My gaze went to the man, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating.
“This is Morgan,” Jen said. “She’s new.” Then she turned to me. “Morgan, this is Mr. Hansen. He’s one of the vice-principals.”
“Hi, Morgan,” he said with a smile.
All the blood had drained from my face, and as I stared at the man who had wanted to kill me but who I’d killed instead, my body felt as if it had gone cold. The night that Hansen and Dimples had tasered me and dragged me out of my house, then taken me to Camp Willowmoss flashed through my mind, and I thought I might vomit.
“Morgan?” Jen said. “Are you okay?”
I tore my gaze from Hansen and focused on Jen, who I’d barely met and who didn’t terrify me. “Yeah,” I said through a throat that felt like it had shrunk to the size of a straw.
“I’ll see you later,” Hansen said, then walked off.
With round eyes, I watched him leave, and felt my heart pounding so hard I was certain the rhythm was visible beneath my shirt.
“Let me show you where your first class is,” Jen said, giving me a look that communicated her belief that the new girl was very, very weird.
Forcing my legs to move, I followed her down the hall and to a closed door.
“It’s in here.” She looked at me with uncertainty—probably to make sure I hadn’t stopped to stand on my head or something. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find the rest of your classes. If you have any trouble, just ask another student.”
“Okay.” With the cottony feeling in my mouth it was difficult to speak. “Thanks.”
“See ya.”
After she left, I stared at the closed classroom door, but decided I needed a drink of water before I could go in. Glancing down the hall the way we had come, I saw a drinking fountain and headed toward it. I pressed the button and gulped down several mouthfuls before straightening.
“Are you finding your way around okay?” a male voice said.
Startled, my head jerked to the side to look at the man standing beside me and I nearly peed my pants. Hansen stood just a few feet away.
“Morgan, right?” he said.
An image of his face turning white as bright red blood pooled beneath his head centered itself in my mind, and I found it difficult to focus on what he was saying. This man had been my biggest enemy in the other world. Even bigger than Holly. Yes, Holly had tortured me without regret, but it had never been personal. Hansen had hated me, and had threatened to kill me. And he would have killed me—was planning on killing me at the tunnel—except that I’d managed to kill him first.
Cocking his head, and with an expression of concern I’d never seen on his face before, he said, “Are you okay?”
Lightheadedness swept over me and I feared I would faint, but I didn’t want him to know—couldn’t let him know—of my weakness. I took a deep breath, then squatted like I was tying my shoe, hoping the blood would flow back into my skull. “Yeah,” I croaked out.
“Where’s Jen?” he asked. “Wasn’t she supposed to be showing you around?”
“Yeah,” I said, this time my voice a little stronger. “I had to get a drink of water.”
He laughed. “Okay. Well, get to class, Morgan.”
Feeling slightly better—at least like I wouldn’t pass out—I slowly stood and faced him. Now he knows who you are. Great.
Without responding, I turned and walked back to the classroom where Jen had said I had first period. Knowing Hansen was watching me, I turned the knob and opened the door. All eyes zeroed in on me, but I ignored them and walked toward the teacher with my office pass held out like a shield.
The teacher took it from me, then smiled. “Please have a seat, Morgan.”
There was an empty seat in the back, and I walked over to it as quickly as I could, careful not to trip on the backpacks that stuck out next to desks.
I can’t go to a school where Hansen is the vice-principal. Where he knows who I am. And now that I acted so strange, he’ll probably notice me even more. Stupid, Morgan.
I half-listened as the teacher taught her lesson, but all I could think about was how I could get back to Fox Run.
I needed to talk to Billy, and the moment class finished I hustled into the girl’s bathroom and shut myself into a stall. Taking my phone out of my backpack, I called Rochelle’s phone—Billy didn’t have a cell phone—but it went to voice mail. Double-checking the time, I realized they wouldn’t be out of class for another eight minutes, at which time I would have to be in my class.
I sent a text to Rochelle, asking her to have Billy call me during lunch, then I headed to my next class. By the time I found the right room class was about to begin, so I sat in the first empty seat I found that wasn’t in the front row.
“Hey,” the girl in the next seat over said.
I looked at her, half-expecting it to be Piper, or Alyx, or Lori, or one of the other girls I’d gotten to know in the other world. Mercifully, I’d never seen her before. “Hi.”
“Are you new?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I smiled at her. “I’m Morgan.”
“Oh yeah,” she said as her eyes lit with recognition. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re that girl who stood up to the woman who wants to change what we can eat.” Her smile grew. “I’m Hannah. Hannah Jacobs.”
Holding back a gasp, and feeling like my world had tilted further off of its axis, I forced a smile on my face. This was the girl I’d impersonated when I’d gone back to Camp Willowmoss to help Amy. I looked at her more closely. Shoulder-length brown hair, green eyes, thick lashes, and not at all overweight.
She looked at me with curiosity. “You were going to Fox Run, right? Why are you going to Brightwood now?”
The teacher began, saving me from having to answer her question. “I’ll tell you later,” I mouthed, feeling a kinship with this girl who I had pretended to be.
