I want to tell him something real, not something written on the sheet I’ve got in the safe house.
“I have a small tattoo on my left shoulder. It’s tiny.”
Ethan wiggles his eyebrows. “Well, you know I have to see it now.”
I roll over on my side and he pulls my shirt down to expose my shoulder, uncovering a small, single daisy on a stem. This makes the list as one of those things the suits don’t want me to share with anyone else, because it’s an “identifying marker.”
Well, screw them.
“Why did you pick that flower? Does it mean something?”
“The daisy? Not really. Back home, a bunch of my friends and I decided to get tattoos. I was really kinda hoping everyone would chicken out, but they didn’t. There was a huge board with thousands of designs to pick from. It was almost more than I could take in. But my eye kept coming back to this little daisy. It was so small and cute and was surrounded by all of these other really weird things. I don’t know, I just liked it.”
Ethan leans down and kisses the daisy. Then moves up from my shoulder and kisses the curve of my neck. Then moves a little higher to the underside of my jaw.
Every time his lips touch my skin, chills rise through me. We haven’t kissed, really kissed, since that night in the woods on the ATV. The anticipation is killing me. By the time we’re face to face, I don’t know who moves in first, but we’re fused together, his hands in my hair, my hands curled around his back, and it feels good. Really good.
With him, like this, I hate all the secrets. I pull away, and we stare at each other. I am going to tell him. Everything.
I open my mouth, ready to spill it all, when the door to his room flies open. We’re both startled, and I would have fallen off the couch if Ethan hadn’t had his arm around my waist. Archenemy is standing in the doorway.
“I was hoping like hell it wasn’t her when Mom said you had a girl up here. I mean, my God. She’s friggin’ everywhere I go now.” Emma has both hands on her hips, fuming.
Ethan jumps up from the couch and walks slowly to the door. Emma starts backing up, tripping over clothes on the floor. When he gets to the door, he doesn’t say a word—just slams it shut in her face. He stares at the door for a moment before turning back to me.
“I’m sorry my sister is such a pain in the ass.”
“It’s fine. I’m an easy target.” I stand up, grabbing my go-bag. “If you think she’s left already, could you go ahead and take me home?”
Ethan puts his arms around me. “I’m really sorry.”
“I know—we can’t help how our family acts.” How well I do know this. “She’s not the only reason I need to go, but it’s late and I have to start all over tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”
The truth is I’m glad Emma busted into the room. I was seconds from telling Ethan everything, and that would have been the stupidest thing I could have done.
He grabs my go-bag and we head out of his room.
RULES FOR DISAPPEARING
BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:
Be paranoid. The best way for the bad guys not to get you is to think the bad guys are always just about to get you.
I feel better this morning than I have in months. I take extra care with my hair and makeup and wear the cute jacket I bought on Front Street. I loathe putting in the contacts. I’m really resenting the things that aren’t the real me.
Mom is up surprisingly bright and early. She’s making eggs and bacon when I walk into the kitchen.
I eye her warily, not trusting the change in her this morning. I have no faith in this bout of sobriety.
“Good morning. Can I get you some breakfast?” She’s making me nervous with the Martha Stewart act. At least she hasn’t shown any indication that she remembers spilling the beans.
“No, I’ll grab a granola bar.”
Teeny laps up her attention this morning. Part of me wishes Mom wouldn’t have these moments. It makes it so much worse when she does fall off the wagon again. Mom and Teeny chat awhile at the table as I watch from the counter. All Teeny can talk about is Pearl and the pizza parlor.
Mom looks toward me. “I’m here when Teeny gets home. She doesn’t have to go to work with you every day.”
She’s jealous, listening to Teeny go on and on about Pearl.
Before Teeny can speak, I answer, “No, she likes coming up there. We have a good routine going.” I gesture toward the door. “Let’s go, Teeny. Ethan’s probably waiting outside for us.”
Mom stands up from the table. “Who’s Ethan?”
