The letter is from Gallaudet University.
For a moment, I’m confused. Why would they be sending me a letter? I’m not on any of their mailing lists, and—
My application. Holy shit, it must be a response from the admissions office. I applied last year and got rejected, which was crushing, but no big surprise. My grades are barely average, and since it’s so hard to communicate with my teachers, the recommendation letters I got were lukewarm at best. But then a couple months ago, I decided to reapply for the spring semester. It was a long shot, but I’d poured my heart into the application essay and had crossed my fingers that it would be enough.
I didn’t expect to ever get a letter from them, because according to their website, only admitted students would receive notice by mail.
Which means I got in.
I stare in shock down at the envelope. It takes me a moment to realize I’m grinning like an idiot, but then I don’t care enough to stop. Gallaudet has been my dream ever since I was twelve and first stumbled across the university’s website. It has brilliant professors, one-of-a-kind courses tailored for people with hearing impairments, and a student body that is mostly deaf.
And now I get to go there.
It takes a hard slap to pull me back to reality. I yelp and press a hand to my stinging cheek. My head spins a little, and as I blink a couple of times to clear it, I look up at my dad. His angry expression hasn’t changed, although instead of staring at me, he’s now locked his glare on the envelope.
I realize the envelope is already open, its top ragged where my dad pulled out the letter. That means he’s read it and knows I was admitted. So he should be happy, right? He’s always complaining about how I do nothing useful, and now I have the chance to attend a top-notch school.
“Why?” he asks.
I hesitate, unsure what sort of reply he wants. When I don’t give an immediate response, my dad slams his fist down on my desk, narrowly missing my beloved keyboard. I have one second to feel relief, but then the fear comes rushing back.
But instead of avoiding his furious gaze, like I usually do, I stare back. This is my college, my life, my decision. I don’t know what he’s so upset about, but he has no right to stop me from attending the school of my dreams.
“Why did you apply?” he demands.
“I thought I might have a chance.” I gesture to the envelope. “And I did! Dad, I got in, and—”
“And you won’t be attending.”
My heart stutters and comes to a grinding halt. Then it starts beating overtime as anger sears through me. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“No,” I snap. “No, I didn’t hear you. Don’t you get it? I’m deaf. As much as you hate it, I can’t hear a single word you say. So why not let me go? Gallaudet is in Washington, DC. I’ll be far away from you, you won’t have to bother with me, and—”
“Enough!” His fists clench again, and I have the common sense to shut up. “You’re not going to argue with me on this, Alison. Gallaudet is the type of school that will ruin you. They teach you to embrace your weakness when you should be fighting it.”
“How could I fight it?” I demand. “We both know nothing can make my hearing come back.”
“That’s no excuse to wallow in self-pity for four whole years of college.”
“It’s not self-pity! Gallaudet is like its own culture. All the people there would understand me.”
“You’re the one who needs to start understanding things, not anyone else,” he snaps. “It’s about time you buck up and face real life. This world has no room for the weak, and I’m not sending you to a school that will make you even weaker.”
This is the point where I should shut my trap and go along with what he’s saying. But I can’t. The anger pulsing through me just won’t let me drop the argument, even if it’s for the best, even if it’s going to get me hurt. I shove away from my desk and stand to face him directly.
“I’m not weak! Don’t you get that? I’m different. That’s all. And the only bad thing about being different is that it scares people obsessed with being normal. People like you.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re saying I’m scared?”
“I’m saying you’re terrified. Ever since I’ve moved in, you’ve treated me like I’ll never amount to anything. If I go to Gallaudet, I’ll prove that I can do anything I want with my life. I’ll prove that everything—everything—you’ve ever told me about being deaf isn’t true. You know it, and that scares you out of your mind.”
He uses a punch as his answer. It lands on my cheek, which is already stinging from his slap. But that slap is nothing compared to the force behind this blow.
