In Another Life

by C. C. Hunter

  “Please, don’t come. I’m fine.” He looked at the dashboard for the time. Eight forty.

  “That’s what you said two years ago, when your appendix burst,” she said.

  “And I’m still here. So I was fine, wasn’t I?”

  “After eight days in the hospital.” She sighed. He heard a lot of that from her. Letting her down was the last thing he wanted. And as hard as he tried not to, he always did. His past followed him everywhere.

  The Fullers had gotten screwed when they picked him.

  Not that they’d have to suffer much longer. In two months, he’d age out of foster care. He didn’t plan on bailing until after he finished high school.…

  “Pull over and call me if you get dizzy.”

  “Got it.” He hung up. Watching the time again, he passed the gated entrance into Stallion Subdivision, where the Fullers lived—where he occupied one of their bedrooms—and headed straight into Walmart. His eye throbbed.

  He parked the Jeep, went inside the store, and headed to the bulletin board.

  Every time he came here, he looked at it. The first time he came across it, part of him had wanted to rip it down, thinking it would hurt the Fullers to see it. Later, he realized they’d been the ones to post it.

  And there she was. Staring back at him.

  Same eye shape. Same jaw. Same lips.

  “Shit!”

  That didn’t mean it was her. Age-progression photos could be off. Photos sometimes lied. He knew that personally. But damn if this girl didn’t look more like her in person than the photo the piece of shit gave Mrs. Fuller a year ago. And after Mrs. Fuller handed over three thousand dollars to the asswipe to find said girl, he conveniently disappeared. And he took a part of his foster mom’s heart, too. She was just now getting back to normal.

  If only Mrs. Fuller had confided in Cash, he’d have told her—told her how those kinds of cons worked.

  Was this the same con man coming back for more? Probably. But this time, he’d upped his game. But this time, Cash knew about it. This time, Cash would stop it.

  He glanced around to make sure no one was looking. Reaching up to take the image down, he heard the door swish open behind him. He jerked away and pretended to read a dog food coupon instead.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets, waiting for the person to wheel their cart out the door. Once the footsteps moved past, he refocused on the flyer.

  There was a copy at the house, too. Tucked away in a file. But rummaging in Mr. Fuller’s desk didn’t feel right. Especially after he’d been caught doing it once before.

  He’d been staying with the Fullers only a few months, a couple weeks shy of his fifteenth birthday, when he saw Mrs. Fuller, tears in her eyes, staring at the open file. Later, when she trusted him enough to leave him alone in the house, he went to find out what had made her cry.

  He hadn’t heard her walk back into the house that day. The second she saw him, he’d been sure she was going to yell; then she’d make the call to tell the social workers to come pick his ass up. Three other families had already sent him back. But she’d pulled a chair up beside him at her husband’s desk and asked him what he was doing. He’d been honest: “I wanted to know what made you cry.”

  She’d sighed, sort of a low moan mixed with a whoosh of air—he’d soon come to know it was her signature unhappy noise—and she told him the story. She’d cried telling it, too.

  Walmart’s door closed. He snatched the paper from the board, folded it, pocketed it, and took off. Back in the car, he fired up the engine and checked the time. Damn. He had five minutes to beat Mrs. Fuller home.

  And if she got there before him, she’d get upset.

  While he couldn’t be the person they wanted him to be, he worked hard not to upset them. He drove as if the devil gave chase. Sitting straight, he took extra caution since he could see out of only one eye. But he could probably drive blind. He’d had a lot of practice.

  Another thing his old man had taught him. At only nine, he was the designated getaway driver when his dad robbed convenience stores. Gotta earn your keep, boy. It had been seven years since he’d seen the man’s face, but his voice still rang in his head.

  * * *

  He parked in the driveway, unlocked the front door, and poked in the security code. He took the stairs two at a time to his room and hid the flyer in his desk. After running back down, he grabbed two aspirins, chewed them up, and dropped his butt on the sofa. Felix, the ancient red tabby, meowed to be picked up. Poor thing was blind as a bat. He picked him up and gave him a gentle stroke. He’d barely leaned back on the sofa when the door opened.