I wondered if I was destined to run in to all of the people I’d met in the other world. If I’d never crossed into the other world, would I have met the Billy of this world? Would he have become my boyfriend? The thought that I could possibly see this world’s version of Beth, Mrs. Reynolds, Lori, and many other people I’d met in the other world staggered me.
At least I’d have the advantage of knowing them already.
When class finished, Hannah said, “Hey, Morgan. Do you want to meet up at lunch?”
I planned to talk to Billy at lunch, but I didn’t know when he’d be calling me, and I knew I could use as many friends as I could find, so I agreed.
When lunchtime rolled around I kept my phone close by so that I wouldn’t miss Billy’s call. At the same time I kept an eye out for Hansen. The thought of seeing him wandering around in this world thoroughly freaked me out. But at least this world’s Hansen didn’t hold a grudge against me—not yet.
Loud conversation filled the cafeteria, making me afraid I wouldn’t hear my phone ring when Billy called, and I considered going into the hallway to wait.
“Over here, Morgan,” Hannah called out.
I looked in her direction and saw her motioning for me to come to her table. After a brief hesitation I decided to join her and her friends. Winding my way between the tables, I glanced at the other students, looking to see if any faces were familiar. None stood out, but something else caught my eye. Spaced around the room in even intervals, posters were affixed to the wall. All the posters were identical. It was Amy’s poster, the one with the new slogan.
The HLO has infiltrated Brightwood as well. Unease slid up my spine and I realized that it didn’t matter where I went, the tentacles of the government were everywhere. Sighing, I made my way to Hannah’s table and a moment later I swung my leg over the bench in the empty spot next to Hannah. I set my phone on the table where I could see it light up when it rang, then began unpacking my lunch, studiously ignoring the posters that were within my sight.
“I was just telling Sara that you’re the Morgan Campbell that we saw on TV telling that woman ho
w stupid her idea is,” Hannah said with a smile.
A light blush rose on my face at my notoriety, but then I realized I could use it to my advantage. People would be more likely to listen to my point of view if they thought I was some sort of minor celebrity. “Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “I didn’t know everyone would see that.”
“Well, a lot of kids think what the government is doing is idiotic,” Sara said.
Two other girls joined us—Katie and Olivia. Everyone seemed nice, much to my relief, and I began to feel comfortable as I picked up my sandwich and began eating.
“So,” Hannah said as she lifted a potato chip from a small bag. “Why are you going to Brightwood now?”
“Uh, well,” I said with a mix of embarrassment and pride, “the principal at my school didn’t like it when I got, like, twenty percent of the kids to refuse to be weighed.”
“That’s awesome,” one of the girls said with a laugh.
“Yeah,” I said. “Except that I had to leave my friends.” Billy’s face flashed into my mind, and I wondered if Rochelle had given him the message to call me. I checked my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed a call.
“I would hate that,” Hannah said. “Plus, it’s so unfair.”
Though true, it didn’t change my reality. “I know.”
“We should do that here,” Sara said.
“What?” one of the other girls asked.
“Get kids to refuse.”
“You know,” I said. “There’s an opt-out form that your parents can sign. Then you won’t have to be weighed.”
Sara grinned. “I kind of like the idea of being opted-in, and then refusing to cooperate.”
“Yeah,” Hannah said with a smile, and I remembered that the Hannah Jacobs in the other world had agreed to let me impersonate her. She had been part of the resistance.
My phone lit up as it rang, which caught my eye. Snatching it from the table top, I looked at Hannah. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Without waiting for her to acknowledge me, I threw my backpack over my shoulder, then swiped my phone to answer.
“Hello?” I said as I pressed my hand over my other ear, trying to drown out all the background noise.
“Morgan?” Billy said.
“Just a sec. I need to go somewhere where I can hear better.” I hurried away from the cafeteria and down a hallway where it was relatively quiet. “Okay.”
“Rochelle said you needed to talk to me. What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“You’ll never guess who’s at this school.” Hansen’s face filled my mind and I shuddered.
“Who?”
“Hansen,” I whispered, then glanced around to make sure no one—especially Hansen—was near.
“What?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He’s the vice-principal here.”
Billy was quiet as he digested this. “Okay, I guess I shouldn’t be too shocked. Not after Tasco and Holly.”
“It really freaked me out,” I said.
“I’ll bet. Are you okay now though?”
“As long as I don’t have to see him, I’ll be okay.” It had been a couple of hours since I’d faced him, so I wasn’t feeling quite as desperate to get back to Fox Run. “I made a new friend.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Hannah Jacobs.”
“You say that like it should mean something to me.”
His confusion surprised me, until I remembered that he wasn’t at Jack and Dani’s when my fake identity had been given to me, and he hadn’t been at Camp Willowmoss when I’d pretended to be Hannah. “She’s the girl I impersonated when I went back in to Camp Willowmoss.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I told him how Hannah and her friends wanted to defy the weigh-in rules.
“That’s great. The more kids that bring attention to it, the better.”
I heard some noise in the background. “Billy?”
