Secrets Return (Leftover Girl Book 2)

by C. C. Bolick

  * * * * *

  “Jes,” Mom called from the kitchen, “is that you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, but slipped past the doorway and ran to the upstairs bathroom. I locked the door and flipped on the light. My reflection in the mirror was enough to make me want to skip dinner. Heat radiated from my skin along the deep red patches covering my face and arms, and streaked from where my bathing suit ended to my feet. Pale marks on my shoulders traced the straps of my bathing suit.

  “Jessica,” Mom called from the other side of the door.

  I held both of my cheeks as I struggled to breathe. My teeth began to chatter. What was happening to me?

  “Are you okay in there?” Mom asked, her voice rising with concern.

  “Mom,” I whispered.

  The door handle shook. “Open the door,” she said.

  I turned the lock and she flung open the door. Mom stared, not speaking, not moving, not breathing.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot my sunscreen.” The old ‘I’m in trouble’ sick feeling settled in my stomach.

  Mom reached forward and took my face in her hands. “Oh, honey.”

  I lowered my head and the tears fell. “I’m sorry.”

  “How do you feel?” Her words swam in my head. “Are you sick?”

  I felt like my insides were coming apart. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’ve never been sunburned before. We’ve always been so careful.”

  “Do you think Dad will be really mad?”

  “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  “Yeah,” I said and took a deep breath. “I know I probably can’t get sick like Dad did, even though he always makes me wear that oozy sunscreen. Rachelle’s mom said not to worry because I couldn’t have inherited any kind of cancer gene from him since I’m adopted.”

  “Jes…” Mom said.

  “It’s okay.”

  She hugged me close. “Do you feel like eating dinner?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “How about you lay down for a bit?” She helped me into the bed and pulled the comforter over me as if I was five years old again, sobbing over a nightmare. “A bad sunburn is nothing to take lightly. Please tell me at the first sign of sickness.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  She kissed my forehead and stood back. Her eyes lingered on the angry red skin not hidden by the green comforter. My face. My arms. Mom’s face creased with more than her usual lines of worry. Something was really wrong.

  My stomach churned again.

  * * * * *

  Bad dreams returned that night and followed for the next five. Every nightmare started with Chase leaving and ended with me waking in a sweat, which wasn’t caused by the blisters on my skin. I watched a hooded figure follow Chase around corners and down dark alleys. When the figure turned, revealing amber eyes, I screamed Chase’s name and reached for his arm, but he never noticed me running behind him. Each time I opened my eyes, I found it impossible to shake the feeling Chase was in trouble. But where was he?

  I crept down to breakfast on Saturday morning, feeling sicker than any moment in my entire life.

  “How are you feeling?” Dad asked, glancing over me.

  I lowered into the seat across from him. “Okay.” The blisters had begun to disappear and the redness in my face had faded. I should have felt better, but I didn’t.

  “No sickness?” he asked.

  “No sickness,” I said. “The cream Mom brought me is helping.” How could I tell them about the sun making Chase sick? I tried to think of all the scientific explanations he’d used. Did I have a chance at convincing them? Mom, Dad—I’m from another planet. The radiation from Earth’s sun is too much for my alien body to handle.

  When he turned to the twins, I closed my eyes. If only I could silence the ringing in my ears.

  “Perhaps we should cancel the trip,” Dad said.

  “No,” Danny and Collin begged.

  “Boys,” he said, “if Jes is sick then we should stay home. We can go to the aquarium when she feels better.”

  “I’m fine,” I said and opened my eyes. “I didn’t sleep good last night.”

  Dad leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on me. “You would tell me if something was wrong?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Mom took one of his hands. “Justin, she’s sixteen. She knows the difference between right and wrong. If Jessica says she’s okay,” she said, looking my way, “then we should believe her.”

  Everyone held their breath as I stood. Mom’s eyes willed me to tell the truth, and Dad’s begged me to show their trust was well founded. The twins only cared about getting to the aquarium.

