The Hollow Inside

by Brooke Lauren Davis

  “Where did you get that?” I whisper, like it’ll go off if I disturb it.

  “I took it from Jameson’s house. After the Bowmans picked you up that night.”

  The night we killed him.

  When I look back at Mom, her eyes are narrowed at me. But she doesn’t say a word more. She just slips a knife into my palm.

  I watch her drive Neil deep into the woods before I walk back to the Circle alone.

  Chapter 43

  “WHERE’S NEIL?”

  It took less than an hour for Jill to notice. She raises her hand to her teeth to bite her nails but remembers her fresh manicure and drops it.

  I’ve changed into a dark-purple dress with short sleeves. Not one of Melody’s this time, but something that Jill picked out just for me. And now I have to look her in the eye and say, “Maybe he’s still helping with the food.”

  We’re standing by the stage under Harriet’s Oak, and the Circle is swarming with even more people, a wall that’s impossible to see through. We ran out of candle boxes hours ago, and Annie’s Market sold out of lighters not long after.

  Melody breaks through the crowd and hurries toward us. The sun set a few minutes ago, and the dusk makes her pale skin take on the blue-gray glow of the moon. “Have you seen Neil?”

  I shake my head, fiddling with the feather pin in my hair.

  “He better get over here, or we’ll have to start the speech without him,” she says, glancing around.

  “He wouldn’t miss Dad’s speech,” Jill says.

  Melody grabs my hand and tugs me toward the crowd. “We’ll go look for him.”

  Volunteers are instructing people to line up on both sides of Bowman Avenue. Everyone takes the slips of paper from their boxes to write down whatever it is they want to be rid of. Jealousy. Fear. Anger. Uncertainty. Some show each other and laugh. Others guard their words carefully with cupped hands.

  Melody scans all the faces in the crowd, and I pretend to look too, until Jill comes to collect us. “It’s too late. We’ll have to start without him.” She’s forgotten all about her manicure at this point, gnawing at her jagged nails, her gaze fluttering nervously over the shifting sea of faces.

  I start to walk with them toward the stage, but I stop and clutch my stomach. “I don’t think I should go up there.”

  Melody slides her hand around the back of my neck, frowning. “You okay?”

  “I’m not feeling great. Maybe stage fright. I don’t want to ruin your dad’s big night by throwing up on TV.”

  Melody looks like she wants to argue. I know she’s nervous to go up without me. But she purses her lips and nods, squeezing the back of my neck before she turns away from me to follow her mother.

  -

  The moon crests over the treetops just as Ellis climbs the steps to the stage in front of Harriet’s Oak, the mountains cast in deep blue. The applause echoes, punctuated by whistles and shouts. Jasper Hollow is full to bursting with pride. Everyone looks so happy, with broad grins and flushed faces.

  A row of spotlights mounted in the grass is bright on Ellis. There’s nowhere to hide, and for once, he seems to feel it—he blinks a few times, holding up his hand to shield his eyes, until he remembers people are watching. Remembers to smile.

  Under the direction of volunteers, everyone settles into their places, lining up along the street with their candles in hand. But I stay focused on Ellis. He glances behind him at Jill and Melody. From where I’m standing, I can see him mouth, Neil?

  Jill shakes her head helplessly, lips pinched tight.

  By the time Ellis turns back to the crowd, his smile is back in place. He clears his throat before he lifts his microphone to his mouth. “Welcome.”

  I creep slowly around the base of Harriet’s Oak to the back of the stage, careful to keep out of the light.

  “We’re here today because we are human. And humans are, as we all know from a young age, imperfect creatures.”

  I press my hands to the warm bark at the back of the tree and peer around it. Waiting.

  “Knowing that we are imperfect is another part of being human. And striving to be better—well, that’s the most important part of us, isn’t it?”

  Even though it’s all been said before, and probably been said better, everyone watches Ellis in rapt silence.

  Candles start to glow to life in the crowd, flickering in their hands, casting their faces in yellow. Their eyes and cheeks look hollow, and I watch the street transform into an army of skulls.

