His eyes are bloodshot and his mouth is set
in a hard line. Apparently he wasn't thinking the same lovey-dovey
things I was.
I lean against my seat and he rests an arm
on the steering wheel. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No. I should go." He sighs. "Besides, there
isn't anything to talk about."
I lean towards him once again and rest my
hand on the side of his face. His jaw clenches beneath my touch. I
pull him closer and press a light kiss on his lips. "Good night."
I'm hoping he'll pull me back and tell me to stay a little longer,
but his hand doesn't leave the dashboard.
"Good night."
I climb out of the car and grab my bag from
the backseat before running to the house. The dread lifts even
further when I realize all the downstairs lights are on. My parents
are home. No one went to the ER. I turn to wave at Cameron, then
open the front door as he drives down the street.
"Hello?" I drop my bag at the foot of the
stairs.
My parents are in the living room watching
television. Mom mutes the sound when I come in. "How was the
game?"
"Fine." I look between her and Dad, then
back to the television. She muted Jeopardy. This must be important.
"What's up?"
Their concern is palpable. Mom won't stop
pulling on the hem of her sleeve and Dad's crossed and uncrossed
his legs three times since I walked into the room. And the
television is still silent. I run through the list of reasons why
they could be upset with me, but nothing major stands out.
Curiosity urges me to press them, but I wait. I'm learning.
After what feels like an hour, Dad sits
forward. "Another girl disappeared."
"Oh, that." I sigh audibly and they both
raise an eyebrow.
"Oh that?" Mom echoes.
I sit on the edge of the couch. "Cam's mom
called to tell him right after we left school. I thought this was
about something else."
"Like what?"
"Nothing, I just—were you just going to tell
me about her, or is there something else?"
Dad looks at Mom and she clears her
throat. "We're worried about the hours you keep. Especially the
early drives. We know you like to take photos then—"
that's what I have them thinking
"—but we're afraid something could happen to you."
My mind scrambles to come up with a good
excuse. I can't blow them off about something this serious, but how
do I convince them that I'm not in danger? "It's only been little
kids who've been taken, and it's when they're running around
outside, right?" They both scowl. Okay, maybe that wasn't the best
approach. "I'm just saying, I'm in my car and driving. How would
someone talk to me, let alone try to kidnap me?"
Mom sighs, a long, drawn out exhalation of
breath that seems to wrap around the room. Maybe I've convinced
them. "Biz, we know you're almost an adult and can take care of
yourself, but you are still our baby. We can't help but worry."
"I always have my phone. If someone ever
tries to stop me I promise to call you right away."
This time Dad sighs, and I know I've won.
That seemed a little too easy, but I'll take it.
But I don't want to rub their faces in it.
"Are we okay? I don't want to make you guys worry, but I really
don't think I’m in any danger." I get up and give Mom a quick hug,
then linger a bit with Dad. "I swear I'll be safe."
With that over, I head upstairs and grab my
camera from my bag. Turner's business card flutters to the floor. I
finger the edge, Cameron's words flooding back to me. I can't
believe that something so awful happened to Turner and I never
knew. With Cameron, it's like his sister's disappearance is a badge
he wears, not necessarily out of obligation, but as a way to never
forget her, and it surprises me that there's this side to Turner
I'd never imagined.
I set his card next to my computer and
scroll through my images from the past week. Trace fills my screen,
followed by a distant shot of his teammates gathered around their
coach, and then my breath catches. The man is staring at me. This
isn't the first time I've seen this photo since uploading them, but
the intensity in his gaze freaks me out. I lean closer, studying
the lines around his deep-set eyes and the way his light hair
brushes the top of his ears.
How is it that he was looking right at me
when I took the picture? The thought of him watching us when we
weren't paying attention to him makes my skin crawl. A shimmer of
concern pricks the back of my neck. Maybe my parents are right to
be worried.
I open my email and type in Turner's
address, attach the photo, and click send.
I'm halfway through the photos from the
football game when Cameron texts.
