Unlocked

by Margo Kelly

  I knelt in front of her, and we cried together.

  “I never intended for any of this—”

  “Stop!” Lily said. “I begged you to go to that hypnotist show. If I hadn’t—”

  “Harrison would’ve found another way to get to me.” I drew back to see her face. “This was not your fault. He targeted me and my mom from the beginning.”

  “And Chelsea . . .” she started, but her voice trailed off.

  “There’s no way either of us could’ve guessed what was going on with her,” I said.

  “I can’t imagine what she’s been through. Or you.”

  “I was manipulated by Harrison for a week,” I said. “Chelsea was under his reign for eighteen months.”

  “I know you said Harrison would’ve found another way to get to you, but I still can’t get over the fact that if I hadn’t insisted you go onstage that night . . . Jordan would still be alive.” She flushed, and tears raced down her cheeks.

  “None of this is your fault, Lily.”

  “You’re right. It’s Harrison’s fault.” She fidgeted with the golden silk above her ears. “Oh, Hannah, I’m probably the crazy one here, but I told Manny I’d put in a good word for him. This is undoubtedly the first thing he and I have ever agreed on. It wasn’t his fault and well . . .”

  I wiped my face and waited for her to continue.

  “He’s in the hallway,” she said. “He hasn’t left the hospital since you got here yesterday. He wants to talk to you.”

  “There’s nothing left to say.” I didn’t want to see him.

  “He wants to speak to you in private,” she said.

  “I’m staying here with my mom.”

  “She’s asleep, Hannah. You guys can talk right here.”

  My chin quivered. I wasn’t sure I could deal with any more drama.

  “You and Manny have been friends a long time,” Lily said. “You can listen to what he has to say.”

  She was right. I owed him that much.

  “At least do it for me,” she said before I had a chance to respond.

  “Okay.”

  Lily clapped her hands together and beamed. Her hazel eyes sparkled for the first time since before the accident, and I caught a glimpse of my friend’s previous vibrancy. Recovery was possible. For all of us.

  “Wheel me back out to the hall,” Lily said. I did and found Mrs. Sloane waiting to take Lily back to her room. Mrs. Sloane grasped my hand.

  We hugged each other tightly.

  Over Mrs. Sloane’s shoulder, I made eye contact with Manny, and my heart pounded. His eyes were red and swollen. Tears flowed freely over the cuts and bruises on his face. Wet spots dotted his navy police T-shirt.

  Mrs. Sloane released me. I said goodbye to her and Lily. Then I returned to my mom’s room. Manny followed me.

  Once inside, he reached for me, but I jerked away. He wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

  “Hannah, please,” Manny said. His brown eyes widened, and he raked his fingers through his hair. “I want us to go back to the way things were before.”

  “We can’t.” Images of the accident flashed through my mind, along with the awful smells and sensations. I had known in the single moment when I lost control of my bladder that things would never be the same for me, and I was right. I didn’t want to go back to the way things were before—living in self-doubt and worrying about maintaining my composure all the time.

  I’d learned this week that I was lovable no matter what happened. I fought for control of my own mind and my own happiness. I saved my mom’s life. I fell in love with Plug. And I had seen Manny’s true nature.

  “Please, Hannah,” he said.

  I pinched my lips together and shook my head.

  “So, it’s over? Just like that?” he asked.

  “You’re the one who quit on me when—”

  “I saw you with Eugene, and I got jealous.” He took a step closer, and I held my ground. “I saw you changing, and it scared me. The idea of schizophrenia scared me. The police told me you set fire to our house.”

  The pain in Manny’s eyes tore me apart. A week ago, we almost had it all. And being near him—the smell of his shaving cream, the curve of his lips, the memories of the Ferris wheel, and the possibilities of what could have been—overwhelmed me.

  He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. He laced his smooth fingers through mine, and with his other hand, he tucked my hair behind my ear.

  “I can’t imagine life without you,” he said and leaned in to kiss me, but I pushed against his chest.

  “No,” I said with a steady voice.

  “How can you just stop loving me?” he asked.

  I hadn’t stopped, but I had changed, and my life couldn’t be about what was best for Manny. He’d have to figure that out on his own. Right now, I needed to make choices for myself. And a lasting relationship required more than love. It required determination and commitment from both people.

  I lowered my voice. “Whether I had schizophrenia or not, you stopped believing in me when I needed you the most.”

  Manny flushed, and his jaw tensed.

  “You need to leave,” I said.

  He dropped his head and walked out of the room.

  He’d been my best friend for years. I had believed we’d be together forever. I moved over to the window, pressed my forehead against the cool glass, and wept. It was over.

  After a few minutes, I wiped my tears and moved back over to the tall bed table. I opened the sketchpad to a fresh page and drew a leafy vine around the perimeter, dotting it with violet blossoms. With a black pencil, I wrote in the middle of the page:

  Dear Chelsea . . . Sarah . . .

  I’m so sorry for everything you’ve endured with Harrison. I hope you can find peace reuniting with your family. If I can do anything to help, please contact me. You’re in my thoughts.

  Sincerely,

  Hannah

  A tear fell from my cheek onto the page and distorted one of the blossoms I’d drawn. When Chelsea had yelled at me in the school hallway on Monday, she had said that Jordan could never go home again. Then in the hotel lounge, she had asked the officer if she could go home. More tears fell, and I mopped my face with a tissue from the side table. At least Chelsea was going home now.

