Moment of Truth

by Kasie West

  That guy on stage thought I knew him? That’s what he’d said in our chats. Was he about to profess his love to me up there? I couldn’t let that happen. Once I was clear of the seats, I ran out the back door and to Amelia’s car, where I leaned against the bumper and waited for things to make sense or for me to be magically transported out of the parking lot to save me from the humiliation that I was sure was about to occur.

  Twenty-Seven

  I thought Amelia would come out first to find me, or the masked man, but it was Jackson.

  “Hey, Moore. Everything okay?” He slid his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him.

  I had never asked him. I’d asked a lot of people if they knew who Heath Hall was, but it occurred to me that I’d never asked him. Why hadn’t I just asked him to save myself from this humiliation? He would’ve told me. He liked me. “You know. Who was that in there on the stage? Who is Heath Hall?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  I pushed away from him, hurt. “You too?” I stood and paced. “Is this all just some big joke to you? Let’s make Hadley look like a fool for fun because my life is only about discovering the ultimate prank? I just want to go home. Why don’t I have a car so I can go home?”

  “Because your brother owns your car, and you’re too afraid to confront your parents about it.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t throw my secrets at me when you won’t tell me yours.”

  He pressed his palms to his temples, then pointed back at the theater. “I can’t tell you his secret. That’s not mine to tell. Why do you care who he is anyway?”

  “Because . . .” I wanted to know who I’d been talking to for the last month, who I’d told things to, who apparently liked me.

  “Great reason,” he mumbled.

  “I owe you nothing.”

  His expression flattened in obvious hurt.

  “I’m going home.” I marched back to the theater and found Amelia. The stage was now empty, but people were visiting around the room. Amelia and DJ were still linked by their hands. When had that happened anyway? She’d actually done it, was dating her unattainable crush.

  “You should’ve seen that,” Amelia said when I was at her side. “He just told everyone he was gay. He said that saying it out loud with the mask on would give him the courage to do it without the mask soon.”

  I stared at the empty stage, confused. Heath Hall didn’t like me? So what did he mean the day before in our chat when he said everyone noticed me? Amelia was staring at me now, concerned. “That’s cool,” I managed to say. And it was cool. I was proud of him.

  “It was so inspiring.” Her brain was making some jumps too. “I guess that’s another clue for us.”

  “Can you take me home?”

  “What? Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

  “I just want to go home.”

  Amelia tugged on DJ’s arm. “Sorry. We’ll have to meet up another night.”

  “You can go out with DJ. I don’t need you with me. Can you just drop me off?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m going to sleep.”

  The whole way home Amelia kept asking me over and over if I wanted her to stay with me. Over and over I assured her that I didn’t.

  As we turned onto my street, I asked, “When? You and DJ?” Apparently, I couldn’t speak in complete sentences anymore.

  “In the course of me trying to find out if he was Heath Hall yesterday and today.”

  “DJ wasn’t on your list!” I said, shocked.

  “He wasn’t at first, but then I remembered he was at the pool the first time you saw Heath Hall and he was at the museum that night but we had left him. Then at the bungee jump he had completely disappeared.”

  “So you thought it might be him?”

  “I did at first, but not after we talked a couple times.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “Are you good? Because I can stay.” She stopped in front of my house.

  “You will drive me nuts if you stay. You know where the spare key is. Let yourself in later. I’ll be asleep.”

  “You’re the best friend ever.”

  “I know.”

  My plan when I went inside was not to look online. To do just what I said I was going to do and crawl in bed. But it was like a sickness. I couldn’t help myself. After brushing my teeth and changing my button-down blouse for a comfortable T-shirt, I pulled up the one waiting message on my phone. It was from Heath Hall.

  You want a car, Moore? Go get your car.

  What? Had Jackson taken over Heath Hall’s account? I read the two sentences again. Go get my car? I stood slowly, slipped on a pair of flip-flops, and went outside. Nobody was there. I started to walk back inside when what Jackson had said out in the parking lot came back to me. Your brother owns your car.

  My brother’s truck sat like it always did on its raised platform. On the hood I could barely make out a dark object. I slowly approached. It was a black backpack, a long white envelope jutting out of the pocket. On the front of that envelope my first and last name were written in Sharpie. I opened it up and unfolded the single sheet of paper inside.

  You were nominated to be Heath Hall by a previous embodiment. The request stated that you were too set on a singular goal. You needed to expand your focus. That need was evaluated and found false. But upon further observation, a different need was discovered. You need to stop trying to make up for the past. Stop competing with the past in a game you can’t win. You need to live in the present and own your place there in the lives of those around you. You need to let go of your fear of acceptance, let people in, and demand what’s yours. You can choose to accept this challenge by completing an act you feel best symbolizes overcoming your fear. You can do it alone or have the group to support you by emailing your act to I_am_HeathHall@gmail.com. When the mask has served its purpose or if you choose not to accept this challenge, please return, by way of enclosed lockbox key to the address inside.

  I opened the backpack to find the Heath Hall mask.

  A need. I now had a need and got to know the secret.

