I Hope You Get This Message

by Farah Naz Rishi

  The punch came so fast, Jesse felt more shock than pain. He stumbled, catching the edge of what was left of the machine to hold himself upright. His cheek burned.

  Jesse pressed a hand against his face and stared back at Corbin, slack-jawed and silent.

  Corbin was breathing hard. “I don’t know what your reasons were for putting on this whole scam of yours,” he growled, “and I don’t know what the hell changed. Let’s be real, you wouldn’t tell me if I asked. But just because things aren’t going your way does not mean you get to pull the rug out from under everyone. Just because you’ve lost all hope doesn’t mean you get to throw out hope for all of us.”

  Jesse’s eyes burned. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through.” The scars on his wrist seemed to tingle with remembrance.

  Corbin grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and Jesse suddenly didn’t know if Corbin was going to kiss him or knee him in the gut. Their faces were so close. Corbin’s voice was husky, his smoky vanilla scent pouring over Jesse as he said, “My sister is barely hanging on to her life, and I refuse to let you disappoint her just to clear your own conscience. Got it?”

  Corbin’s usually perfect hair was disheveled and greasy around the bangs, and his eyelids were swollen. Jesse clearly hadn’t been the only one to pull an all-nighter. Except Corbin had been by Mari’s bedside all night. And Jesse was standing here whining to him like a selfish asshole.

  “Let go of me,” Jesse said slowly.

  Corbin did, and Jesse was almost sorry when he took a step back. Despite everything—despite the fact that he had just punched Jesse in the face—it had felt good to be so close to him. So close to somebody.

  No, so close to him.

  Jesse fussed with the small buckle on his leather cuff.

  “You know, the worst part of it all,” said Corbin, “isn’t that you were profiting off people’s hope. It’s that you look down on people for having any hope at all.”

  Jesse clenched his fist. It hurt. God, his words hurt like hell.

  He had wanted to tell Corbin about just why he’d needed to make the HECC machine. He wanted to tell Corbin everything: about his dad, about their money troubles. About his scars. There were probably a thousand things he could say to fill the space between him and Corbin, words with warmth and weight. But he didn’t know how to tell him. Or maybe he did, but he was too afraid of what would happen. Didn’t Corbin get it? Good things leave you. You can’t get attached.

  “If you feel that way, then why the hell are you wasting your time?” Jesse asked—he was angry, and he was also curious. “Why are you still here?”

  Corbin shook his head slowly. “Because I know you’re better than this.”

  “No, Corbin, I’m really, really not.”

  Corbin had moved farther away. Now he gripped the door frame of the shed, edging farther into the light, becoming hazy at the edges. “You are, Jesse,” his voice said. “I have to believe it.” Corbin threw him one last unreadable gaze. “I have to.”

  Then he was gone.

  27

  Cate

  “This is it,” announced Adeem.

  Roswell emerged in the distance, unceremonious and unwelcoming.

  After they’d left the abandoned gas station and its endless line for the phone, Cate and Adeem had barreled through the morning daylight in Priti’s car, untouchable on the empty road—though Cate had half expected at every turn that some new disaster would hit them. An accident. Another cop. The gas tank running out, even after using the spare gas can. Or even that Alice and Ty would somehow reappear to accost them again, take what they’d forgotten last time.

  But now, as they reached their destination, Cate felt a shift in the air, like they’d entered some sort of invisible bubble that muted the low rumble of the car engine beneath them and the brush of sand against their tires. The feeling made her skin bristle. She should have been relieved, but if anything, she was nervous.

  They were . . . here.

  Cate had never been to Roswell before—she’d never even been outside California—but she certainly knew of Roswell’s quirky reputation. She was prepared to find metallic UFO statues suspended in air, signs proudly indicating various crash sites, graffiti murals on shop walls depicting alien abductions—the usual silly props all over the place. Aliens had always been the status quo.

