by C. C. Bolick
“You can’t let her keep threatening you like this.”
“You mean like how you let Tosh threaten you for nearly a whole semester?”
I opened my mouth, but couldn’t think of a good reply. She was right.
“That’s what I thought,” Rachelle said and left me standing at the locker.
* * * * *
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
I looked up from my plate. The steam had faded, but the chicken and rice sat, lumped in the same pile as when Mom spooned it from the pot. “Why does something always have to be wrong?”
Mom chuckled. “Anytime you’re not eating something is definitely wrong.”
“There’s a new girl at school, Brianna Lars.”
“Yes,” she said. “I have Brianna for fourth block. She’s one of the smartest students I’ve ever taught. And I couldn’t ask for better manners.”
“Way to go Jes.” Dad patted me on the arm. “Glad to see you’re finally making new friends.”
“Trust me Dad, Brianna is not who you want me hanging out with.”
He straightened. “And why not?”
“She hates Rachelle.”
Mom raised her eyebrows. “Brianna Lars?” She laughed. “That girl is harmless. Did you know she volunteers at the hospital? Charlie says Brianna has a real gift for helping people.”
Yeah, for helping piss them off. “I didn’t think you’d understand.”
Mom and Dad exchanged a glance. I took a bite of chicken, which tasted surprisingly good. Pushing my plate away, I laid the fork on the table and leaned back in my chair. “I think I’m done.”
Dad stared at me. “You need to eat. You’re starting to worry us again.”
“Really?” I asked and stood.
“Jes,” Dad said, “if there’s something on your mind, tell us. If Brianna Lars is such a bad person, then tell us why. Don’t shut us out this time.”
The only thing I had time for was an extended stay in my room. I turned for the door, but couldn’t leave the room. Instead, I lowered myself back into the chair. “Brianna is being mean to Rachelle and I’m not sure why.”
“Mean like Tosh treated you last year?” Mom asked.
Stop, I told myself. The chills along my spine insisted we were speeding head-first into a dangerous place, a conversation we should never have. “Worse.”
“This is serious,” Dad said. “Is Brianna physically hurting Rachelle?”
“She hasn’t beat her up, not yet. But I’m not sure how much longer that will be.”
Mom’s face turned to stone. “Has she hurt you?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve tried to stay out of it, but I don’t know how long I can watch her call Rachelle those horrible names and threaten her.”
Mom gave a nod. “I’ll talk with Joel.”
I shook my head. “Telling Dr. Greene won’t fix this.”
“Then what?” Dad asked. “You can’t tell us someone is hurting Rachelle and expect us to keep quiet. Something must be done.”
“I’ll find a way,” I said.
“You won’t fight her,” Dad said.
Mom waved her hand to calm him. “What exactly is Brianna saying?”
“She doesn’t like the way Rachelle talks or the color of her skin.”
Dad smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “You’ve met people like that before, in the other towns. Sometimes people just hate without understanding why. Hate breeds hate—we’ve had this discussion before.”
“But this is more,” I said. “I just haven’t figured Brianna out yet.” Or Rachelle.
“There isn’t always a reason,” Dad said. “Remember that girl near Phoenix? She hated you because your skin wasn’t as dark as hers.”
“It’s not like I could ever get a tan with all that sunscreen you always made me wear.”
“That’s not the point,” Mom said. “People will find a reason to hate if they want to.”
“You need to understand,” Dad said. “This lesson is important.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I get it. Don’t hate.”
Dad frowned. “Don’t patronize me. You weren’t raised to hate anyone, but you need to accept that some people will never stop.”
“This is why I don’t tell you guys stuff. I’m worried about Rachelle and you’re trying to teach me a stupid lesson.”
Mom chuckled again. “What your father is trying to say is that to deal with Brianna you need to first understand why she feels that way.”
“I don’t care what she feels. I’m not even sure yet if she does feel.”
“Okay,” Dad said. “Let’s try this a different way. Danny and Collin are twins, right? Different from you since you have no twin?”
I wanted to laugh. Maybe even cry. “Right.”
“This isn’t a conversation I want to have,” Mom said gruffly.
“But it’s one she might understand.” He looked at me. “What if we lived in a world where almost everyone had a twin? How would you feel?”
World of twins? He must be really desperate to prove his point. “Different, I guess.”
“So,” Mom said, “what if Danny and Collin were treated normal and you were treated…different?”
“It wouldn’t be fair,” I said. “But no one would hate for such a dumb reason.”
“Maybe dumb to you,” Dad said, “but what if you did have a twin? What if we all had twins? What if your mom and I raised you to hate anyone without a twin? What if I reminded you of this every time we passed one of those people on the street? What if we told you bedtime stories about how bad they are?”
“You’d be wrong,” I said. “And it would still sound dumb.”
“Of course,” Mom said, “that’s how you feel now. But years ago…”
I shrugged. It seemed strange, but maybe if they had insisted. “Maybe I would have listened to you.”
“What if it wasn’t just us?” Dad asked. “What if the whole world thought the same way? What if the government forced people without a twin to live separately, without the same rights? What if your entire career was chosen for you, based on a single test?”
