Follow Me Home

by Monica Goulet

  Set up your tent before it gets dark. If you don’t know how, Laura can help. Don’t speak to any other campers if you can help it. Make a fire and burn this letter and the map. I’ll meet you there in the morning. I’ll take care of the rest.

  At the end of the note a few things are scribbled out. As if he couldn’t decide how to end it. I hold the paper up to see if I can make it out, but I can’t. At the end is written simply – Jay.

  I fold the note back up and shake out the envelope until something else falls out. Something pink and green and faded. I rub my fingers over the frayed threads and slide it onto my wrist.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I wait until Wednesday after school to find Laura. I’m supposed to be inside tutoring, but I quit earlier in the week. The less people see us together, the better. Tutoring isn’t over yet when I get to her school, so I wait on the sidewalk at the far side of the parking lot.

  Soon students start coming out, one by one. I see Jackson, and then Jocelyn, and finally, Laura. She’s alone, but I don’t take any chances. I walk toward her and when we’re just about to pass, I whisper loudly. “Meet me in the far parking lot. One minute.”

  She nods just slightly, and I keep walking toward the school before making a loop back. Laura is already there waiting. I glance around to make sure nobody is watching us.

  “Friday,” I say, my heart racing. “Do you have choir practice?”

  Laura nods.

  “Meet me here. I’ll have a red car. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t bring anything with you that would look suspicious.”

  Laura studies the ground, and then finally looks up. “Am I leaving?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Jay will explain the rest later. Go – before you miss your bus.” She nods and soon she’s gone, blending in with the other kids on the sidewalk, and I wish that was how it could be for her. That she didn’t have to run away from everything.

  I glance back at the school as I go. What if they have security cameras? What if they look at the footage after they realize Laura is missing and see her get into my car? See her talking to me today?

  The enormity of what I’m about to do hits me like a block of cement. It pushes on my lungs and makes it hard to breathe. I squint at the school. I don’t see any cameras from here. Jay would have thought about things like that, wouldn’t he?

  Taylor’s warnings ring through my head. Jay has nothing to lose. He’s been through a lot. He might not be thinking entirely clear. He could have missed important details. Like security cameras. Like having a Plan B. Like thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong.

  But what can I do now? I could back out, but Laura’s counting on me. I can’t ask Jay any questions because he said I shouldn’t visit him. It would be too dangerous.

  I tear my eyes away from the school. I’m better off not knowing if there are security cameras. If I see one, it will only make it harder.

  My mom’s car is already in the driveway when I get home.

  “Dad still out?” I ask, dropping my bag by the kitchen. My mom’s making dinner, stirring something on the stove.

  “Yes. He’s showing a house tonight. How was school?”

  “It was good,” I say. “I have a project due for History though. I need to do some research at the library. Can I borrow your car after dinner?”

  My mother barely glances at me. “Sure, sweetie.”

  I pretend to dig through my bag so I don’t have to look at her. “So my friend Melody is planning to look at a few colleges this weekend. She asked if I could go with her.”

  Something splatters on the stove, and my mom lifts the pot off. She grabs a dishcloth and blots the brown mark on her blouse. “That sounds nice,” she says. “You could start looking at some options.”

  “We’d have to stay the night,” I say. “We want to go to Dallas too. She has an aunt there we could stay with.”

  “Well, I’d have to talk to your father, but I think it might be okay.”

  I lean on the counter and pick up some crumbs off with my finger. “I’d need a car though,” I say. “She was supposed to take her dad’s but it’s been in for repairs.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know.” She puts the pot back on the stove and stirs with her back to me.

  I swallow. “Please?”

  “I’ll have to think about it. Your dad is probably showing houses, and I may need a car. Plus, it’s kind of far for you to be driving, don’t you think?”

  I brush the crumbs onto the floor and stare at them. “Maybe. But it would be a great chance to start thinking about next year. You and dad might not be able to take me with your schedules, and at least I’d have a friend with me this way.”

