, what? I work at the Assignment Lab.”

  “Not anymore. I stopped by your office last night, met with your boss. Told him you had an opportunity to work with your Partner, and he couldn’t have been happier.”

  I gape. “What?”

  He didn’t. There’s no possible way. He can’t.

  “I thought it’d be a good chance for us to spend more time together.”

  “What? No…”

  “It’ll be fun.” He squeezes my knee. “You’ll see. I’ll train you myself.”

  “You…you were that creepy car in the parking lot?” My eyes narrow. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “You didn’t come home. I came to check on you.”

  “To spy on me!”

  He smirks. “Well, now I won’t have to. You’ll be working with me all the time.”

  “You…you can’t do this.” My voice quavers. “That’s my job.”

  “You’re my Partner. You belong with me.” He chuckles. “You didn’t expect to have that job forever, did you?”

  “You can’t do this! You can’t make my decisions for me!”

  “Well, I made this one for you. I’ll get you some scrubs when we get to the office.”

  “I’ll just go back tomorrow and get my job back.”

  He snorts. “Really? You think the Assignment Lab is gonna pull someone away from their Partner? Go ahead. Try.”

  “Stop the car. Right now.”

  “You’ll like it at Doc’s, I promise.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “You can’t make me.”

  “It’s already done.”

  “No!” I pound my fist on the window. “Damn it, let me out!”

  He pulls over, his white knuckles vicelike around the wheel.

  “Your duty is to me!” he bellows.

  “Fuck you!”

  “Hey!”

  I strike out to slap him, but he catches my wrist.

  “No more of this shit with Piren Allston. No more!” He shoves my arm back to my chest. “You’re with me. You are m
y Partner. End of discussion.”

  “No! Let me go.” I unbuckle, but he thuds his arm across my stomach, knocking the wind from my lungs.

  “You are with me!” His eyes flash with venom.

  I lash out and strike him hard as I can on the shoulder. He grabs my hand and twists it backward.

  “Hit me again, and you’ll regret it.”

  My eyes well with water.

  Hell. I’m in hell.

  “Pull yourself together,” he says through gritted teeth. “I don’t wanna see this attitude when we get to work.”

  The engine roars. I scramble for the door handle, but he slams the gas, rocketing over the speed limit. I reach for the window, but he clicks the child locks, trapping me inside.

  I’m a prisoner. This isn’t real. I’m dreaming.

  My pulse thumps wildly through me in a sickly surge of adrenaline.

  I could jump out. I could end it right now, a million miles per hour on the highway.

  I cling to the door, tears prickling behind my eyes.

  Together forever. Till death do we part.

  I’ll wake up with Sam. I’ll spend my days with Sam. I’ll fall asleep with Sam. My life will eternally entwine with his.

  My heart sinks into the pit of my chest, plummeting hatred into the depths of my soul. I hate Sam. I hate him with a burning fire that rips through my very being.

  I close my eyes, welcoming the warm tears now seeping down my face.

  I didn’t even get to tell Piren good-bye.

  Piren Allston

  I plow through the Lab doors.

  I have to see her.

  Rushing into the sorting room, I screech to a halt. A blond girl sits in Trace’s chair, thumbing through folders, carefully examining each one. Something bristles in my chest.

  Where’s Trace?

  The girl nods at me without meeting my eyes, thin white headphones clasped over her ears. My heart stops.

  Something happened.

  I sprint back down the hall, bulldozing into Clarence’s office. He startles behind his desk, setting down his steaming coffee.

  “Piren, what’s—”

  “Clarence…where’s…Tracy?” I lean on my knees, panting.

  “Her Partner stopped in yesterday.” He shrugs. “Said she wanted to switch to the medical field.”

  “No…” I run my fingers through my hair. “No. No…”