Six Months Later

by Natalie D. Richards

  But it is true. Julien is dead. Mrs. Campbell found her hanging in her bedroom two days ago.

  I try to think of Julien dead, but the truth is, I don’t really know what death looks like unless you count my glimpse of Dr. Kirkpatrick. I mean, I saw my grandpa Frank at his visitation, but I was eight and all I remember thinking is that he looked kind of orange and that he probably wouldn’t really like the lacy satin pillow under his head.

  But he was old and Julien isn’t.

  Wasn’t.

  God, this just shouldn’t be possible. I’m pretty sure I should feel something other than this. Because I don’t feel anything. I’m just…numb.

  Adam lets out a low sigh and pushes his fingers into his hair. Maggie sniffs into a tissue, and I wince. Her crumpled face makes me ache, but is that for Julien or for Maggie?

  And what about Mrs. Miller? I remember her so vividly, her soft hands closing around the bag of maple nut clusters. Her tired eyes and perfect smile. She found Julien.

  She found her daughter hanging in her room.

  “We need to do something,” I say. Not that I really have any ideas. I had to say something though. Because I can’t think about Mrs. Miller. Not for one more second.

  “L-like what?” Maggie asks.

  “We can’t bring her back,” Adam says. He too looks shaken. Stunned.

  And I’m still sitting here, cold and hard like a stone while, somewhere in California, Julien is dead. She killed herself, and it wasn’t because of a bully or a bad breakup. It wasn’t anything stupid or childish. It was because of Daniel Tanner.

  “We can’t let him get away with this,” I say.

  “No,” Maggie says, and her eyes go flinty.

  “How?” Adam sits back in his chair, shoulders slumped. “I’ll do whatever you want. You know that. I’ll do anything. But we don’t have proof.”

  “I do have proof!” I say, and then I wince. “I did. I had it before.”

  “Do you remember anything?” he asks.

  Swirling snow. My tires slipping on the pavement. Dirt crusted on my half-frozen fingers. I remember so much. And nowhere near enough.

  I shake my head, and Maggie touches my hand. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay. I need to figure it out.”

  “It’s locked somewhere in your head,” Adam says. “It’s not like you can just force something like that out.”

  I don’t say anything, but I know he’s wrong. They’ve already forced my mind to forget things. And if they can do that…

  “Let’s go,” I say, standing up.

  “W-what? Where are we going?”

  “We’re going back to the school.”

  “Why? What for?” Adam asks, though he stands up with me.

  I know what I have to do. It scares me to death, the idea of someone poking around in my head for the second time. But I can’t let this rest. I have to try.

  I push down my fear and square my shoulders. “What do you guys know about hypnosis?”

  ***

  We decide to meet at the school. Mags needs to check in with her mom, who’s still at the bakery, and I need to pick up a couple of reference books from home, including the one I checked out of the library. I don’t know why I have Adam drive me, because I don’t exactly trust him. But the world still feels steadier when he’s close.

  I’m grateful that I don’t need to explain this to Maggie, who watches us from her front window as we drive away.

  Adam tunes the radio to a station playing Christmas carols, and I stare out the window. Houses draped in pine swags and twinkle lights drift past. For a moment, I can almost pretend this is a date. That we’re two normal people, stretching out the last bit of a perfect evening.

  “It’s different now,” I say, maybe to remind myself more than anything.

  “Maybe,” he says. “But it doesn’t change anything. Not for me.”

  He pulls to a stop at the curb beside my driveway, and then he comes around to my side of the car, and everything’s just like it was before. Except we don’t touch. We don’t hold hands or sling arms around each other’s shoulders. We just walk side by side, crunching up the snowy sidewalk until we’re at the foot of my porch steps.

  “Chloe,” Adam says, moving in front of me.

  I suddenly feel like I’ve run a marathon. Breathless and light-headed, I can’t seem to do a thing but watch him as he slides his hands to my face. “I’m a liar and a thief and thousand other shitty things, but I would never hurt you. I need you to know that.”