  “It’s kind of short notice though.”

  “I know. It’s just that Melody had another friend who had to back out at the last minute so she asked if I could go.”

  “Her aunt’s okay with you staying there?”

  I nod and rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, she’s had the trip planned for weeks.”

  “And you’ll call when you get there?”

  “Yes,” I say. I hold my breath.

  “Well, okay then. I don’t see why not, as long as your father can share his car with me.”

  My lungs deflate. “Great,” I say. “I’m going to go call Melody.”

  My hand shakes when I switch on the light in my room. The plan is clearly in motion. I’m getting the car on Friday. I’m picking up Laura after school. We’re going to drive to the campground. This is actually happening.

  I lie back on the bed and stare at the popcorn ceiling – the kind my dad hates, and now I see why. The more I stare at it the more I want to get up there and smooth out all those rough edges. I roll over onto my side and stare at the bright pink wall instead until my mom calls me for dinner.

  I polish off my plate in record time, and have to swallow a few extra times to make sure it stays down. “I’ll be back in an hour,” I tell my mom once I excuse myself from the table.

  The streets are quiet now, and I pull into the mall parking lot in less than ten minutes. My parents gave me cash a few days ago to buy some more things I needed after the fire. I didn’t feel like spending it, and now I’m glad I didn’t.

  The department store has more tents to choose from than I thought. Small ones, two-room ones, dome tents, cabin tents. I scan all the boxes and pick something practical and small that should be easy enough to set up. It’s only one night. I grab two sleeping bags and throw them in the cart too.

  I scan all the other camping things and wonder what I’m missing. A flashlight maybe? A lighter? Jay didn’t mention these things. Will I have to start a fire? I throw both in my cart, along with a canteen and utility knife, but change my mind again the next aisle over. Instead, I grab granola bars and crackers and pay for my purchases before I can think of anything else we might need.

  All the lights are on in the house when I get back. I sit in the driveway for a minute after I park, watching the television flicker in the living room. It seems so normal. Things like watching TV or eating a snack shouldn’t be happening when things like what’s going to happen tomorrow are. I pop the trunk and drag the bags over to the garage. The tent seems heavier than it should be for a flimsy piece of fabric. I shove it in a corner with my other things and cover them with a tarp the owners must have left. The house door slams shut before I can leave the garage.

  I freeze.

  I try to close the garage door slowly. It creaks a little, but I manage to get it shut without a large bang.

  “Kelsey?” my dad calls. “Is that you?”

  I swallow and walk out from the shadows. “Yeah, Dad it’s me,” I say. “I thought I saw a cat go back there.” I motion toward the alleyway on the other side of the garage. “Thought he might be lost.”

  “Hmm,” my dad says, dragging the garbage to the end of the driveway. “Might just be a stray. Want me to check?”

  I take a quick breath in and almost choke. “No, no. I m
ight have just imagined it. Might have been a raccoon or something else.”

  “Mom says you want to go on some kind of road trip this weekend?”

  “Not a road trip, exactly,” I say. “Just to tour a few colleges with my friend.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Oklahoma State, OU, UT.” I rehearsed them in my head, but it still comes out shaky.

  “Sounds like fun.”

  I close my eyes in the darkness and take a deep breath. “So I can have the car?”

  “I don’t see why not. Just make sure you put gas in it. And drive carefully.”

  “Of course,” I say. If he hears the wavering in my voice, he doesn’t say anything. He just holds the door to the house open for me, and I walk inside. I can’t help but wonder if he’ll look back on this moment later when everything unfolds and wonder if I was somehow involved.

  I shiver as I slip out of my coat and hang it in the closet. I don’t want to think about how it might all unfold. I can’t think about that yet. I can’t think about any of it.

