Some Laneys Died: A Skipping Sideways Thriller

by Brooke Skipstone

  “I like it. Gibbs, I need to get some sleep. I have tests tomorrow. Will you be all right?”

  “Yes. Sean’s been very sweet.”

  “Don’t take melatonin or anything before asking your doctor. OK?”

  “OK. Don’t worry. Laney, if that was Bailee on the bike, what happened to her?”

  A chill flows into my arms, and I tremble. I think I know the answer, but I can’t tell her. Not now. “She rode back to her parents for dinner in her own universe where Dad chose you instead of Mom, where both of you raised your little girl.”

  I hear her sigh.

  “Good night, Laney.”

  18

  I walk to the kitchen and pour wine into a glass. Second night in a row, but I know I won’t get to sleep without it. I don’t want to dream tonight. I’m afraid I’ll see something happening to Bailee. I empty the glass, pour another, and take it back to my room.

  After setting my alarm for seven and lifting my suitcase onto the floor, I lay back in my bed and drink. Tomorrow I’ll focus on my tests, make the grades Mom wants, then drive to the airport.

  Is this my last night to sleep here? Will I bring Dad home to Mom? Or both Gibbs and Dad back to Austin? If I stayed in Alaska, would Mom ever visit me?

  Some version of me will stay here, never calling Dad, never knowing Gibbs or my sister.

  Then I realize that no matter how much thought I put into making choices, I will always make the other choice as well. And what difference does it make in the long run if I’m always affected by both choices no matter which direction I go?

  Once a version of me splits away, neither of us has any control over what the other does, but we’re linked forever in ways we won’t understand.

  Mom has told me she still thinks about her brother as if he’s alive, that she imagines him knocking on her office door and saying hi. Other versions of him never overdosed. They’re on the other side of a bubble, hardly separated at all from her, yet forever distant except in her mind.

  Which is where everything resides. We don’t interact with the world directly, only through an image or a feeling or a sound in our mind, the movie in our head we trick ourselves into being reality. But there is no difference between how we experience the “real” world and how we experience an imaginary world. The same chemical reactions occur during either process. The existence of both worlds depends entirely upon the flow of ions in our mind.

  The versions of my story with Dad all seemed real to me as I wrote them. Which reader could choose the “real” version out of the dozens I wrote? Even Dad would remember details differently than I.

  Reality is an illusion we create in our mind.

  We live in a foam of universes like the head on a glass of beer. So skipping across the bubbles should be as easy as switching thoughts in our head. Which explains how I touched my dead self at the park, or talked to my sexy self at lunch yesterday, or came back from death in the truck last night.

  Which is how Gibbs saw her daughter at the park.

  I finish my glass, turn off my light, and try to sleep.

  Just before my alarm rings, my chest is heaving as I bite my knuckle outside the hunting blind, hidden by brush and camouflage netting. I stand away from the screen and listen to a girl’s voice in pain, muffled screams and gagging. I know she’s being killed, but I only stand and listen. Fear wracks my body. I want to yell, “Stop!” but I can’t. Whoever’s inside torturing her will then torture me. My body vibrates and I bite harder while my face drips with tears.

  The alarm rings, and I slam my hand onto the beast. And notice bruised teeth marks on my middle finger. I gasp for air, over and over until I force myself to stand. I’m drenched in sweat. What the fuck happened?

  The girl didn’t sound like me. Would I have done nothing while she suffered? What happened to the version of me who chose to scream?

  Did this happen last night? Three years ago?

  After a quick shower, I dress then eat my last Khannan meal for some time. I shake his hand. He says he’ll miss me.

  I get into a line of cars outside Gus’ hut, behind Caden’s jeep. Garrett exits the car as Caden loops around the hut, burning rubber past Gus, yelling something at my good friend. His middle finger sticks out his window as he roars away.

  “Good Morning, Delaney,” says Gus. “Sorry you had to see that.”

  “Please tell Garrett I’ll drive him to the entrance.” I have no desire to be with Garrett, but I need information.

