The Girl in the Headlines

by Hannah Jayne

“I do like Bermuda!” Dave laughed.

  I lost my breath, glad he was falling for my fabricated story. “Yeah.”

  We drove until I was dizzy and confused. I wasn’t sure if that was Dave’s plan or not, but I tried to count turns and swerves and notice signs and landmarks, but it felt like we were driving in a country I didn’t know. Eventually, there was another tree-lined turn, another gravel path. My heartbeat sped up with each inch the tires rolled. Rita was out of the car before we even stopped.

  “Should I go—”

  But Dave just waved me quiet. I strained to see if there were windows in the little shack, if it was a shack or a shed, if someone lived there, or if it was safe, but I couldn’t see anything. I thought maybe this was where I died, where Dave explained that he didn’t care about money or Bermuda, that he and Rita were just crazy psychos who got off on murder. But then the door opened, and Josh stepped out, and I let out something between a howl and a cry, something ripped from my soul that swelled my heart.

  Josh.

  Walking. Wearing a backpack that looked too big for his tiny frame, in black Nike sweatpants that I had seen him wear a dozen times, a T-shirt with a dinosaur on it. Rita had her hand on his shoulder, and I couldn’t tell if she was guiding him or pinching him. He held back from the van, his sneakered feet moving in the mud, and I saw Rita lean down and point at me through the window.

  I wondered what he thought of me. If he’d run because he was scared, take his chances back in that shed or whatever it was, take his chances with Rita and Dave. But Josh’s face broke into a smile, and I considered vaulting over the driver’s seat and clawing Dave’s eyes out, snatching Josh from Rita’s clutches, and driving off into the sunset. But I couldn’t move. All I could do was sit there and stare at my Josh, my little brother, and let the tears pour over my cheeks.

  Forty-Nine

  I did my best to give Josh a cursory examination while the van took off. I didn’t see any cuts or scratches. I put my arm out, and Josh crushed himself into me, and it was the greatest thing I’d ever felt: my little brother bending my ribs with the force of his hug, his eyes pinched shut, his breathing even and relaxed.

  I kissed his hair. “I missed you so much.”

  “I knew you were coming.”

  I was so happy to have Josh by my side that I forgot to ask where we were going. I forgot to look out the window and count turns and landmarks, but it didn’t matter, because once the car tires started to wobble and spit out gravel, I knew where we were. Back at Dave and Rita’s place.

  “I thought we were going to go to the Midnight Inn,” I said, mildly concerned.

  “I think we still have a few things to lay out.”

  As we inched closer to the house, I held on to Josh, more and more frightened that Dave and Rita weren’t into the plan. They couldn’t claim the reward money without turning someone in, and I had delivered them two suspects. But there was still one person who fit the profile better than anyone else: me. My mouth went dry. I glanced down at Josh, who met my eyes and offered me a weak smile. I took my hand from his and scooched over toward the window, put a shard of space between us even as it broke my heart to have any distance at all from his warm, safe little body. I cleared my throat.

  “So what should we do now…Mom, Dad?” The words were razor sharp in my throat, and I saw Josh’s eyes go wide from the corner of my own. “I mean, I think our best bet is to act quick, get the money, and get out of here.”

  Dave pushed the car into park, and he and Rita got out soundlessly. Josh and I scrambled out after them, and I could see the fear on Josh’s face. It made my heart sink.

  “Don’t worry,” Dave said finally as we walked into the house. “It’s all going to work out.”

  I nodded, semiglad to be back. The police wouldn’t believe me if I told them Dave and Rita were responsible for everything, but they would if I had the canceled checks and bank statements and the gun. It had to have fingerprints and gunshot residue—but I had touched it. I had held it in my hand.

  I couldn’t think about that now. All I could think about was getting out of that house, getting to civilization, where I could scream and draw wild attention to myself and hopefully finally have someone listen to me, listen to the truth.

  I walked Josh to the couch and whispered, “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get out of this.”

  He didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t read the look in his saucer-wide eyes. He shrugged out of his backpack, and I could see through the half-opened zipper that he had some clothes stuffed in there, some candy bar wrappers, and something that looked like an old gaming device.

