by C. C. Bolick
On Friday I sat, long after the first bell, alone against a brick wall and hunched over my knees. I failed to hear Bailey walk up.
“Hey,” she said, “what’s wrong?”
Looking up, I took in her completely black outfit, including the lipstick she hadn’t worn in weeks. Based on her half-serious, half-teasing tone, I figured she didn’t know about Dad yet.
She twisted the straps of her backpack, wrapping the ends around her fingers. “You’ll never believe what my dad wants now.”
I’d never seen Bailey so unsure. “For you to go back to Colorado?”
“Not yet, but thank goodness he flew back last night. Pade still hasn’t told him the truth.” She eyed me carefully and reached for my arm. “You can’t sit on that sidewalk. It’s been raining all morning. Your butt will get soaked.”
“Too late.”
Bailey helped me to my feet. “What’s wrong?”
I took a breath. Actually, I took five breaths before I could say the words without bawling. “Dad is sick again. Now I know for sure.”
“The cancer?” she asked softly.
“Yeah.”
She put an arm through mine. “I’ll walk you to first block.”
“No,” I said, pulling back. “I’ve got way too much on my mind. I need time to think.”
“Wait,” she yelled as I ran ahead. “I need to show you something.”
As I stopped, she handed me a folded piece of paper. The paper in my hand felt rough, like…newspaper. My anger exploded as I got a look at the girl at the center of the page. “Why do you have this?”
Bailey pointed to the girl’s face. “There’s a birthmark to the right of her eye. You can barely make it out in the picture, so I looked at it under a magnifying glass.”
I squinted at the tiny brown spec. “So?”
“You don’t have this birthmark. This girl isn’t you.”
I wanted to laugh at Bailey, arguing a point I already knew to be true. Why hadn’t the New York City detectives figured it out all those years ago? “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Bailey took the page from my hand and held it near my face. “You really don’t see it?”
“Put that away,” I hissed, pushing the page from my face.
Her eyes flashed bewilderment, before she refolded the page. “Here,” she said, as if the newspaper was no more than a wrapper from a stick of gum she would toss in the nearest trashcan.
Guilt flowed through me as I grabbed the page, but only for a few seconds. Why had she dug into my past? The box was my mystery to solve, not hers. “Thanks,” I said, shooting her a look of disgust. “I don’t need your help getting to class.”
“Fine then,” she said and left me standing near the entrance to building three.
Again, a needle of guilt tingled inside, for her words vented hurt instead of anger. I slipped the page into my purse.
Inside the doors, at the entrance to the girls’ bathroom, Brianna Lars stood with her hands on her hips. Rachelle cowered in front of her. Both looked up as I walked by.
“So,” Brianna said, “it’s the freak.”
I froze. Why had she called me that?
Brianna grinned. “Then you admit it? Freak.”
Rachelle lowered her eyes to the floor and crept backward a few inches.
“Why are you messing with me?” I asked.
“Because I now know how you messed with me.” She gripped her collar, pulling it tight against her neck.
My stomach turned over and over as I fought the fear that gripped me, holding my body like a statue.
Her smile grew. “You can’t hide the truth from me.”
“Can I go now?” Rachelle asked, without looking up.
“For now,” Brianna said, her laugh almost a cackle.
“What’s going on?” I asked Rachelle.
A lump formed in my throat as she grabbed her bag and ran down the hall. I looked to my left and right. Either way, the hall was empty. Every door had closed after the late bell.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Brianna said, gripping my wrist.
I struggled under her grip, but Brianna’s fingers tightened. Her face was focused, revealing not a hint of strain.
“I can bench press half your weight or more, in case you’re wondering.”
Again, I looked nervously down the empty hall. How could I get away from her? Maybe my power…
Brianna shoved the door behind her and pulled me into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, she released my hand. “Go ahead. Show me what Jes Delaney can do.”
I rubbed the red marks on my wrist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Jes.” She pushed me with both hands.
My back slammed against the wall, along with my head, making a ‘thud’ sound that echoed through my head. My purse and backpack dropped to the floor. A pain shot from behind my ears, like a laser beam straight to my eyes.
“Make something happen. I dare you.”
I considered her dare. No one would know. We were alone. Or were we? Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something move. Craning my neck to look around Brianna, I saw the edge of a red shirt, peaking out of the last stall. And in the outstretched hand…a phone.
Gathering all of my strength, I turned one foot sideways, bracing against the wall, and shoved my shoulder into Brianna’s chest.
She doubled over in a fit of coughs, straining to catch her breath. Ronald rushed out of the stall, still holding his phone. He stopped about a foot from me and looked from my face to Brianna’s. Seeing my window of opportunity disappear, I ran out of the bathroom.
I didn’t stop until I reached history class. As I grasped the door handle, I realized my purse and backpack were still in the bathroom. I looked back down the hall, but no one had emerged from the bathroom door.
I opened the door to history class and took my usual seat in the back.