  Despite my dizziness, I managed a smile. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be ready.”

  * * * * *

  I crossed my legs and lifted one knee high enough to hide the book in my lap. “Yeah,” I said, though I wasn’t sure what I’d been asked.

  Someone grabbed my leg and yanked, forcing me to drop the book between the seats.

  “Mom,” Danny said, “Jes is reading again.”

  I looked up to see the boys snicker. Collin snatched up the book and waved it in the air.

  “Jes,” Mom said. “I told you no more books. All you’ve done for the last three months is hang out in your room and read.”

  “When did reading become a sin?” I mumbled.

  Mom turned around. “When you decided to read instead of live.”

  “Everything in moderation,” Dad said, from the driver’s seat. “Too much of anything is bad.”

  “Fine,” I said and crossed my arms. Instead of watching the boys laugh in triumph, I stared at cars rushing by. More lanes had formed and lighted signs appeared above the next exit. Atlanta was close.

  I closed my eyes. The aquarium was starting to top my list of worst ideas ever. If only those stupid boys hadn’t insisted.

  Dad had always promised the boys a visit to the aquarium, but never managed to find the time when we lived in Atlanta. Maybe it was because of his cancer treatments or maybe it was my fear of water. Either way, the boys begged him for more than a year.

  The walk across the parking lot wasn’t as bad as I feared. By the time we got to the first exhibit, however, I was out of breath. Walking to the edge of a huge tank, I pressed my hands against the glass and stared into the wall of liquid blue before me.

  “Does the water bother you?” Dad asked.

  “Not at all,” I said, forcing a smile.

  “Maybe this trip was a good idea,” Dad said. “You needed to get back to the world.”

  As he walked away, the first impossible wave of dizziness hit. The room spun as I gasped for air. People gathered to my left and right blurred. The ringing in my ears returned, this time shooting through my head and converging behind my eyes. Benches called to me from beyond the stingray exhibit, but the crowd of people forced me to hesitate. Could I make it through without falling? I had to find a place where I could think without the noise. Then I spotted the stairs.

  A dozen or more stairs led to another level above. I thought of Chase as I climbed the stairs, about the time a wave of nausea rolled over me. Grabbing a side rail, I clung to the metal. Below, people crowded the glass in front of the sharks. As Danny touched the glass, I closed my eyes, praying for the dizziness to stop. Where were my parents? I had to tell them.

  “Mom,” I called, sure she’d never hear my whimper.

  “Jes?” Mom was shoving through the crowd in the direction of the stairs. “Honey, are you okay?” she yelled.

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled, but felt better knowing she was near.

  “Jessica!” Her shout was muffled in my head. I heard the worry, and I felt instant guilt. All I could think about was how she must have felt when Dad was sick. I needed to be strong.

  Mom screamed for Dad as I released the rails. She would have to see me standing on my own to be convinced, and in some strange way I thought I might be ok
ay with her there. The ringing increased until I no longer heard her voice, only watched her lips move as she ran for me. Her feet pounded in slow motion. Her arms reached for me, distorting at the edge of sight.

  I clamped both hands over my ears, but the noise only increased. My legs gave way and I fell down the stairs, sliding across the rough edges until my back landed on the floor. I stared at the ceiling, a sea of white with strokes of color swimming before my eyes. Someone grabbed my hand. Lips moved, calling my name. Asking what happened with alarm. Horror.

  An envelope of darkness surrounded me as my mind shut out the world. Fear faded with the voices to merely a laughable nagging at the back of my brain, reminding me of how I once made light of the fact they’d never love me. Couldn’t love me, for I wasn’t their daughter.

  I didn’t want to be alone.

  At least the ringing had stopped.

  Comatose

  My head felt as if a bomb had exploded within the walls of my skull. The bed beneath me bounced and skirted from side-to-side. I stopped. I moved. I stopped again. Lights above glowed beyond my eyelids, but I couldn’t force my eyes open.