  I can see Melody on the stage in front of me, just a few feet away. I want to reach out and take her hand. I want to pull her from all of this and run. Run until we’re in a place where no one has ever heard of Jasper Hollow and Ellis Bowman is nothing but a face on a dust jacket.

  But I don’t.

  Because I promised to help Mom, and no matter what she’s done, I won’t be another person who’s lied to her.

  Because even though I want Melody, I can’t let myself be with her when she doesn’t really know me.

  Because no matter how much I care about her and Jill and Neil, Ellis deserves this.

  Because everyone deserves the truth.

  “We’re here because we all have something we’d like to let go of. Something that we’ve been holding on to for so long, it’s affected the way we live, from the choices we make, to the people we let into our lives, to the way we love the people closest to us.”

  Everyone’s gaze is intent on Ellis, but I’m staring in the opposite direction. That’s why I’m the only one, at first, who sees someone slip through the line of people and stand right in the middle of the road. A person without a candle, just a dark smudge moving down an avenue of light.

  I creep closer to the stage.

  “I’m here to tell you that it’s okay to forgive yourself. It’s okay to let it all go. I know you’ve been holding that pain close”—he clutches his chest, voice rising, cheeks flushing, something taking over—“to punish yourself. But that won’t make it better. It won’t change what happened. All you can do is change right now. It’s time to start over.” He stalks from one end of the stage to the other, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s time to wipe the slate clean. You don’t need anyone’s permission, but I’m giving it to you now. Forget about what you’ve done and focus on what you’ll do. Forget whatever is causing you pain. Take the past and burn it.”

  Every muscle in his body strains with his desire to force the words into being true. His fist is high in the air, punctuating his words.

  But no matter how hard Ellis wants to forget the past, the past will never forget him.

  Suddenly, he’s stone-still. Staring.

  The dark shadow comes into focus. Tall, with wide shoulders and gold hair that dances like its own flame in the guttering candlelight.

  Neil.

  Jill and Melody rush toward him. I can’t see Ellis’s face from this angle, but his whole body goes slack with relief. “Son,” he breathes, reaching a hand toward him to beckon him up onstage.

  But then he realizes that something is wrong—Neil isn’t smiling. He always smiles when he sees his dad.

  He shuffles forward. His strides are short and awkward because of the rope knotted around his ankles. His wrists are bound behind his back. And he keeps glancing behind him.

  As his son moves closer, it becomes clear that there’s someone following him.

  And slowly, Ellis falls to his knees.

  “No,” he says. But he’s dropped his microphone, so Jill, Melody, and I are the only ones who hear.

  And Mom. She’s close enough to the stage now to reach around Neil and grab the microphone Ellis dropped.

  She presses it to her lips and says, “Everyone on the ground. Or I’ll start shooting.”

  There’s a moment of confusion, people glancing at each other, whispering. And then Mom turns to the side so they can all see Jameson’s gun pressed to the center of Neil’s back.

  Chaos breaks in the Circle, some
people taking off back toward their cars, some dropping to the ground and covering their heads, and others just freezing on the spot.

  Then a shot rings out, and everyone drops flat on their stomachs.

  Mom has the gun pointed straight in the air but settles it back between Neil’s shoulder blades. Her voice comes calmly over the speakers. “Just stay calm and listen closely, and everyone will be fine.”

  I climb quietly onto the stage, right behind Melody. Her body is tense, her eyes trained on my mother, and she doesn’t hear me sneak up on her. But just before I can grab her, a low branch of the oak tree tangles in my hair. And when I yank it free, my feather pin comes loose.

  It clatters to the stage. The sound makes Melody flinch. And then she turns to me.

  Our eyes meet. She frowns, brow furrowing. Confused.

  I’m frozen. For a few seconds, I forget what I’m supposed to be doing. Because her confusion is about to become understanding. Once I do what I’m about to do, she’ll know she was right about me from the beginning.

  There’s no going back now. I remember who I am and what I promised. And I hold my knife out.

