I drive to the mall and run into the first store I see. I hold a pair of jeans up to my waist and toss them on the checkout counter. The cashier smiles and tries to make small talk, but I just stare at the clock over her head and silently beg her to hurry up.
I get to Richmond House in ten minutes. I run up the walkway and get in the doors just before they lock them.
“Jay Miller, please,” I say, out of breath.
“We’re almost out of time today,” the lady at the desk says.
“Please. I’ll be quick. I promise.”
She looks at me and sighs, then puts a clipboard in front of me. “Sign in please.”
I scribble down my name. It’s so messy I hardly even recognize it.
Jay’s not waiting for me so I sink into one of the too-small chairs, looking up every time someone walks in.
Five grey uniforms later, he’s here, sitting down in his own too-small chair across from me, and suddenly I forget everything I wanted to say. It’s all jumbled up inside, and I can’t figure out a way to get it out. The kiss. Laura. Us.
“I didn’t think you were going to come today,” he says.
I reach my hand up to my eyebrow, but there’s nothing there. I swipe my bangs over my forehead.
“We have to get her out,” I say, finally. “Soon.”
Jay stares straight ahead, not blinking. “What happened?”
I don’t want to tell him. If I could see any other way around it, I wouldn’t. But he might wait too long. “He hurt her again. It was pretty bad this time. She called me.”
I follow Jay’s gaze down to his hands and watch his knuckles go white. He’s quiet for a few seconds. Then he uncurls his fists and leans closer to me.
“I think I can get another day pass this weekend,” he whispers. “We’ll do it then.”
I let out a breath. “Are you sure?”
“We have no choice. I don’t even know for sure if I’ll get out next month. They could keep me here until I turn eighteen for all I know. By then it might be too late. The adoption could be finalized and then things will be harder.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We can’t talk about it here,” he says, his voice low. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll give you the plan. I’ll write it out.”
“Okay. But Jay?” I ask. I run my hand over the corner of the desk. “What if I can’t do it? Whatever’s in the plan?”
“Then don’t,” Jay says.
The buzzer sounds, and I wince. The other people in the room get up and the sound of chairs shuffling and goodbyes fill the room once again. Jay doesn’t make a move to leave and his eyes are distant.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he says, standing. “And thank you. For being there for her, I mean.”
I duck my head. “Of course,” I say. I watch the other family members hug goodbye again. Watch them kiss cheeks and pat backs. Jay and I just stand awkwardly. I want him to kiss me again, but I know he won’t. Not here, with a security guard five feet away. I wonder if he would even if we were alone, back at the lake. Maybe he just wanted a distraction –a fling on his night out to make him forget everything else. It’s not like there are any girls in this place.
The guard shuffles his feet beside us. “Time’s up.”
I look at Jay and he looks at his feet. The table stretches between us like an island. I know he’s thinking about Laura, and feel selfish for even wanting more from him right now. I slide my chair into the table and reach out to squeeze his hand before I turn away.
When I get back in my car I try not to wonder how many goodbyes we have left.
****
I’m in bed that night when the glow from my phone lights up my room again. I immediately flash to Laura crouched in a corner somewhere, hiding, or worse – in a hospital.
I reach for the phone and see the 918 area code. Tulsa.
“Julie?” I say, trying to remember the last time I saw her number on my phone. A year ago maybe? When we were still friends. “Why are you calling me?” It comes out cold, and I regret it for a second before everything comes flooding back.
There’s a pause on the other end, like she’s debating whether or not to hang up.
“Wes hurt someone,” she says finally.
I sit up in bed, my mind floating with images I’d been trying to forget. “What do you mean?”
“She’s in the hospital. His girlfriend – Sadie.”
“Sadie Hopkins?” I remember her, a petite blonde a year younger than us.
“Yeah. Everyone’s saying Wes beat her up.”
The blood rushes out of my head, and I lean back against my headboard. “She’s in the hospital?”
“Yeah, a concussion.”
I blink, trying to get the room to come into focus. “Why are you telling me this?”
Julie pauses. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “I guess I just thought maybe you’d want to know.”
I grip the corner of my blanket in my fist. “You haven’t talked to me in a year, Julie. You didn’t even come to say goodbye when you knew I was moving.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
I tighten my grip on the blanket. I told Julie about Wes about a month after we broke up. By then, Julie and I weren’t even sitting together at lunch anymore. I thought telling her would bring us back together. But I still wasn’t ready to talk about it. She kept asking me questions I didn’t want to answer. After that, I couldn’t face her anymore. I hated that she kept asking questions. I hated that she knew.
“I’m so sorry,” Julie says softly. “I should have tried harder.”
I swallow. “I needed you, Jules.”
“I know. But you wouldn’t talk about it. When I brought up reporting him, you flipped and when I suggested counseling, you practically bit my head off.”
Did I? I don’t remember that. But then, the weeks after I broke up with Wes are still kind of a blur to me. I think hard. Memories I’d been trying to forget come rushing back. I remember when Julie told me she’d go with me to tell my parents. She threatened to tell the school principal herself if I didn’t. I freaked out. Told her it wasn’t her business. That she should stay out of my life.