  I felt weaker than that winter in Texas when I had the flu, puking up every drop of water I’d managed to choke down for three days. Mom had held me when I rolled to one side of the bed and hung my head over the plastic tub she’d brought.

  This was worse, scarier even than when Dad was sick. I couldn’t understand the voices but I knew at least one belonged to Dad. The smell of sterilization brought to mind the long halls and white coats I’d come to expect with visits to Dad. We were at the hospital in Atlanta.

  Voices whirled around me, with words I couldn’t understand. Someone was crying. No, I was alone. I tried to force my eyes open to a darkness that held me like a cocoon, but devoid of any warmth. If only I was back home in bed, wrapped in my green comforter. The air chilled the skin on my face. Someone kissed my forehead.

  No, I was alone again.

  The beeping remained, a constant reminder I was broken. I thought of how the phone had beeped the night after Lisa died. One steady sound, always in my ears no matter who came to my bedside, no matter who begged me to return from…I wasn’t sure.

  I wasn’t even sure if I cared anymore.

  * * * * *

  From my hiding spot behind a chair with black and green plaids, I heard the woman speaking like all the times before, but this time I understood her words.

  “Will you really leave if I choose not to go?” Desperation filled her voice, but also a sort of pleading. Somewhere between the two ran a line of defiance. She would stay regardless of his choice.

  Inching around the chair, I could see only the man’s back before a window that stretched to the ceiling. He stood as a statue, head lowered.

  “It’s better if you stay,” he said.

  “Am I getting through to you?” she asked.

  He sighed. “I could stop the attack.”

  As she came into view, her head shook. “When you are discovered, your children will pay the price.”

  “My family is important, but I cannot allow innocent lives to be destroyed. I should not have trusted…” His head dropped into his hands. “When I leave, the others will understand and accept you in a role I could never fill.”

  She moved to his side and lowered her head to match his. “I may hate you for placing them in danger, but I cannot blame you for choosing honor. You think this makes you a failure?” Her voice softened and I strained to hear. “You are so much more to all of us than you can see.”

  When she looked up, the room was empty. “You were so much more to me.” Wiping her tears, she opened the door with a wave of her hand. Her shoes clicked along the hall.

  If only she’d noticed me in my dark corner. I wanted to follow her, but more than that I wanted to follow him. Yes, I’d follow him to the ship. Maybe stop him.

  That was why I followed him. He never kidnapped me. My father had no idea I ran behind him, desperate to make our family whole again. Surely he would have stopped me if he knew.

  Memories flowed as if a valve had shifted to wide open. Instead of small bursts, the old dreams weaved together in one smooth flow—the long hall, the ship, the platform. I’d climb aboard to make sure he wasn’t alone.

  But then I’d be alone.

  Chase. Where was Chase?

  Closing my eyes, I pictured Chase in the alley. Except for his hair, he looked the same as he had on our last night in Credence, when he accused me of leaving him. The white-blond now almost reached his shoulders. The same hooded figure from my dreams followed close, but I couldn’t see a face.

  The alley faded and I stood on the metal platform. Chase reached for my hand, pleaded with his eyes for me to save him. The hooded figure grabbed him, trapping him in the blanket. The amber eyes glared at me before pulling him into the water.

  Chase took a final breath before his face disappeared, followed by his fingers.

  A man gripped me tight, struggling to keep us from falling as he sped down the long hall.

  I blinked and I stood in an open room, with another man staring down at me.

  “Van, don’t do this,” my father said.

  The man with evil eyes lifted the gun and pointed it at me. He laughed. “If she’s so important, this bullet will surely find a way around her.”

  “No,” my father said and leapt forward.

  Strong arms gripped me as a single bullet exploded. The sound hummed with the sheer power of a bolt of lightning in my ears. My skin prickled as the arms forced me to the floor.

  “Justin,” a woman screamed.