"They said no."
Ugh.
"Why?"
Silence.
"Hello?"
"They don't want company right now."
"Since when am I company?"
I've been hanging out at his house since we
were in elementary school. I'd shed the company label around the
same time I ditched my pigtails and rainbow sneakers. Or so I
thought.
More silence.
Guilt burns my chest. Cameron's dealing with
a lot of shit and I'm stressing over a stupid label. "Are you
okay?"
Still nothing.
Well, crap.
Chapter 19
My alarm goes off long before the sun
rises—I set it on vibrate so I won't wake my parents—and I'm pretty
sure I'm the only person in my high school anxious to roll out of
bed right now. I slip into yesterday’s jeans and tug on a
sweatshirt before tip-toeing down the hall.
Dad's snoring drifts through their closed
door, but that's it. No tell-tale light that they're awake.
Downstairs I grab an apple from the bottom
drawer of the fridge then sneak out the door.
Streaks of red and orange light the sky as I
head towards the Strand. I take a few bites of the apple, then toss
it on the floor of the passenger seat. I'm not hungry, and while I
can't say I've ever noticed if they affect my migraines, I figure
it can't hurt.
I round a bend and the Strand looms up
ahead, but the sun isn't high enough yet.
This happens sometimes. Because the time of
the sunrise changes, I don't always get here at the right moment.
Once last winter I was so early I killed time drinking coffee at a
diner. But I think a quick loop to the next main road and back
should give the sun a chance to do its thing.
I drive slowly to the next bend in the road.
For a second I consider stopping on the shoulder, but my promise to
my parents urges me to keep moving. Barely ten hours have passed
since they asked me to be careful, and here I am contemplating
doing exactly what worries them.
No matter. A burst of light breaks the tree
line. It's time.
I check the rearview mirror to make sure no
one's behind me, then press the accelerator. It doesn't matter if
anyone's here, but I don't really know what happens to my car when
I flicker. I assume it's like a big rewind button freezes
everything, then whips everything back to yesterday, but images of
my car careening into a ditch or skidding into oncoming traffic
make me avoid other cars if I can.
Slivers of light shine though the trees. I
roll down the window. The cool air lifts my hair and sharpens my
senses.
I flex my fingers, allowing the tingling to
sweep through my arms and out my toes. I take a deep breath. The
heaviness pushes me back and I struggle to control the car. Lower,
lower, I sink into the seat, my gaze barely clearing the dashboard,
my fingers slipping from the steering wheel… and the weight
vanishes and I'm sitting upright, my feet drifting from the pedals.
I turn my head to glance at the trees and—
I'm walking down the hall with Amelia,
heading to lunch.
Bishop's class isn't as bad this time around
since I already know about the ridiculous score on my test, but I'd
love to skip his pep talk. I'm a little calmer when Cameron and I
leave for the football game, but knowing what happens doesn't calm
the butterflies. Repeating things doesn't seem to have an effect on
them.
When Cameron's mom calls I turn away so my
expression doesn't reveal anything, when a feeling of horror more
intense than anything I've ever felt slams into me. The girl just
got kidnapped.
And I knew about it.
I try to act surprised when Cameron
tells me the news, but I can't get past the turmoil that's
shredding my insides.
Why why why didn't I
do anything?
I could have called one of those
anonymous tip lines or… I don't know, gone to her house or
something. Anything. Now she's gone.
Fortunately Cameron's so distracted he
hasn't noticed that I've yet to say anything. We ride in silence
until we arrive at the stadium.
Cameron turns off the car and reaches over
to touch the back of my neck. "You've been quiet. Is your headache
back?"
I touch my temple. "Yeah, a little." I worry
that lying to him will somehow jinx me, then remember it will: I've
already flickered so I've got about twelve hours until it
descends.
I follow Cameron through the parking lot and
let him pick the far corner to get settled. My energy rebounds a
little when I start taking pictures, and I almost forget about the
creepy man. I turn towards the stands. It'd probably be better to
email Turner a more recent picture of this guy.
