Laura waits for me there while I buy our ice cream. The cashier is friendly – asking where we’re headed and where we came from. I make up a story about my sister in the car, and how we’re going to visit an aunt.
I get Laura a cone and myself a milkshake – chocolate, strawberry and vanilla all mixed together even though I know it’ll taste disgusting. I slurp it up fast until my head aches, letting the brain freeze settle over the other thoughts swirling through my head.
“Are you coming with us?” Laura asks after a while. Our ice cream is already finished, but I haven’t been able to make myself get back in the car yet. We’re sitting on a picnic table behind the car, out of view from both the ice cream stand and the highway.
I shake my head, even though I’ve thought about it – what it might be like to truly leave everything behind this time. But I couldn’t do that to my parents. Jay and Laura have nobody keeping them in Sherbrook – no one who’ll miss them when they’re gone. Except Mrs. Dawson.
And me.
I stare at the back of Laura’s head as she gazes out over the highway – at her chestnut hair that’s the same shade as Jay’s. I want to reach out and run my fingers through it, but stop myself.
“Are you and Jay, you know, dating?” Laura asks after a while.
I slurp my straw from my empty milkshake, getting nothing but air. “No,” I say. “We’re just friends.” But I think of that kiss. Of how his lips felt on mine. What might have been if he wasn’t about to disappear.
“I don’t think he’s had a friend in a while.”
I nod. “What about you? Do you have lots of friends at school?”
“Yeah, a few. But Lindsay is my best friend.”
“Did you ever tell her? About Mr. Dawson I mean?”
Laura shakes her head. “Do you think I’ll be able to see her again?”
I want to tell her yes, but I can’t. “Not for a while anyway.”
I think about Julie. How much it hurt to lose her. If Wes had never happened we might be doing a real college road trip this weekend.
“Do you think he’ll hurt someone else?” Laura asks.
I turn to meet her eyes. “I don’t know,” I confess. My milkshake swims in the bottom of my stomach, threatening to come back up. A picture of Sadie pushes its way into my mind – the one in my yearbook I looked at last night. I’d stared at it for hours, trying to see if there were any similarities between us that made Wes pick us over someone else. Some flaw only he could see. But Sadie’s skin was perfect. Her hair silky and short, where mine was long and coarse. I wonder if she knew about me, if she’d hate me. For not screaming to the world about what he did. For not stopping him from doing it to her, too.
“I can report him after I get back,” I say. “Once you and Jay are gone. Maybe they’ll look into it.”
She nods and gazes back at the highway again. But I know it won’t be that easy. Without Laura to corroborate, anything I say will be written into a file and never looked at again.
I reach above my eye and pull out a stubble of hair that’s just started to grow, then reach into my pocket. “Take this,” I say, giving her the envelope I’d stuffed in my bag this morning. An empty one with my mailing address and a single stamp on the front. “But don’t let Jay see it. When you get to wherever you’re going, put it in the mail.”
“Empty?” she asks, and I nod. Jay didn’t want me to know where they were. He said it was to protect them, in case the police questioned me hard and I spilled. But I know it was to protect me, because if I knew where they were I might try to find them. I might not be able to let go. But the postmark will tell me they’re okay. That they got to where they needed to go.
I watch her tuck the envelope into her jacket pocket and follow her gaze to the sky. The sun is starting to set. We’ve stayed here too long. Now when we get to the campsite it will probably be dark. We’ll have to use flashlights to set up the tent.
“We should go.” I push myself off the picnic table and head toward the car. Laura trails after me, hopping in just as I start the ignition. My head is swimming even more than it was before, filling with images of Julie and Sadie. And Jay.
I pull out to the edge of the parking lot. A left will put us back on our route to the campground.
I stop a beat too long.
The two-lane highway seems to stretch forever in both directions. I wait for the next car to pass, even though it’s at least a mile away.
It shouldn’t even be a choice.
I made my promise to Jay. But my hands stay frozen on the wheel all the same. It’s like I see two different lives down each stretch of highway, but each one is hazy and unclear.
I keep my foot on the brake and close my eyes. Julie’s voice fills my head and I think about what could have been. What I lost. I think of Laura and her friend Lindsay. I think of Sadie and how I failed her somehow even though I barely knew her.
I open my eyes and see Laura watching me. There’s no traffic coming, but I haven’t pulled out yet. I couldn’t live with myself if I let Jay down. But can I live with letting Laura make the same mistakes I did?
I rest my head on the steering wheel. The pink and green friendship bracelet peeks out from under my sleeve. Take care of her for me, he seemed to be saying. It was his way of saying he trusted me with her until he could meet us in the morning. But maybe taking care of Laura meant seeing what Jay couldn’t. He was too close. Too desperate to keep her safe. He couldn’t see that life on the run might not be any safer.
I slowly lift my head, and try not to think about what I’m doing. If I do, I’ll change my mind.
I make a right.
Laura lets out a small sound. I can’t tell if it’s a gasp or a cry, but I block it out the best I can. The tires pick up gravel as I pull onto the road. I straighten the wheel and press on the gas. I put the window down and concentrate on the sound of the tires spinning and the wind filling the car.