  Gus lifts his head. “Garrett! You have a ride.” He tips his hat as I drive forward until I’m even with Garrett. He opens the door and climbs in, saying nothing.

  “I’m leaving for Alaska this afternoon,” I tell him. “Otherwise, I’d give you a ride home and pick you up tomorrow.”

  “It’s OK. I’m supposed to have something to drive later today. Alaska? Why?”

  “To see my dad. Are you ready for finals?”

  “Not really. Parents had a big fight last night.”

  “Sorry. Does Caden go hunting?”

  Garrett turns his head toward me and squints. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Just curious. Does he have a hunting blind?”

  His face reddens, and he looks away. “Laney, you’re very weird.”

  “You can say yes or no without slamming my personality. It’s an easy question. Does he have a camouflaged hunting blind?” I pull up to the curb in front of the main building.

  “My dad did a few years ago. I haven’t seen it since.” He opens the door and gets out. Bending down he says, “When are you coming back?”

  “Not sure. Maybe never.”

  “Well, that would suck.”

  His eyes drift to my chest. Do boys think we don’t notice where their eyes are looking? “There are plenty of other naked girls to gawk at.”

  He hangs his head. “You ever going to let that go?”

  “Probably not. I’ve got to park.” He shuts the door, and I drive away. Every time Garrett looks at me, I know he’s thinking of that video. I don’t want to be around him anymore, but I had to ask him about Caden, who may or may not have a camouflaged blind.

  I feel a horror movie is lingering in my memory. I just don’t know what it is or when it’ll show itself.

  Most kids move through the halls like zombies toward their first final. Except for Chandler, who is her normal perky, confident self.

  “Good luck, today, Chandler,” I say as she exits the bathroom.

  “Don’t need luck. I studied my ass off, but I’m sure you studied more.”

  “Nope. Only one cheek’s worth. So you have a chance.” She glowers as I move past her into the bathroom.

  A couple of girls vape in the stalls. Marissa tapes a note full of chemistry formulas in tiny print to her shirt cuff then folds it back. Ingenious. We walk together to Ms. Burkett’s room.

  For the next several hours, I speak only chemistry and French. Since I’m taking three finals today, I have only enough time at lunch to eat an apple and some jerky. I’m sitting on a bench outside, checking the weather in Fairbanks when I receive an Amber Alert for a sixteen-year-old girl who disappeared in Falls Park, named Bailee West. Bailee? West? My legs quiver and my palms sweat. Gibbs wanted to name her baby Bailee. If Dad had chosen Gibbs, their child would’ve been named Bailee West.

  The girl’s photo looks almost exactly like me except she seems thinner, and her hair is much shorter. Could she be the girl I saw yesterday in Cabela’s? Possibly. I look again at Gibbs’ high school portrait, expanding the image, comparing it to Bailee’s. She could easily be Gibbs’ daughter. Or my twin.

  Disappeared in Falls Park? Must have been later yesterday afternoon. Why did she go to the park? Or maybe the Bailee I saw was the one who didn’t go there. The version who did is missing. Maybe that’s why Caden didn’t want me to walk on that foot path. Then both Bailee and I walked into a blind at Cabela’s and fell to the ground while sitting on a chair. Did we experience the same event?
Or did the same thing happen to other versions of us?

  I copy the photo and save it. I’ll show it to Gibbs tomorrow and ask if this is the girl she saw on the bike.

  I have to hurry back inside and down the hall to take my history final. I try to focus, but I keep seeing Bailee’s picture in my mind, wishing I had run after the girl in the store.

  Two hours later as I’m waiting for Mom and Khannan outside the school, Eddie walks up to me. “What’s the passage?”

  “Chapter Twelve of Le Petit Prince, but she told me she would use something else tomorrow.” His shoulders slump. I shake his hand. “Have fun in Chicago.”

  I see Mom’s car and wave her toward mine. She parks next to me, and we move my luggage and winter gear. Another handshake for Khannan, and Mom drives me toward Gus.

  When Mom stops at his hut, I jump out and walk to the front of her car.

