And then I would remember none of that was real.
That last night at home, before my life was full of fake names and suits and fear, I discovered my friends weren’t the people I thought they were. Some things about that night are so clear, like the smell of Elle’s perfume floating into the hall outside her bedroom, followed by the conversation that cut me like a knife. But other parts of that night are hazy…and confusing. The party I crashed. How did I get there? The shots I did by the pool. God, it makes me nauseous thinking about it.
I push away the past and tug at the foggy edges of my nightmare, but it’s painful, just like everything else, so I let it go.
I stretch around the bed. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing that I’m off work or not. There are a lot of hours to fill between now and Monday morning, and I might just be going a little crazy.
After a nice long hot shower, I head to the kitchen and find most of my family awake. Teeny is asleep on the couch. Mom’s leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. She looks terrible.
“Are you okay?” I say.
Mom stands up straighter. “Yes. Of course.” She smooths her hair down and quickly rubs her hands across her face. “What do you have planned for today?”
I shrug. “Don’t know. Why?”
She shrugs back. Dad comes in, and he and Mom don’t make eye contact. I watch them do this silent dance around the kitchen without actually acknowledging each other.
Mom skulks away, and Dad motions for me to sit with him at the table. I plop down next to him, and we stare at each other for a few awkward moments.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, then sips his coffee.
“If it is why we got in this mess, then yes.”
He sets his mug down, and brown liquid sloshes over the side. “I heard you last night. You’re having nightmares again. It may help to talk about them.”
I jump up from the table. “No, I’m fine.” I can barely stand to write the dreams down in my journal, so there’s no way I’m talking about them with Dad.
“Come on, Teeny. Let’s go.” I pull her off the couch and out of the house. No way are we hanging around here all day.
With no real destination in mind, we walk at an easy pace. The weather is mild, definitely not as cold as earlier in the week, and it’s really nice to be outside. I’m so relieved that the being-followed feeling is missing this morning. A big group of people are hanging out by the river, but it doesn’t look like any sort of organized activity, just everyone taking advantage of the weather to get outdoors.
There’s a group of kids running around, chasing the ducks that are brave enough to come on land, while their parents scold them from blankets on the ground. Some middle-school-aged kids are playing soccer off to one side, and an older crowd is tossing around a Frisbee.
We walk along the cobblestone street and down the narrow road to the water. There are lots of people milling around, and it’s got kind of a street fair feel to it. I buy us both a hot chocolate and a meat pie from a street vendor, and we plop down on a grassy area to people watch. The meat pies are what this little town is known for, although this is the first time we’ve tried them. Steam rises from the flaky pastry when I unwrap the paper around mine. It’s delicious and, of course, the seasoning is on fire. There is never a lack of spices in the food people cook here, even in the cafeteria at school. You have two options—hot and really hot.
The group playing Frisbee seem to be doing it football style. It’s pretty rough, with lots of tackling and shoving. Ethan’s in the bunch and quickly moving our way.
So much for avoiding him.
He goes up for a high catch and falls to the ground hard, but the Frisbee is still in his hand. A few guys run to him, yelling and cheering—high fives all around.
I can tell the moment he spots us. He breaks away from the group and jogs to where we’re sitting.
He falls to the ground next to Teeny, who scoots as close to me as she can without actually getting in my lap. Ethan is sweating and his hair is sticking to his head. He’s got little pieces of grass stuck to his face. He looks adorable.
“Who’s this?” He nods toward Teeny.
“My sister, Mary,” I answer.
“So, what’s up?” He throws the Frisbee back to his friends and waves them off.
I shrug. “Not much. Just checking out what’s going on.”
“Cool. The weather’s great today. Y’all want to hang out with us? We’re headin’ to Gus’s in a little while. Best jambalaya in town.” That slow Southern drawl is intoxicating. I could sit and listen to him all day.
“What’s jambalaya?” Teeny asks.
I don’t know what it is either, but if we’re from Arkansas we probably should have some sort of clue. I nudge Teeny. “You know what that is.” And then I give her the look.
A girl with dark red hair sits down on the other side of Ethan. I recognize her from school as the only one who didn’t laugh when I freaked out the first day in homeroom when the intercom came on.
She looks at Ethan and says, “Hey. Everyone’s about ready.” Then turns to me. “I’m Catherine. We haven’t met yet.”
I nod and lift my hand in a small wave.
Ethan points at me and Teeny. “This is Meg and her sister Mary. They moved here from Arkansas.”
“Nice to meet you. Y’all want to come with us to Gus’s?”
I want to go with them. So bad. There’s a group waiting off to the side, and it looks like they’d take me in without hesitation, but I can’t do it. I’m still raw from the nightmare last night, and faces of all the friends I’ve left behind parade through my mind.
I glance at Teeny, and I can tell she would go if I wanted to.
“We can’t. We’ve got to get back home, but thanks for asking.”
Catherine smiles and says, “Maybe next time.” She hops up from the ground and sprints off toward the others.
Ethan is a little slower to leave. “Sure I can’t talk you into it?”
God, if he knew the restraint I was using. “No. We really can’t.”