Stars dance in front of my eyes, and I gasp in shallow breaths, trying to stay conscious as pain floods through my face. I blink again and again, urging the stars to go away. They finally do, but I almost wish they hadn’t. Now I have to watch as my dad picks up the envelope and rips it in half.
“You’re not going,” he says. “End of conversation.” Then he drops the tattered remains of the envelope on the floor and storms out of my room.
For a long moment, I just stare down at the ripped letter. Then I glance back at my computer screen, reading the last lines of Jace’s song: And sometimes I think I’m better off dead, But then I realize I already am.
I’m not going to let that become me. I’m not going to let my dad destroy my future. But I know I can’t fix everything by myself, and there’s pretty much only one person who can help me at this point.
Jace.
With a shuddering breath, I pick up my phone and reply to his text. I’ll come. When do you want to meet?
I’m going to leave with him. Maybe it’s stupid, or even insane, but damn it, I don’t care. I need to get away. Sure, I have eight grand in my pocket, and I can escape temporarily with that. But there’s no way I’d last long on my own, not when I’m still a minor and my dad has every legal right to drag me back here.
Plus, as a former police chief, my dad has enough power and contacts to make escaping on my own nearly impossible. Getting past airport security would be way too risky, and even if I could board a plane without being stopped, buying a ticket would make it obvious where I was headed. I’d just be caught the second I landed in New York. Driving would make it harder to immediately track me, but a young girl traveling on her own isn’t safe. A single flat tire on an isolated road could land me in serious danger.
If I’m going to make a clean escape, I need outside help. And if Jace wants to give me the resources I need to stay under the radar, I can’t pass that up.
For a moment, I think of asking Avery to come with me to New York. I know she’d agree. She’s always wanted to go there, and she’d be a good travel buddy, and . . .
No. I’m not dragging her into this. She starts her summer job in just a few days, and after that, she’s heading straight to UCLA for college. Her future is right here in Los Angeles, with her supportive friends and loving family. And I can’t tear her away from it so carelessly.
I jump in surprise as a text pops up. But it’s from Jace, not Avery.
Meet me at the stadium’s RV lot tomorrow at 10 a.m. Come in the back way over the fence. I’ll be waiting.
With shaking hands, I send a quick reply: OK. Then I open up a new message to Avery: I have a chance to get away and I’m taking it. I can’t tell you where I’m going, since my dad will ask you. It’s safest for us both if you just don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m leaving my phone so he can’t track me, but I’ll message you as soon as it’s safe. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.
I set my phone down on the desk and turn my back to it. I’m sure Avery is going to send a panicked reply, but I can’t let her convince me to stay. Grabbing a duffle bag from my closet, I start packing. I move quickly but quietly, careful not to make too much noise as I stuff clothes into my bag. Sweatshirts and T-shirts and some tanks, along with shorts and jeans. If we’re going to cross the coun
try, we’ll be in all types of weather. I think. I haven’t traveled for years, and I don’t remember much about it. Hell, I don’t even know where we’re going exactly. All I know is that I’ll end up in New York City.
Hopefully.
The chills are back, and a sour taste itches the back of my throat. I keep swallowing, trying to stop from puking. This is a terrible idea, but . . . I have to go. I have to do something to protect myself. I have to give myself a chance.
I glance at my clock. It’s 10:38 p.m., which leaves me almost twelve hours to pack before I meet Jace. My dad will be away at his skeet-shooting club by 7:30 tomorrow morning, and then I’ll be able to sneak out of the house. Maybe if I pack quickly, I’ll have time to sleep before I leave . . .
Yeah, right. I won’t be getting any sleep. Not until I’m safe in New York, away from my dad, away from this hell.
And back home.
11
JACE
“SHE’S WHAT?”
From across the RV’s small living room, Arrow stares at me with his eyes squinted in disbelief. His mouth quirks into a half smile, like he’s hoping what I said is a joke, but worried it’s not.
“She’s coming with us,” I repeat. I turn in my desk chair and pretend to be busy clicking through some music downloads, trying to look as casual as possible. Maybe if I approach this like it’s a completely normal subject, then Arrow will believe it is normal. And maybe I’ll start believing it, too.
