The Rules for Disappearing

by Ashley Elston

  “Meg, you’re gonna have to jump right in.”

  There is a steady stream of customers for almost an hour. I don’t know how Pearl would have pulled this off by herself. A few people come in from school. They nod but don’t speak to me other than placing their order. Eventually, things settle down enough that I can wander around the dining room picking up trash and refilling napkin dispensers. The door dings and I glance up.

  It’s him. Ethan. He’s concentrating on his phone, his baseball cap shielding part of his face, so he hasn’t spotted me yet. I spin and try not to run to the back room, hoping that maybe Pearl can take his order. Great, she’s on the phone.

  Standing a little taller, I walk to the register. I can do this.

  “May I help you?” I hope my voice didn’t come out as stiff as I think it did.

  His eyes leave the phone and fly to my face. His mouth opens a bit, but no words come out. We both stand there for several seconds before he glances back at his phone. He texts something, then shoves the phone into his pocket. “Large swamp pizza, extra jalapeños.”

  It amazes me how many people order this pizza. I thought it would look better than it sounds. Not even close.

  “To go?” Hope rings in my voice.

  He smirks. “Dine in.” He throws some money down on the counter.

  This may be my shortest employment yet. I toss his money into the drawer and yell his order back to Pearl.

  Ethan sits at a table that gives him a direct view of me behind the counter, and, as if on cue, my face flames red. I can’t even look at him without blushing. This sucks. I try to stay busy while his pizza cooks, but it’s very unnerving knowing he’s watching me. Pearl calls out when his order is ready.

  I drop his pizza on the table and then do the same with his change. He’s made me nervous, and I hate that. When I turn to go, he grabs my wrist, not rough but firm. I’m two seconds from bruising his other cheek when he yells, “Aunt Pearl? Mind if Meg takes a break and helps me with this pizza?”

  Aunt Pearl! You have got to be kidding me.

  Pearl pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Hey, Ethan. Should have known it was you. Sure, Meg, take a break. Keep my nephew in line,” she cackles, and disappears back into the kitchen. I stand there openmouthed.

  I shake my arm free. “I don’t need a break. I just got here.”

  “I’m sorry I embarrassed you earlier. Maybe we can start over.”

  My brain screams to get out of here, but I can’t. He still has a smudge of dirt on the side of his chin, and I have to resist the urge to brush it off. The bruise has turned a really deep purple, but it doesn’t diminish his striking features. “Meg, sit with me for ten minutes.” He sounds put out.

  I plop down in the chair before I can talk myself out of it. He’s smiling at me, dimple digging into the side of his cheek. I smile back before I can stop myself. I’m so pathetic. I can’t make it one day on The Plan.

  “Okay, so here I am. You’ve got ten minutes.”

  He puts a slice of pizza on a plate and slides it to me, then gets one for himself. “You’re gonna have to eat some of this.”

  Extreme hunger couldn’t make me take a bite of that pizza.

  He swallows down a huge piece. “Come on, just one bite,” he says, his Southern drawl dragging out his words.

  “You look even dirtier than you did this morning.” I try to make this sound really rude and offensive, but it comes out more like I’m curious. Which I guess I am.

  “Yeah. Working on a farm will do that to you.” Ethan rubs his hands down his coat sleeves, knocking dirt on the floor. A huge chunk falls on the table, and before I think twice about what I’m doing, I flick it at him, hitting him square in the forehead.

  His expression is perfect. Completely amused and surprised at the same time.

  “You’re gonna get it now,” he says as a wicked grin spreads across his face.

  I push away from the table, laughing, but I’m in a bind, with Ethan blocking any possible escape.

  I try to scoot one way, and he mirrors my move. Not sure what he has in mind once he catches me, so I hold up both hands and say, “Truce. We’re even now.”

  “Even?” His hands go out to his sides like he’s confused. “How do you figure we’re even?”

  “You made fun of my singing. That deserved a little bit of retaliation.”