  The original plan was to hold it to her throat, but I can’t bring myself to do it now. I just hold it between us and warn her, “Don’t move.”

  “Phoenix,” she says.

  It comes out hard. Cold. The way she spoke to me the first night we met.

  Everything that’s happened between us is suddenly wiped away. We’re strangers again. Enemies. The thought makes me sick to my stomach, but I hold the knife steady.

  The Bowmans are all staring at me. And I tell them, “Do what Nina says, or I’ll kill your daughter.”

  I won’t. But they don’t know that—they don’t know anything about me anymore.

  Mom guides Neil up the steps of the stage, moving slowly so he doesn’t trip over the rope around his legs.

  “Where is Pastor Holland?” she says into the microphone.

  After just a moment’s pause, one of the people on the ground pushes slowly to his feet with the help of his cane. Everyone watches as he approaches the stage, staring into the face of his daughter for the first time in fourteen years.

  Mom keeps her face blank as she watches his slow progress up the stairs. She doesn’t say a word to him. Instead, she turns back to Ellis and says, “You know why I’m here.”

  Her voice echoes from the speakers all down the street, soft and grainy, the way she used to talk to me years ago, at my father’s house. When she’d crawl into my bed at night and tell me stories about birds reborn in fire.

  Ellis is still on his knees, both his hands in the air, tears streaming down his handsome face, glittering under the harsh spotlights. “Nina—”

  “Louder,” Mom snaps, thrusting the microphone toward his face.

  He clears his throat and leans in. “Nina, I know we have a lot to talk about.”

  Nina. Nina Holland. The name ripples in whispers through the crowd. They recognize her. They remember her.

  “But you need to leave my family out of this,” Ellis says. “They’ve done nothing to you.”

  Mom laughs, low and dangerous. “If family means so much to you, why did you think it was okay to take away mine?”

  Ellis pauses, thinking before he answers. His eyes dart to Neil and then to the crowd before they settle on Mom again. “I know you lost your son,” he says. “And I understand that was very hard on you—”

  “I know what you’re doing,” she growls, jabbing the gun so hard into Neil’s back that he gasps, and Ellis flinches. “You want everyone to think that the grief drove me insane. To discredit me so everyone will take your side. But I have to tell you, that really isn’t necessary. Everyone always believes you over me. My own father picked you.”

  Pastor Holland takes a sharp breath in but doesn’t argue.

  “That’s why I went to all this trouble,” she goes on. “He needs to hear the truth from your mouth. Because it’s never meant anything coming from mine.”

  Whatever happens here, the whole world will know about it by morning. While most of the camera crew abandoned their equipment, I spot a woman hidden between Sugar House Bakery and the post office, crouched with a cell phone to her ear, probably talking to the police. And her camera’s still rolling.

  “Tell him what really happened,” Mom says. “Tell everyone what you did.”

  Ellis casts his eyes in every direction but hers, looking for some way out of this, when he remembers me.

  “Phoenix,” he says. “Please, talk some sense into her. I know—” He swallows. “Whatever she’s told you about me, it isn’t true. But if you don’t believe me, then think about my family. Please. They’ve been good to you, Phoenix. They have nothing to do with this.”

  All eyes are on me now. Even Mom slowly shifts her gaze in my direction.

  I keep my eyes firmly on Ellis’s when I say, “Everyone will be safe if you tell the truth. Just tell the truth.”

  He shakes his head, staring down at his fisted hands. “I—I don’t know—”

  Another shot rips through the Circle, greeted by more screams.

  The bullet went straight in the air, but then Mom jams the barrel hard under Neil’s chin. “Last chance, Ellis.”

  “No! No, don’t hurt him. Please, Nina, just—”

  “Now, Ellis,” she growls.

  “I did it, goddammit! Now let go of my son!”

  The Circle is completely silent. Like the only people here are the ones on the stage.

  At the very least, Jasper Hollow is listening. Even if they don’t believe it yet. But all that’s ever really mattered to Mom is making one person believe.

