Did I reapply lip gloss before we went in? Pop in a piece of gum and then forget to close my bag? No. My mind starts ticking off every creepy thing that’s happened to me in this placement. I start second-guessing myself. Someone opened my bag. And I’m pretty sure someone cut the power to the laundry room and stole my journal.
“Close call by the po-po,” Will jokes. He’s sitting next to me, with Catherine in his lap. Trey and Julie are in the back with Drew. I’m almost in the seat with Ethan.
“What would totally suck is if you had been in that poker game,” Catherine says. My freak-out cracks a bit. I can’t help but laugh thinking about those half-naked people scrambling when the sirens rang out.
“You parked there on purpose, didn’t you?” I ask Ethan.
His expression is cocky. “Hell, yeah. Rookie mistake to park close to the house.”
I glance in the back, and Trey and Julie are making out again. We should drop them at the closest Motel 6.
Catherine glances across me. “Ethan, I wonder if Emma got out.”
Ethan looks surprised. “Was she there?”
I never saw her either. Or Ben.
“They were there earlier. She and Ben were upstairs. Went up just before y’all got there,” Will says.
Okay. Well, I can use my imagination as to what that means. Ethan doesn’t ask anything else.
“I can’t believe the cops showed up. There’s no neighbor to complain way out there,” Catherine says.
What if whoever is screwing with me called the cops?
“Where to now?” Drew asks. He scoots as far from Trey and Julie as possible.
“We can go to my place,” Ethan offers.
There’s a general consensus throughout the truck. I can’t quit thinking about my bag. And everything else. I’ve got to get home and see if anything is missing. And then what? I lean into Ethan and whisper in his ear, “Can you take me home first?”
He looks at me quickly. “You’re ready to go home?”
I nod. There’s no good explanation to give him.
“Come to my house for a little while. I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready.”
I shake my head. I can’t tell him how terrified I am. It was a totally bad idea to go out tonight.
He looks frustrated. Everyone else in the truck is laughing and recalling our great escape. Catherine is texting and calling out the names of others who have gotten away as well. I sit quietly beside Ethan, looking at my hands in my lap. I feel funny, like something’s not right. Sick almost.
We drive back into town, and Ethan heads straight to his house. Before I have a chance to say anything, he puts a hand on mine.
“All right, everybody out. Y’all go on up. I’m gonna run Meg home and then I’ll be back.”
Catherine stops in mid-motion from getting out of the truck. “You’re not coming in?”
I shake my head. “No. I have to get home.”
She looks confused. It’s barely ten o’clock. “What the hell, Meg? It’s early! Come up for a little while.”
“I can’t. Sorry.” She’s almost as hard to say no to as Ethan is.
“Okay, I’ll see you later,” she says, then hurries off to catch up to Will.
Everyone else gets out of the truck, and Ethan backs out of his driveway. I scoot to the passenger seat.
“No talking you into staying out longer?” He doesn’t look at me.
“I can’t.”
We ride in silence. Ethan pulls into the parking lot and cuts the truck. I want to kiss him. I want to tell him everything. I don’t want to go into that house.
But what I do instead is lean forward, peck him quickly on the cheek, and bail.
Sleep evades me, which is nothing new, but tonight it’s different—not the usual stomach-churning thoughts of waking up the next day as someone else. Tonight I can’t shake the sinking feeling I had when the cops showed up and when I noticed my bag was open. I searched through everything when I got home, but nothing was missing. It wasn’t even rearranged.
I haven’t told Dad anything. I have no proof: just crazy feelings and ridiculous stories about idling cars and power outages. If I tell Dad about any of this, he may go straight to the suits. And I’m not moving again.
Teeny’s fast asleep. I can’t roll around in this bed any longer, so I head to the kitchen for some water. I tiptoe out of our room, not wanting to wake Mom and Dad. I’m really not up to dealing with either one of them right now.
A muffled voice comes from the kitchen, and it sounds like Dad. He’s whispering. I put my back against the wall and inch my way down the small hallway. When I get to the end, I slowly peek my head around.
Dad’s on the phone. It’s the wall-mounted kind, and he’s stretched the cord across the kitchen and tucked himself halfway inside the broom closet. Whoever he’s talking to, he definitely wants it to be private. This of course makes it crucial for me to know who it is.
I duck down and crawl to the table, which puts me very close to the closet. Hopefully he won’t see me hiding.
I strain to hear what he’s saying.
“No, we’re not doing it like that.” He sounds frustrated.
He’s quiet for a few seconds and then says, “If you want my help with this, you will do it the way I say.” I know that tone. He’s getting pissed.
What are they talking about?
“You push me too hard on this and we’ll disappear.”
Holy shit! Can he do that?
Dad lets out a deep breath. “Yes, I’m aware of what can happen. The pictures you showed me made it very clear.”
Pictures?
The ticktock of the clock echoes through the dark kitchen.
“No, of course I don’t want to lose my family. I never wanted any of this to happen.” His voice is different now. Resigned.