He's sitting right where I saw him, but for
once he isn't watching me. I follow his gaze to the field. Maybe he
is someone's dad and it's just a coincidence that I keep catching
him staring.
Cameron's shutter clicks next to me and I
quickly take a dozen shots of the man. As if he senses me, his head
slowly turns my way until his eyes are holding mine. A shiver runs
down my spine and I lean closer to Cameron.
He slides his free arm around me. "What's
wrong?"
"That man is here again." I point him out
and I'm halfway to my feet when Cameron stands.
"We need to tell someone."
"He's probably someone's dad. It's not like
I've seen him anyplace other than games." My heart isn't in it this
time. I know we need to talk to Turner, but I don't like changing
things more than I need to. In this case I feel like I need to let
Cameron convince me. Give him something to think about other than
kidnappings.
"How many kids does this guy have that he's
been at three different sports? We don't have that many big
families in our school."
I pause long enough to make him believe I'm
considering his argument. "We could talk to Turner. He'd know if
this man is someone’s parent."
Cameron's already walking towards the
stands.
The conversation with Turner goes much the
same way, except this time I have pictures to show him.
"I've never seen him before. I don't attend
every game, but I'm fairly certain I'd recognize a parent. Biz, do
you mind emailing these to me tonight when you get home?"
I nod and accept his card.
The drive home is quiet and I wait for
Cameron's promise to text me later before climbing out of the car.
If he senses my distance he doesn't call me out on it, but he's had
years of practice.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for
the talk with my parents. I fling open the door. "I'm home."
They're in the living room, looking nervous.
I let them start.
Dad sits forward. "Another girl
disappeared."
"I heard. Cameron's mom called while we at
the game."
Dad looks at Mom and she clears her throat.
"We're worried about the hours you keep. Especially the early
drives. We know you like to take photos then but we're afraid
something could happen to you."
"But if I'm driving, how could someone do
anything? I swear I'm careful." I'm feeling especially guilty since
the reason I'm repeating this conversation is because of my early
morning drive yesterday. Tomorrow. I shake my head. It's sometimes
hard to keep track of the days.
Mom sighs.
Repeating lectures is the worst part of
flickering. No, repeating classes is the worst part, but this is a
close second. Why couldn't Cameron have kissed me before he dropped
me off? That I'd like to do over. And over.
"Biz, we know you're almost an adult and can
take care of yourself, but you are still our baby. We can't help
but worry about you."
"I always have my phone. If someone ever
tries to stop me I promise to call you right away."
Dad sighs.
I give them another minute. "Are we okay? I
don't want to make you guys worry, but I really don't think it's a
big deal." I get up and give Mom a quick hug, then linger a bit
with Dad. "I swear I'll be safe."
I run upstairs to email Turner and wait for
Cameron's text. If only there was a way to change his parents'
decision.
*****
I toss my phone across the room.
You'd think it'd hurt less to hear I can't
go to Cameron's tomorrow since I already knew that's what would
happen, but it doesn't. An unfamiliar longing sweeps through me,
crushing me, curling me into a ball on my bed. Then it pisses me
off.
I sit up. He's a guy. A guy. Why am I
letting myself get so worked up over him? I'd never admit it, but I
pride myself on not getting hung up on boys.
But Cameron's
different
, a little voice insists, and I curl back
up.
I allow myself to wallow for a few
minutes, then the voice shifts.
I need to
know about the little girl.
I pull my laptop off my
desk and rest it on my pillow. A couple of keystrokes later she's
staring back at me. Brown hair, brown eyes, missing front
tooth.
My stomach turns and I close my eyes. I'm so
fucking stupid. Why didn't I think of her sooner when I could have
actually done something to help? I scroll down, my finger slowly
moving over the touchpad until her freckles are gone. The words
swim by; bits of information that could have been useful if I'd
bothered to look it up last night. My finger stops. The police say
there's definitely a connection with Katie. They're reopening her
case.