I took a sip of my tea, considering. “I’d have bigger problems than Brianna Lars.”
Dad grinned, proud of himself. “See what a little perspective gets you?”
Leaning back in my chair, I made up my mind. “Can I fight back then?”
“Fighting is not the answer,” Dad said.
Maybe it was time to turn his lesson against him. “What if I didn’t like your fantasy world and decided to change it?”
“Standing in line is always safer,” Mom said.
“But it’s my life,” I said. “Are you saying you’d live your entire life and never fight to make it your own?”
Mom looked at Dad and sighed. “No.”
“What kind of government would make this law?”
“The king and queen kind,” Dad said.
“Then that’s your problem,” I said. “Your world needs an election—representatives of the people, by the people, for the people. Am I the only one here who’s had to sit through history class?”
Mom and Dad both stared, amazement in their eyes. “Jessica Ray,” he said. “I had no idea you’d developed an interest in government.”
I rolled my eyes. “Required reading, duh. But apply it to your world. I’m not suggesting we go Marie Antoinette on them, but get rid of the king and queen. Elect officials. Show people they can all live together.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Mom said, “like you’ve got everything figured out.”
“Well,” I said, “quit acting like it’s weird that I think about stuff. You guys have never hesitated to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong.”
Dad nodded. “Agreed. But one day you’ll have to remember what we’ve stuffed in your head all these years and figure out how to make good decisions.”
Well, at least one good decision had become clear.
I’d continue to u
se my power to fight Brianna, and no one would ever know.
Bloody Hands
The next morning, Joe was back in class, hunched over the black binder. As his fingers flowed across the page, I thought of the day Bailey and I discovered Chase’s binder in Mrs. Pearson’s class. I’d never mentioned finding the binder to Chase, and Bailey obviously had never brought it up. He probably had no idea I knew about the binder he used to search for the missing girl.
The name Jessica Delaney had hidden quietly within the list of names he’d marked out. Maybe he hadn’t been sure about me from the first day we met, like he’d claimed on our last night together. Maybe he had doubts for his entire stay in Credence. After all, the secrets from my past had fooled even me.
I eased into the seat next to him. “What’s your last name?”
He stopped writing and looked at me, uncertainty in his face. “Why do you ask?”
“Since Mrs. Austen doesn’t take roll, I don’t know your last name.”
“It’s not important.”
“To me it is.”
“Shh,” he said, glancing around. When Joe spoke again, his voice held not a hint of Chase’s trademark confidence. “We shouldn’t be talking.”
I looked around the room. Most of the desks were full, but our teacher had yet to make an entrance. Most people were laughing. A girl to my left chatted about the jerk who refused to play football, even when Credence needed him. No one bothered to look our way.
“This isn’t what you think,” he said.
“You mean you really aren’t here to take me back?”
Joe turned away, refusing to let me see his eyes. “Why would I take you anywhere?”
The mixture of pain and resolution in his voice felt like a smack to my face. Was he teasing me? Would he torture me for refusing to return with him? I reached for Joe’s arm.
“Don’t do that,” he said, pulling back as far as the desk would allow.
“What?” I reached again for his arm. “Get in your personal space?”
“Don’t touch me.” This time his voice held fear. “Maybe you should find another desk.”
I should have told him the same. Instead, I grabbed my backpack and found an empty desk across the room. Tears burned in the corners of my eyes, but not from anger. His refusal to acknowledge the truth had actually hurt, when I thought I’d mastered hiding my feelings from everyone. Guess I couldn’t hide them from Chase. Or Joe. Whoever.
What was it with guys not being able to make up their minds? Half the time Pade didn’t seem sure if he felt love or hate when I walked into the room. Now Joe had shut me out.
Even worse, a nagging thought had hijacked my brain. What if I really wasn’t the girl Chase had been looking for?
* * * * *
“I’m going to the store.”
I looked up from the kitchen table filled with my homework. “Now?”
“Fifteen minutes,” Mom said as she planted a kiss on my head. “We’re out of milk, and I can’t make mashed potatoes without it.”
“Are you taking the boys?” I asked.
“They can stay outside with their bikes. Your father will be home any minute.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’ll be fine.” She grabbed her purse. “I’ve got my cell phone if you need anything.”
“Sure,” I said, knowing I couldn’t call even if I wanted to. The phone they’d given me back in January, the awesome birthday present I’d never asked for, still sat in its box in my top dresser drawer. Fat chance of it still having enough charge to power up.
Math was done. English, but not history. No thinking about that class tonight. I listened as the van cranked up and pulled out of the driveway. Joe’s words still haunted me. I closed my eyes, trying to shut them out. Maybe I wasn’t her. I opened my eyes and stared at the spotless floor. We’d lived in Credence for a full year now, which broke our previous record of nine months in Atlanta.
Thankfully, no one had mentioned moving again.
“Jes,” yelled Danny from the doorway. “Collin fell off his bike.”
I leapt from the chair and shoved myself through the door, trailing behind Danny. My heart hammered against my chest as I slid along the rocks. Collin lay across the pavement at the end of our driveway, not moving. I made it to his side, landing on my knees.