  “Cash?” Mrs. Fuller’s voice, almost melodious, called his name.

  “In the living room,” he said.

  She walked in and he saw her frown. “Oh, goodness.”

  Once she stepped closer, she lifted his chin with two fingers. He tried not to flinch. It’s not that he had a thing about being touched. It was her. It hurt when she touched him. Not a physical pain, but an emotional one.

  “I think you need X-rays. Just to—”

  “No.” He pulled back. “It’s a black eye. I get them all the time.”

  There came the sigh. “Have you iced it?”

  “A few minutes at school.”

  She darted into the kitchen and returned with a bag of frozen peas. Her expression was determined. He suspected the X-ray matter wasn’t settled.

  “I’m not going to the hospital.” He took the peas.

  Sad air left her lips again, and she sat in the chair across from the sofa. They stared at each other. He compared her to the girl. There were a lot of similarities. But not the eye color. Mrs. Fuller’s eyes were blue. Con girl had brown eyes with green and gold flecks in them.

  Mrs. Fuller patted her knees and rocked a few times. That usually meant she had something rolling around her head and wanted to talk. Something serious.

  He waited.

  “Ms. Anderson told me what you did. Standing up for that kid.”

  He nodded and continued to wait. There had to be more.

  “I’m proud of you, but I just wish you could have done it without fighting. You’re better than this.” Disappointment flashed in her eyes. He flinched.

  His father’s beatings hadn’t hurt this much. He hated—loathed—letting her down.

  There were all kinds of words lodged in the back of his throat. I tried to walk away. He hit first. But he’d learned a long time ago not to defend himself. People were going to think what they wanted to think.

  “Sorry,” he offered.

  “You can’t get kicked out of another school.”

  And that wasn’t my fault either. He lifted his chin. “Did they say they’re kicking me out?”

  “No. When I called back, Ms. Anderson implied you wouldn’t be in trouble. Several kids spoke up and defended you.”

  “Several?” He’d been shocked as hell that even one had. Then he recalled having seen Jack when the coach broke up the fight. He and Jack weren’t exactly friends, but they’d been assigned last year to do a science project together and they’d actually gotten along.

  “That’s what she said. But if it happens again, they’re not going to go easy on you.”

  He nodded again. “You can go back to work. I’m fine.”

  “It’s okay. My PA is taking over my patients today.”

  But it wasn’t okay. The Fullers didn’t deserve to have to deal with his shit. To have the loss of their daughter used against them, to be reminded of that pain. What they deserved was to have their real kid back. But what were the odds that Emily Fuller wasn’t six feet under?

  But that didn’t stop con men from preying on the Fullers. He would know. He’d lived with one. He’d been one. He and his dad had pulled a similar scam once after his dad had spotted a kid on a bulletin board who looked like Cash. His dad did a little research. The sad woman who’d posted that flyer was always eating lunch in the park by her work. They went there ever
y day for a week. Cash’s job had been to stare at her. Get the mark’s attention. Bait the hook.

  She finally bit. She approached them.

  Dad was good. He played the part well. He told the sad story of how he didn’t know Cash’s last name. That this was his long-lost sister’s kid—though he’d never even known she had one—and then she’d up and died and left the kid to him.

  It took another day before she shared her own sad story with them. Only hers was true. She’d had a boy who went missing at age four. Cash looked a lot like him.

  “Come here,” the woman had said. She had tears in her eyes. With trembling hands, she’d touched him. He remembered he’d flinched then, too. “Are you David? Do you remember me? Is that why you were staring?”

  “I don’t know,” he’d lied. Lied just like his daddy had told him to. Then his dad had poked at his shoulder to remind him to finish his part. Six years old, and he already had to earn his keep. “Did you have a black dog with a white smear on his nose?”

