Emmy & Oliver (4 page)

And right then, I wanted it to stop. I wanted to go back to surfing yesterday afternoon
and have Caro announce nothing more exciting than a pop quiz in calculus that she totally failed. I wanted the neighbors to mind their own business and to my complete horror, I realized I wanted Oliver to go back to New York. His disappearance had created such a huge chasm that it still hadn't fully repaired itself, and I didn't know if I was ready to have it ripped open all over again. As terrible as the past ten years had been, they were familiar. I wasn't sure if I was ready to trade them in for a brand-new set of issues and worries.

The police car's passenger side door opened and Maureen climbed out, along with the officer in the front seat. Cameras descended like electronic locusts and next to me, I saw my mom grab my dad's arm. There were tears in both of their eyes. The police did their best to clear a safe path up to Oliver's front door, but they couldn't stop the barrage of questions that the reporters began to yell.

“Are you angry with your father?”

“What was it like seeing your mother again?”

“Do you know where your father might be?”

“What's the first thing you're going to do now that you're home?”

Oliver's door opened and he stepped out.

He was a stranger.

Taller, broader, dark hair, just like my mom had said. He was glaring at the cameras as Maureen put her arm around him. Maureen had seemed smaller and frailer ever since that day Oliver hadn't come home from school, but next to her son, she looked tiny. I tasted blood and realized I was biting my lip too hard. Caro was crying next to me and Drew put an arm around each of us, hugging us tight. He was shaking. I think we all were.

When Oliver looked up and over at us, I made a noise in the back of my throat. I hadn't seen him in ten years, but I had seen his face every night in my dreams, his little seven-year-old face that seemed way too young, and when his eyes met mine, I knew that it was him. He had the same frown, the same eyes, the same posture.

“I wonder if anyone checked his shirt tag,” I wondered out loud, and before anyone could ask what I was talking about, Oliver disappeared into his house, the door shutting behind them.

And that was it. He was home.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

“G
ive Oliver
space
.”

That was the mantra for the next week, at least as far as my parents went. On the advice of several psychologists and therapists, Maureen, Rick, the twins, and Oliver all went on virtual lockdown. “It's time for us to be a family once again,” my mom read one of Maureen's group emails out loud one night as my dad and I were cleaning up after dinner. We had gotten a lot of these emails over the years—various “thank you so much for your thoughts and prayers” emails that Maureen had sent to friends and family members—but this was the first one that had an ending to it.

“Maybe Oliver doesn't need space,” I said, drying a wineglass and trying not to get fingerprints all over it. “Maybe he wants to just be alone and not hang out with his old and new family. No one wants to be locked up with Molly and Nora.” They were Oliver's half sisters. I babysat them every so often for money that my parents thought I was saving for college and I was actually saving for a new wet suit and board.

“According to the therapists, they need some intense bonding time,” my mom replied, delicately swiping her finger across the phone to turn it off.

“I've spent plenty of time alone with the twins,” I replied. “Oliver will be crawling out through the chimney in a day if they put him through that.”

“
We
need intense bonding time!” my dad said. “Pizza night on Friday!”

“I have a work thing,” my mom said.

“I have a ‘don't want to hang out with my parents' thing,” I added.

“You love hanging out with us!” my dad chided me. “We're cool. Your friends love us.”

It was, unfortunately, true. Caro and Drew thought my parents were great. And they were. Most of the time. But when it came to curfews or personal freedom, my parents were dictators.

“Anyway,” my mom said, ignoring my comment, “we just have to be patient. I'm sure we'll all have a chance to see Oliver again soon. He just needs some
space
.”

“Space?”
Caro frowned when I told her that. We were in my bedroom the next night, doing our English homework. It was a group project and luckily we could pick our own partners. Of course I chose Caro. She organizes her Post-it notes by color and size. You can't go wrong in a group project with someone like her.

“Space,” I replied, raising an eyebrow at her.

“It's not really space if you're on lockdown with your own family.” Caro seemed dubious and I saw her glance out my window toward Oliver's, where the blinds had been permanently shut. “That sounds like the opposite of space.”

“Not all of us have five siblings like you,” I told her. “And it's not lockdown. He's not in prison.”

Caro raised her eyebrow right back at me. “Would you want to be holed up with
Maureen
, day and night?”

Caro had a point. Maureen was not an easygoing person. It seemed mean to make fun of her for it, though. “She went through a horrible trauma ten years ago,” I chided Caro. “No one would be mellow after that.”

“I know, I know,” Caro said. “She just makes me nervous.”

“This from someone whose pencils are all sharpened to equal lengths.”

Caro paused, then threw a Post-it pad at me, giggling when I ducked. “You're lucky,” she said. “It could have been a pencil.”

“Space,”
Drew said thoughtfully when I told him what my parents had said. “Didn't he have enough space for ten years?”

“Not if he was in New York,” I said. “They tend to pack 'em in there.”

“I heard that he lived all over,” Drew said. “I read it online.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” I grumbled.