  Ethan drops back down in his seat and pulls mine closer to the table with his foot. “For the record, I said you sounded good. Not my fault if you can’t take a compliment.”

  I move my seat a little farther from the table before sitting down, not trusting he won’t go for some sort of revenge.

  “What do you grow?” For some reason, this whole farm thing fascinates me. I’ve never known anyone who actually had a farm or grew things. Or looked so cute covered in dirt.

  “Mostly cotton, some corn and soybeans.”

  “So what do you do there, exactly?”

  Ethan lifts up his cap and slides it back and forth a few times before fitting it back on his head. “Well, this time of year we mostly fix equipment and get the fields ready. We have cows, too, so you gotta make sure they have plenty of food since it’s so cold out.”

  His face looks chapped from the wind, and the tips of his dark hair curl over the edge of his cap. And that voice, deep and smooth, those words rolling right out…

  “Why were you fighting with that other guy?”

  Ethan’s smile drops. “He’s an asshole.”

  I wait for him to explain, but apparently that’s all I’m going to get.

  “Did you get in trouble? It kinda surprised me that you didn’t get suspended.” I tear off a small chunk of crust and pop it into my mouth.

  “Technically, the fight happened off school grounds,” he says, putting “off school grounds” in air quotes. “Principal couldn’t touch us. That jackass wanted to keep going once we hit the parking lot. That’s why we got called in.”

  I’m starving, so I give in and pull the plate closer. There probably won’t be any leftovers at home, so this may be my only chance to eat. I pick every single thing off the pizza, and Ethan laughs at me as he shovels his fourth piece into his mouth. It’s a good thing Teeny and I don’t have appetites like that, or we would have starved months ago.

  “Now my turn for a question. What’s the story on Meg Jones?”

  Loaded question if there ever was one. “Not much. Just moved here from Arkansas. My dad got a job here. That’s pretty much it.”

  The guilt eats at me every time I lie. I’m going to need counseling at some point—maybe I should find a Liars Anonymous meeting. “Hi, I’m Meg from Louisiana. No, that’s not right. I’m Suzie from Texas. No, not that either…”

  “What part?”

  “Um, Lewisville.”

  Ethan’s face lights up. “No friggin’ way. Ever see the Fouke Monster?”

  What the…Fouke Monster? There was no mention of a monster in the neatly typed three paragraphs I was given. I shake my head. Surely No! is the right answer here.

  He watches me a second. I tuck a few short strands behind my ear and try not to panic.

  “So, how’d you end up working here? This is your first day, right?”

  “Came in and ordered a pizza. Asked for a job. The last waitress quit, so lucky for me.” Ethan’s mouth opens, I assume for another question, but I’m saved by the door chimes. I jump up from the table.

  A few new customers trickle in to pick up to-go orders. Once they leave, I want nothing more than to run back to that table. I force myself to stay at the counter. Ethan walks over when it’s clear I’m not coming back.

  Before he can say anything, I put my hand up. “Ethan, thanks for the pizza, but I need to get back to work. I don’t want to make Pearl mad or lose my job.” It had been too nice—a simple conversation with a cute boy. It wouldn’t take long for it to progress to something else. And then what? Ethan would look for me one day at school, and there would be no trace o
f me left. I lost myself for a few minutes, but it’s not too late to pull back.

  He slides his hat off and back on again and studies me. Leaning over the counter, he grabs a cardboard pizza box from underneath and yells, “Bye, Aunt Pearl! See ya later.”

  Pearl sticks her head out of the kitchen. “You going already? Well, bye, hon.” She nods toward me. “Meg, you can go on and go, too. You weren’t planning on working tonight. I can handle it from here. Be back at four tomorrow.”

  I grab my hoodie and go-bag from behind the counter and head out the door. It opens and closes behind me, but I don’t turn back—just keep walking. A moment later, a truck comes up beside me and the window rolls down.

  “Are you walking home?”

  I don’t answer.

  “It’s too cold to walk.”