  “Why don’t I take the kid into my room so we can talk?”

  Rita kind of shrugged, and Dave said, “Whatever.” I walked Josh to my room and hugged him harder than I ever had when we got there.

  “Andi—”

  “Don’t believe anything those two say, okay, Josh? I love you, and I’m going to get us out of here and somewhere safe. But first I need your tablet.”

  Josh obliged, and when I opened his Minecraft app, I had to close my mouth hard against the sob that almost escaped. There was a whole list of conversations between HSOJ and IDNA<3. Nate had been checking in on Josh. Nate had been telling him that I was coming for him, that everything was going to be okay. I bit my lips but let the tears fall.

  “You told me everything was going to be okay.”

  I nodded, my stomach twisting. “It will be, Josh. I promise.” I didn’t know how it would be, but I wasn’t about to break a promise to my little brother.

  I activated the chat icon and typed: W/Josh @ MDNT N Rita! Send police.

  Then prayed that Nate would check and make the connection that “Midnight Inn Rita” was my birth mom, Rita. It was 9:57, and I hoped he was still checking on the hour. Then I left the tablet open and told Josh not to touch it. “Just sit tight,” I told him.

  I opened the door and peered down the hall, stopping when I head Dave’s voice. I could see Rita pacing, her arms wrapped around herself.

  “She’s staying at the Midnight Inn,” he was saying. “The girl—what’s her name? Yeah, Andrea, right. She’s there. She even showed me the murder weapon.”

  Fifty

  Everything inside me went cold.

  They were setting me up.

  Dave wanted to deliver me to the cops.

  My heartbeat started to thud, the room swirling in front of me. I didn’t even notice as Rita came down the hall, disappeared into her room. I don’t know how much time passed until I heard Rita’s voice call out, “It’s not here, babe.”

  The gun. They were talking about the gun.

  I shut the door and locked it, then snatched the duffel from under the bed and snatched Josh just as quickly. I pulled the screen off the window.

  “You have to go out there.”

  Josh shook his head. “I’m not leaving you! I snuck in the car with you and fell asleep, and then you were gone!”

  “In the Lexus?”

  Josh nodded, and my heart swelled. He hadn’t been hurt. He hadn’t been drugged.

  I kissed his forehead. “I’m coming, too, but you have to go right now. You have to go first.” I slid the gaming station into his backpack, hoping that Nate was right and the thing would be pinging, along with the papers and the duffel itself. Josh’s mouth dropped open when I pulled out the gun, but I shoved it as far back between the two mattresses as I dared and grabbed him by both arms.

  “Go and run. Run as fast as you can.” I pointed out the window. “Follow the driveway but stay over there, hidden by the bushes. When you get to the end, wait. Wait twenty minutes, and if I’m not there by then, cut across to the road and keep going.”

  Tears were waterfalling over Josh’s cheeks, and he was shaking his head. “No, no. I’m not going without you.”

  I heard
Dave coming down the hall then, his heavy steps as he pushed open the door to their bedroom.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  I picked up Josh in a bear hug. “I will always find you. Now go.”

  I pushed him through the window and bit my cheek so he wouldn’t see me crying, so he wouldn’t see the way my hands were shaking. Once his feet were on the ground outside, he looked at me again, and I whispered, “I’ll be there.”

  He took off running right as Dave’s fist made contact with the door. I slammed the window shut, threw the pillows around on the bed, and opened the door, cool as a cucumber.

  “Everything okay, Dad?”

  Dave’s eyes were wild, his nostrils flaring. “Where’s the kid?”

  “Exhausted. Fell asleep.” I tried to make myself as big as I could in the doorway so Dave couldn’t see in. As he tried to look around me, I went low and darted out into the hall, just missing Rita and beelining for the front door.

  “What the fuck?”

  I didn’t stay around to see what Dave was so upset about. I vaulted over the porch and pulled open the door of the van, looking for spare keys, but nothing was there. Now Dave was on the porch, and I could see the red of Josh’s sweatshirt from the corner of my eye as he darted from bush to bush over my right shoulder.

  I ran to the left.