  Instead, a blockade of police vehicles greeted them at the town’s border, and Adeem had to swerve out of the way of an overturned electric-blue car lying on its side in the middle of the road like a beached whale. An officer directed them to leave Priti’s car behind at the blockade alongside several other abandoned cars, parked beside an electronic road sign that had been hacked to say BELIEVERS WELCOME.

  She didn’t like it one bit. Leaving behind Priti’s car was the equivalent of leaving their one and only lifeboat. Dread brought an aching in her chest.

  “The tent city’s blocked up all the main roads inside,” one of the officers had told them. “No one’s going to drive off with your car anyway, not with the roads being the way they are and us being right here.”

  At the very least, he sounded right: although Roswell seemed dead at its edges, if Cate strained her ears, she could hear the faraway hue and cry of a crowd huddled at its epicenter, like the beating heart of the town itself. And after they passed the cement police barricades, the deeper into the town they went, the louder the sound grew, and the more the streets filled with clamoring bodies and tents. But the music was nothing like the shitty dance music at the party with Jake. It was live music, the ebb and flow of an orchestra, and they found an entire street blocked by orchestra players clad in black tuxedos, sitting in rows of chairs with their eyes closed in deep concentration as they played in the street like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. She found herself enraptured by the sight, until Adeem gently tugged her shirt and mouthed something to her that looked a lot like Time.

  The officer at the blockade had pointed them to a pay phone a couple blocks away, just outside an abandoned auto shop called Keller’s. The place was a mess of graffiti and broken windows and cracked cement, but the pay phone still worked. Cate pulled out a couple extra quarters she’d found in the glove compartment of Priti’s car and slipped the coins inside the slot. She tried not to cringe as she dialed; the buttons were sticky, and she didn’t want to begin guessing with what.

  Adeem waited patiently a few feet away, his back turned to her, allowing a million worries to race through her mind, echoing in the quiet spaces between the ringing.

  A bead of sweat rolled down her spine. At first, she’d thought to call Mom again at the hospital. But after the last conversation, and how much it had upset her mom, she decided to take a different route. A harder one.

  The phone kept ringing. She slipped her hand into her pocket, gripped the letter against her palm. All of Cate’s worst fears raced through her mind: What if she wasn’t home anymore? What if something had happened to her and her family?

  What if Cate never got a chance to say she was sorry?

  Cate closed her eyes and tried desperately not to cry.

  “Hello?” a voice called out to her.

  Cate squeezed the phone tightly. “Ivy,” she breathed.

  “Jesus. Cate?” Ivy’s voice went up ten octaves. “Please tell me that’s you. Please tell me you’re not calling from an alien spaceship.”

  Cate bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. It’s me. I’m alive.”

  “Cate. Oh God, Cate, I’m so, so freaking sorry. I was such a dick to you. I love you so much, and I want you to know that I never ever meant to hurt you. Our fight at the casino—it was so stupid and I miss you and everything is on fire.” Ivy was spilling words faster than Cate could keep up.

  “Slow down, you dummy. I should be apologizing to you,” said Cate, wiping her eyelids. How had she ever been mad at her best friend? “I know you were only trying to protect me.”

  “A lot of good that did,” said Ivy, irritably. “Did you
at least make it to Roswell?”

  “Yeah.” Cate glanced at Adeem, who a few feet away was talking with some people carrying hiking backpacks. “With some help. Lots of help. But I don’t have much time—I’m on a pay phone. Have you seen my mom?”

  “I’ve been going to see her every day,” said Ivy. “My family was supposed to hide out in freaking Alcatraz. There’s some underground tunnels or something there. Supposedly safe. Relatively. But I convinced Mom and Dad to let us stay at home, somewhere familiar, ya know—so we’re in our basement. I guess it was the right move because it’s forced Mom and Dad to talk to each other. If we survive this, I think they might actually try counseling. I don’t want to jinx it, but . . . baby steps.”

  “Holy crap, Ivy.” That was the first bit of good news Cate had heard in what felt like forever.

  “I know. They even came with me to check on your mom. But the hospital stopped taking visitors last night, after the power got spotty. I guess they’re in lockdown mode now. They’re not taking any chances.”