“Morgan? I’ve gotta go.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when I get home.” After talking to Billy, I felt better, and as I made my way back to the cafeteria I decided I would make the best of the situation I was in. With my budding friendship with Hannah and her friends, I felt confident that the move to this school would be a good thing.
Chapter 45
Billy
School is a lot less fun without Morgan. It had only been one day with her gone, but I already missed having her with me at lunch, and in health class, and going home with me after school. I let myself into Tasco’s house, then after dropping my backpack at the base of the stairs, I went into the kitchen to find something to eat. As I rummaged through Tasco’s cupboards I felt kind of astonished at how quickly I’d gotten used to the habits of this world—grabbing a snack after school, eating whatever I wanted at dinner, and not worrying about gaining a few pounds. It was liberating.
A soft knock on the front door interrupted my reverie. I closed the cupboard and went into the entry, then pulled open the front door.
A small woman stood on the porch, and when she looked at me, she gasped and pressed her hand against her mouth.
Almost at the same time, I recoiled in shock and felt the blood drain from my face.
“Billy?” she whispered as her hand slipped from her mouth.
She looked just like my mother, but I’d never seen such love shining from my mother’s eyes, so she seemed like a stranger.
“Is it really you?” she asked. She stretched out her right hand as if to touch me, but I moved back until I was just beyond her reach. Evidently noticing my reaction, she drew her hand to her chest and cradled it with her left hand. “Don’t you know who I am?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Of course I knew who she was. But how did she find me? Then I realized that Morgan had been right when she’d seen a white Toyota Corolla at school, and then two days later had seen it drive past Tasco’s house. She must have seen the video on the news, and when the news report said Morgan went to Fox Run, this woman must have staked out my school, then followed me home. “Yes,” I murmured, but my voice was barely audible and I realized my throat was clogged with rare emotion.
I pictured the scene Morgan and I had witnessed at the cemetery two months earlier. This woman—my mother—had been inconsolable when she’d knelt at Billy Foster’s gravesite. The man at her side—my father—had seemed nearly as upset. And now here she stood, looking me in the eye, knowing who I was. But, I was sure, not knowing how I could be standing in front of her, alive and breathing.
“But how . . ?” she asked, confirming my belief that she was baffled by my existence. She took another step toward me, and this time I held still. Tentatively at first, she moved closer to me, her gaze riveted to mine. Then she burst into sobs and flung herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her cheek against my shoulder.
Unused to such emotion from anyone, but especially from my mother, I stood completely still, uncertain what to do. After a moment some early childhood memory must have stirred—one where my mother loved me—because it felt like a layer of protection that had been around my heart fell away, and I found myself sliding my arms around this woman’s shoulders and holding her against me.
To my surprise, this brought on deeper sobs, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I just stayed where I was.
“Oh, Billy. I can’t believe it’s you,” she cried. After several minutes her tears seemed to slow, so I released her and she took a step back. Rimmed with red, her eyes bore into mine and it felt like she was looking into my very soul.
Watching her watching me, I knew I had to tell her the truth. As much as it would hurt, she had to know. “I’m not your son,” I said as gently as I could. “He died.”
She stared at me a moment, then her head moved up and down in a slow nod, like she understood my words, but didn’t quite understand their meaning. “I know that. I know.”
“Your son and I are very much alike,” I added. “But we’re two different people.”
/> Her eyes searched mine, like the answer could be found just by looking. “I don’t understand.” Her lips pressed together. “You’re him.”
I knew the reason for my existence, how it was possible, how it had happened, but I tried to imagine the confusion anyone else would have, the confusion she was having. There was no way to make her understand except to tell her the truth, and I wasn’t about to do that.
“I know I buried my son,” she said as she stared at the ground, evidently talking to herself. “And I know he doesn’t have a twin. I was there when he was born. I gave birth to him. There was just him.” Her gaze swung to me. “So how is this possible? How is it that you look just like my son? That you have the same name?”
Anger filled her face. “Is this some sort of trick? Are you doing this on purpose?” Then her face crumpled and fresh tears streamed out of her eyes and down her cheeks. “Why would you do something like that to me? Why? What kind of monster are you?”
She took a step back, then looked me up and down as the tears continued to fall. “I can’t stand this. I can’t do this anymore.” Then she spun around and raced away from the house and toward her car.
I watched her go, my mind numb, my body paralyzed. I had no idea what to do. I stayed in the doorway as she drove away, and when all traces of her were gone—except the dampness on my shirt from her tears—I closed the door and turned around.
Staring at the living room, I saw her face in my mind’s eye. The Billy of this world is a lucky boy. Except for the fact that he no longer exists.
What I wouldn’t have given to have parents like that in my life. Parents who truly loved me. Parents who wouldn’t turn me over to some government authority in the hopes of receiving a reward for my capture.
I needed to talk to someone who would understand. Only one person came to mind. Morgan. I ran up to my room to put on a dry shirt, threw on my hoodie, then went out the front door and began jogging to Morgan’s house.
By the time I reached her house I figured she had gotten home from her first day at Brightwood High School. Eager to tell her about what had just happened, and desperately needing her advice, I ran up to the front door and knocked. A moment later she opened it.
After (Parallel Series, Book 4) Page 19