  No wonder everyone thought Heath Hall was someone different. He was. He was many different people. One jumped into the pool, another showed his art, another bungee jumped. And tonight, Jackson couldn’t tell me who was on that stage. It wasn’t his secret to tell. But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was who was behind the private messages. That was Jackson. I looked at the note again. Was this him too? Did the goof-off Jackson organize this device to help people work through their fears? Like Dumbo’s black feather, he had said to me once. I laughed, but then I stopped as I took in my brother’s truck.

  I knew what Jackson wanted me to do. He wanted me to drive it. To go get the keys from inside that little glass box and drive this truck off its platform. It would definitely be symbolic. Me facing my brother. Now I knew why that guy’s hands were shaking in the back corridor of the museum. These weren’t average fears being targeted. This was the worst fear I could possibly imagine. In so many ways. No wonder the people who had been Heath Hall before kept this secret. They understood how serious this was.

  I zipped up the backpack, the Heath Hall mask still inside, and went back in the house. I just wanted to go to my room and pretend this hadn’t happened. It killed me to disappoint Jackson.

  This was unfair. Other people wouldn’t care what Jackson thought of them if they did or didn’t do it. Did other people even know Jackson was involved? I was almost positive they didn’t. I set the backpack on the kitchen counter and stared at my brother’s keys on the wall. The truck probably wouldn’t even start. It had been a month since my dad had charged the battery. All I had to do was climb in, turn the key, and when it didn’t start, climb out. That was facing a fear.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened the glass box and grabbed the keys off the hook. This was the first time I’d ever held them. When they didn’t burn a hole through my
palm, I carried them outside along with the backpack and my purse and I stared at the truck some more. That platform was high. Several feet off the ground. And it didn’t have a ramp or anything. If I got the truck started, would I be able to drive it off without damaging it? And how would I get it back up before my parents got home?

  It wasn’t going to start, so none of this mattered. I took a deep breath, opened the driver’s-side door, and climbed inside. That wasn’t too hard. I unzipped the backpack and pulled out the mask of Heath Hall. “There’s no way I’m wearing you, dude, but you can have a front row seat for the action.” I propped the mask up on the dash. It was about the spirit of the challenge, not actually having to wear the mask, right?

  “Okay, Moore,” I said to myself, “just put the key in and turn.” My hands were shaking more than those of the museum Heath Hall that night. I couldn’t even still mine enough to insert the key in the ignition. I took several deep breaths. Finally, the key slid in. I pressed on the brake and turned the key. The engine sputtered but then caught. My heart doubled in speed. No. It wasn’t supposed to start. I hit the wheel. I really hated this truck.

  There was no way I could drive it. “Why?” I asked, playing the other side of an argument against myself that I didn’t want to have. “Because they’ll know,” I answered.

  Wasn’t that the point? The point of facing my fear, of coming out of the past? But no, it wasn’t about my parents. It was about me facing my brother. I could drive the truck and put it back. My dad had to have some ramps in the garage. How else would he have gotten it up here in the first place? Yes, that’s what I’d do.

  I turned off the ignition and my heart immediately calmed. A check of the garage found exactly what I was looking for. Two rusty ramps. I dragged them out of their corner and across the lawn, wiping spiderwebs and dust off my jeans as I did. When I made it back to the truck, I plopped them down with a deep breath. Now I wouldn’t damage the truck by driving it off.

  I lined up one ramp in front of each of the front wheels and then returned to the cab of the truck. Maybe it wouldn’t start now. No such luck. The hum of the engine vibrated through my legs and back. I almost turned it off again. I couldn’t do this. Heath Hall stared at me from the dash, daring me to, reminding me of how many fears he’d successfully faced in the past. “I don’t need you judging me, Heath.” I was stalling. I was chickening out. “Okay, stupid feather, give me some power.” I grabbed the mask and pulled it on.

  Twenty-Eight

  It was hot in the mask, my breath making it stuffy. Plus, the eyeholes weren’t very big. It was hard to see out. I tugged at the neck to readjust it on my face, which helped a little with my vision. My parents were going to kill me if they found out. They were going to see that I was irresponsible and selfish. They were going to wish him back all over again.

  “No. I will not compete with you anymore, Eric.”

  Besides, I wasn’t doing this. Heath Hall was. I laughed at my own thoughts, knowing my fear had officially taken over.

  Don’t analyze, just drive, I told myself. I pushed on the gas and the truck lurched forward. The ramps were a little lower than the platform and the truck dropped a few inches before easing down. My stomach dropped even further. But then I was off the platform and on the street and my nerves seemed to settle. I was still hot and couldn’t breathe, so I ripped the mask off and propped it back on the dash. “You did your job, Heath Hall. Thank you.”

  I was two blocks away from my house before I began to wonder how long this drive had to last. The shock of the entire night had started to wear off, and I was left with the memory of how I had been so mean to Jackson. I’d told him I owed him nothing. He had just been trying to protect someone’s privacy. An apology was in order.

  I found myself driving to Norman’s because a good apology is always accompanied by a bribe. It wasn’t until I was waiting for my drink that I realized I had no idea where Jackson lived.