* * * * *
Pushing open the bathroom door, I tiptoed in, not sure what, or who awaited me. Near one of the sinks sat my purse, with all of the contents dumped into a messy pile nearby. The books from my backpack had been removed and the pages torn out. The notebooks, retaining only their metal rings, laid open on the floor near the square drain at the bathroom’s center. Dozens of pages of notebook paper with my handwriting spread across the floor, into the stalls, and even filled the toilets.
I shook my head at the mess, not knowing where to start. Opening my wallet, I was shocked to see the twenty. But then, they weren’t after money. Brianna and Ronald—that was a twisted combination. But Rachelle? What had I done to deserve Rachelle playing their game?
Scraping the makeup and notes from the floor and back into my purse, I sighed. The bathroom door opened and sounds of laughter floated in, along with two voices. Thankfully, neither belonged to Brianna or Ronald. I scrambled to get all of the dry pages back into my notebooks. The wet pages from the floor found a new home in the trash. The ones in the toilet…well, even the cleaning obsession Mom had branded into me over the years had limits.
Lunch consisted of Angel talking about Skip. They were on. No, they were off. I’m not sure even Angel knew what they were. The pizza on my plate turned cold as I stared at Rachelle. She ate every last bite of her pizza as she nodded along with Angel’s story, even laughed a few times.
Rachelle never met my eyes.
After school, I walked to the locker, all the way preparing myself for how to confront Rachelle. Two girls passed me in the hall, pointing and giggling as I walked by.
A guy passed with a roll of his eyes and a snicker. The hall was empty up ahead. I released a breath, for I wouldn’t have to face Rachelle yet.
The relief was short-lived as I noticed the outline of a piece of paper, taped to my locker door. With every step, an apprehension grew inside that took me back over twelve years of fear. Taped to the door of my locker was a picture of Jessica Naples, hugging her teddy bear. I ripped the pict
ure loose and held the crisp white paper in my hands.
Someone had the picture, and they’d made a copy.
Under the picture, Naples was marked out. Delaney was written after Jessica in large letters. I squinted, trying to make out the writing at the top of the page.
Lost girl—want one?
What was it with bullies and making my life suck? Not only was Brianna making fun of me, she’d found a way to torture me about something that never happened. I crunched the paper into a ball, squeezing with all of my strength. If only I had the strength to deliver a blow to Brianna Lars in the bathroom, she would not have this picture.
Tears burned in my eyes, tears of anger. This was Bailey’s fault. No, this was my fault. I never should have told her the truth. The tears welled, threatening to fall. How could Rachelle stab me in the back when the only thing clear to me was the fact she hated Brianna?
Unsure of what to do next, I ran down the hall toward the office. Mom always stopped to see Dr. Greene after school, even when there was no meeting. She would know what to do. My feet came to a halt as reality hit. She would want to move again. It was always her solution before, whenever someone started asking questions my parents didn’t want to answer.
But I didn’t have a choice. Too many people had already seen the picture. The girl’s name was Jessica, and that was enough. It wasn’t me, but would Brianna care if I told her the truth? No, she’d laugh in my face. Squaring my shoulders, I walked toward the office.
Another copy of the picture hung on the cafeteria door. I pulled it down, crushing it also. To my left, the computer lab overflowed with laughter. I forced myself through the crowd at the door, but choked as I stared at the computer screens. An entire row of monitors stretched along the wall, each with a duplicate screen. Jessica Naples cried on every one.
Escaping into the hall, I ran for the main doors. Everyone who passed stared. The tears were now flowing freely down my cheeks. Around the last corner, I skidded to a stop in front of Mom and Dr. Greene.
“What is going on?” Mom asked, holding up the picture.
Dr. Greene’s eyes darted from me to the picture. “Lorraine, is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“Not really,” she said. “But if you must know—yes, it’s her. I don’t know how this article came to reside within the walls of Credence High.” Mom glared at me. “Or why the students must make such a fuss.”
Dr. Greene rubbed his chin. “I seem to recall this story.” He looked at the paper. “About twelve years ago? Yes, I remember all the coverage. The girl disappeared for a week. First the parents did it. Then they found the girl running down a highway barefoot—guy almost ran her over with a truck. I wouldn’t remember if it wasn’t so damned strange.”
“The guy in the truck was Justin.”
His eyes opened wider than I thought possible. “You’re kidding me.”
I blinked. Did Mom just admit the truth? After all those years of lying?
She looked at me again. “Tell me how this got here.”
“Bailey found the article in the shed she brought it and…” I took a breath, “it was in my purse and…Brianna and Ronald cornered me in the bathroom and dumped out my bag and…” I took another breath, “now everyone in school knows. They must have made a thousand copies.”
“Jes,” Mom said, “you never do anything halfway.”
The room spun around me. Laughter sounded from all directions. I sat on the stairs behind Mom. Why was all of this happening?
“Calm down,” Dr. Greene said and looked at Mom. “What is she talking about?”
Mom held the article in one hand and pointed at the picture with the other. “This is Jes at four,” she said, as if telling him again might make him believe.
But it really wasn’t me. Why didn’t she tell him the truth?
“I never knew you lived in New York.”
“For a while.” She sighed. “Joel, we’ve kept this secret for a long time to protect Jes. Her real parents disappeared shortly before Justin and I adopted her. The last thing we needed was the media butting in.”