  Pastor Holland has been completely still and silent this whole time, lips parted, eyes wide on his daughter.

  “What did you do?” Mom’s whisper echoes through the speakers.

  I watch her face, expecting her to smile, or at least show some sign of satisfaction, now that she’s getting the thing she’s longed for all these years. But the set of her mouth is grim.

  “I took your son from you. Kidnapped him.” Just a few minutes ago, he was polished for the camera. Now, he runs his hands through his hair, making it fall wild and stick to the sweat and tears shining on his face.

  “Why?” Mom’s voice is so quiet now, it’s hard to make out, even with the microphone.

  “Because I didn’t want anyone to find out he was my son, too.”

  I watch Pastor Holland’s face to see what the words do to him. His eyes get even wider, but he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t move toward Mom or away from her.

  Then I look at Neil. He stares hard at his dad, jaw clenched.

  Ellis goes on, like now that he’s started, it’s a relief to throw open the floodgates and release everything he’s been working so hard to hold back.

  “I did it myself,” he said. “Snuck through the window while you were sleeping.”

  “The blood,” Mom hardly manages to choke out.

  “I cut his hand and dripped his blood on the windowsill. I thought it would make you think—I thought it would stop you from looking too hard, if you thought Bailey was dead.”

  Mom pauses for a long time before she asks her next question.

  “Is he dead now?”

  When Ellis looks back up, his eyes pass over Mom’s and lock on Neil’s.

  “Yes,” Ellis says.

  I already told Mom. But hearing it straight from him, she feels the pain of it all over again. The sound that rips from her, it’s like the words were a hot brand pressed to her skin.

  Her legs are trembling so badly, she looks like she’ll fall. “Why?”

  Ellis looks down at the stage for a moment, like he’s gathering himself. Or trying to get his story straight. The stage rings hollowly when Mom stamps her boot and says, “Tell me why.”

  “Because he found out that I was his father. He said he wanted to tell everyone the truth. I told him to meet me in Jasper Hollow, just to talk. But I j
ust—I lost it. I couldn’t risk letting him walk around with the information that could ruin me. I’m so, so sorry, Nina. I let this thing get out of hand, and I didn’t know how to stop it without hurting more people. Without hurting my family. I—”

  When Mom fires the gun, the microphone amplifies the sound with a high-pitched ring—a scream that mingles with a hundred others.

  Ellis collapses on his side, gasping, his whole body writhing against the pain. The bullet pierced a hole through his left arm. He clutches at it, blood seeping through his shaking fingers and making a dark puddle on the stage.

  This isn’t about revenge, Mom told me over and over. It’s about getting the truth.

  She has the truth now. But that didn’t stop her from shooting him. And it doesn’t stop her from aiming the gun again, this time straight between his eyes.

  Neil lunges toward them but trips over the rope tied around his legs and hits the stage hard. Jill screams, scrabbling toward her son on her hands and knees to cover his body with hers. And Melody—­

  Maybe she knows that I would never hurt her. Maybe she doesn’t. Either way, she ignores my knife and tries to step between the gun and her father.

  But I yank her back and step in front of Ellis myself.

  Mom’s finger tenses on the trigger at the same moment I come between them. Half a second later, and the bullet would have blown through my stomach.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice is an impatient growl. She doesn’t lower the gun.

  “You don’t have to do this,” is all I can think to say.

  It’s not that Ellis hasn’t earned the bullet.

  It’s Jill, all the times she defended me against Pastor Holland. It’s Neil, on the ground and fighting hard to unbind the ropes and get back to his feet to save his father. It’s stubborn, self-righteous Melody who just heard her dad confess to murder and was still ready to take a bullet for him.

  “Mom. You got what you wanted. He told the truth. It’s time to go.”

  But she keeps the gun pointed at me.

  “Move,” she says.

  “Mom,” I say again. Trying to remind her of who she is to me. Of what I need from her. I reach toward her, trying to tangle my fingers in the loose fabric of her black dress.