  Dave was behind me, panting, and I willed myself to go faster. My thighs burned. My calves ached. The breath started to harden in my chest.

  Not now…

  I cleared a few more feet before my eyes started to darken. I could feel my fingertips go cold as I tried to claw at my chest.

  God, please, not now.

  My throat was closing. My chest was filling with cement. I kept running, sure I was slowing down, sure Dave was just over my shoulder, while I patted down my sweatshirt, my jeans. Joy when my fingers closed over my inhaler.

  Thank you!

  My foot hit a root. I was sailing, still trying to breathe, now trying not to fall. My palms hit dirt first, sliding, pebbles and roots tearing into my flesh, dirt burning into my blood.

  My inhaler, my inhaler, where was it?

  I was flat on my belly, gasping for air, my fingernails clawing at the ground. It had to be here somewhere…

  A twig popped. Those heavy footfalls.

  “Looking for this?”

  Dave had my inhaler pinched between his forefinger and thumb.

  I reached for it. “Please.”

  “You know, Andrea.” He spit out my name. “That was a pretty nasty trick you tried to pull.”

  “Please,” I said again.

  Dave depressed the inhaler, and a puff of medicine dissipated in front of me.

  My throat felt like it was closing. “I just need…”

  Dave depressed it again and again, puffs of life-giving medicine just out of my reach, dissolving in front of my eyes. “I.” Puff. “Don’t.” Puff. “Like.” Puff. “To be.” Puff, puff. “Fucked with.” Here he depressed the thing again, and my stomach dropped as I could hear the puffs begin to weaken, signaling there wasn’t much left.

  “Please.” It was more a wheeze than a word. “I just got scared.” I don’t know if I was making any sound, but Dave paused for a beat and cocked his head, his eyes studying mine.

  “This shit’ll really kill you, huh?”

  I could feel the sweat beading out all over my body, and my view of Dave was wavering, or he was moving. I think I was shaking my head. I think I was agreeing and pleading with him, but my head was stuffed with cotton and my lungs shrunken and stuck to my ribs.

  Dave looked at the inhaler and then back at me, then crouched down and extended his arm. “Here you go,” he said softly. Then, with a sinister edge, “Come get it.”

  My body was molten lava, and I couldn’t make it go.

  But I had to, for my real parents. For Josh.

  I wasn’t like Dave and Rita. They may have been my parents biologically, but that didn’t mean anything. I lurched for my inhaler, and Dave threw it.

  Fifty-One

  I saw the inhaler sail over my head. I heard Dave’s horrible, raucous laugh. And then I heard a gunshot.

  A sharp pop that reverberated through trees, that seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at all.

  Was I shot?

  My whole body ached, and the few breaths that I could take—choking, dirt-laced breaths that cooled my lips but died in my throat—stung. Behind me, Dave had ducked. He had ducked for a half second and then took off running, up the embankment toward the driveway, and I flopped over and kicked against that stupid root until my fingers closed on the inhaler.

  Air filled my lungs. Not enough to save me, not enough to let me run, but enough that I could take a breath and roll back over and feel the darkness overcome me. I saw Josh and Rita and Nate, and then I saw nothing at all.

  * * *

  “Oh my gosh, Josh!”

  He was jumping on me again, in my room, in my bed, this time playing with some horrible boy-robot creation that beep-beep-beeped its way into my dreams. I waited for my mother to tell Josh to calm down, but the voice that broke in was new.

  “Sounds like she’s waking up.”

  “Sounds like she’s a butt.”

  The second one was definitely Josh. The first one… “Nate?”

  He broke into a wide smile when I opened my eyes, and I almost sat right up, ready to tell my parents that I hadn’t invited him into my room, that I knew the rule (no boys upstairs), but I didn’t know what was going on, and I was pinned to the bed, half because Josh was snuggled up against me and half because the tube in my hand was attached to the bed. Wait, what?

  “Where am I? Where are my—”

  I looked around. Hospital bed. Nate. Everything came crashing back to me, and I could feel the tears pricking my eyes.

  “This really happened, didn’t it?”

