Toni was already sitting on the bleachers when I got there, cheering like one of those crazy parents who took things too seriously.
“You call that a strike?” she yelled.
I slid in next to her and gave her the side-eye.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I returned my eyes to the field and clapped when our player got a single. But I could feel Toni’s stare on the side of my head.
“You think it’s happening again,” she said.
“I think what’s happening again?”
“The crazy.”
“Oh. That.”
She crossed her arms and made a huffing sound. “Morgan. I know it’s fast. But I like him.”
“I’m not saying anything, Toni. You’re arguing with no one here.”
“But I know you’re thinking it. You’re judging me with your thoughts.”
“Then why don’t your thoughts fight my thoughts and we can just do this all telepathically?”
She pushed closer to me on the bleacher. “Why don’t you want to talk about it?”
“Because you already have your mind made up, and I don’t want to fight. I want to watch the game. It’s thrilling. Isn’t this thrilling?” I pointed to the field, where absolutely nothing was happening. We had a guy on first base, but the pitcher was taking about ninety seconds between each throw. He must’ve been some kind of obsessive compulsive, because he did this hat-adjust-spit-kick-at-the-mound combination over and over again until he felt comfortable enough to toss the next pitch.
“Watching a goat eat grass would be more exciting,” Toni said.
I gave her a look that said duh. “Then why are we here?”
“Because I want to cheer him on. It makes him feel good to know I’m here. And it makes me feel good that he’s glad I’m here. And it’s this big feel-good circle and what’s wrong with feeling good?”
I thought about Evan and how I felt when I was close to him. My heart raced, my throat dried up, my skin felt electric. And I was pushing the possibility of him—of us—away. Maybe I just wasn’t ready. I didn’t know. All I knew was that I wished I could be carefree like Toni and just throw my heart into it. Let myself feel what I desperately wanted to. Stop holding back.
“Nothing’s wrong with feeling good,” I admitted. I smiled and bumped her shoulder with mine. “Go for it. Do your boy-crazy thing.”
Her eyes were glassy. She looked both fearful and deliriously happy at the same time—if that was possible. “And if it crashes and burns?” she asked.
I let out a little sigh. “Then I’ll be here to pick up the pieces. With a giant bag of Sour Patch Kids to dull the pain.”
“I love you, Morgan.”
“I am the bestest best friend in all of best friend land.”
“Yes, you are.”
The bleachers erupted into cheers as one of our players hit a home run. I mock bowed as if they were cheering for me, and Toni nearly fell over laughing.
When the game quickly returned to boring, Toni kicked the backpack at my feet. “Why do you have that with you?”
“I had to stop at the library and copy Flynn’s notebook for Evan.”
She wagged her eyebrows. “Oh, really. Apparently you’ve been holding out on me. Deets. Now.”
I filled her in on the events of last night. Sharing the journal with Evan, dinner at Sal’s, and learning that Evan’s family had owned Stell.
Toni took in a sharp breath. “Wow. So . . . his family ruined our lives.”
“It’s not that simple. And it’s not his fault.”
“Still. It’s very Romeo and Juliet. You’re dating the enemy.”
I groaned. “One: we’re not dating. Two: he’s not the enemy. He was just a kid like us when Stell went down.”
“Why do you always have to undramatize everything?” she teased.
“Why do you always have to overdramatize everything?” I shot back.
She snorted. “So what’s your next step? Now that you and Romeo are working together.”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I pored over the journal myself and I can’t figure out anything. It just seems like a bunch of unconnected names and dates to me. I’m hoping Evan might see something I don’t.”
Toni tapped her chin for a moment. “You know who knows the most about the Stell thing?”
I shrugged. “Who?”
“Cooper.”
“How would he know?”
“He based all his college application essays on it. The company going down, the town quickly following. You know, for these essays you have to use whatever hits you’ve taken. Our family took one from Stell. So he figured why not turn around and use that sob story to his advantage? He did a ton of research so he’d have all the facts right before he wrote his essay.”
“Maybe I’ll talk to him.” I logged that into my mental to-do list.
“Wait until Monday. Diana’s home for the weekend. No one can pry him away from her.” Toni rolled her eyes as she said it.
“I know. He talked to me for thirty seconds at Sal’s and I thought she was going to spontaneously combust.”
We watched the rest of the game, cheering when appropriate and gabbing the remainder of the time. I still didn’t find baseball any more exciting by the end, but it was nice to just sit and chat with Toni. I missed her when we went a few days without quality time, and we’d both had so much going on lately.
River’s End edged out the other team by two runs, and Toni ran into Reece’s arms like he’d won the World Series.
“The team is heading to Sal’s for some celebratory eats,” Reece said. “You two in?”
Toni oozed enthusiasm. “I’m in!”
I appreciated the fact that Reece had included me, even though there was clearly only one person who mattered. “I’m out, guys. I have to drop those papers off to Evan before his baseball game starts.”
Reece brightened. “Hey, you should go watch his game!”