  Instead of going up to my room, I sit on the couch with my parents. My dad picks up a book, and I try to focus on the home decorating show my mom is watching. But all I can think about is how Friday night I’ll be at a campsite in the middle of nowhere, sleeping on the ground and praying for Jay to show up.

  Later, my mom makes popcorn and I curl up beside her on the couch, eating and watching television and doing all the normal things a person does when their world isn’t about to change forever.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Taylor is the last person I want to run into on Friday. But I can’t skip World Issues again, and even though I go into class late and manage to slip out while Melody’s talking to the girl behind her, Taylor catches up to me in the hall.

  “Where have you been lately? I barely see you,” he says. He makes a motion to take my bag, but I pull it closer to me, pretending not to notice.

  “Just busy, I guess.”

  “How are things with the house?”

  “Good. The insurance all came through so we’re definitely rebuilding.”

  “That’s great news, isn’t it?”

  I force a smile. “Yeah.”

  Taylor shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps up with me. “My sister’s having this big dance recital tonight,” he says. “My parents are making me go, and I thought maybe you might want to come with me. You know, because you said you used to dance.”

  I look at him, surprised he remembered.

  “Just so I won’t be bored out of my mind.”

  “What about Melody?”

  “She’s coming too. I thought maybe we could go out for pizza after.”

  “Melody hates me,” I say.

  “She doesn’t hate you. And I think she’s coming around. It might be good for you guys.”

  I’m almost at the doorway to my next class. I slow down, and other students rush around us. When I open my mouth, nothing comes out.

  “You don’t have to,” he says.

  “I can’t,” I say. I turn and slip into the classroom, and don’t let myself look back to see if he’s still standing there.

  ****

  I cut out of my last class early and practically run home. My mom’s car is already in the driveway. I let out a breath and am reminded again that there is no Plan B. I drag out my stuff from the garage and dump it in the trunk, praying my mom doesn’t see me.

  “Mom – I’m leaving,” I yell from the doorway.

  She pops her head out of the kitchen. “Where’s your bag?”

  Right. A bag of clothes might make sense. “I forgot it. Thanks, Mom!” I race up the stairs. I throw a couple of sweaters, socks and anything else I can think of in a bag, and add my old teddy bear at the last minute. For Laura, I tell myself.

  “All set,” I say, flying down the stairs.

  My mom hands me a paper bag. “Here – just some snacks for the road. In case there’s nowhere to stop.”

  I look inside. Homemade cookies and a few apples. My stomach tightens.

  “Do you have enough cash on you?”

  I clutch the paper bag so hard it almost rips. “I think so.”

  “Here – take some more just in case.” She hands me a twenty. “For gas or something.”

  “Thanks Mom,” I say, turning to leave before she can see my face.

  “Drive safe.”

  I pause halfway down the stairs of the porch and go back to hug her. She seems surprised at first, but hugs me back, tightly.

  I climb into the car, the cookies on the passenger seat. My foot presses the gas, and I back out of the driveway. The word kidnapping pops into my head, but I shove it back out. I can’t think of it that way. I’m saving her.

  Kids and teachers are pouring out of the school when I pull in, and I crane my neck to watch for Laura. She walks out near the end of the crowd, her head down. She doesn’t make it obvious as she heads away from the crowd and toward the parking lot. No one even looks in her direction. Then she’s in my car and throwing her backpack in the backseat.

  “The Dawsons still think you have choir practice?” I ask, and she nods. “They didn’t suspect anything?”

  “No,” Laura says, but she’s biting her lip. Her shoulders slump against the seat.

  “Did you change your mind?” I ask, softer.

  “No.”

  I start the car and wonder what would have happened if she had said yes. “It’s going to be okay,” I say, even though I’m not sure. “We’re going to a campground. Jay will meet us there in the morning.”

  Laura just nods. I tuck the pink and green bracelet under my sleeve and look back at the school, half expecting someone to come running out and stop us.

  But no one does.