  Nate nodded solemnly. “But you’re clear. Rita and Dave have been arrested.” That should have made me feel loads better, but it didn’t.

  “Nate saved us,” Josh said matter-of-factly. “It was awesome.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Nate did?”

  “I gave the police the iPad after your message. They were able to trace it.”

  “See?” Josh said, looking up at me. “Nate saved the day!”

  “It had nothing to do with me leaving the tablet on or actually sending the message?”

  Nate smiled and shrugged. “I don’t want to argue with the kid.”

  “How did they—I mean, did they have proof on Rita and Dave?”

  “The smoking gun. Literally.”

  The gunshot.

  “Rita fired. She still had the gun when the police showed up.”

  Because Dave tried to kill me.

  My mind flashed to me lying in that gully, dying in the dirt with Dave hovering over me, holding on to my inhaler while I suffocated. And Rita, standing up top. She fired the gun into the air. She scared Dave. And then she put her hands up.

  Her weird way of saving me?

  “They found the Rohypnol Dave used to drug you.”

  I crushed Josh to me. “Our parents… Josh, I’m so, so sorry…”

  “Mom’s going to get better,” he said sharply.

  “Mom?”

  I felt myself gape when a nurse pushed my mother in a wheelchair through my open door. She looked thin and tired, the scrapes on her face slightly fading, a bandage from her neck all the way down her arm.

  “Oh, Andi!”

  “I’m so, so sorry, Mom. This is all my fault!”

  She kissed my face, hard. “No, it’s not. It’s absolutely not.”

  “You—Rita is your sister.”

  Mom nodded and cleared her throat, her voice raspy. “Yes.”

  “You never
told me.” I couldn’t tell myself if it was a statement or an accusation, but Mom looked away, and I wondered if she was going to say anything to me at all.

  “We never planned on hiding it—Rita—from you. The plan all along was to take care of you until Rita got on her feet. But that never happened. And early on…she would come and take you for a couple of hours at a time, but she was forgetting to feed you, or you’d come home filthy—or once, not at all.”

  I wanted to ask if I didn’t come back that time because Rita wanted to keep me. If it was because something finally clicked in her and she wanted to be my mom.

  “When we finally tracked Rita down, she was passed out at some junkie’s house, and we couldn’t even find you.” Even now, I could see the anguish creasing my mom’s face. “Twenty-eight hours. That’s how long it took to track you down. Twenty-eight of the longest hours of our lives. You were five, and a state trooper found you wandering the side of the freeway, barefoot. You wouldn’t speak. You wouldn’t say what happened to you. You didn’t ask where Rita was, but when the police brought you to me and Dad, you clung to us so hard. We vowed never again to let Rita hurt you. Never again, Andi.”

  I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, the lump in my throat. “You and Dad saved me.”

  Mom’s smile was weak. “We always will.” Her voice cracked. “I always will.”

  “But Rita never got over it.”

  “You’re a hard kid to get over.”

  I shook my head sadly. “It wasn’t me she was upset about. It was you.”

  “I never really was going for sister of the year.”

  My mother pressed her lips together, a mist going across her eyes. She didn’t say anything more.

  Dave and Rita may have been blood, but they weren’t family. I wasn’t like them. I was like me. And now that I had Nate, Josh, and my mom, I had all the family I’d ever need.

  Acknowledgments

  My utmost thanks to the Sourcebooks team for taking me on “again,” and to Molly Cusick for being the best editor I’ve ever had. Whether or not I could write again (chemo brain) remained a huge question mark until you all welcomed me back with open arms and unfailing encouragement. Thank you to Amberly Finarelli, for being the kind of “agent rock” and friend I didn’t know I needed (but am so blessed to have!). To the Tuesday afternoon sprint team (writing, not running—let’s be real) and the Friday evening Zoomtini Writers’ Guild, thank you for listening to me whine, rant, and talk about the fifteen hundred crafts I made instead of working. To Jane Gilmore, thank you for letting me write, grow, forget, and attempt to remember. To “my” kids at TWI: you inspire me constantly! And finally, to the entire staff and members of Cancer Care Point, but most especially Laura and Julianne: thank you for bringing me back.