I flex my hand, pretty sure I’ve broken something. “Thanks.”
The adrenaline rush wears off before the ambulance even pulls into the hospital, leaving me feeling drained, heavy. Just walking in feels like forcing my way through quicksand, one slow, aching step at a time. They offer me a wheelchair, but I refuse, knowing that if I stop moving, even for a moment, I’ll sink into shock.
Oliver’s at the hospital with his parents when we get there. The EMTs had gotten to the house relatively quickly once we finally managed to convince the 911 operator that it was not, in fact, a prank and that we had just been attacked by the person responsible for crashing a seventy-million-dollar military jet. In hindsight, we should have just told them the house was on fire or something.
Still, I didn’t expect them to spring Ollie quite so soon, but I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my entire life. I want to rush over to him, but the corpsman ushers me straight into my room, refusing to let anyone in until I’ve seen the doctor.
Hours later, I’m sitting upright, tucked into a slim, hard bed while the doctor takes my vitals for the third time. I’m sore, a little shaky, and a little dizzy, but I keep trying to convince him that a double cheeseburger will fix that. He has the nurse bring me lime Jell-O instead.
Georgia is in and out of the hospital in record time. The perks of having a doctor for a father, and, you know, of not being mildly concussed or needing x-rays on a potentially broken hand.
Dr. Knight comes in to check on me after a bit. He’s a kind man with Georgia’s eyes and Ollie’s smile, and just having him in the room relaxes me. He tells me the Marshal’s office released Oliver with apologies as soon as they received word from the MPs about Reid.
He thanks me and asks me if I need anything.
Five minutes later, Oliver is at my door with a greasy fast food bag in hand.
God bless that boy.
Oliver holds my hand from the moment they let him in to see me, right up until they wheel my bed into a room with my dad, but even then, he won’t leave my side. He sits on my left and Dad sits on my right as I recount the entire story, glossing over Reid’s attack on me as much as possible, hoping I will never have to tell it again.
Dad and Oliver both tense at the end, squeezing my hands in turn—which really hurts my already badly bruised, but apparently not broken, knuckles.
I lay in bed for a while, sipping ice water out of a massive pink jug with a straw poking out of the lid. The nurses check on me often, waiting to see if I go into shock or something, I think. I’m determined not to give them the satisfaction.
“What were you thinking?” Oliver asks when my dad leaves to sign some paperwork.
“Don’t be angry,” I beg. “It’s been a really long day.” I rub my eyes, trying not to pull out my IV. Dad’s twenty-four hours are up, but I’m in for the night.
He stares at me wordlessly, awaiting an explanation.
I sigh. “Don’t look at me like that. I did what I had to. Reid would have gotten away with it all if I hadn’t.” I take another drink.
Oliver shakes his head. “You risked your life. I mean, he could have killed you, Farris.”
I rest my head back against the pillows. “Hey, you’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”
He smiles. “Would you like me to tell you something you might not know?”
I glance up at him, studying his face, hoping whatever he’s about to say isn’t bad news. I don’t think I can handle any more bad news today. “Sure.”
“Well,” he begins, leaning over me and brushing the hair back from my face. “There’s this girl. She’s kind of broken, and kind of messy, and I’m hopelessly tangled up in her.”
With that, he lowers himself, kissing me gently on the forehead. “And I’d yell at her for being reckless, but something tells me she’d do it again anyway.”
I smile, grazing a single finger along the line of his jaw. “Bet your ass I would.”
Most of the time, my dreams are just regular dreams. Sometimes, however, they’re the old nightmares, only with a new element. Reid’s face. Occasionally, it’s the kind, friendly face I still half expect to see at school, smiling at me during lunch or when I pass his old locker. More often, it’s the angry, twisted, bloody face of the person who viciously attacked me, the person who blew up an airplane and sent my dad and many others to the hospital. To be honest, I think the smiling face bothers me more.
Ironically, Reid gets exactly what he wanted. The judge gives his parents two options: one of them can retire and stay home with him on house arrest, or they can let him go to juvenile detention at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base. So Reid is spending his days on house arrest, hopefully getting the treatment he needs. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since that day, though Kayla has, and she tells me he’s better. Calmer. Happier. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at him again. I’m not sure I want to. Maybe that makes me a bad person. Maybe it just makes me human.
Oliver has taken over being my lab partner, and we quickly fall into a nice, normal routine. No one really knows the whole story of what happened, and I’m fine with that. I write a story about it for the school paper, glossing over the more private aspects. It’s a story about a young man, wounded by his parents’ choices, who was driven to desperate measures just to make them see him. The editor refuses to publish the piece, of course, but offers me a spot on the paper anyway. I turn her down, and honestly, I’m still not sure why.