  I nod because I know he wouldn’t. Truth told, I don’t think he’d hurt anyone. Except maybe himself.

  “I don’t deserve you.” He moves in, and I could sooner resist breathing than I can resist curling my hands in the edges of his coat, pulling him until I can feel the heat from his chest and breathe in the smell that I now know as well as my own.

  My hands are shaking and cold when I press them to his cheeks. He doesn’t flinch or pull away; instead he breathes harder, like every whisper of my fingers is magic.

  “No more lies,” I say.

  He nods but doesn’t say anything. Like he knows I’m not done.

  “I don’t know what this means,” I say. “I don’t trust you now. I don’t know if I ever will.”

  “I’ll wait,” he says, and I think he will. I think he’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes. And it might.

  Still, I pull him down and kiss him until the cold disappears. His hands are tangled in my hair, and the world is a tiny, insignificant thing sliding sideways beneath my feet. It feels better than good. It feels right.

  When we pull apart, the snow has stopped. The moon is bright and full in the star-pricked sky. I gaze at the pale ring around it, remembering that it’s an omen of something the future will bring. I wish I could remember if it’s good or bad.

  Chapter Thirty

  We sit in the parking lot behind the school, waiting for Mags to show up. My parents, for once, will be out too late to notice my absence.

  We keep the radio low and read through the sections in my books that cover hypnosis. I highlight a section and hand it over to Adam.

  “Okay, here’s the bit on imagery. It’s often helpful to use imagery in a sequence to bring people into a hypnotic state.”

  He frowns. “What imagery?”

  “I can’t tell you. There are case studies in the back, but it’s not something I can rehearse. If I think about it from your point of view, it won’t work on me. Keep a steady, soothing tone.”

  “I don’t like this, Chlo. This is like The Idiot’s Guide to Psychology. Enough people have messed with your head already.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, but of course it’s not fine. It’s an insane idea born out of pure desperation. As tense as I am right now, it’d be a miracle if a trained hypnotist could put me under, let alone a couple of amateurs with a textbook. But we have to try.

  Adam’s face makes it clear he doesn’t agree. “It’s dangerous, Chlo. We don’t know what we’re doing.”

  “Yeah, well, clearly neither did Dr. Kirkpatrick. They obviously killed her for a reason, and I’m thinking a botched attempt at cover-up is probably said reason.”

  He trails a hand down my cheek. “I just want you to think about this. There’s a lot that could go wrong.”

  “I’ve done nothing but think about this.” I sigh. “I’m done thinking. We’re doing this, Adam. We have to. It’s simple. You’re going to lead me through some relaxing imagery and count backward and gently lead me through the night at Blake’s house.”

  His jaw goes tight. “And what if you do remember? Are you ready to remember everything that might have happened that night?”

  “Yes, everything! Why would you—oh. Oh.”

  Everything that might have happened starts to sound a lot like sex things that might have happened.

  My stomach does an ugly barrel roll. I take a breath and press my lips together. Could I forget something like that? I think
about Blake’s familiarity in my room, the way he’d tossed our books aside like there were better things to do.

  No, I wouldn’t have done that with him. But a devil’s voice reminds me that not so long ago, I would have done anything for Blake Tanner. And I’m just kidding myself if I try to pretend that anything wouldn’t have potentially included sex.

  I turn to Adam, biting my lip. “Were we…serious? Blake and me?”

  Adam shakes his head slowly, looking pained. “Don’t make me go there.”

  “Are you saying this because you don’t know or because you don’t want to talk about it?” I ask.

  “Both, if you want the truth,” he says.

  I scoot away from him. “Because it would change the way you feel about me, right? Because you were fine and dandy with the whole fake dating gig right up until you had to think of me as leftovers.”

  “First off, you’re nobody’s leftovers. Second, until that day at the tutoring center, I had no idea Blake being with you was actually his dad’s sick new way to keep a thumb on you.”

  “What, you thought he was sincere? Why on earth would someone like Blake date me?”