  The memory of how desperate that woman had been still haunted Cash sometimes. She hadn’t hesitated to give his dad the money so he’d go and get Cash’s DNA tested. Of course, that never happened. That night they drove out of Little Rock, Arkansas, five thousand dollars richer. Probably the woman’s life savings.

  “That was wrong. I’m never doing that again,” he’d told his dad. That had been his first black eye. It hurt. But he was certain the woman had hurt more.

  No way in hell was Cash going to let that happen to the Fullers again.

  He needed to find answers.

  * * *

  “Hey, sweetheart. How was it?”

  Mom’s waiting on me when I walk in that afternoon. I was hoping she’d still be out job hunting. I’m in no mood to be grilled.

  “It was okay,” I say.

  “Did Lindsey introduce you around?”

  “Yeah. I met Jamie, her best friend. She’s nice.” And she was, but I noticed how she kept telling me stories of her and Lindsey as if trying to prove something. As if wanting me to know I’m the new one—that Lindsey was her best friend.

  I’m okay with that. It’s just nine months.

  I notice Mom is waiting for more. “Lindsey also wants me to hang with them in a couple of hours. Jamie’s coming over.” If I were in El Paso, I’d be hanging with Sandy and Cara. We’d be comparing stories of our classes, our teachers, the guys who look better this year than last.

  But I’m not in El Paso. I’m here. And now, so I won’t seem so pathetic, I’m going to go be the third wheel at Lindsey’s and feel lucky I’ve got that much.

  “How was your day?” I ask. “Did you find a job?”

  Her smile widens, and it’s nice to see it.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, I went to my doctor’s office, Dr. James, my oncologist. There’s two doctors in the office. I told him I had an RN degree, and he practically offered me the job. They have to do background checks, and I have to interview with the other doctor, but it sounds as if I’ve got it.”

  She’s smiling, happy. I hug her.

  When we pull apart, she’s still grinning. “It’s going to work out.” She cups my cheeks like she’s done since I was a child. “Us here. We’re going to do fine.”

  I nod, wanting to believe it. And seeing her happy, I almost do.

  * * *

  The next day, I decline the escort at school. I’m sure I’ve got it down. Wrong. I get turned around and I’m late to my second-period American Lit class, feeling like I have a neon sign blinking NEW GIRL on my back.

  Unfortunately, that feeling never goes away. And I’ve spotted who’s staring: Cash. He’s beginning to freak me out. I’m counting down the minutes till class ends.

  Between classes, I go to my locker to change out my books. I’m arm deep when I feel someone standing beside me. My heart drops. I think it’s Cash.

  Wrong.

  I look up to meet a pair of flirtatious light blue eyes belonging to a cute boy I’d noticed in American Lit. “Need help finding your next class? Need a date Friday night?”

  I return the smile. My heart takes a flattered dip.

  “I’m David Drake.”

  “I’m…” My name sticks to my tongue while I try to figure out where I heard his name before. Then—bam!—I remember. And it’s not good.

  David Drake is the boy Lindsey is after. Shit. “I’m … not interested.” I ease away to reclaim my personal space and focus on my locker.

  “I thought your name was Chloe.”

  “Seriously.” I give him another glance, without a smile.

  His grin stays strong. “I can be an acquired taste.”

  “I’m not acquiring.”

  “Boyfriend back home?”

  “Yeah,” I lie, and push back my hair. “We’re practically engaged.”

  He puts his right hand against his chest. “Did you hear that? You just broke my heart.”

  I shake my head, and it rattles free an idea. Before I can figure out if it’s a good or bad, I go with it. “You know, I’ve heard your name from a girl who’s into you.”

  “Who?”

  “I can’t say, but … word is you asked her out last year.”

  His brow wrinkles. “Sara?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Lisa?”

  I frown.

  “Katie? Paula? Anna? Lacy? Carol? Jackie? Hannah?”

  My mind reels.

  “I’m joking,” he says. “Since I asked only two girls out and one of them rides to school with you, I know who it is. But I thought she was with Jonathon.”

