by April Henry
Following the prosecutor’s pointing finger, Griffin twisted his left wrist. A square white tag was stapled at the back. No wonder people had looked at him as they walked back to the car. Not with admiration, but because he looked like an idiot. His neck went hot as he tried to get it off, but he didn’t have any fingernails left. Aunt Debby grabbed his wrist and started picking at it while the flush climbed up his face.
Opening a drawer, Bennett handed Griffin a pen and a yellow legal pad.
“What are these for?”
“So you can take notes. I need to prepare you for what we are likely to face next week. No matter what the crime is, there are really only two defenses.” He held up one finger. “I didn’t do it, or”—he added a second finger—“I did it, but it was for a reason. It would be difficult for your father to say he didn’t do it, as he was arrested at the scene, although I guess Wheeler could try to claim he was there for some benign purpose. But it’s much more likely your father will say that not only did you take Cheyenne, but it was your idea to hold her for ransom.”
Griffin let out a startled laugh. “What, like I was the boss of my dad?” He could just imagine how Roy would have reacted to that idea. Not with words but with his fists.
“Your father’s going to claim you’re the real mastermind.”
Feeling Bennett’s eyes on him, Griffin wrote down master mind. At least it was easy to spell. He had a million tricks to make it look like he knew what he was doing. And his memory was good. It helped fill in the gaps, hide how hard it was for him to read.
Every time Bennett said “father,” Griffin had to think who he meant. Father was a word from a different world, a world where the dad put on a suit and tie like the ones Griffin was now wearing, went to work, and then came home and helped his children with homework.
Griffin stated the obvious. “My dad would never let anyone tell him what to do.”
“You’ve got a few inches on him now, so the jury might not see that.” Last winter, Griffin and Roy had been eye to eye. The idea of being bigger than his dad gave Griffin a secret thrill. “And you have a history of violence.”
“History of violence?” Bennett must be talking about his dad.
“You’ve been in at least two altercations at school since you moved to Chicago.”
Griffin groaned. “I didn’t fight. I fought back.” He had tried to explain the difference to Debby and Jeff, and he thought she, at least, believed him. Still, the last one had gotten him a three-day suspension.
“Be that as it may, the defense will bring it up, as well as anything else Wheeler can throw at you. He’ll try to get under your skin. Don’t get angry. Don’t make a bad impression.”
“Okay.” Griffin’s shoulders hunched. If Bennett knew about the fights at school, did he also know Griffin had stopped going altogether?
The prosecutor was still looking at him expectantly, so he put pen to paper again. But he angled it so no one could see what he was doing. In a few lines, he began to capture Cheyenne’s face.
“It’s going to be very uncomfortable on that stand. Your dad is going to be staring at you from the defense table. You’ll find it easier if you don’t make eye contact.”
Griffin nodded. He would much rather be with Cheyenne than in this room with a man naming all his problems and faults. He sketched in her eyes that tipped up just a little at the corners.
“But what about how Roy gave Griffin third-degree burns?” Aunt Debby demanded. “What about how he killed my sister?”
“Wheeler could spin those burns as a reason for Griffin framing his father. And Mr. Sawyer’s only on trial for what he did to Cheyenne Wilder, not what he did to Griffin or his mother.” Bennett turned to Griffin. “If you stick to the facts and don’t let your emotions get the better of you, your dad will be put away for years. You’ll never have to worry about him again.”
Last month, Uncle D. had called Griffin. Begged him not to say anything. Ordered him not to. “Look, this is your dad we’re talking about.” His uncle’s voice was tight. “If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even exist. You owe him that much.”
Griffin tried to make his voice firm. “I’m not going to lie.”
Uncle D. had sighed in exasperation. “And I’m not asking you to lie. I’m asking you to not remember. Nobody likes a snitch.”
Now Griffin felt like he was being picked at from all sides. Get justice for Cheyenne. Get revenge for his mom and for himself. Remember that his dad was still his dad. Tell the truth. Forget the truth.