This time Teeny beats me to the answer. “It’s her boyfriend.” She says this in a singsong voice, hoping to embarrass me with the word “boyfriend.”
“Really, you have a boyfriend?” Pure sadness is etched all over Mom’s face.
“Yeah, I guess you could call him that.”
I grab my go-bag and Teeny’s backpack as we leave. Ethan is waiting in the parking lot, and Teeny runs to the truck. I must look like a fool, but I can’t help the huge smile plastered across my face.
“Hey, Ethan!” Teeny squeals when she hops inside. “I told my mom that you’re Meg’s boyfriend.” She dissolves into laughter in the backseat.
Ethan tickles her. “You did, huh? But I thought you were my girlfriend.”
Teeny laughs even harder. I love to see her like this.
I have butterflies when we pull into the parking lot. Things feel different today. Good, but different. We walk with our hands locked together. A few casual glances, but nothing I’m not used to.
I part with Ethan and walk into homeroom. Ben plops down in a seat near me, smirking. “Emma said she caught y’all together last night.”
My cheeks burn. “I’m sure she made it sound a lot worse than it really was.”
He laughs. “Look, Meg, We’ve got to work on that stupid project tonight. Coach moved practice, and this is the only free time I’ve got.”
“Okay. Let me see what I can work out with Pearl.”
Ben scratches his number on a piece of paper, then hands it to me. “Call me when you know what time will be good.” This Ben is so much better—I should have told him off weeks ago.
I meet up with Ethan in the hall, headed to first period. “Ben and I have to work on the project tonight. He has practice tomorrow. I guess I’ll get him to come to Pearl’s. Do you think she’ll care if we work on it there?”
“Why don’t you talk to Pearl, see if you can get off early? Then y’all can come work at our house. Emma and I haven’t done ours either.”
I’m relieved. I can’t say I was really looking forward to hanging out with Ben alone. “That sounds great.”
Ethan pecks me on the cheek. “See ya after class.”
Pearl’s is packed. Ethan arrives just before the rush and offers to help out before we need to leave for his house.
Teeny’s busy in the back. She’s gotten so good at making pizzas that customers are requesting the girl who makes pictures with the toppings.
I ask Pearl if I can talk to her in private.
She shuts the door once we’re inside her office and asks, “Whatcha need, girl? Got pizzas in the oven.”
“I have two favors to ask. I would like Friday off, and I was hoping I could get my paycheck early. My friend Catherine and I want to go shopping in Shreveport to look for dresses for the school dance.”
“Girl, you coulda asked me that in the kitchen. That’s fine. I’ll have your check ready tomorrow.”
I look at the ground. “I didn’t want to mention it in front of Ethan because he hasn’t officially asked me to go with him yet.”
“You kids are crazy.” She chuckles, then asks, “Is that it?”
“Oh, can I get off a little early tonight to work on a school project?” This third request may be pushing it.
“I reckon,” she answers and heads back to the kitchen.
I leave the office without making eye contact with Ethan. Even though it’s all a c
harade going to Shreveport, I feel guilty for lying about the dance.
I stop dead when I see Agent Thomas at the counter. I glance back at Teeny, but she’s oblivious to his presence. Thank God! I couldn’t handle another meltdown from her tonight.
Forcing my feet to travel the remaining distance to the counter, I ask, “Can I help you?”
“One large pizza with everything. To go.” He hands me the money, and I ring up his order.
“I wanted to check on you. Make sure you were feeling better after you missed so many days of school.”
I glance behind me one more time to make sure Teeny hasn’t noticed him yet. “What’s there to feel better about? My life sucks. It will always suck as long as I have to live like this.” I lean toward him, not wanting anyone else to catch our conversation. “I will tell you this: I’m not gonna hide forever. And if that gets me killed, so be it. At least I won’t have to spend the rest of my life being scared of what might happen.”
I’m not sure what possessed me to tell him all of that, but I feel better actually saying it out loud to another human being.