“As soon as I have it, I’ll contact you. Do I have your word this will all be over?”
Over? What’s over? And what’s he going to have?
Dad backs out of the broom closet, and I’m frozen underneath the table. Do I confront him? Force him to spill it? I have more questions now than ever. He hangs up the phone and walks to the sink. Gripping the edge, he hangs his head and sobs. It’s shocking, and my own eyes fill with water. He’s been such a hard-ass since all this started. This is bad. Very bad.
I crawl quietly down the hall and back to my bed, forcing the broken-down image of my dad out of my head.
Hands are grabbing at me, pulling me in every direction. Voices talking fast but I can’t understand the words. I feel nauseous. Bright lights. I can’t see anything. Stone walls sprout up around me, trapping me. I bang on them until my hands bleed. I fall to the floor and watch the blood drip down the wall.
My eyes pop open. My heart races, but hopefully I didn’t scream out loud this time. Focusing on the big piece of chipped-off paint that looks like the state of Texas, I work on slowing my breathing. I try to lick my lips but my mouth is so dry, my tongue gets stuck to them.
I think of everything but the nightmares that torture me. Dad and the one-sided call. The close escape from the police. The total disaster I’ve become. I ache to write all of this down, and mourn the loss of the journal all over again.
Teeny pokes her head into our room some time later. “Dad made breakfast. You want some?”
“Maybe in a little while.” The words come out in a soft croak.
She comes in and sits on the bed next to me. “Are you sad? You look sad.”
Yes, I’m a complete failure. Everything I wasn’t going to do, I did. I’ve fallen for Ethan. I love working at Pearl’s. I even like this crazy little town. And Ethan’s friends last night were really cool to me, especially Catherine. Whatever Dad is working on to get us out of Witness Protection, he’s doing from the broom closet in the middle of the night. That’s the worst part—he must have done something really horrible to get us in this, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that.
But I can�
��t tell Teeny any of this. I shake my head. “No. Just tired.”
“Are you working this weekend?”
“No.” I’m dreading the next two days stuck in the house with my parents and nothing to do. Especially with all the questions rolling around in my head.
“Oh.” Teeny sounds as disappointed as I feel. “Dad says we’re going out later. Do you think Mom will come?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Who knows.”
Teeny grabs her book out of the go-bag and leaves the room. I stare at the ceiling a little longer. It’s like I’m sapped of energy. Those few carefree hours last night sucked everything out of me.
After hearing Dad on the phone last night, something is gonna change. And whatever it is, we’re waiting around for it.
There’s a knock on the door, and Mom sticks her head in. Her eyes are red and puffy, and she looks tired. And old. “Can I come in?”
I nod, and she sits at the end of Teeny’s bed. She looks sober, but it’s still early. Her hair is wet and combed back. At least she showered.
“Just wanted to check with you about school this week. Have you gotten settled? Made some new friends?”
Is she kidding? She’s been drunk for two weeks and now she wants a little mother-daughter time?
Do I want to tell her there’s a cute boy who seems to like me, but his sister is a total bitch and her boyfriend is making it increasingly likely that I will get my ass beat by a gang of cheerleaders? No.
I guess I should be glad she’s been sober for a few days and is trying to stay that way, but I can’t muster the energy for that, so I describe the school on the surface. What it looks like, names of teachers, and what classes I’m taking. Once I’m done, Mom tries to keep the small talk going, but it falls flat.
I sit up in the bed. “Mom, don’t start drinking again.” I may get another whack across the cheek, but it needs to be said.
She picks at her nails and then raises her head. “I know. I’m trying.” She stands to leave. “Dad wants to get to Walmart soon.”
“Are you coming?” I ask.
“I think I will.” She escapes the room, and I almost fall out of bed, stunned by her good attitude this morning.
The Aqua Net has left my hair feeling plastic and crunchy, and I can barely get a hand through it. It’ll take shampooing it twice to get all the gunk out.
By the time I’m dressed, my family is assembled in the kitchen, waiting for me. Dad’s finishing a list of some sort. We’ll probably be there all day. I grab my go-bag and open the door.
The phone rings.
We all stare at it a moment. The suits never call us—they just show up—and we’re all here. I look at Dad quickly. Could it be the person he was talking to last night?
Dad answers it and holds the receiver out to me. “It’s for you.” There’s relief all over his face.
Ethan. I called home from his cell last night. He’s the only possible choice. I look at Dad, and then I look at the phone and walk slowly to get it.
“Hello.”
“Meg, it’s Ethan.”
“Hey.” My family is standing inside the open door, watching me.
“What’s up?”
“Not much.”
Silence.
“What’re you doing later?” he asks.
“Not sure.”
Silence.
“Are you gonna be around? Can I come by?”
“No. That’s not a good idea.”
Silence. Family still staring.
“Can I meet you somewhere?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Silence. Most awkward conversation. Ever.
“Is this not a good time to talk?”
“No.”
“Take my number and call me later. When you can talk.”
I look down to the notepad sitting by the phone and see Dad’s scratchy writing. “I’ve already got it from last night.”