  I opened my eyes as light exploded within every inch of my vision. Somewhere a beep sounded, the low and steady beacon that promised safety or at least reality. The air still reeked of industrial bleach. A hand gripped one of mine.

  “Please, Jes,” Dad begged, “come back to us.”

  “Dad,” I whispered, but the word sounded like a stranger’s voice in my ears.

  “Oh god, Jes,” Dad said and pulled my hand to his cheek.

  I flexed my fingers against the rough hair and his hand relaxed. Although my neck felt like it had been fused to the bed, I managed to turn just enough to see Mom take my other hand.

  “Honey,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “Mom.” I tried to squeeze her hand, but my energy was fading fast. “What happened?”

  “You’ve been in a coma,” she said.

  Dad released my hand and rubbed the tears from his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  If only I could nod. “Okay,” I managed, but my head felt like I’d been spinning on a tilt-a-whirl.

  “You were screaming,” Dad said. “We rushed into the room.”

  I closed my eyes, focusing on my last dream, as if by will alone I’d force the memories back. “He was drowning.”

  Mom’s hand tightened around mine. “Who was drowning?”

  “Someone…I knew.”

  Dad leaned over me. “What was his name?”

  “I don’t know.” I closed my eyes. Was I still dreaming?

  “You were saying a name.” Dad took my hand again, almost fighting against Mom. “You screamed it over and over.”

  Our eyes met as I willed the fog in my brain to clear. “Who?”

  He sighed and released my hand. “Chase.”

  * * * * *

  A machine beeped to my left. I opened my eyes to darkness except for a gentle glow on the far wall. Someone had left the TV on for me?

  I stared at the flat screen as the characters came into focus. It had been many years since I watched Mickey Mouse, so long the characters didn’t look the same. Donald argued, waving his arms in the air, but I couldn’t hear his squeaky voice.

  A pain seized my abdomen. Grabbing the rails, I craned my neck to make out the bathroom door. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I heaved, already out of breath. Slowly, I lowered my feet to the floor, easing my weight from the bed. Dra
wing myself up, I doubled over as my insides clenched and I felt sure my stomach would split, spilling my guts across the floor.

  The feeling will pass, I told myself and took a long stride toward the bathroom door. My legs gave out and I reached ahead as the floor rose to meet me. The tube along my arm nearly sucked the needle from the back of my hand. My face struck the tile, a solid sheet of ice against my cheek.

  The cold spread through my body as I lay there, bitter about remembering that night again and nothing more, filled with hatred for the world around me. I steadied my shaking hands and tried to push up, but my arms collapsed beneath the weight of my body.

  I angled my head to see the clock. Squinting, I tried to make out the numbers, but couldn’t since my contacts were out. It would have to be enough to watch the hand crawl as it made a full circle. Thirty seconds. A minute. Feet pounded along the hall as someone screamed, “Doctor, stat!” but the sound grew and then faded beyond the beeps. The beeps were steady, though not quite in rhythm with the clock.

  Just when I feared the off-beat sounds would drive me insane, voices approached the door.

  “She’s going to be okay,” Collin said.

  “What if she…” Danny’s voice faded to barely audible.

  “Dad was here for months, and he didn’t die.”

  Their feet shuffled past the door and down the hall. A few minutes later, five to be exact, I heard their voices again.

  “We should go in,” Collin said.

  “I can’t see her like that,” Danny said.

  “She might be awake.”

  “I can’t see her like that,” Danny repeated, his voice giving way to tears.

  Through all the years we’d been a family, I’d never heard Danny make a sound that I felt in the pit of my stomach. He threw a fit once and cried in the electronics section of a store when Mom refused to buy him a video game. He’d cried about every friend he had to leave after each of our moves. Even when Dad was sick and Mom prepared us for the worst days of chemo, he never cried in a way that convinced me he thought of someone beyond how the drama affected him. Tears welled in my eyes.