Even without his testimony, wouldn’t the government have more than enough evidence to convict his dad?
He tried to imagine what would happen after the trial was over. Going back to a city where he knew no one and had no friends. Where Uncle Jeff always seemed to look at him with narrowed eyes. Where there was no chance of ever seeing Cheyenne again. He added the sharp angle of her jaw to his sketch, and a few squiggles to suggest her curly hair. Even looking at the paper version of her made his heart fill with longing.
When he turned eighteen, would Aunt Debby cut him loose?
What if he just took off before the trial? Let fate decide what happened to Roy? There were lots of jobs where they paid in cash and didn’t ask for any ID. He was pretty sure he looked older than he was, or at least he would when his hair grew out a little bit from the military-style cut Uncle Jeff had insisted on.
But Griffin’s own plea bargain wouldn’t stand if he didn’t testify. Then the government could charge him—would charge him, according to Bennett—as an adult.
But that was if they caught him. And if Roy had taught Griffin anything, it was how to fly under the radar.
CHAPTER 7
SUCH A FINAL WORD
CHEYENNE
“One message in Other folder,” Cheyenne’s computer said in its speeded-up voice. It was the end of the day, and she was stretched out on her bed, using her laptop keyboard to move around Facebook. The house was quiet. Phantom lay dozing at her feet. Guide dogs were trained to stay off furniture, but Cheyenne had long ago made an exception for her bed.
The Other folder? There was never anything in that folder. She was pretty sure it was for messages that didn’t come from friends. Because she didn’t want her dad and Danielle to find out about the account, her user name was Phantom Smith and she kept her friends list small.
Maybe it was a birthday message from someone at school. Some birthday this would be. Her dad and Danielle didn’t even want to go out to dinner. They said she could have friends over for a party after the trial was over.
Before clicking on the message, she checked out who it was from. A guy, but no one she knew. He lived in Los Angeles. Seventeen, named Hunter Forest. They had one friend in common—Kenzie, who had been friends with Cheyenne forever. But Kenzie had never mentioned anyone named Hunter Forest. Then again, Kenzie had over six hundred Facebook friends.
Cheyenne clicked.
“Just like Phantom isn’t you, Hunter isn’t me. I’m in town from Chicago and then I’ll never come back to Portland. But I keep thinking that we’re not very far apart.”
Cheyenne’s breath caught. Even though her computer’s current voice was female, even though the message came from someone calling himself Hunter Forest, she knew who had written those words. Griffin Sawyer. The last time they had been together, they were on the run in the woods. Or hunted in the forest.
Six months ago, Griffin had called and asked if they could keep in touch. Taking a deep breath, Cheyenne thought about what her dad and Danielle had said. Just because Griffin helped her get away, that really didn’t change who he was. What he was. A dropout. A thief. A smoker. (For Danielle, a nurse, smoking was on par with the worst of sins.) Griffin, they said, was the son of a criminal, brought up to follow in his footsteps. They made it clear that Cheyenne and Griffin could never be friends.
So Cheyenne said no.
But that hadn’t stopped her from thinking about him ever since.
&nbs
p; Cheyenne still saw things with her mind’s eye, even things she had never seen before the accident. So she had taken the bits of Griffin she had collected in the nearly three days they were together and fashioned them into a whole three-dimensional person. When he first stole Danielle’s Escalade, they struggled. From that she knew he was strong, corded with muscle. And that he was taller than her—although pretty much everyone was. Later, when they were just beginning to form an uneasy alliance, they took turns describing each other. She had guessed he had dark hair, and the way he had sucked in his breath said she was right. She imagined him with dark eyes as well. Some of the pieces were less tangible, like the slightly spicy way Griffin smelled, a mix of tobacco and something sharper. Or how he caught his breath that one time she turned and they were only inches apart.