“Yes,” he said gravely. “Cameras are the last thing we need around here.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Dr. Greene looked at his watch. “Go home. It’s Friday. Surely by Monday morning this will have made way for more delicious drama.”
“It won’t go away,” I whispered.
Mom grabbed my arm and pulled me up to stand. “He’s right. We’ll give it some time.”
There would never be enough time.
* * * * *
Dad was asleep when we got home, which meant something good had finally happened that day. Everything before I stepped out of the van that evening would remain unsaid, until a time when Dad insisted on hearing the story. Never telling him suited me just fine.
I thought about the article, marked with words that had infuriated me. Brianna was smart—after the bathroom, she probably raced for the nearest computer. Within an hour, she knew all about my past.
No way could I go back to that on Monday morning. If only we were ready to pack for Atlanta. But Mom had said it would probably be Wednesday at the earliest.
Lying across my bed, I wanted to cry, though I’d cried on the way home until the skin around my eyes felt like a sponge.
My life finally, without a doubt, one hundred percent totally sucked.
A single tear slipped down my cheek, but it wasn’t because of the day, or because of Bailey’s stupidity, or even Rachelle’s willingness to stab me in the back. It wasn’t because Dad was sick.
The tear was for Chase, who had turned his back on me. He promised one day I’d agree to return to his planet because I wanted to. Maybe that day had arrived. I cradled the charm in my hand. Maybe I had the power to leave this mess and never look back. After everyone went to bed, I’d press the green stone.
Dinner that night was one of the worst Mom had ever made. She burned the green beans, after dumping them from a can. The heap of salt in the mashed potatoes tingled the insides of my mouth. The chicken was dry and I reached for a greasy dark piece, only to be beat out by the boys. Even so, I ate every bite, slowly savoring this last meal with my family.
I hugged Mom and Dad extra tight before I climbed the stairs. I said I loved them.
In the doorway to the boys’ room, I watched as the twins played a video game. Focused on the TV, they never noticed I stood only feet away.
Back in my room, I filled my purse with small reminders of them all. If only Mom believed in taking pictures. Then I realized I never got the chance to ask about her sister. My heart filled with regret over this small conversation, knowing I’d lost my chance.
No, I couldn’t regret going home. I had to find Chase.
I reached for the glasses Chase gave me and the book I’d kept for almost a year. Moving aside the clothes in my top dresser drawer, I lifted the copy of Pride and Prejudice Mrs. Pearson had left with me. I opened to a spot in the middle of the book and read one of the handwritten notes. The words were in her language. The smell of old paper made me warm inside.
She’d love to have the book back, I was sure. Maybe returning it was my duty. In that moment, holding the book that probably belonged to my mother, I realized I no longer needed it. Before the night’s end, I would hopefully see her again. If I returned the book, she would be happy. She’d said it was one of her favorites. But if I didn’t return it—well, that might give me a reason to come back one day. I put the book in the drawer and covered it with my clothes.
My phone buzzed on the dresser. Bailey had sent a text. There was a party Saturday night at Terrance’s house. She and Pade were invited. They wanted me to come. After the whole school found out about Jessica Naples? No way.
I considered a response for ten minutes, but pressed the ‘off’ button instead. Maybe I should take the phone. What would it hurt? I laughed at myself when I realized it wouldn’t work in space. Who needed a cell phone when Chase ha
d fancy gadgets that made our phones seem more like those flip phones on TV from the nineteen eighties?
When the floor below fell into a silent darkness, I stood before my window. The sky was clear above, filled with stars that glittered along the horizon, but no moon. I stared at the house next door, thinking of Bailey and then of Pade. Their windows were dark and murky, showing no sign of life. Was Bailey still mad at me? Would they ever forgive me for leaving?
Could I get over loving Pade from a million miles away?
Crossing to my closet, I drew out my warmest sweater, for the September nights had turned cold, as if already welcoming fall. Slipping the knitted fusion of blue and green over my head, I reached for a scarf and hat Mom had insisted on buying during our last shopping trip. It would be cold in the woods, not freezing, but chilly enough to make goosebumps rise along my arms.
I had no idea how long I’d need to stand by the creek.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes. Imagining the sound of rushing water, I opened my eyes to the creek, not ten feet before me. I scanned the bushes along the creek for movement, any hint that a life other than me might be breathing the crisp night air.
“Hello,” I said, but only the water answered.
I shivered, wondering what I would do if the coyote returned, or worse. My power almost failed me the last time.
“Chase,” I said as a gentle breeze blew my hair against my face. Pulling the hat down over my ears, I scanned the tops of the trees. Branches reached like hands for the stars, which twinkled with an intensity that only grew as the air began to cool. Even without the moon, the ground around my feet glowed in the white light. With all the man-made lights in our Atlanta neighborhood, I never got to see the stars wrap around the earth. An endless night, stretching without threat of city lights in all directions.
My toes ached to step into the water one last time. Good thing my head registered the fact it was way too cold.
I spun, taking in three hundred and sixty degrees of beauty I’d never see again. Pulling the charm from under my sweater, I pressed the green center.