  I carefully tore the page from the sketchpad, folded it into thirds, and wrote Chelsea’s name on the outside. Then I wrote the name Sarah, too, because I was uncertain which name the hospital had her listed under. I took it out to the nurse’s station and asked them to deliver it. They said they would.

  When I returned to Mom’s room, her eyes were open, and she tried to clear her throat. Relief flooded through me, and I hurried to her bed. She smacked her dry lips together and licked them.

  “Water?” she whispered.

  I lifted the cup and angled the straw to her lips. She took a few sips, and then I set the cup on the side table next to the six-pack of Dr. Pepper that Nick and Kyla had brought me last night. I swept wayward hairs from her face, and my fingers lingered on her pale, warm skin.

  She reached up and grasped my hand. “You’re okay?” she whispered.

  “I’m fine, Mom. How are you?”

  “Sore.” She touched the bandage around her neck. “You saved my life.” Tears rolled down her face, and she wiped them away. “I should’ve told you the truth sooner—”

  “Mom, even you didn’t know the whole truth about Harrison and Dad, but now we do. And I know that you moved us across the country to protect us from Harrison. I know you did the best you could to keep me safe.”

  I stepped over to the nearby chair and picked up the brown box. I turned and set it next to Mom.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  Without explanation, I removed the lid and lifted out the family album. I turned to the first page and showed Mom her wedding picture. She covered her mouth and sobbed. I flipped through the pages of the album so she could see the progression of our family in
the pictures. Last night I had asked Nick and Kyla to go to my house and get the box for me. At the time, I wanted to comfort myself, but now I realized I needed my family to feel whole again.

  Mom gripped my hand. “Thank you for saving this,” she said. I showed her the loose snapshots in the box. We reminisced and thumbed through them together.

  “I love you,” Mom said, “and I loved your father.”

  “I miss him so much.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  I brushed my tears aside and embraced her.

  • • •

  Soft morning light spilled in through the window of Plug’s quiet hospital room. My entire body relaxed when he opened his eyes and smiled at me.

  “You’re awake,” I whispered and stepped toward his bed. The aromas of antiseptics and disinfectants made me want to sneeze. I lifted my hand to my nose and actually missed the fragrance of sage.

  “Where’s your dad?” I asked.

  “Breakfast with Grandma. They’ll be back.” Plug patted the spot next to him. I recalled how the hypnotist had insisted that the best seats in the house were on his stage. He was wrong. The best seat in the house was right here next to Plug. I sat and took his callused hand in mine. His knuckles were marked with cuts from his battles with Manny and Harrison.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “I hurt a little.” Plug grinned, as much as his stitches allowed.

  “You suffered a brain injury,” I said. “I’m sure you hurt more than a little.”

  “Only a concussion,” Plug said.

  “A severe concussion,” I corrected him. “And a torn-up face, and—”

  “Are you here to make me feel better or worse?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I am so sorry. For everything.”

  “Stop apologizing,” Plug said. “It is what it is. And I can tell you, this week has been the most exhilarating week of my life.”

  “It was almost the last week of your life.”

  “It would’ve been worth it.”

  I leaned forward and kissed the one spot on his cheek where there were no bruises or stitches.

  “Think about it,” Plug said, “I’ve spent years researching the occult, and in one week, we experienced—”

  “Oh, so you only enjoyed being around me because I was haunted by malicious spirits and stalked by an evil psychopath?”

  “Fringe benefits.” Plug pulled me closer. “Besides, this is only the beginning for us. Who knows what the future holds. Maybe next week will be filled with witches or voodoo or—”

  “Stop,” I said and laughed. But he was right; this was only the beginning for us. If I hadn’t participated in that hypnotism show, I wouldn’t be here next to Plug now. The worst thing in my life had led me to the best thing. I gazed at Plug and considered the possibilities of the future. With him, I could let go of all my worries and feel more relaxed than ever before.

  “For now,” I said, “maybe we could just have a boring week of nothing but us.”

  “Hmm,” Plug said, his eyes brightening as he touched my face. “Nothing but us? That has a lot of potential.”

  Praise for Margo Kelly’s Who R U Really?

  “Kelly’s first novel is a suspenseful page-turner with multiple suspects, a little bit of romance, and a strong but not overbearing message.” —Kirkus Reviews

  “Suspenseful novel that’s guaranteed to give readers goose bumps—particularly as events heat up toward the end. A good choice for families to read together.” —School Library Journal

  “Who R U Really? is a fantastically creepy book that is surprisingly realistic and totally engrossing . . . Once I opened it, I couldn’t close it. Who R U Really? is a satisfyingly unique YA thriller that left me guessing up until almost the very last page . . . This book is very realistic and I really enjoyed the writing style.” —Tempest Books

  “This was such a good book. A story that all of us should read . . . This was a great read that opened my eyes even more about the Internet.” —Just Us Girls blog

  “Based on actual events, the story should be required reading for all teens.” —VOYA magazine

  “Kelly shows us just how terrifying, dangerous, and unknown the world of online gaming can be—especially for a young teen . . . The book is well written and the story believable and engaging . . . I strongly recommend this book. It was a great read and delivered a strong, important message.” —Idaho Statesman

  “This book is sure to spark a dialogue between parents and teens as well as tell an appealing cautionary tale to a younger audience and would be a good addition to any middle school, high school, or public library.” —Idaho Librarian (A Publication of the Idaho Library Association)

  “This tense thriller offers useful lessons.” —Horn Book Guide