See Me, See Me Not

by Elodie Nowodazkij

  Jeremiah marches to her. “I’m her family.”

  The woman reaches out to him. “You must have the money on you. You’re stealing it from me.” Her voice rises. “That’s why you’re here. You and she are getting my money. Well…not so easy.” She lunges at him and he jumps back, his eyebrows raised. And then there’s a shot.

  I scream, scramble to Jeremiah. Blood spills on the floor.

  I slide to the floor and crawl to them. My stomach tightens and my heartbeat is everywhere: in my mind, in my hands, in my throat. I’m not sure I can talk. Fear grips me. What if he’s dead?

  Tears fall down my face and I can’t wipe them away. I’m frozen. A second feels like an eternity until Jeremiah’s head moves and he pushes her off him. Her breathing is heavy and there’s blood at the corner of her mouth.

  She’s still breathing…there’s trickle of blood running out her mouth, and I stare at her. “Please, don’t…” She coughs more blood out and my stomach heaves. “Don’t kill my son.”

  “Maybe we can find a way to save him,” I tell her, my heart in my throat, hoping to give her peace. My stomach clenches and my dinner shoots back up. I can’t throw up. I swallow it back down.

  Jeremiah reaches out to me and I grasp his hand. “What should we do? We should call an ambulance or a doctor.”

  “She’s dead,” Jeremiah whispers. “She’s gone. Master Abram said her son wasn’t living with her. She abandoned him. She didn’t care about him. She was lying. Lying about everything.” Jeremiah’s skin is pale and he bites his lips. My body’s cold and I shiver. The woman’s phone rings again and again.

  Jeremiah and I don’t move. We’re not holding hands, we’re grasping each other as if to make sure we’re both still alive. After a few minutes, Master Abram pushes the door open. I expect him to yell at us but his brown eyes take in the scene without a word. “I followed you here. I didn’t think you’d do what you were supposed to.” He stares at our hands with a frown, but then crouches next to us. “But you did well. You both did very well.” His tone is that hypnotic, soothing voice he often uses. If I weren’t so scared of him, I’d be calmed by this tone. Jeremiah said Master Abram only wants what’s the best for us.

  And as he calms us down and tells us he’s going to take care of everything, I believe him.

  Chapter Twenty-six – Tessa

  I hate myself right now. I hate myself for Mellie, for the things she may never experience on her own. I hate myself because I can’t stop touching my mouth. Because my lips tingle with the memory of Luke’s kisses. And the reflection in the rearview mirror confesses to a smile I didn’t realize I was wearing.

  But it dims quickly.

  I check my phone again at the red light right before coming into town. No message from Mom. She didn’t call me once this evening. I only got one text message two hours ago, reminding me to have fun and to be careful.

  But since then, nothing.

  My hands clam up on the steering wheel.

  Maybe it’s being stopped in the middle of the night at a light that usually blinks at this hour. My eyes dart everywhere: from the abandoned gas station on the right to the small hardware store down the street. There’s no one. No reason for my heart to pound.

  The light turns green and I force myself not to peel ahead. The small town center is a bit less creepy—maybe because of the police station and the sight of The Flying Pig. Once I turn onto the county road leading to our mobile home park, I breathe more easily. No more red lights.

  But the smile I had leaving the lake doesn’t come back.

  After a few minutes, I pull in front of our home. I open the door carefully but Buster doesn’t rush to me. My heart picks up a new speed.

  “Mom?” I try to call out, but the sound comes out all strangled. Sometimes Mom and Mrs. Fernandéz fall asleep in front of the TV, but their sleep is always light and Mom jumps up at every small noise: a coyote outside, a creak, water leaking from the faucet.

  Mom also always waits for me to come home—she never falls asleep unless I’m in my bedroom.

  They’re not on the couch. My heart drops further down.

  “Tessa?” Mom comes from her bedroom. Her voice is sleepy and her hair is disheveled, but she looks more rested in the middle of the night than yesterday. She has her phone in her hand. “It’s not one yet.”

  She gives me a warm hug and I may hug her a bit tighter than usual.

  She’s here. She didn’t run off to find Mellie. She didn’t get kidnapped. She’s here.

  “I may have put the alarm on to call you in case you weren’t home. Mrs. Fernandéz made us both some warm milk with honey and spices. She said I needed to sleep.” She yawns. “I actually did fall asleep.” She sounds surprised and wary. Like she’s not allowed to fall asleep without me home and safe. Her eyes widen for a second and her usual worried tone comes back with a vengeance. “Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just surprised Buster didn’t rush to the door, that’s all.” I shrug my best I-was-totally-not-freaking-out shrug.

  “He was with me in my room and was the best snuggle buddy. He barely stirred when I got up.” She smiles and as she talks, Buster lazily joins us. He stretches and walks to me, licking my hand.

  Mom watches us in silence for a few seconds. I shift on my feet. “That dog really loves you.”

  “He loves everyone,” I reply.

  “I’m glad we decided to keep him. I had my doubts.”

  I don’t say anything. That trip down memory lane would make me burst into tears. She wanted Buster to be put down before seeing him, screaming he was responsible for Mellie’s disappearance…but then she saw him and she did a one-eighty. That’s when she decided we should keep him, explaining that’s what Mellie would have wanted.