  Adam’s eyes are narrowed, his voice too loud. “I don’t know, Chloe, maybe because he’s met you?”

  The compliment doesn’t faze me. Maybe because as far as I remember, I haven’t had sex with anyone. So yeah, I’m a little preoccupied with the fear of it happening with somebody who was getting paid by the hour.

  Maggie taps on his window, and we both look up. I climb out of the car, trying to look nonchalant. “Where’s your truck?”

  “I walked. I was t-too paranoid someone would see it,” she says. Her brow is furrowed in a way that tells me she doesn’t buy my glib attitude. She can tell I’m upset.

  Adam heads in first, and Maggie snags my sleeve at the door. “What’s wrong?”

  I take a long breath. “How about what isn’t? It’s a shorter list.”

  ***

  An hour later, Maggie bites her lip and looks around the silent study hall room. “Okay, this isn’t working, and I’m nerved out. When d-does the cleaning crew get here?”

  “They don’t come on weekends. We’re fine,” Adam says.

  She’s been edgy since we got here. Maybe the school wasn’t the best idea, but we need privacy and I figured being in the place where it all started might jog my memory.

  I open my eyes and shift in the chair, my gaze going to the window beside me. It’s creepy thinking about the last time I looked at that rectangle of glass. If I fall asleep now, will I wake up to flowers?

  Adam adjusts his coat behind me, and I frown up at him. “I’m sorry. I thought it would work faster.”

  “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m probably not doing it right.”

  “Me either,” Mags adds.

  I shake out my shoulders and clear my throat. “Let’s go again. I just need to be a little more receptive.”

  Maggie gives me an appraising look, one that tells me she’s pretty sure I’m not going to be receptive to anything even remotely like what they’re doing. She exchanges a look with Adam that makes it pretty clear it’s a shared opinion.

  “We could try the lake imagery again. That was nice.” My voice sounds unconvincing. Even to me.

  “Maybe Adam is right. We could g-go to the police,” Maggie says.

  “We’ve been over this,” I say. “I need that box. I wouldn’t have hidden it if it wasn’t seriously important.” Their silence seems to agree with me, so I push my hair behind my ears. “We have to do this.”

  Adam nods and scoots closer, reaching for my hand. I feel the roughness of his fingertips against my palm. A flash of him walking down the stairs at school rushes back at me. Halfway down the stairs, he turns over his shoulder, giving me a smile that makes my insides curl warmly.

  I gasp and squeeze his hand harder. “Wait. I know what I need. I need you to touch me.”

  He smiles a little wickedly, and I smack his arm, flushing to the roots of my hair. “Not like that. I mean—”

  “You’ve remembered things when I touch you,” he says, filling in my awkward silence.

  “Yes. That.” I turn to Maggie, willing my cheeks to cool down. “That’s how I remembered that night at Blake’s. When you held my hands to help me up, it all came back to me.”

  “How?” Maggie asks.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, lacing my fingers with Adam’s. “Maybe it’s because of my connections with you.”

  “Would that b-be stronger than the drugs?”

  “It can be,” Adam says softly, and I squeeze his hand, too overwhelmed to voice my own opinion. The truth is, my connection with both of them might be the strongest thing I know. Maybe the strongest thing I’ll ever know.

  “Okay, we’ll d-do it again. Holding your hands,” Mags says.

  She scoots her chair closer to me. Her hand is small and cool, and Adam’s is wide and warm. They are absolute opposites, and they both fit me just right.

  “Close your eyes,” Maggie says.

  Something in me struggles, still afraid of what will be waiting when I open my eyes. Most of all, I fear the truth of the six months I can’t remember. Knowing there will be pieces I wish I could forget.

  No. This is not me. I jump off bridges. I pull fire alarms. I don’t have a place in me for this kind of fear. I push it back, tamp it down, and focus on Maggie’s words.

  “Should we start with the lake?” she asks, voice gentle.