And surprisingly, Agent Thomas lets out a soft chuckle. “All that nerve and courage. Both are good in small doses. I hope you don’t do anything impulsive.” He puts his change in his wallet. “You remind me of someone I know.”
I check around me before I speak. “Who? Some other pathetic girl stuck in a fake life?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t answer. It feels like it takes forever, but finally his pizza is ready. I breathe easier once he’s out the door.
Six o’clock comes around, and I hesitate at leaving Pearl all alone.
“Get on out of here, girl. I handled all of this before you, and I can handle it when you’re gone,” she says.
Pearl likes to come off like a grump, but it’s all a bluff. I may as well add her to the list of those I will be devastated to lose if this plan doesn’t work.
Since Dad doesn’t get off until seven, Ethan and I have to run Teeny home. I’m nervous about what I’ll find, and hope I don’t have to cancel working on the project. It’s all gonna depend on the shape Mom’s in. When we get inside, I talk to her for a few minutes and she seems pretty sober. I leave Ethan’s cell number for Teeny and race back to the truck. It’s really cold tonight, colder than it’s been the last several days.
“You okay?” Ethan asks.
“Yeah, yeah, fine. Let’s go.”
He hands me a small black pouch. “There’s the tracker. It’s fully charged and set for ‘on demand,’ which will give you the longest battery life. There’s a sheet in there that tells you how to use it.”
I put it in the go-bag. I’ll mail him a letter on Saturday that says something like, If I’m not home by Monday afternoon, give the tracker information to my parents. I’ll come clean with him one way or another.
Emma and Ben are already hanging out in the family room of the main house when we get there. Emma is sitting practically on top of Ben on the couch, and she rolls her eyes when she sees me. “God, I thought y’all would never get here. Let’s get this over with already.”
Ben removes himself from her so we can work at the bistro table in the back of the room. I put the packet on the table. Ethan and Emma take the couch and coffee table.
“So, where are we?” Ben asks, once he’s seated on a stool.
I open the packet and read the top of the project sheet. “It looks like we were supposed to do this over an eight-day period, so we’re gonna have to fib some of this.”
“No problem here.”
We figure out how to sum up an eight-day project in one hour. I agree mainly because I really don’t care. I turn to Ethan and Emma, who are going through their packet. “What’d you get?”
Ethan says, “We were supposed to keep track of what we ate for the last week and measure it against the food pyramid to see if we eat healthy.”
“Yours sounds easier to re-create than ours.”
We finish our project around the same time they finish theirs. I’m putting everything back in the envelope when Ethan comes up to the table. “Can you stay awhile?”
“Yeah, that should be fine.” I may need to make one more call to Teeny, though.
“Good. My mom’s got every movie ever made. Let’s pick one out and head to my room.”
We walk to the built-in cabinets under the flat-screen, and he opens a drawer that has hundreds of movies in slots. Going down the titles one by one, we look for a movie we both want to watch.
About halfway through the search, I hear Emma behind me. “What the hell is all this? You carry around five pairs of underwear in your bag? Are you afraid you’re gonna crap all over yourself or something? There’s even little-girl panties in here. Look, here’s some little kids’ books. This is what you haul around every day? Are you into kids or something, freak?”
Before I can even think about what I’m doing, I launch myself across the room and push Emma off the couch, away from my bag. “Get out of my stuff!” I start piling everything back inside. I’m mortified.
Ethan bends down to try and help me pick up my things, but I push him away. He starts yelling at Emma, and Ben starts yelling at him. I don’t even hear the words; I just finish getting everything back in my bag. I’m up and racing out the front door, not stopping even when Ethan calls my name. I’m halfway down the block when his truck brakes next to me. He hops out and physically restrains me from going any farther.
“Meg, I’m sorry. Emma is such a bitch. I know those are Mary’s things. Who cares what’s in your bag?” He pulls me into his arms. I don’t return the gesture.
I’m so embarrassed, I don’t want to be around him right now. But it’s too cold to walk all the way home.
