by A. M. Brooks
“Yeah, right.” I laugh and roll my eyes. I have zero interest in Bentley, and yet, that does not stop him from trying. The boy is persistent in getting my attention. Sometimes I give in just so he’ll leave me alone, and sometimes, it’s to draw the attention of a different boy with cobalt eyes and blonde locks that constantly fall over his forehead from his fingers running through them. It’s shameless and my newest obsession. I come alive the minute I have Ciaran’s attention.
“Well, think about it some more,” Winter says, while wiggling her fingers goodbye. I watch as she makes her way confidently down the hallway like she owns it. I peer down at myself, wondering if I’ll ever find that level of confidence again. I feel like all I wear is leggings and jeans with hoodies or Henley’s. Anything to make me feel invisible and swallow me whole. It’s depressing.
When I reach the biology room, I slip into my seat next to Reed. Over the past few weeks, I haven’t had any real conversations with Reed, but he does ask me to pass the syringe or ask what measurement is needed to go into the test tube. Baby steps. My fingers pull restlessly through my hair, as I tie it in a top-knot on my head. It’s grown longer since I arrived at Savage Lakes, almost back to its original length. I wonder if Matt will make me cut it soon. I have recolored my roots a few times to keep the color up.
“You missed some.” Reed’s quiet voice makes me jump in place. My head swings in his direction, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s simply drawing in his notebook. My fingers dance around my neck and clasp onto a strand I missed.
“Thanks,” I offer, while winding the stray piece around the already formed knot and tucking it into my hair tie. Reed doesn’t reply, not that I expect him to. I steal another glance at him anyway. There is something about Reed that is so familiar. I want to know his story, but I know he won’t share. I’ve asked Winter about it before, and she clams up immediately. Apparently, his case is one where it’s only safe if no one knows. I wonder if Reed’s story is like mine and if he has a boogeyman of his own. Thankfully, the past few weeks, my nightmares have been lessening, they’re almost nonexistent. At least I’m not waking up from them anymore.
Bentley and company file through the door, and I pretend not to notice the chin nod he gives me. My head ducks down to avoid any accusations in Cassidy’s eyes. Reed snorts next me. I glance back at him, appalled and wanting to laugh at the same time.
“What’s wrong with you today?” I question, raising my eyebrow at him.
His mouth clamps shut, and he tilts his head.
“Don’t pretend,” I smirk. “You never talk to me, Reed, unless you have to. Now today, you’ve corrected my hair, and you almost laughed. What gives?”
Instead of answering, of course, Reed just stares at me with those vacant eyes. When he refuses to say anything, I turn back to face the front of the room. There is no reason to be upset, but, for some reason, his silence hurts me. Not Ciaran level hurt. More of a mild sting. The only time I can relate to the same feeling was the first day Oaklynn moved away in Elementary school. Just like that, my mind drifts to my best friend again, and my heart squeezes. My eyes drop to the cell phone between my legs. My fingers wrap around the device. Even if I wanted to call her, I don’t have her number memorized. Matt still hasn’t given me permission to use the internet either. I have no way to reach out to her unless…
“Hey, Reed,” I ask quietly, looking around to make sure no one is watching or listening. “You work today?” His green orbs slide to mine. Questions dance behind his gaze, but he doesn’t voice them. Instead, he shakes his head yes, and that’s all the info I need.
Instead of waiting for Winter after school, I shoot her a quick text that I’m staying behind to study. I sneak out the doors and through the parking lot, keeping out of any of the Midwest boys’ view, and jump the fence around the football field. Once my feet land on the other side, I trudge through the snow, until I hit the gravel road in a nearby neighborhood. The street will eventually lead me to the dirt path that goes behind the main road, on the backside of the businesses. I pull my black stocking hat lower over my ears and hitch my hood up. My fingers wiggle deeper inside my gloves, before I shove my hands into my pockets. The wind is against my back, thankfully, during the walk there. It takes close to half an hour for me to reach the store, thanks to the snow drifts. By the time I step into Rad Radioz, my legs are frozen, and a touch of windburn stings my cheeks. I spot Reed instantly, as he is slipping on his green smock toward the back of the store. My feet shuffle across the floor to get to him. His head snaps up and surprise crosses his features.