Yeah, right. It’s pretty obvious Ali somehow broke my brain, and it’s going to take more than a little pretending to fix it.
I stare out the window above my desk, watching the sunrise. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to tell Arrow. It’s barely eight o’clock, and no one in the band is ever happy after waking up early. But Ali will be here in just a couple hours, and that means telling the others about her can’t wait.
Arrow sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Twice. It’s a good thing he wears that I-just-rolled-out-of-bed style, or else his hair would be a mess, and Killer’s fashion radar would go off and wake him up. Killer’s asleep on the couch, his head in Arrow’s lap and his mouth lolled open. He really should be awake for this conversation, but I know better than to try rousing Killer when he’s napping off a hangover.
“You’re serious?” Arrow asks me a little too loudly. Killer stirs, his glasses slipping off his nose and clattering to the floor. He mumbles something in his sleep and nuzzles closer to his boyfriend. Arrow doesn’t notice any of this; he’s gawking at me like I just announced I’m pregnant.
“Oh, come on, dude,” I mutter. “It’s not that shocking.”
Arrow shakes his head and laces his fingers behind his head, like he’s trying to keep it from exploding. “But . . . she’s deaf.”
“I know.”
“You publicly gave her the finger. No, two fingers.”
“I know.”
“And now she’s suddenly tagging along? All the way to New York?”
“I already told you. Yes, she’s coming. And, no, you’re not going to change my mind.”
Arrow pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he thinks he can physically hold back a headache. “This is a bad idea, Jace. No, a terrible one. Inviting an underage girl to travel along with us? Hell, are you trying to get arrested?”
“It’s not like anything is going to happen between us. This is about helping her and nothing else. She’s in trouble.”
Arrow groans. “What, did you knock her up or something?”
“Of course not,” I snap.
Arrow gives me a disbelieving look and crosses his arms over his chest. Great. Every second I stay silent, his suspicions are just going to get bigger. I shake my head and quietly say, “She’s being abused. Honestly, I don’t know much about it, but she’s got bruises all over. That’s why I offered to help her get away.”
“How old is she exactly?” Arrow demands, although he speaks slower, like he’s finally starting to consider what I’m saying.
“Seventeen.”
“Then she shouldn’t have any trouble getting away on her own.”
“She says her dad’s a police chief. According to her, he won’t just let her escape.”
Arrow throws his hands up in the air. “Are you hearing yourself? ‘She says.’ ‘According to her.’ How do you know this girl isn’t just some rabid fan who’s lying to you?”
I cross my own arms over my chest, mimicking Arrow’s defensive position. “Well, for one, she’s deaf.”
“We have deaf fans.”
“Seriously? Rabid deaf fans?”
Arrow looks away and mutters something, but doesn’t bother with a real argument. An awkward silence passes, filled only with both of our heavy breaths and Killer’s quiet snores. Then I hesitantly say, “It’s just a couple months, Arrow.”
Arrow scoffs. “Jace, thousands of girls attend our concerts every year, and I’m sure lots of them have abusive boyfriends or families. What makes this one girl so special?”
“Because she . . .”
I trail off, not wanting to say what’s on the tip of my tongue: Because she looks like me. That look in her eyes, of fear and anger and self-loathing, is the same one I see every time I glance in the mirror. Well, the same one I used to see. All that’s there now is the blank stare I’ve mastered over the years. But Ali hasn’t mastered that expression, because she hasn’t escaped yet.
Because I haven’t helped yet.
Arrow raises an eyebrow at me. “What? Because she what?”
“Because I know she’s in trouble,” I snap. “I know that look. You know that look.”
He flinches. I do, too. We avoid each other’s eyes for a long moment, as if we’re both afraid we’ll see the past reflected there.
“Fine,” Arrow finally says, his words emerging slowly. “The deaf girl can come.”