I watch him head back to his friends.
“Why didn’t you want to go?” Teeny asks.
“I did, but it makes things complicated. And I’m tired of things being complicated.”
“Me too,” Teeny says, and leans into me.
It’s not long before Ethan and his friends are piling into Jeeps and trucks and heading away from the river. Ethan looks back once, but it’s just a quick glance. We’re left watching the small children and middle school kids.
RULES FOR DISAPPEARING
BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:
When the suits tell you not to use the Internet, you should really listen to them.
I hate being the “nobody” at school. Everything in me goes against it. I want to buy products and make this boy haircut cute. Hit the M.A.C. counter and load up on all the goodies I used to have at home. Wear Seven jeans and North Face jackets. I want my little white BMW with the leather seats and manual transmission, which all the guys were impressed I could drive as well as any of them. Every club poster in the hall makes me want to join. I want to be excited about the upcoming Mardi Gras Ball and stress over finding the perfect slinky dress.
Health class is the hardest hour to get through. Ethan’s here, and the way he watches me is alarming. I’m afraid he’s either one step from calling bullshit on my whole existence, or asking me out on a date. Neither good. I can feel the curiosity and interest coming off of him in waves. Ben’s here, too. The hostility between him and Ethan is solid. And then there’s Emma, giving me the stink eye every time she passes my desk. I know her type. If I could just keep my mouth shut when she starts crap with me, this would all die down. She’d get bored and move on to someone else. Problem is—I can’t seem to ignore her. So let the fun begin.
The class fills up just as the bell rings, and Ben and Emma walk in together. The teacher doesn’t ev
en look in their direction. Ben nods and says “Hey” as he walks by, while Emma rolls her eyes and mutters, “Loser.”
This is the weirdest class I’ve ever taken. In the week I’ve been here, we’ve only had class in the classroom once. We’ve been to the library, the gym twice, and outside on the front lawn.
Mr. Knighton steps away from his desk and holds a fishbowl filled with little pieces of crumpled-up paper. Behind him is a similar bowl.
“Okay, class. In this bowl are numbers. Each person will draw one. It’ll match with one other person in the class. That will be your partner for the rest of the year.” A few groans and whispers fill the room. “People, settle down. After the partners are matched up, one of you will pick from the bowl behind me. That will be your first project, and you’ll have three weeks to finish.”
Sheer. Freaking. Panic. Last thing I need is to be stuck talking to the same person every single day. One part of me hopes I get teamed up with Ethan, but the other prays I don’t.
Holy hell, I could get Emma! I’m dropping out of school if that happens.
Mr. Knighton starts in the front of the room; everyone excitedly starts pulling small pieces of paper out of the bowl. By the time the bowl reaches me, a few people have already hooked up. I pluck out my slip and open it to find the number eight.
Everyone else says their number aloud as soon as it’s out of the bowl. I hear my number and turn my head around quickly to see who it is. Ben holds his paper up with the number eight on it.
Oh, no.
He scans the room to see who his partner is, and I nod when his eyes stop on me. Emma looks pissed. My stomach sinks.
“Once you’re in pairs, please move the desks so you’re near your partner and turn them to face one another.”
Ben heads toward the desk behind me and slides in. I turn my desk backward. This is so awkward. I glance around the room and see Ethan and Emma rearranging their desks until they are facing each other. She is really pretty. Long dark hair and startling blue eyes. She and Ethan look amazing together.
“Well, Ethan and Emma, funny how things work out. Should make things easy,” Mr. Knighton says, and grabs the second bowl.
Ben grins at me from across the desks. “So, I guess it’s me and the new girl.”
I give him a small smile and look back to Ethan. He’s arguing with Emma. “What did Mr. Knighton mean about them, about it being easier to do their project?”
“That’s right, new girl, you don’t know. They’re twins.”
I want to bang my head against the desk. Great. She’s his sister. His twin, for God’s sake!
“Twins. You’ve got to be kidding?”
They look so amazing together because they look so much alike. Same dark hair, same blue eyes. How can Ethan have shared a womb with her?
“So you and Emma are together, but you fight with Ethan?” I ask Ben.
“Like her, can’t stand him.” His smile is huge.
Before I can ask any more questions, Mr. Knighton gets to us with the second fishbowl. Ben looks at me and gestures to the bowl. “You pick.”
I pull out a slip of paper that reads, A Study of the Relationship Between Physical Exercise and Learning Ability. I show it to Ben, and he shrugs his shoulders like who cares.
Mr. Knighton walks to the front of the room after he finishes passing the bowl around. “I will have your packet for your project up here when class is over. For now, I’m handing out questionnaires. Any good partnership requires understanding the person you’re working with. Ethan and Emma, this assignment does not apply to you, so I’ll ask you to come to the front and help me sort the packets.”
This could be a disaster.
Ben takes the form from Mr. Knighton, hands me a blank sheet of paper, and says, “Okay, let’s knock this out together. First question: Where were you born?”
“Lewisville, Arkansas.” If he asks me about that stupid Fouke Monster, at least I’m prepared.