  “Gus, I need to talk to you.”

  “Certainly, Delaney. How can I help you?”

  “Yesterday when I came back from lunch and mentioned Caden, you knew I didn’t tell you everything.”

  “Yes. You said he popped out of nowhere when you walked on the trail.”

  “Have you been on Onion Creek Trail?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “There’s a lower section after stone slabs, then it rises again. Where it gets level, I saw an animal path to the left. I was about to walk down it when Caden scared me.”

  “What’s important about that path?”

  “I don’t know. But he didn’t want me to walk on it. There’s an Amber Alert for a girl my age who disappeared somewhere in the park.” I show him Bailee’s photo. “I’m worried Caden is involved. I have to catch a plane. Can you . . .”

  “You want me to check out that path and see if I find Caden or the girl?”

  “Could you? Please.”

  “Not a problem in the world, Delaney. I’d be happy to. As soon as I’m finished here, I’ll drive over there and take a look.”

  “Thank you.” I almost hug him, but I know he’s too professional to allow that.

  “When will I see you again?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He reaches out his hand. We shake.

  “I hope your reunion with your father makes you both very happy.” He tightens his eyes to keep a tear from dripping onto his cheek.

  “You’re the best, Gus.” He tips his hat, and I return to the car.

  “What was that about?” asks Mom.

  “I told him where I was going and that I wouldn’t see him for a while.”

  She pulls away from the gate, soon entering the main road.

  “There’s an envelope with cash and a prepaid card on the dash.”

  I take the money. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I can recharge the card, but I hope I won’t have to. I don’t know what you’d spend money on up there. Please don’t give anything to Gibbs. At least not cash. I don’t want to feed her habits.”

  “I understand.”

  “I spoke to Sean earlier. He seems very happy you’re going to visit. He’s cleaned the house and got your room ready.”

  I know he didn’t say Gibbs did most of it.

  “I told him he’d better take care of you. No catching air on his snow machine. No falling through the ice. And you’d better take care of yourself, Delaney. I know you drank a lot of wine the last two nights.” She glances at me. “Correct?”

  I wonder how much else she’s picked up on. “Yes. I couldn’t get to sleep. I’m sorry.”

  “No more,” she declares. “And I know pot is legal up there, but that doesn’t mean you have to use it.”

  I already have, and I don’t like the memory.

  “I asked Sean about his health and his drinking. He said he’s cut down. I’m hoping that’s true. I also asked if he ever regretted moving to Alaska.”

  We stop at a light. I watch her face as she stares ahead.

  “He said sometimes, especially when it’s thirty below. But he likes the fishing and hunting during the summer and fall. You’ll get to eat some moose.”

  “Goody.”

  “He says it’s better than beef. He likes it in a stew.”

  We drive in silence for several minutes. At another light I notice her chin quivers, but her cheeks are dry.

  “I know you won’t miss me much when you’re with him. That’s OK. I’d rather be with him, too. I almost asked him to come back, but I didn’t. I also know that Gibbs will work her magic with you ‘til you’re thinking she’d be a better mom to you.” She looks over at me. “I know it’ll happen.” She drives forward.

  Part of me feels like I’m abandoning my mother, but a larger part aches to see my dad. And my sister. “If Gibbs is able to keep her baby, assuming she’s pregnant, I want to see my sister.”

  “I know you will. And I can’t blame you. And I don’t want to wish more pain for Gibbs, but if past is prologue, she’ll lose the child. I don’t want you to hurt. You’ve been through enough.”

  She drives toward the terminal and pulls up to departures.

  “I’d rather say goodbye on the curb.” She opens her door. I open mine. We remove my stuff and stand facing each other.

  I reach to hug her. “I love you, Mom.”

  She hugs back. “Not as much as you do him. I know because I love him the same as you.” She touches my cheek. “Please bring him home, Delaney. Even if Gibbs comes, too. I want him back. Please.”

  I pull her to me again. “I’ll try.”