  I feel the rising panic as the unknown draws closer. I think of the person I’ve been. Of the things I might have done and said. And then I feel the welcome softness of Adam’s lips against my temple. It’s featherlight, nothing like the heat and pressure he usually delivers.

  I feel his lips near my ear, then a soft whisper. “We find what we find. And we move on.”

  “We leave it in the past,” Maggie whispers.

  I let out a sigh, one that comes from the deepest parts of my soul. Maggie starts to count, and they both hold me tight. Finally, I begin to let go.

  ***

  I look around the blurred edges of this memory, down at my black sweater and jeans. At the wet snow clinging to my boots. Something dark peeks out from my curled fingers.

  “I’m holding the box,” I say, but my voice comes out somewhere else. I’m here but not here. Watching it like a bad movie, where the color is distorted by static.

  I move through the yard, my steps pushing through the snow to the wet grass underneath. A familiar house stands across the yard, the back steps covered in snow.

  “I’m at Maggie’s house.”

  I walk away from the house, my feet slipping through the slushy backyard. Am I going home? No. Not home.

  I know where I’m going. Around the compost pile and down to the base of the tree. I drop to my knees and wipe the snow away with my bare hands. My fingers burn and ache from the cold. There’s a shovel in the tree, but I don’t use it. I just rip the loose chunks of dirt away until I see the metal rectangle.

  The Not Treasure Box.

  “I found it.”

  I wrangle it out and wrench it open. Bracelets and bookmarks and coded letters in Maggie’s writing and mine. Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I put the new plastic box inside, pulling the latch open to look at the contents.

  Four syringes rest side by side in the bottom. I snap the lid shut and tuck the container beneath an old Tinker Bell T-shirt. Then it all goes back into the ground. I scoop mounds of half-frozen dirt back over the hole, stomping it down with my feet. The snow turns the dirt to mud, but it’s good enough. It will have to be.

  “Are you still at Maggie’s house?” The voice is nowhere and everywhere at once.

  “Yes.” My own voice is still crisp and clear in that other place. “I’m leaving now.”

  I find my car parked crookedly two streets over. I turn the key in the ignition with shaking hands and slip-slide my way back to the main road.

  Li
ghts flash overhead, green and red. I don’t know if I stopped. I don’t even know if I was supposed to. I’m on autopilot with no destination, turning blindly from one street to the next. This is crazy. I have to stop this.

  I pick up my phone, dialing the only number I can think of.

  “Don’t tell me you’re stuck on number twenty-nine,” Adam says by way of greeting.

  I try to keep my voice normal. “Can you meet me?”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong? You don’t sound right.”

  “Chloe, are you ready to come back now?”

  “Yes.”

  The faraway voice begins to count. It pulls me away from the cold and the snow, tugging me closer to the sound. Then it is right there with me. Only inches from my ears.

  I am back.

  I hear the soft drone of the radiator and the shuffle of Adam’s boots against the floor. It’s okay. Everything is okay this time.

  “I know where I hid the drugs,” I say.

  I open my eyes.

  I’m facing the window I saw the first time I woke up. This time there’s a man standing in the snow beyond the glass. He’s tall, graying, and either he can read lips or he has mutant hearing. Because the smile on his face tells me he knows what I said.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Adam?”

  The terror must be as clear on my face as it is in my voice. Adam swears softly under his breath. His back is to the window, but he knows who’s out there. I’m sure of it.

  Daniel Tanner.

  Out of nowhere, Adam lunges out of his chair, hands reaching for us. His chair knocks backward, and I hear him whisper even as he hooks his fingers in my shirt. “Run!”

  I jerk back, shocked, and he kicks at the chair, like he’s tangled up in the legs. I can’t do anything but stare, my mind reeling to catch up. He fumbles for my sleeve, but Maggie yanks me free, dragging me toward the door.

  Daniel is watching us. Adam nods and waves him toward the cafeteria before reaching for me again.

  “You’re not going to get out of here until you tell me where they are!” Adam yells, but the sharp edge in his voice doesn’t match the worry in his face.