  Cate’s jaw clenched. If the hospital was on lockdown, that at least meant her mom would be safe. Hopefully.

  “Don’t worry,” Ivy went on, as if reading Cate’s mind. “She’ll be fine. My mom’s already thrown a bunch of medical malpractice jargon at them to make sure of it.”

  “And you? You’re all safe?”

  “Us Huangs are tough.” Cate could imagine Ivy winking. “Probably also helps that the hospital’s walking distance from our house, and my mom’s got a couple of cop friends who escorted us last time we checked on your mom.”

  Cate closed her eyes, blinking back moisture. Ivy was the best. She’d never fight with her again.

  But first, priorities: Cate had less than two days left, and she still didn’t even know her dad’s last name. Even if she broke into the county clerk’s office and had an infinite amount of time to search through all those files, there were probably a hundred Garretts in town.

  She could feel it in the air. She was so close. She just needed some kind of hint.

  “I need you to tell me if she said anything about my dad. Any information that can help me find him.”

  Nearby, she heard the shattering of glass, like someone breaking through a window. A dog barked frantically.

  “I’m sorry.” Ivy sighed. “She didn’t really say a word about your dad. And, frankly, I didn’t ask. She didn’t exactly seem in the mood to talk, Cate. I think she’s really worried about you. So many people have already had to evacuate the city; my parents and Ethan just finished packing to head to Lakeport. I think your mom just wants you home safe.”

  Cate’s chest tightened. The thought of Mom, alone in the hospital, calling out for her only daughter made guilt flood her all at once. But Cate knew what was best for her mom. The time apart was only a temporary hitch. Finding her dad would be good for both of them in the long run.

  If there was a long run.

  “I know,” said Cate in a strangled voice. “But I’m already here, and I need to make sure this trip wasn’t a waste. I mean, she never even had a chance to tell him about me. I can give her that chance.”

  “Are you really sure this is about what she wants, Cate, or about what you want? What do you want out of all this?” Ivy’s voice was quiet but pointed.

  Cate tugged at a tendril of her hair, her confidence melting. She’d never really thought about what she wanted. Adeem had once praised her for helping her mom find Dad: Even if it’s just for your mom, you’re still trying to bring your family back together. Even when everything feels hopeless. Sometimes, Mom herself had to push Cate out the door, begging her daughter to live her life like a normal sixteen-year-old. Most of the time, Cate would sneak back inside through the window, unless Ivy was there to drag her away.

  But what did Cate want? To be reunited with a long-lost father who didn’t even know she existed? An apology for all those years Cate and her mom were left to fend for themselves? Or maybe she just needed someone to pat her head and acknowledge how hard she’d tried.

  She wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe she’d never been.

  Cate swallowed. “My time’s running out.”

  Silence on the other line. Then, “Okay, just . . . come home soon, okay?”

  “I promise.”

  “I saw Jake Owens, by the way,” said Ivy, suddenly remembering. “He and his family rented an RV to get out of town, two days ago.”

  “Oh,” said Cate. A week, a lifetime—it still wasn’t enough to make memories of Jake any less gross. “Ew.”

  Ivy chuckled. “But it hit me then. He never deserved to be on your bucket list. You were way too good for him.” Her voice softened. “I hope you know you’re too good for anyone.”

  “Except you.”

  “Yeah. Except me.”

  A warm tear rolled down Cate’s cheek. “I love you, Ivy.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Her hand trembling, Cate hung up with a click. A siren warbled in the distance.

  She wiped away dust and tears from her face with the hem of her sleeve and took a deep breath. She had to be strong for Mom. She had to be strong for her because, for better or worse, that’s who Cate was: stupidly, stubbornly dutiful, until the end. And that was okay. Living for her mom wasn’t such a bad thing. She loved her.

  Maybe sometimes you had to live for someone else until you learned to live for yourself. Sometimes, they could be one and the same.

  “Did you get a name?” Adeem looked at her worriedly, his warm brown eyes gentle.