  “I love you, Delaney. I’m sorry I said you look like Gibbs. I’m sure you think I’ve held that against you. I’ve tried not to, but it’s been harder since he left. I’m sorry.” She looks at my face. “Try to forgive me, if you can. Please bring him home.”

  Soon she’ll be in Chicago with Khannan, supposedly having fun but all the while thinking about Dad. “When do you leave?” I ask.

  “Tomorrow afternoon as soon as Eddie finishes his last exam.” She turns away and hurries back to her car. I watch her drive away.

  I know if I stay with Dad, she’ll miss him more than me. If I don’t bring him back, will she want to see me again?

  19

  I head for one of the kiosks outside the Alaska Airlines check-in counter. Just as I type my last name, I hear, “Hey, Laney.” I suck in a breath and jerk my hand back. Jag stands smiling to my right, his hand grasping my suitcase handle. “You need some help?”

  I can’t believe he’s here. “Do you always sneak up on girls?” My heart pounds partly from fright, but mostly from seeing him again.

  His beautiful eyebrows lift, crushing his forehead into three wrinkles. His smile widens, revealing more teeth. “Your face is bright pink. I wasn’t trying to sneak. I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “It’s OK. What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you again before you deserted me for a month and a half. Or longer. All I’ll think about is what we could’ve done during the holidays.”

  An idea pecks at my brain. “Such as?” I’m going to be given a choice.

  “Get a coffee. See a movie. I could cook you dinner.”

  “Really? You cook?”

  He looks down and scratches his chin. “No, but we could watch the Food Channel and try to make something together.”

  I move closer. “And where would we do this?”

  “At my house. In fact, we could’ve done that tonight. My parents left this morning to drive to Dallas. We’d have the kitchen all to ourselves.”

  “And the rest of the house.” I search his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I guess there’s no way you can change your flight to tomorrow . . . or the day after?” He sucks in his bottom lip then lets it slide out, moist and full.

  The idea that pecked my brain now tingles my skin, and the hot air Mom mentioned has found at least one of my erogenous zones.

  “There’s always a way, Jag. I could tell my dad my plane was grounded for mechanical
reasons, but not tell Mom. Then book a seat for tomorrow.”

  His face lights up. “Yeah?”

  “Mom leaves for Chicago tomorrow afternoon, so I’d be alone in my house after that.”

  His eyes bulge. “Would you?”

  “No.” He deflates. “But another version of me will, and I’ll get to experience some of what she does with you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Every time we make a choice, we make a new universe. One version of you never met me last night. Imagine how sad he must be.”

  “As sad as I’m feeling now.”

  “Another version of us will be making out in your kitchen later. Maybe you’ll dream about it. I know I will.” I move closer and hug him. I can feel his hard abs against my chest and his bulging pecs against my face. I pull back and look at his face. “Are you an athlete?”

  “Wrestler for the school and MMA for a club.”

  I try not to think of seeing him in a singlet. Marissa persuaded me to watch a wrestling match at school last year, and all I saw were penises and testicles. She took photos while I covered my face and peaked through my fingers. “Maybe I’ll go to one of your matches when I come back.”

  “I’d like that.” He stares into my eyes. “I’d like to kiss you.”

  Hot air blows again. “It’s your choice.”

  He leans down and presses his soft lips against mine. Wow. I touch his cheek.

  “Great kiss,” I say. “Think I’ll find a way to get more of those.”

  “If you don’t come back soon, I’m going to fly up to see you.”

  “Like next week?”

  “Maybe.” He holds my hand then backs away, our fingertips sliding against each other. “Take care of yourself, Laney. And call me sometimes.”

  “Thanks for coming by.”

  He turns and walks toward the glass doors. After another minute of watching him, I turn back to the kiosk, get my boarding pass and baggage ticket, and check in.

  As I wait in the security line, I think about the Laney who would’ve changed her ticket, the same Laney who had sex with Eddie. No matter how often I make the “right” choice, I also make the other. And lately I’ve been experiencing both choices. I know I’ll skip to Jag’s kitchen or bedroom at some point, at least in my mind. I’d like that.