“Her name is Ali,” I correct. I don’t like how all my bandmates have taken to calling her “the deaf girl,” especially since I think they picked up the habit from me. But I was wrong to ever call her that. She’s more than just a girl, more than a deaf person. She’s a person with a name, someone who lives and breathes and . . . feels.
“Whatever. Ali can come.” Arrow points an accusing finger at me. “But if she messes things up, I’m blaming you. We’ll all blame you.”
“I’ll take full responsibility,” I say.
“Good.” Then Arrow frowns. “We’re leaving in just a couple hours. When’s she going to join us?”
“She’s meeting me at ten. But as far as anyone else knows, she’s not going to be here at all. This is between you and me and the band. No one else can know.”
Arrow stares at me blankly for a long moment. Then he shakes his head and says, “She’s in deep shit, isn’t she? I mean, it’s not like we’ve never broken the law before, but this is . . . different.”
“Yeah, I know. But she needs help, and I’m not just going to ditch her.”
Arrow nods slowly and chews at his lip, considering this. Then he asks, “Does Tony know about this?”
“Tony would never let her come. He’d be too worried it would cause a publicity scandal.”
“So then he doesn’t know.”
“No.”
Arrow stands up and gently clasps his hand on my shoulder. I flinch at the unwelcome warmth of his hand, but for once, I don’t pull back.
“You realize Tony would be right, don’t you?” Arrow says. “If someone figures out you’re hiding away an underage girl in your RV, it’ll cause a scandal for sure. The media isn’t going to care that you’re barely a year older than her. They’ll label you as an adult and her as a little girl, and your reputation will be ruined.”
“I know.”
“And you’re still sure you want her to come?”
“Totally and completely sure.”
He nods and lets his hand fall away. “Then just tell me how I can help.”
12
ALI
I’M PRETTY SUR
E my legs are going to fall off before I make it to Jace. Between the scalding hot sidewalk and the rub of my poorly fitted sneakers, my feet feel like they’ve been through a meat grinder. Three miles hadn’t sounded so bad the night before, when I made my final escape plans: take dad’s old car, drive it to a café downtown, and then walk a couple miles to the stadium. Easy peasy.
Plus, the café is right next to a bus stop, so when my dad eventually finds his missing car, he’ll hopefully be convinced I hopped a bus. I’m crossing my fingers he won’t search too hard for me, but I know it’s useless to be so optimistic. During his law enforcement career, he frequently helped find kids who ran from their homes. If he doesn’t launch a full-out search for me, it would look suspicious, and risk ruining his carefully maintained reputation.
Under the heat of the sun, walking those three miles felt like a marathon. Somehow, I made it to the stadium without my legs completely cramping up, and as best I can tell, no one followed me. But now all I want to do is curl up in a ball and never move again. I’m dizzy from walking, my stomach is still sore from throwing up my breakfast earlier, and I’m sure my face is all puffy from lack of sleep.
I’m a total mess. Jace is probably going to take back his offer when he sees me.
I take a shuddering breath, trying to quell the thought, and push on. I’ve already jumped the back gate leading into the stadium, like Jace instructed me to do last night. Did he have to be so vague? Come in the back way over the fence. I’ll be waiting. He didn’t even mention that the gate is like eight feet tall. Thank god for Avery and all those tree-climbing lessons she gave me when we were little.
I heave my duffle bag into a more comfortable position. My muscles ache in protest, and I glance down at my bag. Even though I can feel it tugging at my arms, I’m still terrified I’m going to lose it. It’s all I have; I didn’t want to bring more than one bag in case someone got suspicious and stopped me on my walk over here.
What I’d been able to fit in the duffle isn’t nearly enough to last me four months, but it will have to do. Besides, I have the money I’ve been saving for the past few years: eight hundred and twenty-eight dollars, and thirty-seven cents. Not much, but at least it’s something. Plus, I have Jace’s check stuffed in the bottom of the bag. I haven’t cashed it yet—he’s already doing enough for me at the moment. But it’s my backup plan in case Jace loses interest in helping me.
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