  “Not yet,” said Cate. “But I will.”

  28

  Jesse

  In Jesse’s experience, a quick nap cured anything.

  But this time, he woke up to find his pillow damp, his lip still throbbing, and his chest empty, aching for breath. It’d been the worst nap of his life. Also, his last. His last here, at least.

  That didn’t mean much, though. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d woken up with a headache like he’d been beaten senseless. If he was lucky, it meant that his little “rage against the machine” was some kind of paranoid stress dream, that he’d imagined it all.

  And yet, the stacks of paper he’d printed containing every single one of his customers’ messages to Alma took up all the meager space on his desk. Those were real.

  Which meant everything he’d said to Corbin was real, too.

  Jesse was never lucky.

  He’d heard something like the crack of gunfire outside. It must have been what had woken him. After the week he’d had, he was surprised he wasn’t used to it.

  He sat up slowly and held his head in his hands, trying to steady his breath. His brain wheeled in his skull.

  When the frantic beating in his chest subsided, and the rush of blood in his ears quieted, he craned his neck to listen. Not gunfire. Someone was banging on the front door. Again.

  Jesse trudged downstairs, and the steps creaked beneath his bare feet, though he could hardly hear it over the chanting of his name and the impatient banging of fists against doors and windows, all fueled by a desperate need for his now-broken machine. It was midafternoon, and the din of people from the tent city, hovering around the padlocked shed, was overwhelming. The noise outside was almost enough to tear the house down. Maybe that was the point.

  And in the midst of it all sat his mom, sitting at the kitchen table like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Except she had a faraway look on her face and a lit cigarette between her fingers. He hadn’t seen her smoke since the funeral they could barely afford. Thin gray fumes wafted like dead trees to the yellow-stained ceiling. She was wearing her old, faded bathrobe covered in tiny blue flowers. He’d bought it for her back when he had a job at the hotel gift shop. He didn’t remember it fitting her so loosely back then, though. Even her face was all sharp angles and lines, weathered from years of disappointment.

  She drew on her cigarette, surrounded herself in her own little cloud.

  “We’re
out of bread,” she said.

  “Should I steal some for you?”

  “No.” She almost looked amused.

  “You should get somewhere safe.” Jesse double-checked the locks, closed the blinds. Another crash outside. The snapping of wood.

  “Now, you know I can’t leave you all by yourself,” she said, killing the stub that remained of her cigarette. “We’re family. In case you forgot.”

  That stung. But Jesse deserved it.

  “I destroyed the machine,” he said.

  His mom looked up at him and said nothing.

  “It’s just a matter of time before people find out.” He swallowed hard, like he had stones wedged in his throat. “And I don’t want you around when they do.”

  His mom’s eyes flickered with something Jesse couldn’t recognize.

  Outside, the banging of wood was rhythmic and unrelenting. Some people—locals or outsiders, he couldn’t tell—left his neighbor’s house in ruins the other day for fun before driving off in a stolen golf cart spray-painted black and green. He almost wondered what they’d do to his. Set it on fire, most likely. Or maybe Marco’s friends would feel so bad for him when they came to collect, they’d back off and everyone would leave him and Mom alone.

  Wishful thinking.

  Suddenly, his mom pushed her chair back with a screech and stood.

  “Well, guess I better hurry and pack my things.”

  “Wait, just like that?”

  She approached him, her worn-out slippers brushing against the linoleum floor. She put her hand on his cheek. Her hand was warm. Jesse felt a little shy beneath her stare. Like he was a little kid again.

  “They’ve opened up Goddard as a safe house,” his mom said. “I’ll be safe.”

  Goddard was a planetarium a half-hour walk from their home. He’d been there a couple times for elementary school field trips, but he’d never really paid attention to the presentation; in the safety of the dark, starry beads of light floating overhead, he’d been too busy staring at Vance Wagner, his first crush. He’d gotten beaten up for it, too. The thought made him sick with shame now. He’d fallen in love so many times not even knowing what the hell love was.