  There’s a shadow of sadness in the corner of her mouth as her smile is replaced with a frown. “Your dad might be a bit late tomorrow. He called to say he needed to see some clients. But he’ll try to be there as soon as possible. Even if it was late, I called Faye as soon as I found out to ask her to move the meeting to mid-afternoon, around three or four. She didn’t pick up but I left a message.”

  “Okay.” I resist the urge to tell her that if Faye were a good psychic, she’d know the time without Mom having to tell her. There’s no point.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  I can feel my cheeks reddening. I glance at the floor and back at her. “I did.”

  “I’m glad you did, honey. I’m going to try to go back to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow morning before you go to work.”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  She heads back to her bedroom while Buster and I enter mine. Buster jumps on my bed and settles into a ball at the end of the comforter, yawning. He’s going to be up early tomorrow needing to go to the bathroom, but so will I…if I manage to sleep at all. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I lie down in my bed, replaying the evening.

  I get my phone to make sure I have the alarm set, and the butterflies in my stomach nudge me when I see Luke has sent me several texts.

  Just checking you made it home okay.

  I had fun tonight…and clearly I am a very talented dancer.

  Are we still on for tomorrow evening?

  If I send you 4 texts within 35 minutes, does that make me desperate?

  I hesitate a second before calling him. Maybe texting would be easier. I’m going to need to whisper and on the phone, it’s harder to sound witty. Way less time to create and delete a text. But I want to hear his voice.

  “Hey,” he answers and the butterflies in my stomach are composing their own melody.

  “Hey…,” I reply and tighten my grip on my phone. Buster looks up with the side of his face all squished up, assessing the situation. Satisfied that nothing special is happening—at least not to his eyes—he falls back asleep. “You sent me four texts.” My tone is teasing but my heart is leaping.

  “I did. I drafted a fifth one but decided aga
inst sending it.” He lowers his voice. “Based on articles my sister used to read, I need to be mysterious.”

  “You are—you’re not on social media.”

  His reply is quick. “You are but you don’t post anything.”

  I stare at the chipped paint on the ceiling. “I used to, but now I only have a profile in case Mellie looks for me. A way for her to contact me…last year, someone did, pretending to be her. She asked for money to be able to come home. Mom wired it and we never heard from her again.”

  “I’m sorry.” There’s some shuffling in the background.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Dishes.”

  “Can you come over here after and do ours?” I’m back to teasing and he chuckles. I imagine him without a shirt—because why would he do dishes with a shirt on?

  “I would, but I don’t think your mom would like me being over at this time.”

  “Where’s your uncle? Plus, really, you’re not up for a bit of sneaking around? I thought you were the dangerous bad boy…at least based on what I saw in a school message group.” I keep my tone light so he knows I’m not serious.

  “I made it to the Gossip Wall?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Of course.”

  The Gossip Wall is the online hangout place where some students like to spread rumors. I made it to the wall after making out with Kenneth and then again when he posted those pictures of Simon and me. I threw up when I saw the comments posted about me. The school knows about it but say they can’t take it down. The Wall calmed down, though, since that happened. A lot of students came out against the atrocities people were spreading, so it’s become a place where people ask anonymous questions. Not much better. He clears his throat. “Kenneth is such an asshole. When I saw what he posted…”

  I cut him off. “Just know though that I don’t have a birthmark where he said I do.” And that’s why I should be texting…I can’t seem to hold my words back around him.

  “That guy is an asshole.” The silence stretches for three seconds. “So, you have a birthmark?” His tone is lighter and I bite my lip.

  “Anyways…are you done with the dishes?”

  He laughs. “Yep.”

  “And you managed to avoid two questions. One, why you’re not on any social media. Are you really seventeen? And two, what’s up with your uncle?”

  It takes him a few seconds to reply and I imagine him rubbing his neck. “You want your sister to find you. I don’t want to be found.” His voice is serious.

  “Why? We’ve tiptoed around the topic for months. When you came back, I asked you but you didn’t want to talk about it. And this afternoon, when I asked you about living with your uncle.”

  “I wish I could tell you more but I can’t. It’s complicated.”

  “But where were you?” I press him—I’ve held back for months. Because he didn’t look ready to talk, but now it feels like he wants to talk but he’s holding back.

  “Nowhere I wish to return to.”

  He’s closing the topic and I’m tempted to ask him again, to tell him he can trust me, to tell him it’s okay to talk to me. But I’d rather do that when he’s in front of me, not on the phone.

  He clears his throat. And I can imagine him rubbing his neck like I’ve noticed him doing when he’s stressed or anxious. “My uncle is tired. And by tired I mean he’s passed out from drinking too much. Today was the anniversary of his brother’s death.”

  “Oh.” I wish I could reach out through the phone and hold him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. Are we still on for tomorrow evening?”

  “Definitely.”

  He clears his throat and then blurts out, “I don’t know how to end this phone call.”

  “What?” I raise an eyebrow and roll to my side. My hand toys with the comforter. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t laugh.” He’s laughing though.