And she did.
I tuck my knees up to my chest and rock back and forth. It wasn’t how I remembered it before. I told myself Julie stopped talking to me because of the rumors. Because she believed them like everybody else did. Because she’d rather have a normal high school social life than be associated with someone like me.
I believed it. I’d been so angry with her this whole year. All the anger I should have felt toward Wes I’d been directing at Julie.
She didn’t abandon me. I abandoned her.
“I know it’s not an excuse, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she says. “And I thought that you might want to hear Wes might be charged this time. That he might not get away with it.”
I slowly pull my phone away from my ear and push the button to end the call. I don’t want her to hear me cry. The phone drops onto my covers, and I stare at it, waiting for it to ring again, but it doesn’t.
I picture Sadie with her pixie-cut hair and her cute button nose I envied. I could have stopped it. She’s in the hospital now because of me – because I never reported Wes. Because I wouldn’t let Julie help me. Because I was a coward.
I curl into a ball under my covers and press my face into my pillow so my parents won’t hear me. I cry until my pillow is wet under my cheek. I think of Julie’s voice and how much I miss her. About Sadie and how I could have warned her. I try not to think about Wes.
Julie didn’t abandon me. I keep repeating it to myself until I actually believe it. I abandoned her. I pushed her away. How could I have forgotten? How could I have been so mad at her all this time when I needed her most?
For some reason, that thought hurts even more. I did this to myself. And what else don’t I remember correctly? Did Wes hurt me like I remember? What
if it had just been a little playful shove I misinterpreted once, and my mind filled in the blanks about the other times?
I turn onto my side and curl my knees almost up to my chin. I close my eyes and try to remember all the things I’d been trying to forget. Images of Wes fill my head. The anger in his eyes. The way he looked at me when he got in one of his tantrums. The way it felt when he grabbed me.
No, I realize sadly. There’s no way it didn’t happen.
I run my fingers over the scar on my arm. By the time my tears dry up and my body’s so exhausted it just wants to sleep, I can only think of Laura and Jay and wonder if I’m doing the right thing this time.
****
I get through school like a zombie on Tuesday. I think about Wes a lot. I wonder if he’s scared of being charged. If he even will be. I wonder if he’ll end up in juvie like Jay, but somehow I doubt it. His parents are rich. They’ll hire him a lawyer for sure. Maybe he’ll get community service or something. A slap on the wrist. The more I think about him, the more I believe I can go through with Jay’s plan, whatever it is.
I skip World Issues because I can’t face Melody or Taylor. Instead, I hide out in the library, a book in front of me even though I don’t read more than two words.
When I get to the final bell without speaking to a single person I feel like I’m back in Tulsa again. I promise myself when all this is over and Laura and Jay are safe, I’ll make more friends. I’ll try to make things work with Melody and Taylor.
I go home right after the bell and head straight to my room. I count down the time until six o’clock when visitors’ hours start. I take out a book from English class and try to read, but my mind is swirling with all the things I don’t want to think about. Jay’s plan, Sadie Hopkins, Wes, Laura, Tulsa. Julie. I get about ten pages into my book when I have to start all over again.
My parents come home at some point and yell hello from the hallway. I don’t venture down to the kitchen until I hear the clanging of plates and utensils that tells me dinner is ready.
“We’re meeting with the builder tonight,” my mom says, through forkfuls of green beans.
I push my food around my plate and nod. That probably means they’re taking my mom’s car, and I’m never allowed to drive my dad’s. It’s an old corvette he restored a few years ago and treats like it’s his second child.
“Any plans for tonight?” my dad asks.
I swallow my beans, but my throat’s too dry and I almost choke. “Just homework,” I manage to say. “English essay.” My mind spins. I’ll have to take a bus or something, and get back before they do. The last thing I need is for my parents to start getting suspicious.
In my room, I spread my schoolbooks around on my desk and look up the bus schedule for Sherbrook on my computer. Nothing comes up. Sherbrook doesn’t have a transit system.
Great.
The garage door rumbles beneath me, and I count to ten to make sure they’re gone. My bike is leaning against the side of the house. I squeeze the front tire. Not great, but ride-able. My dad salvaged it from the shed in the backyard before they tore it down.
I pedal so fast my legs start to burn, and I start panting. I was in much better shape when I was dancing. A year ago I probably could’ve done this bike ride without breaking a sweat.
When I’m three quarters up the hill, I hop off and run the bike up the rest of the way. I’m sweating now, my armpits damp under my sweater. I curse myself for not having the guts to take my dad’s car and try not to think about Jay seeing me like this.
I toss my bike on the sidewalk when I finally get there and pray nobody steals it.
Jay is waiting for me in the visitor’s room, leaning forward in a chair. There’s an envelope on his lap he keeps flipping over in his hands.
I take a deep breath. “Jay,” I say, tapping his shoulder. He turns and smiles, but it doesn’t last. He flips the envelope around in his hands again.