  No shit. “I’m fine. It’s not far.” I pick up my pace. A loud noise from the bushes almost brings me to the ground. My heart’s in my throat until I see a little squirrel dart from the shrubbery. Dad’s paranoia is definitely rubbing off on me.

  “Meg, let me take you home.”

  God, I probably look like an idiot. The fumes from the exhaust fill the air around me. There are still two and a half blocks to go, and I’m freezing. The wind is whipping right through my hoodie, and my teeth are chattering. I jump in his truck and point up the road. “I live in one of the little cottages up there.”

  We pull in to the driveway and Ethan leans back in his seat. My playful attitude turned considerably frosty, and I’m sure he’s trying to figure out why. I jump out of the truck before he can say anything else, and don’t look back. I don’t hear the truck drive away until I shut the front door.

  RULES FOR DISAPPEARING

  BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:

  Only use public transportation. It’s the one true way to look completely uninteresting. That is, unless, you have a hideous wood-paneled station wagon. That’ll work, too.

  I wake up in a cold sweat. The room is dark, but I can make out Teeny’s sleeping form in the twin bed next to me. My T-shirt is wet and my hair is plastered to my face. I can’t catch my breath. It was a dream, I repeat in my head. It’s the same dream that has haunted me for months, where I’m stuck in a room and I’m scared to death. There are people in the room, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s been weeks since I’ve had this dream, but that doesn’t make it any better when it shows up.

  My legs get tangled in the sheets and I end up falling out of bed. I grab the journal from my bag and start to write, squinting in the dark.

  Flashing lights. I’m trapped. I’m scared. I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m drowning.

  I’m hoping this will help me make some sense out of the nightmares, but all I can pull out of them are the flashing lights and the feeling of being trapped, which isn’t surprising since that’s exactly what Witness Protection feels like. As soon as I wake up, the images evaporate.

  My throat’s on fire. I run to the kitchen for some water and drink a glassful in seconds. It isn’t until I fill the glass for the second time that a movement catches my attention.

  The glass slips and shatters on the floor. Mom is hunched over the kitchen table. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Her words are slurred.

  “Mom, what are you doing up?” I glance at the clock on the oven. “It’s two in the morning.” Tiptoeing around the shards of glass, I get the broom and dustpan from the small closet.

  “Can’t sleep. Miss my bed at home. Not the same here.”

  No kidding. “Mom, you need to get to bed.”

  “I have failed you girls. I can’t even remember the names they gave you.” She puts her head on the table and sobs.

  How many times have we sat in the dark like this? I want to feel sorry for her, but I’m tapped out. I run my hand through her messy hair, trying to untangle a few of the knots. If her face didn’t show the damage from all the alcohol, she would be beautiful. The darker hair looks so much better than the fake blond did.

  “It’s Meg and Mary. I’m Meg. Meg Jones. You are Emily Jones. Dad is Bill Jones. We’re in Louisiana.” Hearing all the basic facts of our new life seems to calm her down, just as it did for Teeny this morning. “C’mon, Mom.”

  Mom gets up from the table, and I put an arm around her waist. She’s leaning against me, and it’s a struggle to get her down the hall.

  She points a finger back toward the kitchen as we leave. “We don’t even have food here. I never would have had an empty refrigerator.”

  “I know, Mom. I’ll go to the store tomorrow. Keep walking, we’re almost there.”

  We stumble into her room. I’m sure Dad’s aware of what’s happening, but he doesn’t move or say a word. I should’ve turned the lights on and made him deal with this. Mom snores softly before I even get the covers over her.

  Mom made an appearance this morning, eyes red and puffy, but didn’t mention our earlier conversation. Dad put an envelope in my room with money for food before he left. I’m sure he didn’t trust Mom with it. Let me add find a way to get to the grocery store before work and do all the shopping to my to-do list. Then again, there’s always pizza.

  I step off the bus in front of school. It’s humiliating to show up your senior year on a bus. My old friends back home, especially Elle and Laura, would have a field day if they could see me now. As soon as the thought seeps into my brain, I push it back out. Just thinking about them makes my stomach hurt. How can I want to go back home more than anything, and at the same time never want to see my two best friends ever again?