“Okay, cool. Call me later, then.”
“Okay, bye.”
I hang up and look at my family. “What?”
Dad shakes his head. “Nothing. You ready?”
I tear off the sheet of paper with Ethan’s number and shove it in my bag.
Who would have thought we could walk out of Walmart with two full carts when we’re scraping by on what the suits give us? Dad got his paycheck from the factory yesterday, but he’ll have to pay some bills with it. I’m shocked we loaded up on so much food when we could get pulled out of here any day, but maybe Dad is planning on our being here a while.
Dad gave Teeny and me twenty bucks each, and after adding it to some of my own money, I replenished some of our personal items from the bag. I got a new crossword book I thought Teeny would like, and some lip gloss and mascara for me. All in all, we spent almost three hours inside the store, including having lunch at the McDonald’s in the back. Dad has never let us splurge like this; forget that Mom used to spend this much every week just getting her hair and nails done. I wonder again if this has anything to do with the call last night.
Teeny’s happy. She got a new book and a Monopoly board game. She’s decided that tonight is game night and everyone has to play.
Mom looks even more tired, if that’s possible. Pretty shaky, too. I really hope she can power through it and not drink.
Despite Mom looking so terrible, Dad actually seems pleased. This is the longest amount of time we’ve spent as a family in months. Inside the store, we got each item on the list in the order it was listed, even if it meant leaving the produce section to walk across the store for a cleaning product, then back to produce. I’m pretty sure he planned that on purpose to draw the trip out.
When we get home, Mom tries to help with the groceries, but she looks beat down. Dad suggests she take a hot bath and grab a nap. His smile is gone, and all three of us spend about twenty minutes putting everything away. When we’re done, the kitchen actually looks like people live here.
I convince Teeny to open the game, and the three of us start playing. Teeny’s bummed since we’re technically having game night at two o’clock in the afternoon, but she goes along anyway. This used to be our favorite game to play. She’s a master, buying up everything she lands on, no matter how measly the rent it is.
We play until Dad and I are both out of money and Teeny’s sitting on the whole bank. I haven’t been back to the laundry room since that night, but I can’t put it off any longer. Plus, it’s the middle of the afternoon and I have Teeny with me, although what good she’ll do, I don’t know.
Teeny brings her new book, and I bring the piece of paper with Ethan’s number and a handful of quarters.
Once the clothes are going, Teeny settles down in one of the chairs to read, and I walk to the pay phone that I spotted earlier in the week. I wonder if Dad knows about the phone down here. I drop the coins in the slot. Ethan answers on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Meg.”
“Hey. Where are you?”
“Mary and I are doing laundry. I need to stay with the clothes so they don’t disappear.”
“Cool. I’m glad you called. I was hoping maybe we could go see a movie tonight. Or hang out. Something low-key. Nothing that will involve running from the cops.”
I laugh and take a minute to think. I remember my regret this morning. Say no or say yes? Say no. Every time I say yes, I wish I wouldn’t have. Definitely say no.
“A movie sounds good.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Okay. Bye.” I want to bang my head with the receiver. Can’t I say no even once? I turn around just as Agent Thomas walks into the laundry room.
RULES FOR DISAPPEARING
BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:
Educate yourself on what you plan to lie about. It sucks when you say your family is from Arkansas and then you can’t answer a damn thing about Arkansas.
SHEER panic runs through my entire system. I left the go-bag in the house. How fr
iggin’ stupid can I be? The color drains from Teeny’s face. She curls into a ball in the chair and starts screaming. I sprint to her chair, dropping down beside her and repeating, “It’s okay,” over and over.
Agent Thomas holds his hands up quickly. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking. Came by to check on you.”
What? Check on us? He about gave me a heart attack just so he can check on us? I take a deep breath and count to ten. Then twenty.
Still pissed.
Agent Thomas kneels down and whispers to Teeny, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Just came by to check on things. Your sister is right: it will be okay.”
I move in front of Teeny and ask, “What do you want?”
Agent Thomas motions for me to step outside. I hesitate, not really wanting to be alone with him, but it’s probably better not to include Teeny.
I turn to Teeny. “It’s all good. I’m going out to talk to him.”
“Don’t leave me!” Her voice cracks and her hands shake.
“No, I won’t leave you. I swear. You heard him: he’s just checking in. If he was gonna take us, we’d be gone by now.” I hand her the book she dropped on the floor. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Agent Thomas is leaning against the building, waiting for me. “I really didn’t mean to upset her like that.”
I cross my arms. “Whatever. You guys normally don’t just come check on us.”
“Well, we’re afraid things are getting out of hand.”
“What do you mean ‘out of hand’?”
“Your mother. The drinking. We tried talking to your dad, but he’s not being very cooperative.”
“She’s better. She hasn’t had a drink in three days. Why did my mother have your number? There’s a hotline we can call if we need help.”
He cocks his head toward me and waits a moment before answering. “I’m worried about her. I was trying to see if she needed any help.”
The Rules for Disappearing Page 12