Georgia and I enroll in kickboxing classes at the base gym. Sometimes, when I have the nightmares, I call her, and she talks about some random piece of gossip until I feel better. We never speak about what happened that day. We’re both getting over it, and that’s enough.
Oliver turns out to be the best boyfriend a girl could ask for, although we have to decide by paper, rock, scissors who gets to drive every time we go out. I win a lot.
The lunch table goes through an interesting convergence. After Oliver and Georgia start sitting with Derek, Kayla, and me, the rest of their friends slowly follow suit and now we’re a big, weird clique of our own. Cole even procures a vintage Save Ferris T-shirt and wears it often to annoy me. I secretly love it. Will wonders never cease?
Derek and Kayla are ever the perfect couple. Where she’s loud and outrageous, he’s calm and cool. Ice complementing her fire. For her birthday, I get them tickets to a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Armory in DC. A whole night with people who love black corsets and fishnets as much as they do. Of course, they drag me along and I have to admit, it’s the most fun I’ve had in a while, though I’m washing off glitter for the better part of a week..
Oh, and a strange thing happens. Someone sends an anonymous email to Child Services on base about Derek’s stepdad, who is soon forced to start anger management therapy. Now every week, Derek has to go talk to a shrink about how things are going and give a report. He never says anything to me about it, but he seems less afraid to go home now. Small miracles.
We are settling into a nice groove when Dad deploys in October. It’s hard for me to see him go, but I know from experience that six months isn’t really that long. Plus, he assures me that while the squad is flying combat missions, he’ll be firmly on the ground, well away from the heavy action. I suppose it was the best I can hope for, considering. Am I still scared of losing him? You bet. But I’m not paralyzed by the fear of it. I have lots of people I love and who love me, to help me shoulder the burden when things get too heavy, and that makes all the rest worthwhile.
There are so many people that helped me bring this book into the world, I’d like to take a minute to give them proper credit.
To Sidge 2.0, in particular, thanks for sending me in the right direction with the hacker stuff. I’m sure I still screwed up plenty, but at least I know what an IP address is now.
And of course, big thanks to my writers club, CJ, Lisa, Rodney, Aimee, Gabby. Thanks for being an inspiration always.
Thanks to m
y family, who spent spring break locked in the living room while I finished this book. You guys sacrifice a lot so I can do the stuff I love, and I want you to know that you are my heart.
Thanks to the team at Clean Teen Publishing, who, as always, are not only amazing humans, but are people I’m glad to call friends.
Thank you to the readers, bloggers, and fans who pick up books, love them, and give them homes inside your heart.
And a special thanks to those serving and who have served, and to their families, who sacrifice and risk themselves to keep us safe from those who would harm us. You are truly heroes.
Semper Fi.
Sherry D. Ficklin is a full time writer from Colorado where she lives with her husband, four kids, two dogs, and a fluctuating number of chickens and house guests. A former military brat, she loves to travel and meet new people. She can often be found browsing her local bookstore with a large white hot chocolate in one hand and a towering stack of books in the other. That is, unless she’s on deadline at which time she, like the Loch Ness monster, is only seen in blurry photographs.
Don't miss book 2 in the #Hacker's Series, In Too Deep. Available in ebook on 11/30/15 and print 2/8/16.
One talented hacker.
One dead body.
One explosive secret.
When one reckless night leads Farris Barnett to the dead body of a classmate, she’s as willing as everyone else to write it off as a suicide. That is, until cryptic messages start coming in from someone who knows the truth, and they want Ferris on the case. Putting her hacker skills to work, she begins to unravel the life of a victim who might just have been the guiltiest of them all.
Her personal life in turmoil, Farris turns to the only person she can trust to help her get to the bottom of things—a friend on the verge of becoming much more. Together, they confront a killer with a secret not even she could have decoded.
The biggest bombs, the ones that do the most damage, are the ones you never see coming.
***
First, let me introduce myself. I’m Farris Barnett, and I’m a HACKER. Yes, I’m talking to you, the one with the book in your hand, looking all mystified like, is she talking to me? Yes. I’m talking to you, you little nugget of sunshine. By the time you’ve read this, I’ve probably already hacked your phone and emails and I’m probably looking through those photos of you from last summer. Looking good, BTW.
But that’s not why I’m here. I’m a girl with 99 problems, and one of them is murder. It’s kind of a long story, and we’ll get to that part soon. But what I need to know is, are you ready for this? It’s going to be messy and complicated and possibly even dangerous. So if you have a heart condition or are easily shocked, best put this book down now. If you’re not sure, then scan the QR code below with your phone. It will give you the lowdown on what to expect inside. It’s cool. I’ll wait.
Still here? Great. Let’s get this show on the road.
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