Danny talked so fast I couldn’t understand his words. His hands shook nervously as he gripped the sides of his face.
“His leg,” I finally understood, about the time I noticed the blood.
Sliding Collin’s ripped jeans aside, I surveyed the jagged cut below his hip. My fingers touched the blood and Danny moaned in agony.
“We’ve got to put pressure on the wound,” I heard myself say. When had I learned that?
“Will he be okay?” Danny asked, close to tears.
“Yes,” I said, placing my hands against the wound, which gushed blood like water from a fire hose. Sticky red warmth covered my hands and then my arms and legs. I pushed the hair out of my eyes and tried to seal the wound again, with only my hands.
“Get help,” I screamed. “Next door.”
Danny jumped up and ran toward Bailey’s house.
I watched as the blood splattered across the pavement and soaked into the knees of my jeans. Tears stung in my eyes, for the single moment seemed more like an entire movie. I’d been here before. Another time, a place from my dreams. Yes, my hands were sticky then too. Images flashed in my head, first like fireworks exploding in the sky, and then crawling to a stop as if time stood still. A man laid across the dirt before me, my hands pressed against his chest. Blood seeped from the spot where the bullet had entered.
Tears blurred my eyes. It was happening all over again. We were outside—no, wooden rafters filled the space above. The man’s arms dropped helplessly at his side. His chest rose and fell for the last time. I was five years old, but even then I knew what happened when a book reached the last page.
I cried for him, the man who’d saved my life. But I couldn’t stare at his face or meet the eyes of my father. He was gone. He’d died saving me. Nothing could bring him back.
Climbing to my feet, I ran. Voices yelled behind me, a shuffle of feet trying to grab the gun, rushing to stop me. Forcing myself through a wooden door, I bounded into the snow. My feet were bare, cold as the ice that crackled beneath me, but I couldn’t stop. The voices faded as I ran ahead, shoving aside branches that clawed at my face in the darkness.
All was lost. My family was gone. I was on another planet, a million miles from home. A ball of light hung in the night sky, dimmer than a sun but glowing with a sense of belonging, as if an unseen face watched over me. But I was alone. I’d probably die in the lonely woods surrounding me, eaten by whatever hungry animals hid among the brush, or shot by the evil man. His eyes burned, tortured my thoughts, even when I closed mine. My mother and brother would never know what happened to me.
I’d never see them again.
A light flashed in my eyes and I froze. The roar of an engine came at me, like no spaceship I’d ever heard. Screeching sounds pierced the air and then metal bars stopped only inches from my nose. A door opened as the engine chugged and heaved in my ears. Heat flowed from between the metal bars, melting tears that had frozen to my cheeks. A man stepped into the light, reaching down to me and then a voice called my name.
“Jes.”
I fought against the arms around me, aching to wipe the tears from my eyes.
“Easy,” the voice said.
Pulling back ever so slightly, I looked up into Pade’s eyes. His were filled with an emotion I couldn’t name. His arms held me tenderly as his hands smoothed the hair that had finally grown long enough to hang halfway down my back. He placed a light kiss on my forehead, but I didn’t have the strength to pull away.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I burst into laughter at the sound of those words again, but in the next moment tears formed a river down my cheeks.
; Pade released me from the circle of his arms, watching intently. He scooted next to me, leaning close enough for me to lay my head against his shoulder. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, we sat in silence as I cried.
When I finally caught my breath without sobbing, I looked at the empty street before us. “Where is Collin?” Had I imagined the whole episode? I scanned the pavement, sighing when I noticed the blood, dried on the asphalt. I wasn’t crazy, but Collin was still hurt.
“Your dad came back and took Collin to the hospital. My mom still had an hour left on her shift. When I called Uncle Justin, he was only a few miles away.”
“Dad…left me…here?”
“Aunt Rainey’s going to meet them. You freaked out or spaced out, I’m not sure. You were hysterical.”
“Danny?”
“He went too. Look,” Pade said and pulled me close, “your dad said Collin will be fine. He couldn’t help you both.”
Damn, I sounded like a lost puppy. “You stayed with me?”
Pade smiled, sad but sure as he squeezed my shoulders. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
* * * * *
That night I imagined the blue shoe box and it appeared on my dresser. After looking for so many months, I found it hard to believe the dusty box was finally sitting in front of me. I could read every page, twice if I wanted. I understood what Mom had been thinking. She’d hid the box in Aunt Charlie’s shed, sure I’d never find it under a foot of dust on the top shelf.
But nothing in that box was mine. It wasn’t my past—I was sure now. The man with the gun hadn’t stood in any house. We’d been hidden away in thick woods, miles from anything resembling the sandwiched house the Naples stood in front of in the picture, when Marsha Naples had cried, begging for the return of her kidnapped daughter. The sidewalk I supposedly ran down to escape…what a horrible lie.
As I sat on the bed, staring at the box, I realized opening that lid again would be a waste. I wasn’t Jessica Naples. It was time to put New York behind me.
I waved my hand and sent the box back to its lonely shelf.