  I take my foot off the brake and step on the gas, coasting out of the parking lot and onto the street. The steering wheel sticks to my hands. I wipe them one at a time onto my pants.

  “Maybe you should sit in the back,” I say. “Just in case.”

  Laura nods and climbs over the center console.

  I glance in the rearview mirror. “Maybe lie down.”

  She does, and I loosen my grip on the steering wheel. The clock on the dash says three-thirty. “How long’s your choir practice supposed to be?”

  “An hour and a half.”

  “Do you walk home after?”

  “Yeah, usually.”

  Two hours, tops. I pull onto the highway leading out of town. Jay’s map is spread out on my lap. He drew out the route in a purple highlighter. I memorized the way last night, but having it in front of me reassures me somehow.

  I glance back at Laura again. She’s lying down, facing away from me so I can’t tell if she’s awake or asleep. I keep driving, keep my foot steady on the gas without going over the limit. I want to let it up. I want to just stop right here and pull over until I can decide if this is the right thing to do.

  But I can’t.

  I can’t let myself think. If I do, I’ll wonder how Mrs. Dawson will feel when Laura doesn’t come home. I’ll wonder whether Jay will be able to get out and what will happen if he doesn’t.

  A black car pulls up behind me and my palms start to sweat again. I glance at the clock again. We can’t have been gone that long.

  The car pulls out to pass me, and I relax my grip again.

  I drive past forests with leaves not quite ready to turn color, fields full of yellow, small towns with corner stores. I keep driving until it all blurs together into one green, yellow and blue cloud. I keep my eyes on the road, counting the dotted lines until I miss one and start all over again.

  Soon we’ve passed enough dotted lines that my heart stops racing a bit and my head gets dizzy instead. I keep driving until I feel like I’m going to throw up and pull over next to a giant field full of wind turbines. I get out without saying anything and lean against the car. The wind turbines are massive. I can’t stop staring at them. The wind slaps my cheeks, and I have to plant m
y feet to keep myself steady. Soon, Laura crawls out of the backseat.

  “Are we there?”

  “Not quite,” I say. “Just needed a break.”

  “They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah,” I say. And they are. I’m sure up close they’re just ugly steel structures painted grey, but from a distance I think they are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. They all spin slightly off sync with the next one so if you look at all of them at once, it’s like some kind of beautiful dance. I think I’d like to be up there, dancing with the wind.

  I turn to Laura. “Ready?”

  “We should camp here,” she says. “In the field.”

  I look up at the sky. “Would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

  “But then Jay wouldn’t find us.”

  “No,” I say.

  We both get back in the car without another word. I pull back out onto the road and keep driving, away from the wind turbines and everything else.

  Laura stares out the window from the back. I should tell her to lie down again, but there are hardly any cars out here. I want to make small talk. Ask how school is. What she wants to be when she grows up. If there are any boys she likes. But every time I think of a question, it just seems too normal. We drive five more miles. Ten.

  My mind swims. A drop of sweat runs down my scalp even though the air pouring through the windows is cool. I spot an ice cream stand ahead off the highway in an abandoned parking lot. I slam on the breaks and pull in.

  “Didn’t we just stop?” Laura says.

  “I need another break.” I park the car and wipe my palms on my jeans. The parking lot is for an old gas station, the pumps rusted and unused. The ice cream stand sits where the pay station probably used to be, the bright colors of the sign a stark contrast to its dismal surroundings. Sally’s Sweet Shoppe, the sign reads. Candy stripes surround the tiny building and cutouts of giant ice cream cones with smiling faces stand like guards on either side.

  We’ve only been driving for half an hour, but it feels like an eternity. My legs feel like jelly when I try to stand, and I lean against the hood for support. Laura crawls out of the backseat. I know I should tell her to get back in. If anyone sees her, they might remember later when her face shows up on the news. But I don’t have the heart to do it, and besides, a tree sits perfectly between us and the front counter, blocking any view they might have.