“Hey.” I wave my gloved hand in his direction. He doesn’t answer, but his eyes dart to the front of the store and back to me, before his arms cross against his chest. “I need your help. As crazy as it sounds, I think I can trust you. I also think you are the only person who could actually help me with this,” I explain the best I can. Truthfully, I have no idea if Reed will know what to do. I just know a part of me, deep down, knows he is the only person I can ask.
Reed stays silent, quietly observing me, his eyes becoming curious the more I ramble.
“I need a burner phone. Something untraceable to here or to me. I need to get it to someone.” I get out my words quickly. Reed’s mouth opens at the same time he reaches for his pocket.
“Wait! Wait!” I hold up my hands, my voice pleading. “Before you call the cavalry or whatever, just hear me out. I have no plans to give away my location or anyone else’s. I’m not even going to put a number in it. Well, not really anyway. It’s not a phone number per se. You can even watch me program it if you want to. Please, Reed, I’m begging you. I would never purposely hurt anyone. I just need my best friend to know I’m alive, that’s it.”
Heartbeats pass while Reed studies me. His eyes probe mine, peering into my soul and making himself comfortable. After a while, the corners around his eyes soften. Whatever he is seeing in me, I’m hoping he understands. Without hesitation, Reed walks past me to the back shelf, an area I did not browse the last time I was here. On the very bottom, he bends down to grab a small bulky device, similar to an early two thousands flip phone. Reed takes the package and leads me to the cash register.
After ringing it up, he takes a box cutter from his pocket and tears into the plastic. I reach into my wallet and extract the card Matt had previously given me. Before I can swipe, Reed’s hand lands on mine and pushes it away. His fingers dance over my wallet, before taking out my new bank card for Ariel Waters.
“This one’s better,” he mutters under his breath. “This person doesn’t actually exist.” Our eyes connect again when he says it. Reed has known all along about me, just like I’ve known about him. I swipe the card and go through the questions while Reed plugs the phone in to get a charge and turns it on. My breath hitches when the little screen flares with light.
“Thank you,” I tell him. Reed pauses, before entering the contact screen, and offers it to me. My fingers fly over the keyboard before I hand the phone back to him. He glances at the screen then to me, without asking questions, before holding it out to me. I throw it in the manila envelope that I swiped from a teacher’s desk and shove the phone and charging cord inside.
“Can I print an address label?” I ask, looking over to the office supply wall. Reed leads me over and pulls up the screen. After I print one off for Oaklynn, I realize, for the first time, a small flaw in my plan. My head falls to my hands, shudders of sobs threaten to spill over. “I can’t believe I forgot a stamp would need to go on this. If someone were to take it, they would see it was mailed from Minnesota.” My chest deflates; my good intentions are effectively squashed. I want to cry and have to resist the urge to slam the phone against a wall.
“Here.” Reed takes the bundle and disappears in the back. When he returns, there is a mail stamp across the front from New York.
“How?” I turn it over and over, examining it.
“Don’t ask. Just let me mail it back there.” He nods to the back
. I hesitate, before handing it over to him.
“You promise you’ll send it, right?” I ask, my gaze focusing on his. “You won’t turn it over to Ciaran or Matt?”
Reed allows me a few more minutes of eye contact before he drops his gaze and shuffles. He shakes his head no. If I blinked, I would have missed it. Nevertheless, he promised and that means more to me than anything right now.
“Thank you, Reed,” I tell him again, giving him a small smile, before heading to the door.
I leave the same way I came and hop the fence again when I reach the school. I’m practically Elsa at this time, I’m so cold; yet, I can’t bring myself to care. I finally have a shot at reaching Oaklynn. Every time I think about it, my smile widens to the point my cheeks hurt. There is an extra lightness in my chest, which makes the long walk home easier. Phase one of my plan is complete.
The house is dark when I finally get back, and Ciaran’s truck is not in the driveway, which makes me sigh in relief. I pretty much run up the front steps and let myself inside, stomping snow off as I go. My heart races, fearing I’ll be caught.