She imagined him now, lifting one dark eyebrow, waiting for her answer, his head cocked, his eyes both wary and hopeful.
She should just delete the message. Maybe her whole Facebook page. Her fingers trembled faintly against the keys.
Instead Cheyenne clicked to replay it.
“… never come back to Portland.” Never was such a final word. She remembered what it was like to realize she would never see her mom again. Never talk to her. Never hug her. Even now the grief could still catch her like a kick to the gut.
Not giving herself time to think about whether it was a good idea, Cheyenne typed in her answer.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be talking to each other. Because of the trial.”
After she hit Send, she checked her Braille watch. Griffin had written the note more than an hour ago. How long would it take him to reply? She jumped when Phantom snorted in his sleep. In case Danielle decided to stop by to say good night, Cheyenne put in her headphones. She didn’t want to answer any questions about whose message she was listening to.
Even though it seemed like forever, Griffin answered within a few minutes. “If no one knows about it, how can it hurt anything? Besides, I don’t want to talk about the trial. I just want to talk to you.”
Cheyenne would rather talk to someone on the computer or phone, because then they both had exactly the same amount of information. Face-to-face, a sighted person could look at her expression, her body language, even how she dressed, and already know far more about her than she did about them, with only her ears to rely on. But a message or a phone call made them equals.
“I guess that’s okay. How did you find me?” Waiting for his reply, she wiped her damp hands on the quilt covering the bed. It was called a crazy quilt because it was made of scraps. Her mom’s grandmother had made it in the 1930s. In her memory, Cheyenne could still see its blues, greens, and purples, and how all the different colors and patterns somehow came together to make a beautiful whole.
“I couldn’t find you at first. Then I remembered you talking about Kenzie. When I saw Phantom Smith on her list of friends, I knew,” Griffin wrote. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About what happened. And about you. Those 3 days were so intense. When I was with you, I felt alive.”
Her heart sped up. She remembered talking with him about things she never told anyone. Remembered the sound of his laugh, the press of his fingers when he led her from place to place. Cheyenne had found a new self with Griffin, too. One who wasn’t so afraid. Wasn’t so angry at how everything had changed. One who finally said good-bye to the past and started walking toward her future. Even if it was a future she would never see with her own eyes.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about you, too,” she admitted. Feeling unsure of what to type next, she switched to a safer topic. “How are things in Chicago?”
“Muggy. I miss Oregon.”
Griffin had been taken in by his mom’s sister. “And your family?”
“I haven’t talked to my dad since he was arrested.”
The mention of Roy reminded Cheyenne that Griffin would always be his father’s son. “I meant your aunt and uncle.”
“Ok. Don’t think they trust me, though. I get lonely.” He added, “That’s why I really want to see you. I liked who I was with you.”
Six months ago, Cheyenne had managed to make it out of the woods with nothing but first Duke and then a broken branch and the light of the rising sun to guide her. Griffin had tracked her down, not to kill her, as she first thought, but to help her.
Still, that was then. This was now. Even though she had spent the last six months replaying every interaction between them. Even though she kept wishing she had said yes to him when he called.
“I wish I could, but it’s just not possible.” Her keystrokes came slower and slower. “I probably shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
Now her dad and Danielle acted like she was a doll too precious to be played with. A doll that sat in a display case.
“All I’m asking is one time. Just one.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “I really want to, but there’s no way I can. My dad and Danielle are paranoid. They don’t let me go anywhere but school. I even have a bodyguard!” Just typing the word bodyguard made her feel ridiculous.
Everyone had made a million rules for her.
Maybe it was time to intelligently disobey them.
CHAPTER 8
ONE CHANCE
CHEYENNE
“Let’s go out to lunch,” Cheyenne said to Kenzie as they walked out of language arts. She was still buzzing from messaging back and forth with Griffin the night before.
Kenzie had a car, and before Jaydra had started taking Cheyenne to and from school, Kenzie had often driven her.