“What are you doing?” Laura yells over the wind.
I stare straight ahead. We can make it back before the Dawsons even realize something is wrong.
“This isn’t the right way!” Laura says, leaning forward.
I don’t look at her. “We have to go home.”
“What about the plan? What about Jay and me? We’re supposed to go to the campground.”
“I know,” I say. “I know.” I keep driving anyway. The trees that seemed to have gone by so slowly on the way here are flying by now. I’m probably speeding, but I don’t look at the speedometer. I just need to get us home. I need to fix this.
Laura grabs my arm from behind, and my whole body tenses. “Let go,” I say calmly. “I can’t do this. We can’t do this.”
“You don’t get to choose what I can’t do! You’re not my mother. And you’re not Jay.” She pulls harder on my arm, and the car swerves onto the gravel. I get it straight again and slam on the brakes. When the car finally stops, there’s only silence.
“No, I’m not,” I say, finally. “But you can’t do this without me.”
Laura lets go of my arm and gets out of the car. I watch her pace around until she comes back to my window. “I can’t go back there,” she says, her voice small.
A tear slides down my cheek. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
Laura turns away from me. You can still see some of the wind turbines in the distance, and I focus on watching them until my eyes can’t take it anymore. When I tear my eyes away, Laura is climbing back in the car. She slams the door shut behind her, and all the air in my lungs lets out.
I drive until I can see the Sherbrook water tower in the distance. Until Laura’s anger turns to tears and then silence. When I get to the second set of lights in town, I make a right and ease off the gas a little. The television flickers in the front window of the rental house. I glance in the rearview mirror. Laura’s staring out the opposite window.
If I bring her in, my parents will ask questions. It won’t be enough to say
Laura needs help. They won’t take her in without grilling me first. About Jay. Where I was. What on earth I think I’m doing. And even if we get past all the questions, they’ll still call the police. It will still end the same.
I coast past the driveway. A tear slides down my cheek and onto my jeans. I have to bring her back.
By the time I stop a few blocks from the Dawsons’ I feel like my heart’s about to be ripped out of my chest.
“Tell them choir practice ran late or something,” I say, not meeting her eyes. Just one more night, I tell myself. She can make it through one more night.
Laura doesn’t make a move to get out.
“We could still report him, you know,” I say quietly.
Laura shakes her head.
“I’ll figure out another way to help you. I promise.”
The door clicks open, and Laura pushes it out. She walks out without saying goodbye. I let my head fall on the steering wheel and grip the sides of it. I push myself up and almost call to Laura, but the words get stuck in my throat.
I watch her walk away, expecting her to turn away from the Dawsons’ house, but she doesn’t. I wait until she’s nearly there, and then I pull away.
I drive around in circles, thinking of Jay. I have to tell him. I have to let him know before he leaves in the morning. Before he drives to the campground and doesn’t find us. But I can’t bring myself to turn the corner toward Richmond House. The look in his eyes would crush me. If he’s not going to talk to me again, I need to remember how he looked at me the last time I saw him. I need to hold it there. Remember.
If I tell him now, it will all be gone. Poof.
I pull into the police station the fourth time I drive by it.
The car idles, and I sit there, my hand on the shifter, unable to bring myself to put it into park. It ends up there anyway, but I when I look down, I don’t remember doing it. I take my hand off and wipe it on my pants. The ignition is next. The keys swing there against my knees, the car still humming. It would be easy to just put the car in reverse and leave.
But I don’t. I bring my hands up to the keys and use all the energy I have to turn them to the left. The car shakes slightly, and then stops.
Then there’s only silence.
Then the only thing between me and what I’m about to do are two doors. My legs shake when I force myself out of the car and stand up.
The building seems far away now, but I take a few steps toward it. When I look back I realize I left the car door wide open, but I keep walking anyway. I’m too afraid if I turn around, I won’t be able to go back again.
I’m at the door before I’m ready and pause with my hand on the handle until it opens from the other side, and I have to jump out of the way. The man mumbles, “Sorry,” but I don’t even look at him. I slip inside before the door closes.
The lady at the desk is different from the one the last time I was here looking for Jay. She’s younger – probably in her thirties, with her hair tied back so tight in a bun it’s stretching her face. A scruffy-looking man is already at the desk, so I pace around, trying not to think.
He leaves with forms in hand, and the lady smiles at me. “Can I help you?”
I swallow. “I have something to report. Is this where I do it?”
She passes me a form. “Just fill this out and one of our officers will meet with you.”
“Today?” I ask.
“Yes. They’ll file a report and you’ll enter a statement.”
“Okay,” I say, sliding the paper off the desk. I take it to one of the chairs and stare at it. Nature of crime. Place of crime. Witnesses. Victim. Suspects.
The fields are so cut and dry. So absolute. I try to fill it in, but I accidentally put my name instead of Laura’s and wonder if I should ask for White-Out. I strike it out instead, but I can still see it so I crumple it up and ask for a new form.