“Please take me home,” I mumble into his chest, my warm breath puffing out in front of me. I can’t even look at him. He stands frozen in place, and I repeat, “Please, just take me home.”
He lets me go, and I get in the truck. Ethan slams his hand down on the hood before getting back inside.
“Can we talk about this?”
“No.”
The ride to my house is a quiet one. Once we’re in the parking lot, Ethan pulls me to him. I bury my head in his shoulder and cringe as I recall Emma’s expression when she was going through my bag. It would look ridiculous to someone else, my carrying around all that stuff. But these are my only possessions in the entire world right now, and she pawed through all of them, making fun of my things. Teeny’s things.
We stay this way for a few minutes until I pull away. Ethan reaches for the door handle. “I’ll walk you up.”
I glance at my house and see a dark figure lying on the front steps. My breath sucks in.
It’s my mother.
RULES FOR DISAPPEARING
BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:
Don’t be afraid to get down and dirty.
BEFORE I can get my paralyzed body to react, Mom moves. Slightly.
I grab Ethan’s arm. “No! Don’t get out of the truck.”
He looks out the front windshield and sees her, too. “Let me help you.”
I don’t want him to know my mother like this. If he could have known her before Witness Protection, he wouldn’t recognize the woman on the ground. “No. Please don’t stay when I get out of the truck. Promise you’ll drive away the second I close the door.” My voice is strained.
He squeezes my hand. “Are you sure?”
“Please,” I beg.
Flinging the door open, I jump out of the truck before I change my mind. My mind races with thoughts of my mother. The temperature is so cold tonight, and there’s no telling how long she’s been out here. I hear the truck back out of the spot, but I don’t turn around to watch him go. I race toward the steps.
Mom looks blue when I get to her on the steps. She’s only wearing pajama bottoms and a long-sleeve T-shirt. The smell of alcohol and vomit are almost more than I can handle.
I try to get her to p
ut her arms around me, so I can wrap mine around her torso. They slip off my shoulders each time I try.
I grab under her armpits and struggle to lift her. She’s deadweight.
“Mom, can you hear me? Please, Mom, help me get you inside.” I’m sobbing now, but just as I lower her down so I can go get Dad, Ethan’s truck screeches back into the parking lot. He jumps out of the truck before it comes to a full stop and runs up the steps.
Choking on words that will get him back in his truck, I let out a scared cry. I can’t bear for him to see this.
“Meg, I can’t leave you like this. I’m going to help you. You won’t be able to lift her. I’ll go once she’s inside.”
He’s pure determination as he puts one hand under Mom’s knees and the other under her back. I hop in front of him to open the door as he carries her up the remaining steps. He takes her straight to the couch, where he puts her down gently.
We look at one another for just a few seconds, and then he’s gone.
I rush to her on the couch and slap her face a few times. “Mom! Mom! Open your eyes.”
Her skin feels like ice. I run into my room and pull my comforter off my bed. I look quickly to Teeny’s bed, and I’m relieved to see her in a deep sleep. I throw open the door to Dad’s room. Even in the dark I can see the bed is empty. My stomach drops. I stand there a moment before running back into the den.
Once the blanket covers Mom, I sit down on the floor. “Mom, please open your eyes. I don’t know if you’re okay or not. I don’t know if I need to call an ambulance. Please, Mom.”
I slap her face a few more times, and her eyes flutter. “Mom! Mom! Open your eyes. Try to talk to me.”
“What, what? Tooooo early. Sleeping.” Her eyes roll back in her head.
“Mom, you have to wake up.” I shake her almost violently now. “Mom, please.
“Mom, sit up. I’m going to call nine-one-one if you don’t sit up.” I glance at the phone in the kitchen. It’s shattered to pieces. What happened here?
“Nooooo,” she moans. “I can’t move anymore. No more names. I want to go home.”
“I know, me too.” Where’s Dad?
I hear the door handle turn. I’m terrified. Dad walks in, and my vision blurs with tears.
The Rules for Disappearing Page 19