“Not today.” At Toni’s disappointed look, I smirked and added, “But maybe someday.”
Twenty minutes later, I was pulling into the front gates of the palace, or rather, Evan’s house. I sent him a text, and he came running down the driveway in full gear—Littlefield uniform, hat, and cleats. Either I hadn’t stopped to appreciate the snug fit of the sport’s uniforms at the game earlier today or Evan just filled his out better. My eyes traveled down from his upper arms to his muscular thighs, all stretching the seams of the tight material. Damn.
He came up to the driver’s-side window. “Yeah, I know. I look dorky,” he said, catching my stare.
“No, um, not at all. You look . . . fine. Um, I mean, okay,” I bumbled. I opened my book bag and nearly shoved my head inside of it to cover up the blush creeping across my cheeks. I pulled out the photocopied pages and handed them out the car window. “Here it is.”
“Thanks.” He rolled the pages up and shoved them into his back pocket. “I’m sorry I can’t look at it today. It’s just that I missed one practice this week already, and—”
“No worries,” I cut in, wondering if that practice he’d missed was because he’d been with me. “I have a lot of homework to catch up on anyway. Just call me when you get a chance to read through it.”
“I will.” He smiled.
“And good luck at your game.”
“Thanks.” He made no motion to walk away. As if he were waiting for me to give him a reason to stay.
I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. “You’re going to be late.”
That snapped him out of it. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll call you!” He waved and ran up the driveway. And I totally didn’t take my time leaving so I could watch him. Nope, not at all.
When I finally pulled away, my mind was dizzy with endorphins or whatever chemica
l makes your brain go loopy at the thought of a particular guy. I always tiptoed through life so carefully. Maybe I should just be reckless like Toni. Throw caution to the wind. What’s the worst that could happen? Yeah, I could get hurt. But I’d been hurt before, and I lived through it.
I didn’t notice the SUV behind me until I stopped at a light. It was so close, its front grille could have been in my trunk.
What the hell? I thought. How about giving me some breathing room?
The light turned green. I accelerated a little faster than I normally would, but the SUV kept right on top of me, only inches from my bumper. Close enough to hit me if I had to slam on the brakes. Aggravated, I pushed the pedal down farther, definitely speeding now, but at least it put a little distance between us.
I glanced in the side mirror and realized . . . it was a black SUV. The boxy kind—a very familiar shape.
My skin prickled, the hairs on my arms standing stiff as needles.
Just a coincidence, I told myself. A lot of people drive black SUVs. Just because I was noticing them now didn’t mean they were all the same car. Plus, in movies when people are being followed, the car is always careful about it, staying a good distance behind. If this person was following me, they weren’t even bothering to hide it. It was more like they wanted me to know. Like they wanted to scare me.
I let up on the gas and slowed back down to the speed limit. Paranoia wasn’t worth a hundred-dollar speeding ticket. The SUV caught up. I squinted in my rearview mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of a face. But the windows were tinted.
I went straight through the stop sign on North Street and took a left onto Blueberry Road. The SUV followed. Blueberry was a residential road that made a giant letter “C” leading right back to North Street a half mile down. I reached the end and made a right onto North. I’d made a useless circle, but the SUV still stayed close behind.
I approached the next intersection as the light turned red. It had two lanes. I took the right one. I glanced in the rearview again and the SUV was gone. But before I could let out a breath of relief, it pulled up slowly into the left lane beside me, stopping parallel to my car.
I hit the automatic door-lock button with my elbow. But no one got out. The window didn’t roll down. There was no clear threat.
I stared through my driver’s-side window and saw nothing. The SUV’s darkened glass was impenetrable, but I knew—knew—the person inside was staring back at me. I felt it in every cell of my body. Fear’s icy fingers tiptoed down my spine, and some basic instinct in my DNA made my breaths come faster, my heart pump wilder.
The light turned green. I paused. The SUV didn’t make a move, as if waiting for me. Home was straight, but there was no way I was leading this psychopath right to my front door. I jerked the wheel to the right and floored it, my tires screeching.
I made the turn, my back wheels fishtailing a bit, and saw the SUV following. It had taken a right turn from the left lane. There was no chance this person was lost. This was not my overactive imagination.
On Main Street now, I had to be careful. I couldn’t go too fast or spend too much time with my eyes on the mirror. This was the busy center of town. Cars pulled out of street spots quickly, and people jaywalked.
My mind raced, wondering what to do. I couldn’t go home, but I didn’t want to lead this person to Toni’s, either. If I kept driving, we’d eventually end up somewhere deserted, and who knew what would happen. I gripped the wheel so tightly, my knuckles started to ache.
Then, suddenly, the answer appeared, like a beacon in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and took a right into the small parking lot of the River’s End Police Department. There were no spots left except the handicapped one in front, but I took that. Let someone come out and ticket me. Please.
I turned and looked out my back window. The SUV had come to a complete stop in the road.
“Checkmate, jackass,” I said out loud.
The front door of the police station opened and a uniformed officer walked out. “Miss? You can’t park there.”