  I can’t think about them right now.

  I join the sea of people wandering through the front doors, and head to my locker. I’m so nervous, and it’s totally Ethan’s fault. I took extra time with my hair this morning in the hopes that I won’t look like a boy by the end of the day. This goes totally against The Plan, I know. There’s no reason to look cute for a boy you’re desperately trying to ignore. His locker is close to mine, so I peek past the metal door to spy on him. He’s easy to spot, leaning against the wall near the bathrooms, talking to a small group of people. I grab my books and sneak into homeroom.

  My seat in the back is available, so I slide in. Before I can start my music, the guy in front of me turns around. It’s the jock that fought with Ethan. His eye is an array of disgusting colors and almost swollen shut.

  “I didn’t catch your name yesterday, new girl.”

  “Meg Jones.”

  “Well, hey, Meg. I’m Ben Dufrene.”

  I don’t answer, just crank the volume up.

  Ben takes the hint and doesn’t try to talk to me again.

  After sitting through my first two classes, I’ve decided it takes a lot of effort to be a loner. In the other schools I worked hard to fit in, but a few hours into my second day here and I’m physically exhausted from not making eye contact or initiating conversation.

  Third period begins, and my teacher turns the class into a study hall and runs out of the room in tears. Bits of gossip throughout the room suggest that she was having an affair with one of the coaches and he broke it off with her this morning. Classy.

  But it’s fine by me. One less class I have to worry about. The room is broken up into little groups, everyone enjoying this unexpected hour of freedom, but I sit all alone. Busy doesn’t look as pathetic, so I pull out the journal and put in my earbuds. About halfway through the hour, a girl drops down in the desk in front of mine. Her eyes peek to the page I’m writing on, so I close the book.

  I recognize her as the cheerleader that was front and center for Teeny’s meltdown yesterday. A group of her minions watch and giggle from across the room.

  From the expressions on their faces, this probably won’t be good. Elle used to do this same crap to Nicole Payne. That girl made Elle look stupid during a mock debate in speech, and Elle never let it go. I’d sit back and watch, just like this cheerleader’s friends are doing now, and I can still remember that feeling of nervousness
mixed with excitement when I saw Elle move in. I pop the earbuds out and try to prepare for what’s coming.

  “Okay, so my friends and I have a question.”

  I don’t take the bait. I’m going to make her work for this.

  “That girl who was with you yesterday, was that your sister? Is something wrong with her?” Her face crinkles into a fake sympathetic expression. “Is she special?”

  So not what I was expecting. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. This bitch is sitting here making fun of Teeny in front of all these people, when she has no idea what we’ve been through in the past eight months. But I refuse to give them what they want, which is some sort of scene.

  “Hello?” The cheerleader giggles and glances back toward the group behind her. “I guess it runs in the family.”

  She gets up from the seat in front of me, and I can’t resist—I stick my foot out just as she starts to walk away, and she goes flying across the floor. Her skirt comes up and her bare butt (except for the small strip her thong covers) is there for the world to see.

  The entire room bursts out laughing, and for a moment I sit there stunned. Then I grab my go-bag and sprint into the hall toward the bathroom. I may have just started WWIII.

  The bathroom door slams against the wall, and the noise echoes through the room. A girl jumps and grabs her purse protectively.

  “You scared the shit out of me!” She jams something into the wall. The girl’s sketchy, dressed in black from head to toe with hot-pink stripes in her hair. She shoves a bunch of crap into her bag and races from the bathroom.

  I walk to where she was standing and look at the brick wall. What did she do? I brush my hand against the bricks and feel around, but nothing. Leaning against the wall, I slide to the floor and pull my knees up to my chin.

  How could I have lost control like that? It must have been too many thoughts of home and my old life this morning. Elle and Laura were my best friends, but they had a habit of finding their amusement at others’ expense. Now I know how bad it sucks to be on the receiving end of that.