This time I just stare at the blank fields and wait for the lady to call me to the back. I expect to be led to a small room with no windows. Instead, she brings me to an office with plants and photos of someone’s kids. The desk is packed with papers and files, but they seem to be in some kind of organized chaos.
“I’m Officer McCarthy,” the man behind the desk says. He holds out his hand and I shake it weakly. His own grip is strong and firm. He’s huge – easily six foot seven, with big arms. I stretch out my hand after he shakes it and wonder for a second how easily he could have crushed my fingers.
“Kelsey Masterson,” I say, when I realize he’s waiting for something.
“You have a crime to report?” Officer McCarthy holds out his hand, and I pass him the blank form because I don’t know what else to do. He looks down at it, then sets it aside. “Would you rather tell me what happened?” His voice is gentler than I expect. It catches me off guard, and I can’t remember what I came here to say.
“Uh, yes,” I say, finally.
He takes out his pen and holds it over the form, waiting. When I don’t speak, he sets it back down again. “Was it a crime against you?” he asks. “Or someone else?”
I lean back from the table and try to sit up straight. My head feels dizzy. I can’t remember what I came here to say anymore. I shouldn’t have come here.
“What was the nature of the crime?” he says.
My hand starts shaking, and I slide it under my leg. “It wasn’t me,” I say. “I mean, the crime. The victim – it was a girl I know.”
“Start from the beginning,” he says.
And so I do – from the beginning I think he wants to hear anyway. I tell him about tutoring Laura. About my conversations with Jay. About how we both think Mr. Dawson is hurting her. And about what I’ve seen. I don’t tell him about Jay’s plan, or how I almost kidnapped her. I don’t mention there’s a pretty good chance Laura’s about to run away if they don’t stop her soon.
When I’m done, I feel awful.
People who believe in feeling two emotions at once would say they feel relieved too. But I don’t. I only feel completely and entirely awful. Officer McCarthy promises they’ll be looking into it. I don’t know what that means, and I’m too afraid to ask. Instead, I slip out of the office and shove the card he gave me in the bottom of my bag.
The driver’s side door is shut now – someone must have closed it for me. I open one of the back doors instead and fall into the seat. The car is warm, and I curl into a ball, my cheek on the soft fabric. I could go home and tell my parents the trip didn’t work out. That Melody backed out or something. Or I could stay here and pretend for a little while longer what I just did won’t change anything. That Jay won’t be mad at me. And Laura will realize it’s for the best.
And so I stay.
At some point I fall asleep – surrendering to the exhaustion from a week of sleepless nights. When I wake up the sun is gone and the streetlights shine in through the window. I sit up slowly, letting all the events from the day come flooding back to me. I slide over the console and into the driver’s seat, but I don’t go home.
I drive until I end up at the lake. Jay’s lake. I half expect to see him out there, floating on an inner tube in the moonlight. But of course the lake is empty – just a black blanket shimmering and inviting me to take cover in it. I take off my clothes slowly until all that’s left is my underwear and bra. The water is warmer than I expect, and I walk in until I can’t touch the bottom anymore – until I’m treading water in the middle of the darkness. I could go under and no one would notice.
But I don’t.
I tread water until my arms ache, and I start to feel light-headed. When I get out, my skin is wrinkled, and the sun is almost out. I can already hear the birds starting their morning song.
I don’t think I’ll come here again. It’s not the same without Jay, and I’m pretty sure he’ll never want to see me again after this. I dry myself off with a blanket from the trunk and pull my clothes back on.
When I get home, my hair is still wet, and I crawl into bed before my par
ents wake up. When they do, I tell them Melody’s aunt got sick so we drove back last night.
“Oh, what’s wrong with her?” my mom asks, standing in my doorway in her bathrobe.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I think she has some kind of condition.” The lie feels thick in my throat, but I swallow it anyway. “Diabetes maybe.”
“And you drove back at night? Did you watch for deer?”
“Yes, I watched for deer.”
“Did you get to see any colleges?”
“No.” I tuck the blankets under my chin and roll over. Eventually, I hear her leave. I stare at the ceiling and trace a crack I’ve never noticed before with my eyes. It starts by the window and goes all the way to the closet. I can’t tell if it stops there or keeps going. I trace it back and forth until I go cross-eyed. I think of a different crack – the one on the floor in the visitors’ room. The way Jay looked at me there.
Like I meant something.
My mom calls me for breakfast, but I pull the blankets over my head and ignore her. I wait for Jay to call. Or the police. I wait for Laura to show up, or Jay to realize what I’ve done. I wait for my parents to find out. For the whole world to find out. It seems like too big of a thing to keep buried under this blanket, but I can’t bring myself to get out.
I fall asleep at some point, and when I wake up a couple hours later and check my phone, I realize that whatever I’m waiting for isn’t going to happen.
Chapter Nineteen
When I get to the Dawsons’ house the next day it’s starting to get dark. There’s one light on in the front, but the rest of the house is dim. I walk past the house until I can see Laura’s window, but it’s dark too. There’s a car in the driveway, but I don’t recognize it.
I walk back and forth on the same four squares of sidewalk until I see a curtain move inside. I freeze and wait, but nothing moves again.
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