“You still want to do this?”
I nod and sit on my hands to stop them from shaking.
“It’s all in here,” he says, sliding me the envelope. It’s bent and creased, like he had it rolled up in his sleeve. “Just follow it carefully and get rid of it when you’re finished.”
I nod again, not trusting my voice. Our eyes lock on each other. I grasp the envelope in my hands. We both know this could all go horribly wrong. That one wrong move would make all of us worse off than we already are. Jay knows I don’t have to go through with whatever his plan is. I could back out and decide not to get involved. I could tell my parents.
But I think he knows I won’t. The look that passes between us is one of trust – a kind of trust I don’t think anyone else has ever had in me before. A trust I didn’t even know existed.
“I have to go,” I say. “My parents…”
Jay nods. We both stand at the same time. I study the floor tile and follow a crack until it disappears under my shoe. I’m not ready to go, but I don’t know what else to say. I shift my foot so I can see the end of the crack. It stops halfway through one of the tiles as if it decided that was enough damage for one day.
I’m still staring at it when Jay’s white running shoe closes over it. I look up. He’s close now. Our noses are almost touching. We’re breathing the same air.
He brings his hand up to my face, but it drops before I can feel it. I breathe out. I don’t know whether he sensed my body tensing, or remembered the security guard standing at the door. I should give him a hug. We should say goodbye and act casual. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I reach up and push his hair back from his face, wishing I could run my fingers through it.
The sound of the buzzer fills the air, and chairs scrape behind us. I hear the echoes of people chatting as they walk out the door. But I can only see the crack in the floor. And Jay. His shadow shielding me from the glow of the florescent lights.
I feel his lips before I realize they’re there. Soft and gentle and full. He tilts my head so I can’t see the crack in the floor. I can only see him. I don’t close my eyes. I need to drink him in – the way his eyelashes look so long from this close. The tiny freckles under his eyes I never noticed before.
When he catches me staring he doesn’t seem surprised. He just stares back while our lips part. I can’t bring myself to look around, but I know the room is empty now, except for the ever-present guard. It feels like time should have stopped. Like those people who were here before should still be here.
But then Jay pulls away and I know time didn’t stop. It can’t. We have to say goodbye, and this weekend has to happen. The plan has to happen.
I wait for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. He turns and walks out, and I completely understand.
Sometimes goodbye just doesn’t cut it.
I’m aware of the envelope the whole way home, feeling the weight of it in my bag. There aren’t many cars on the streets, and I’m glad. I pull out my ponytail and let the wind whip through my hair just so I can feel something. I try to concentrate on the vibration of the handlebars and the rhythm of my legs turning the pedals. When I do, I can almost forget.
A few blocks from my house I take a left instead of a right and jam on the brakes right in front of Jay and Laura’s old house. My old house. Although I know it’s much more theirs than mine.
This time I’m not afraid of it in the dark. I close my eyes and try to feel the spirits around me. I want them to come, and they do, I think. Jay and Laura’s parents. An older couple who may have lived there once. A little girl. I see them all in my mind, but I don’t ask them any questions and they don’t give me any answers.
I turn away and bike the three blocks to our rental house, clutching my bag with Jay’s envelope in it under my arm. The lights are still off, and I go up to my room and spread some more papers around my desk to look like I’ve been busy. My parents pull in the driveway five minutes later and I realize how close I was to getting caught. I shove the envelope under my schoolbooks.
> My dad sticks his head in my door first. “We start construction tomorrow,” he says. He’s grinning ear to ear.
“Already?”
“Yep. We could be in by Christmas.”
I try to smile. “That’s good.”
“Working on your homework?”
“Due tomorrow,” I say, motioning to my papers.
“Well, don’t let me keep you from it.” He waves and closes the door, leaving me with my envelope.
I lift it from under my books and set it in front of me on the desk. I listen for any sounds of my parents’ footsteps, but there’s only the sound of the television floating up from downstairs.
I slide my finger under the edge and lift out the contents. A map falls out – a printout from online. I wonder what printer he used, and if it could be traced. A place is circled – a campground I think. Sixty miles from here.
I swallow.
There’s another piece of paper – some kind of letter. I stare at it, but don’t start reading. The writing on it is neat and precise – much better than mine. It’s not like the scrap of paper he first gave me with Laura’s address, long and loopy. He focused hard on this letter, making every word just right. I rub my hand over the paper to flatten it.
On it are instructions.
Tell your parents you need a car this weekend. Make something up. But make sure it’s good. You’ll be away for one night. Don’t visit me the rest of this week. On Friday, pack warm clothes, some blankets and a tent. If you don’t have one, buy one – but pay with cash.
Get Laura to meet you after school, but don’t let the Dawsons know. She has choir practice on Fridays. They won’t realize she’s missing for another couple hours.
Get in the car and follow the map to the campsite. Don’t stop anywhere. When you get there, make sure Laura stays in the car while you register for a site. Use cash again and a fake name.
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