  “Too late.” But my heart beats loudly and the butterflies in my stomach are no longer singing, they’re flapping their wings into a symphony.

  “I’ve never talked to a girl at night…not on the phone. Not like this…” He clears his throat once more—and embarrassed Luke is adorable. “I text, but talking on the phone…it’s different.”

  I roll to my back again and close my eyes. “I know what you mean. I think we just say bye and see you tomorrow. And then we hang up.” My entire body is attuned to his words, to the sound of his breathing.

  “Can I also tell you I can’t stop thinking about you?”

  “I think you just did,” I manage to reply, and his tone is no longer hesitant.

  “True. So I’m going to hang up and then think about you some more. Goodnight.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  “I’m hanging up,” he repeats and there’s a shuffle on the line. “For real this time. Goodnight.”

  I don’t know if he or I hang up first. Buster snores pretty loudly but everything else is quiet. I grab my old pillow—the one that’s seen me at my best and my worst—and when I fall asleep, it’s with images of the night replaying in my mind.

  And maybe with a smile.

  Chapter Twenty-seven – Luke

  After hanging up with Tessa, I can’t sleep. I look for new information about the Circle. My throat tightens as I pull up a new entry in a forum I’ve been following: Former cult members help. I found it while I was still in the youth home. There’s only three other former members of the Circle on it. Two of them got kicked out because they didn’t follow the rules and another escaped because he didn’t want to marry the girl they had chosen for him. He escaped three years before I did. He’s the reason they had increased security around the compound.

  This forum gathers former members from many cults. I hadn’t realized there were that many and some way worse than the Circle. The Circle was made awful for us by Abram and by no longer having a choice. Master Peter seemed even and fair most of the time—he believed in his mission of preparing us for the end of the world. He didn’t pretend to know when it was coming, he only believed we needed to be ready.

  This new entry stops my heart. Master Abram is transforming the Circle into a doomsday cult. With the death of Master Peter, the Circle has split into four groups, including a small group of us who decided to leave. Master Abram told the group the end was coming and it was time to give up any and all earthly possessions. He said the ones who betrayed him would have to pay for the Circle to be let into the other world. Apparently, one group told him they couldn’t trust him if his own daughter and stepson didn’t believe in him. He claimed he’s bringing them back to face the Truth. He’s twisting the words of The Book of Truth.

  I get up to shake my uncle but he keeps on snoring. “Come on, wake up!” I hurry to the kitchen and grab a pitcher. I fill it up with cold water and throw it on him. He stirs and blinks.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He mumbles and sits up. “What’s going on?”

  My heart pounds faster than ever before. “They’re going to kill themselves.”

  “Who?”

  I plop on the couch next to him and desperation isn’t only in my voice. It’s in my chest, my mind, my veins. “Mom. Lacey. He wants us dead too.”

  “What are you talking about?” He yawns and winces, holding his head.

  I show him the forum and he rubs his temples. “It might not mean what you think. It could be that based on The Book of Truth, the end of the world is approaching, not that it’s tomorrow or next week or even next month.”

  “Getting rid of any possessions is one of the preparations.”

  He wraps a dry blanket around him and slumps to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “It’s been part of the preparations for years though.”

  “But you don’t understand. Abram was angry. He said on the phone, the Circle’s members were easy to use to scam people. He had access to their accounts, their identities, everything. He said the Circle killed the only good thing in his
life. And all of them needed to pay for what the Circle had done.”

  “Abram was troubled before joining the Circle. You know that. He dealt drugs. He did some jail time. And even after, he kept on using people: scamming them for their money one way or another when he met his first wife. I believe he really thought he could turn things around with her. When she died, he lost everything and he blamed the Circle for it.”

  “They could have saved her if they did take her to a doctor. And he could have said something when her son got banned for trying to find help.”

  My uncle closes his eyes for a second. “He must have decided there and then he was going to get revenge. Playing by the rules helped him rise in the ranks.” He opens his eyes and rubs his neck. “I’m going to call my FBI contacts. And before I…passed out yesterday.” He clears his throat. “I’ve asked for surveillance. There were two police officers at the lake last night and there’s one watching the house.”

  “I haven’t seen any cars.”

  “He’s behind the ranch.”

  “We need to find them.” I struggle to speak. My voice wavers. “We need to find them,” I repeat.

  “We will,” he assures me. “I’m sorry you had to wake me up like that.” He stares at me. “I am going to find them.”

  “Thanks,” I manage to reply.

  “But you stay out of this forum. You don’t reply. You don’t ask questions. Your mom must know where you are and if Abram really wants to have you back, to make an example or whatever his reasons, you need to lie low and be aware of your surroundings. Never go anywhere without telling me.”

  I nod and he grabs his phone, heading to his bedroom to call his FBI contacts. They probably saw it already but maybe they have more information.

  The desperation and fear buzz within me. I march to my room, change and put on my gloves. Because if I stay and think or reread old letters I wrote Tessa describing our lives in the compound in New Mexico, I’m going to lose it. And I can’t.

  Not now. Not until they’re found.

  Chapter Twenty-eight – Mellie

  Protecting the Circle is important.