I rolled the window down. “Sorry, Officer. I wasn’t planning to stay. It’s just that someone was following me.”
The cop’s face hardened. “In a vehicle?”
“Yes, that black SUV.” I pointed toward the road, but of course by now the car was gone. “It went past,” I said, shaking my head.
“Because you were smart enough to pull in here,” the officer complimented me. “Was this a road-rage incident?”
“No, the car was just . . . following me.”
At that point, his expression changed. I knew he was wondering if I was just some paranoid girl.
“Did you get the plate?” he asked.
“There wasn’t one on the front and he was behind me. I couldn’t see the back.”
The officer exhaled loudly through his nose. “Well, you can stay here awhile until you feel safe enough to head on home. If you run into trouble again, come back.”
I wanted to ask the officer to stay with me, to stand sentinel beside my car. But he trudged back into the station. I knew he thought I was crazy. But I was sure something else was going on. I only wished I’d been paying attention from the start. Where had the SUV picked up my tail? From Evan’s house? And more important, why?
After ten minutes, I felt it was safe to pull out. I didn’t go straight to my house. I made crazy turns and circles to make sure the SUV hadn’t been waiting for me somewhere. When I was sure I was no longer being followed, I headed home and pulled into the driveway behind my parents’ cars.
My nerves were starting to return to normal, but I still clutched my stomach as I walked up the front path. In a snap decision, I knew I wouldn’t tell my parents about the SUV. They would probably freak out and make me stay home all the time. It would cause more trouble than it was worth. By nature, I liked to avoid any conversation that might lead to an argument. Life was easier that way.
I paused before opening the front door. I’d always thought my parents and I were close because we didn’t fight. But I was starting to see that just because we pretended everything was all right, that didn’t mean we were staying close. Maybe we were actually pushing each other away. Widening the chasm between us.
Maybe it was time for that to change.
I took a deep breath and threw open the door. Just in time to hear my mother scream.
CHAPTER 20
“Morgan!” Mom yelled. One hand was against her cheek and the other clutched a piece of paper to her chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” I said, closing the door quietly behind me.
“Why can’t you open the door like a normal person?” Mom complained. “You basically tried to blow it off its hinges.”
She stood in the living room, her back to the darkened television, facing Dad. What had they been doing? Not watching TV. And, strangely, Dad’s face was pale and withdrawn.
Although sudden noises always startled Mom, they never affected Dad. My whole life, any time I dropped something or inadvertently came around a corner too quickly, Mom would scream and jump as if she’d been given an electrical shock, but Dad never reacted. Except to laugh at Mom’s antics.
Right now, though, he looked frightened.
“Did I scare you, too?” I asked.
“Not at all.” He shrugged. But his eyes darted to Mom. To the paper she held against her chest.
“What’s that?”
Mom looked down, only now realizing that I could see whatever it was she had grasped in her hand. She slowly folded the paper in half. “Just a bill that we’re going to protest. The cable company made a mistake again.”
An unspoken look passed between them.
I held out my hand. “Can I see it?”
Dad turned toward me, surprised that I’d made a move.
Mom said sweetly, “Don’t waste your time,
honey. We’ve got it.”
I matched her sugarcoated tone. “But I might be able to help you figure out the problem.”
Mom gave me a tight smile. “We know what the problem is. We just have to make a phone call during office hours.” She waited for me to let it go and wander off, but I stood my ground, silently letting her know I wouldn’t be brushed off.
“There’s Chinese takeout in the kitchen,” she said with finality.
Something was going on. This was more than a little argument and frantic whispering in the night. They were keeping something big from me.
In the past, I would’ve walked away as told. Comfortable in the knowledge that my parents would handle whatever it was and I didn’t have to worry about it. I wasn’t a meddler and respected people’s privacy. Maybe that’s why Flynn’s mysterious nature never bothered me. But now . . . that didn’t seem good enough anymore. I didn’t want to be left in the dark—by a boyfriend or my parents.
I straightened my shoulders. “I want to know what’s going on.”
Mom rolled her eyes in faux annoyance. “Oh, Morgan. Everything that happens in the world doesn’t have to do with you.”
I simmered with frustration, but kept my voice level. “I’m not saying it does. I just think, if something’s going on with my family, it should involve me. Am I right?”
I looked at Dad. He averted his eyes, like if he didn’t look at me, he wouldn’t have to answer my questions.
“Looking away doesn’t wrap you in an invisibility cloak, Dad.” The bitterness in my voice shocked even me. Dad bristled. If he had been a porcupine, I would’ve been stabbed by a hundred needles.
“Morgan,” Mom said sharply. “Tantrums didn’t work on us when you were two and they won’t work now. Go to the kitchen and eat something for dinner or go to your room. Enough of this. I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
I could have pounded my feet against the hardwood floor and started screaming—a real tantrum—but it wasn’t worth expending the energy. I knew when I’d hit the Brick Wall of Mom.
Forget Me Page 13