Apparently, some distant cousin of Maureen's who lived one town over had leaked Maureen's email to the press. Oliver's news story wasn't as exciting as it had been the
week before, but new information was new information.

“They called him
Colin
.” Drew went on like I hadn't said anything. We were sitting on the sand after surfing together, perched on our boards. The sun was an hour or so away from dropping into the ocean, which meant I had thirty minutes before we had to leave and get back before my parents became suspicious.

“Colin?”
I repeated, and Drew nodded sagely. “Wow. Okay. Why Colin?”

“No clue. I read it online. But I don't know what staying inside with Maureen and her husband, Ray—”

“Rick.”

“Whatever. I don't see how that's going to help Oliver. They can't keep him hidden the same way his dad did and call it progress.” Drew brushed his hair out of his eyes. The wind always picked up at sunset and we were both suffering for it.

“He needs to reassimilate,” Drew continued. “Jump into the deep end of high school and get it over with.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Do you think he wants to see us, though?”

Drew glanced at me. “Why? Don't
you
want to see him?”

“Well, of
course
I want to see him!” I scoffed. “He was gone for ten years, it'd be nice to get to know him again.”

But the truth was that I
had
seen Oliver. The night before, after Caro left and my parents went to bed (
“Lights out soon!”
my mom had said, which meant I had an hour or so before she checked on me again), I snuck into my closet, stood on a rickety old step stool, and felt around on the shelf for an old shoe box. It was shoved so far back that I could barely touch it, but as soon as my fingers grazed the top, I managed to pull it down.

I have things hidden all around my room. I don't think I would describe myself as a sneaky person, but if I count off all of the secret hiding spaces I have, well,
you
might describe me that way. The more something needs to be hidden, the sneakier I become. My babysitting cash lives in the back of the closet, in the pocket of a winter coat that I have worn exactly once. My old surfing magazines that I got at the used-book store are stashed in my third desk-drawer down, covered up by piles of printer paper and used-up ballpoint pens.

The shoe box is my oldest hiding spot and it holds just two things, things that no one knows about, not even Drew or Caro, not even my parents.

The first is a copy of my application to UC San Diego.

I had been thinking about applying for a while, ever since junior year when someone
mentioned that they had one of the best surfing teams in the nation. San Diego was only about ninety minutes south from where we lived, so it wasn't like I would be leaving my parents for the other side of the country. It was just far away enough, where I could have some
space
.

The same space, in fact, that I was giving to Oliver.

I pulled out the application once more, feeling the paper's crispness in my hands. I had printed it out at the public library just so it would feel real, a reminder that I had actually applied to college. It felt more real that way, more possible. Caro and I had talked about going to community college together, than transferring to a university after two years, but I wanted out now. I didn't want to wait anymore.

The second secret was at the bottom of the shoe box, a piece of paper folded and refolded so many times that it was starting to tear a little at the creases. Unlike the application, the paper was as soft as bedsheets, and I ran my thumb over the edge before carefully opening it up.

DO YOU LIKE EMMY, YES NO???
it said. Caro's handwriting was precise and exact, just like it is now, and the word
yes
was circled. It was the only thing I had left of Oliver after the kidnapping, the only thing that was truly mine, and I had kept it that way for ten years. I used to look at it for hours at a time, holding it in my pocket and pulling it out when I was alone in my room. I had thought that if I kept it close, it would bring Oliver back home, and now was the first time in ten years that I held it while knowing where Oliver was in the world.

The idea took my breath away.

After I put the shoe box back up on the shelf and went to get ready for bed, I realized that I could see into Oliver's room. The blinds had been blown askew by the wind, leaving a part of the window bare, and I could see him sitting in his desk chair, his profile illuminated by a light coming from across the room. He was holding his lip between his fingers, toying with it absently, and I suddenly remembered him doing that in second grade whenever he was nervous, usually while we were dividing up for kickball teams. (He hadn't been the best athlete.)

His hair was dark and longer than it had been when we were kids, and he looked sort of like some of the surfers that Drew and his brother, Kane, hung out with on weekends, strands of hair tucked behind his ear. His face was the same, just bigger, and his gaze was intense.

Creeping across the floor (and feeling like a stalker), I managed to turn off the light switch before tiptoeing back over to the window. My room was totally dark so there was
no way Oliver could see me, but I hunched down below the windowsill, anyway. I felt like a hippopotamus in one of those nature documentaries, when they're submerged in water and you can only see their eyes.

Oliver was watching a movie. That's what had his attention. It was projected from his laptop onto a white sheet that he had taped up over his bookshelf, the same bookshelf that Maureen had dusted for ten years. It was something older, maybe from the sixties, with dramatic music that floated out even through his closed window. Whatever it was, Oliver was entranced. I probably could have been standing inside his room and he wouldn't have noticed me, but I stayed hidden, anyway.

Suddenly, the space that had always been between us felt too big. For the first time in ten years, I could see Oliver right in front of me, but he was still much too far away.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................