“Okay, I was born here,” he says.
We both scribble our answers, and I start to relax. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Next question: What is your favorite food? Mine is a big fat juicy steak,” Ben says.
I have to think on this. If I answer my favorite, it’ll open a ton of questions because I’ve yet to find it anywhere we’ve lived so far. So I decide to play it safe. “Pizza.”
Ben laughs. “Yeah, pizza would be my second choice.” He scans the paper again. “Some of these questions are wack. If you could learn to do anything, what would it be?”
First thoughts: Read minds, become invisible, be invincible. Can’t say those, though.
“Um, I’d want to learn how to sail a boat. I love being on the water,” I answer instead.
“That’s cool. I guess for me, I’d love to learn how to throw the perfect spiral.”
My blank look must give away my confusion, because he says, “You know. Football.”
Of all things, that’s what he picks. Whatever.
“Next question,” I say.
“If you could be any superhero, who would it be? Where does Knighton come up with this shit?” Ben thinks for a second or two, and answers, “I’d like to be Tony Stark from Iron Man. Coolest of the superheroes because he’s just a regular dude with a kick-ass robot suit. And he’s super rich.”
Mr. Knighton was right. This questionnaire really helps you know who you will be working with. I wish more than anything that Ethan was filling one of these out and I could just get a little peek at it.
This question stumps me. I know very little about the superhero world, but I remember one that I wouldn’t mind being even if just for a day.
“Wonder Woman,” I say. With her lasso of truth, I could solve a lot of my problems in just a few hours.
We go through the remaining questions: What chore do you hate doing? Ben: mowing. Me: laundry. What is your favorite body part? Horrible question, if you ask me. Ben: chest (ugh!). Me: Can’t say eyes or hair because they look like crap now, so I pick brain. That’s the best part I’ve got working for me right now. And last question: What do you want to be when you grow up? Ben: NFL football player. Me: I want to say free. That’s really all I want, to be free, but I say nurse because that sounds normal and that’s what’s expected.
After class, Ben and I walk up to the desk to get our packet. Ethan starts to hand it to Ben, but Ben motions for it to go to me. “You may as well keep it. I’ll just lose it.”
Emma walks up to Ben and says, “I can’t believe you got stuck with her.” She says her with enough venom to make my cheeks turn pink. Ben shrugs, then ushers Emma out of the room. Ethan’s busy passing out the rest of the packets.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were related to her?”
He stops what he’s doing and raises his head. He’s guarded. “Well, maybe if you didn’t run off every time I tried to talk to you, I would have.”
He leaves the room, and I feel stuck. I need him to lose interest. Get pissed. Or whatever it takes for him to move on. But I don’t like it.
At all.
I stop in the bathroom before my next class. The second I walk through the door, that same girl with the pink-striped hair is there. She’s screwing around with the wall again. What the hell is she doing? I try to get closer, but she holds her hand up.
“Back off.” She runs from the room, and I stare at the brick wall. Something’s not right here, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. I bang on the wall a few times, not really expecting anything to happen, and of course—nothing does. And then I figure it out.
That girl is nuts.
I wait for the bus in front of school, praying it will arrive soon, when Ethan’s truck pulls up to the curb. The passenger window rolls down, and I step up to the side of the truck.
“Don’t tell me you ride the bus.”
Embarrassed, I nod.
A man is standing on the other side of the driveway, looking toward the truck. I can see him through Ethan’s side w
indow, but his features are hidden behind dark glasses and a baseball hat.
“Sorry for being an ass after class. I was pissed Ben could ask you all those questions and you had to answer them,” Ethan says.
“They were dumb questions.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been trying to get more than your first name out of you for a week now.”
“Well, I can tell you Ben would rather be Iron Man than any other superhero.”
Ethan rolls his eyes. “Ben’s a dumb-ass.”
I can’t quit looking at the man. He’s just standing there. What is he doing—waiting for someone? Something about him makes me nervous.
Ethan leans over and flings the door open. “Get in. The bus sucks.”
I hesitate for a moment. As much as I hate it, we were on the right track after health class. One ugly comment now and he’ll back away for good.
And that’s exactly what needs to happen, but for some reason I can’t explain, I’m scared for him to drive off and leave me with that guy.
“Does that man over there look weird to you?” I ask.
He turns and looks out his window and asks, “What man?”
He’s gone, just like that. I scan the school property, looking for where he went, but I’ve got nothing. He couldn’t have just disappeared like that.
I’m being paranoid, I know, but I’m close to losing it, so I jump in the truck before Ethan takes back his offer.
“You okay?”
I look for the man again through the back window as Ethan pulls away from the school, but I can’t find him. Was he really there to begin with? Am I completely losing my mind now? We turn the corner and the school is out of sight.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Where to?”
“Home.”
As we make our way toward my house, the only sound comes from the radio, which is turned down low. It must be stress. That’s why I’m seeing people who aren’t really there—stress.
“Are you working tonight?”
“Yeah.” I can’t make this easy. I overreacted about that stupid guy, and now I’ve done the opposite of what I should have with Ethan.
The Rules for Disappearing Page 6