In the safety of my room, I pull off my jeans, the ends are now soaked from melted snow, and pull on my favorite pair of deep maroon leggings, followed by a pair of fuzzy socks from my drawer. Standing on my tiptoes, I reach for my favorite hoodie, the only one I took from home, and throw it on. The end hits almost to my knees and the sleeves hang a few inches over my fingers. It’s loose and broken in, the collar slightly frayed, exactly how I like it. Once I’m warm, the knots in my stomach dull.
Heading downstairs, I start in the kitchen and make myself a quick sandwich and some chips for dinner. The silence in the house feels comfortable, for once, even though I’m jumpy. I need to talk to Matt, if I ever want the next part of my plan to work. Pulling out my phone, I hit his name on the contact list. Right when my line rings, I can hear his ring tone below me. Standing from the chair, I move toward the door to the basement. The ring gets louder. I pause, unsure if I should knock or just go down. My hand reaches out before I can stop it and twists. The door opens, and I take a breath, before descending the stairs.
Until this point, I have never ventured into Matt’s space, respecting it as his. When I first arrived, he told me it was off limits. Butterflies dance in my stomach, wondering how mad he’ll be if he finds out I was down here. As my feet hit the bottom step, my eyes grow wide, and my breathing stops. Maps line every wall, making up the entire United States. Colorful tacks are stuck randomly in cities on each one. Realization hits that these must be other safe houses and hidden families. My body moves on its own, curiosity winning over self-preservation, farther into the spacious room. A steel door is on the right and on the left is a desk with a simple monitor on it. The screen is black, even though it hums with energy.
“What are you doing?” Matt’s voice sounds behind me. I whip around to face him, shame and embarrassment flooding my features.
“I’m sorry. I tried to call you, and I heard the phone ringing and thought you were down here,” I ramble. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but I just had a real quick question.”
Matt’s face cracks into a smile, a laugh escaping him. “Easy kid. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Oh,” I frown, halting my words and apologies, “I thought I couldn’t be down here.”
He shrugs. “There is a lot of sensitive material, but, most of it, is behind that door,” he says, pointing to the steal slab, and my eyes roam over it.
“Want to take a look?” he asks casually.
I nod my head and follow him over. Matt opens a panel and lays his hand across it. A green light flashes and is echoed by the sound of a lock clicking. Matt pushes the door open, and I follow him into the darkness. The minute we step in, automatic lights flare to life. My ears ring from all the chatter in the room. Four television monitors are anchored to one wall, each with a different news station recording. On the opposite wall is another map of the United States, only, this one, is electronic. Little red and yellow dots flicker in different cities in various states all over the country. Moving closer, I scan Minnesota and pick up a cluster of red and yellow dots. A number sequence is located off to the side.
“That’s me and the others here?” I question, only going off my assumption.
“Yup,” Matt answers, watching me thoughtfully.
I step back and scan the map again. There are thousands of lit up lights. My breath hitches in my chest. Matt’s operation is larger than I had expected. It’s not surprising he has as many people working for him as he does.
“Want to see your mom and Mila?” he asks, turning to me. My eyes widen in surprise.
“Yes!” I rush back over to the map where Matt has moved to. He points to a group of clusters out in Arizona.
“They’re here. Red dots are high priority and yellow indicate the ones who have been hidden for over ten years. Not that they aren’t high priority, but there is a greater chance that what they’ve been doing is working. No one is actively looking for them.”
“What are the green dots?” I question, noticing those are few and far between.
“Open houses or families,” Matt answers. I nod in understanding, my eyes moving back toward the cluster mom and Mila are in.
“At least they got to be somewhere warm,” I say, more to myself, smiling slightly. My mom always liked the hot temps. I wish I could see them. See their faces to know they’re okay.
“If the lights aren’t flashing or on blue then that means everything is okay. Each home has a panel of lights that can be hit for our system. I know it’s not like seeing them on surveillance, but at least you can see that they are okay,” Matt continues speaking. “Over here is a file of incoming cases. And these radios are pretty much a giant walkie talkie system. We only use them for a check in, which happens once every month. The day varies, though. If anything were to go wrong, each family also has one of these in the home and could call for help if they can’t reach a phone.”