  I worry that I should’ve kept my mouth shut, so I just shrug and turn to leave. Why do I always want to fix things?

  I’ve taken only a few steps when I see Cash again, two lockers down from mine. He’s not looking at me, but I’d bet my best bra he was listening.

  Then I see Jamie standing across the hall. She looks away really fast and walks off. Somehow, I know she saw David talking to me.

  Frigging great! She’s probably heading to find Lindsey right now.

  * * *

  Cash waited until he saw Mr. Alieda leave his classroom for a quick bathroom run and he entered the science lab. He hurried over to the two terrariums lining the wall. Students would be coming in any second. One tank held a boa, the other had live snake food. Opening his empty backpack, he slipped on a glove.

  The mouse stood on its hind legs and looked at Cash, its whiskers twitching. “Here’s the deal: I help you, you help me. You get a chance at freedom. I get … answers. Maybe.”

  Cash gently caught the mouse and placed it into his empty backpack. After putting the top back on the terrarium, he headed to the office.

  It wasn’t the best diversion plan he’d ever made, but it was a plan.

  This morning when he’d gone in to schedule a meeting with Ms. Anderson, he’d fumbled around choosing a time until he found out that Ms. Anderson had lunch between eleven and eleven thirty. Perfect. That’s when he had lunch, too.

  All he needed was three minutes in her office. Three.

  He could wait and come back tonight to get in, but if he got caught…? Breaking and entering came with jail time. Freeing a helpless mouse was a forgivable offense.

  Walking into the office, he saw three girls waiting to talk to the front office clerk. This might work.

  He eased behind the girls, unzipped the backpack, and set it down on the floor. It took the mouse about four seconds to run for freedom.

  Pulling his bag back up, he said, “Is that a mouse?”

  Just as he’d planned, chaos followed. The mouse ran under the counter. The desk clerk screamed and tore out of the office. While the girls continued squealing, Cash headed into the back, staring downward as if looking for the creature.

  Once in the hall, he darted to Ms. Anderson’s door and pulled out his paper clip. But he found the door open. Great.

  He moved into the room, shut the door, and went straight
to the desk where he’d seen Chloe Holden’s file.

  With his ears set to listen for any footsteps outside the door, he yanked open the file. He didn’t read it. He’d do that later.

  He snapped the first image, turned the paper, and took a second. One more page flip and he closed the file, set it back on top of the stack, and turned to leave. He eased open the door to listen for anyone coming.

  Voices sounded. He recognized Ms. Anderson’s voice.

  Then women’s heels came tapping down the hall.

  Shit. He was caught.

  4

  “Cash!” she squealed, and came to a sudden halt when she stepped through the door.

  “Hey.” He sat in the chair across from her desk and forced himself to relax. To look innocent. Sometimes the only move left was fake it till you make it.

  “What … are you doing here?” she asked.

  He turned and looked at her. “I have an appointment.” He kept his expression in check even when panic had his palms sweating. Honestly, if it didn’t mean disappointing the Fullers, he wouldn’t care if he got caught.

  She looked at the clock on the wall. “That’s in twenty minutes.”

  “That’s not what the office told me this morning.” He set his expression to show confusion. They might not believe what you say, but they’ll almost always believe what they see in your eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” He stood. “I’ll come back. I just … when I came in, I was a few minutes late, and no one was at the counter out front. I didn’t want to keep you waiting. So I just came back. I thought you might be in the … restroom or something.” He cut his eyes down as if embarrassed.

  “No. I was … in the teacher’s lounge.” Her shoulders relaxed. She was buying it. The blood rushing in his ears slowed down. He wouldn’t have to hear Mrs. Fuller sigh today.

  He took a step to the door. “Okay, I’ll just go and—”

  “No. Now’s fine. They must have told you wrong. This is my lunch period.”

  “Well…” He was dying to read the file. “I don’t want to mess up your lunch.”

  “No, stay. I already ate.”