“I thought you weren’t allowed to leave campus anymore.” Catlin Gabel, a small private school, was a tucked-away oasis that looked like a college campus.
Cheyenne gritted her teeth. “I’m tired of only doing the things I’m allowed to.”
Kenzie, who had always been more of a free spirit, clapped her hands. “Yes! I’ve been waiting for you to say that. So are we going to badge out?”
“Hell, no.”
Juniors and seniors were allowed to go off campus for lunch, but they were supposed to run their ID badge past a card reader on their way in and out. Like most systems, however, it relied on people actually using it.
Kenzie opened the back door of her car for Phantom. “Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t care. A drive-through.” Just in case a teacher or administrator happened by, Cheyenne folded forward on the seat, waiting to sit up until she was sure the car was off campus. “Griffin sent me a message on Facebook,” she said as she straightened up.
Kenzie snapped off the music. “Are you serious?”
“It’s all thanks to you. The two of you have been Facebook friends since last week.”
“I don’t think so.” The tick of the turn signal filled the car. “I would for sure notice that name.”
“He’s using the name Hunter Forest. But it’s definitely Griffin.”
“You mean that cute guy on the surfboard?” Kenzie sounded disappointed. “I guess I should have known he was too good to be true.”
“I can’t see photos, remember?” These days, Cheyenne had only her memories to guide her as to which actors, singers, or guys at school were cute. Since she had lost her sight, more and more people were attractive because of the way they acted, not the way they looked. “But yeah, I’ll bet that was just a photo off the Internet. If you didn’t recognize him, why did you accept his friend request?”
“He didn’t live here, so I figured I didn’t have to worry about what he was like in real life. It’s fun to have friends in other states. I usually say yes unless they look like a creeper. And of course if anyone ever got weird, I would block them.”
“Well, after you said yes to him, he was able to send me a message because we had you in common.”
“But you’re not even you on Facebook.”
“Using Phantom’s name and photo is not much of a disguise,” Cheyenne pointed out. Kenzie had helped her set up the account, eve
n taken Phantom’s picture. The only time Cheyenne took pictures now was when she was using an app for the blind that could tell her the color of a sweater or what was inside a can in the cupboard. “Anyway, Griffin’s in town for the trial. And he wants to see me.” Just saying the words out loud made a thrill race through her.
With a squeal, Kenzie clutched Cheyenne’s arm. “That’s so romantic!”
“Part of me agrees with you,” Cheyenne said. “But part of me thinks it’s crazy to even think about it.” Her head and heart were warring with each other. Her dad had always trusted her. But what if this was her last chance to see Griffin?
“Look at everything he did for you, though. He helped you run away from his dad and those two crazy guys. Even after you tried to kill him!” Kenzie’s voice rose and fell with passion. “And then when he broke his ankle, he told you to go on without him.”
And all Griffin was asking in return was for one meeting, Cheyenne thought as the car slowed and then went over a speed bump. She and Griffin had seen the best and worst of each other. They had experienced more in three days than most couples would in a lifetime. For the past six months, she had bottled up her feelings, but now that they were unstoppered, the idea of never seeing him again was devastating.
Kenzie’s window hummed down. Outside the car, a voice crackled. “May I take your order?”
“Yeah,” Kenzie said. “Two chocolate peanut butter shakes, two large orders of fries, and a Tillamook Cheeseburger with bacon.” It was their standard order at Burgerville. The cheeseburger was half for Cheyenne and half for Phantom. Kenzie had been a vegetarian since third grade. She paid and pulled forward to wait for their food.
“The problem is, I don’t see how it’s possible. I’m never alone. If I absolutely have to go someplace, it’s with my dad or Danielle or Jaydra—or all three.”
Kenzie poked her side. “Said the girl who’s sitting in a Burgerville drive-through with no adults in sight. I could be your getaway driver. I could take you from school to wherever he is.”