“I don’t know why, but for some reason, I imagined huge computer monitors running surveillance or something,” I tell him laughing.
“That’s at our other location,” Matt answers, turning to face me. My mouth drops in surprise.
I walk toward the television screens and scan over the news. “Did our story ever break on the news?”
Matt’s brow furrows; I can tell it bothers him, too. “No. I haven’t been able to pick up on it, and no one else has either. I think whoever hit your house that night were professionals - ones with friends in high places who are keeping it quiet.”
Memories haunt me, and I have to close my eyes to fight them off. “I’m not dreaming about it as much anymore. Sometimes, though, if I’m alone or smell something in particular, it hits me all over again. I feel like I’m still trapped under that bed.”
Matt’s gaze travels over my face, offering silent support. I know it will get better someday. There really isn’t anything else he can say. “Can I come down here sometimes?” I ask. “Not all the time but just once in a while to check on their dot.” My voice sounds young and vulnerable, and I hate how childish it makes me feel.
“Yeah,” Matt answers, scratching his head with a free hand. “Preferably when Ci or I am here, though, okay? Just in case you did accidently hit something, we can correct it right away, okay?”
“Okay,” I respond, a small speck of happiness bursts within me.
“What did you want to ask me about in the first place?” he questions, while propping himself on the edge of the desk.
I swallow. “I was wondering if I could possible get internet on my phone yet?”
Matt studies me, tossing the idea around. “I guess you have been here for about two months now, huh?”
I nod again. He sighs. “That shouldn’t be a problem. You know the rules, right?”
“Yup,” I answer quickly, “Winter explained them to me already.”
“Okay, I’ll have Kai enable your phone.” Matt
nods and stands straight again. “I have to head to the garage again. Now that you’ll have Wi-Fi and all that good stuff, that also means you’re ready to start working.”
“Working where?” I ask, turning toward him.
“I need some help with orders, emails and bookkeeping at the garage. You can start there next week,” he answers, before leaving the room. “Don’t forget to close the door all the way!” he yells. I listen as his heavy feet sound up the stairs. I greedily run my eyes over the dots and televisions one more time before I decide to leave, too. I got what I needed, and in a twist of events, I found Mom and Mila, too. The excitement takes away some of the guilt I feel over lying to Matt.
“Bye Mom. Love you, Sis,” I whisper to the board, before closing the steel door behind me. I wait for the lock to click back into place, before racing up the stairs. By the time I reach my room, my phone chimes with a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Your Wi-Fi capabilities are programmed. Use responsibly. Also, this is Kai. Save my number ;)
I shake my head at the last part. Like I’d ever reach out and text Kai. Sure, he’s hot as hell, but he’s also Ciaran and Silas’ best friend, which means he probably hates me, too. I let his mild flirting slide, content and happy that phase two is complete. Tomorrow at school, I’ll talk to Reed about setting up the final step of my plan.
Ciaran
I wasn’t surprised when Matt announced that the demon Princess would be working at the shop next week. I was prepared for the rage that would flicker behind Si’s eyes. Matt didn’t know it, but I heard his conversation with Saylor. I heard the way her voice cracked when she asked about her mom and sister. I saw the way her shoulders caved in, protectively, when she talked about her nightmares and the boogeyman, as she refers to the men who broke into her home.
While I was prepared to hear she would around a lot more, and knowing the agony it would have on Silas, I didn’t fight Matt’s decision. In the past weeks, since that night after the fight, the night I had Saylor against a door, completely at my mercy, I’ve become more aware of the monsters haunting her. She thinks she’s over it, and it’s getting better, but it’s not. Every night, like clockwork, her body thrashes hard enough that the headboard hits my wall. By the time I reach her bed, she’s twisted in her sheets, face pulled into a grimace, mumbling about the boogeyman. Sometimes, she outright screams. Every night, I lay a hand on her arm and tell her she’s safe. Every night. I can’t figure out why I care. I try to tell myself she deserves it, that her family brought it upon themselves, but something has me coming back to her room each night to soothe her and ease her pain.