  I pulled out my phone. I didn’t have his number. How had we never exchanged numbers? Oh, that’s right. I spent weeks being annoyed by him.

  Hadn’t Amelia claimed that the internet knew all? What did I have to lose? I typed in a quick message. Hey, does anyone know where Jackson Holt lives? Private message me his address.

  By the time I’d ordered the cider, I’d already gotten three DMs. It didn’t even disturb me that they were all from girls. Okay, it kind of did.

  I collected his drink and left.

  Even though the radio in my brother’s truck looked newer than the truck itself, it was still older than dirt. When I powered it on, it only let out a static buzzing. Several black buttons jutted out from the bottom. I pressed each one and the red line in front of the numbers moved, but still the radio emitted nothing but static. It had a tape deck as well. I wondered if that worked. Not that I had tapes. And of course there was no way to plug in my phone. If ever there was a time I’d needed music to block out my thoughts, it was now. I didn’t just have to worry about how tonight might end but also how driving to Jackson’s house, uninvited, might too. I went anyway. It was a night of facing fears, after all.

  It wasn’t very cold out, but I stood on his porch, clutching his drink, shivering. My teeth clattered together and everything. I felt like I did after a tough swim day, standing outside the pool, still dripping wet. I hated being vulnerable, putting myself out there. I hated looking stupid, feeling stupid. I didn’t want to do this. But I had to. I would.

  I took a deep breath, put my game face on, and knocked.

  A woman opened the door and gave me a tentative smile.

  “Is Jackson here?” I asked.

  She flipped her wrist to check her watch. It was only a little after nine on a Friday night. Was she going to turn me away? “I think he might be asleep,” she said.

  Disappointment settled onto my chest. I wasn’t sure if my face changed with the feeling or not, but she said, “Let me go check.” She closed the door halfway, then left.

  A couple minutes later the door squeaked open again and Jackson stood there in some too-small sweats and a T-shirt. I gave him my confident look: shoulders back, sure smile on my face. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up, and a guarded smile came onto his face. “Moore. You’re here.” He glanced over my shoulder and saw the truck parked against the curb in front of his house and his smile widened. “You did it.”

  “Barely.” I thrust the drink forward. “This is for you. An I-was-a-jerk-again bribe. I’m sorry for what I said in the parking lot.”

  He shrugged. “You’ve labeled me as a slacker, and you’re sticking by it. I appreciate the consistency.”

  He wasn’t going to accept my apology or the drink I was still holding out. “At least take this. You know I can’t drink it. It’s disgusting.”

  He laughed and took the drink.

  “Thank you.” I turned and walked away.

  “Moore?”

  I stopped but didn’t turn.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  I put my head down, letting that confident front drop for a moment as utter relief poured through my body. At least he couldn’t see my face.

  “Is that a no?” he asked.

  “Yes—no—I mean, please. I want you to come.”

  “Let me grab some shoes. I’ll meet you out there.”

  Just seconds after I climbed into the cab, he did too, holding a pair of Converse in one hand and his drink in the other. He almost sat on the box my mom had placed inside weeks ago but slid it over to the middle just in time.

  “You know I only agreed so I could sit in this truck, right?”

  Right. I had forgotten about his love of this truck.

  “A joke. After all this time and you constantly reminding me that I joke about everything, you don’t get my joke?”

  I choked out a weird sputtering laugh.

  “Are you freaking out?” He studied me cl
oser, then cussed. “You’re freaking out.”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  He let out a single laugh. “Fine, huh? Okay, take a deep breath.” He dropped his shoes on the floor and his hand went to my neck, where he began to massage. “Just breathe.” He turned on the radio but the static was still the only noise it would produce. I loved that he knew music would’ve helped. But there was no music. Only deafening silence filled with the thoughts of how stupid this was.

  “My parents are going to kill me,” I said.

  “Your parents are not going to kill you.”

  “My mom will for sure. My dad will just be very disappointed. He is really, really good at being disappointed.”

  “You’re in your head too much. Don’t think about that. Think about the good that will come of this.”

  “There is no good. Only death.”

  I could tell he was trying not to, but he laughed. “Do you want to take it back? I can help you take it back.”

  Yes. I wanted to take the truck back and pretend none of this ever happened. My eyes landed on the mask still sitting on the dashboard. Maybe it really did possess some secret power, because I took a deep breath and shook my head no. “I’m here. Let’s have some fun.” Besides, I’d already decided this wasn’t about my parents. This was about me facing my brother. Facing what I’d competed with my whole life. When the night was over, I was going to put the truck back as if it was never moved. The thought gave me new determination. Tonight would give me the strength to face my parents. To let them know how I felt.

  “Heath Hall is sitting on your dashboard,” Jackson said. “That’s kind of creepy.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who started the whole thing.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t.”

  “Okay, you talk, I’ll drive.” I turned the key, the truck rumbling to life, and we pulled away from his house.

  His hand dropped from my neck and he reached down to pull on his shoes. “I’ve been the Heath Hall caretaker for about six months now. I think someone, much like you, thought I was a bit irresponsible and wanted me to step outside myself.”