The Before (7 page)

Mel wouldn’t be able to talk for herself. She was alone and afraid. If a cop approached her, she wouldn’t be able to explain what she was doing. She could only keen and rock. That was behavior that had made people nervous back before the world had gone to hell. Now, with the cops patrolling the streets looking for monsters, I could only imagine what they’d see if they found Mel.

I gave my laces a fierce tug to secure the knots and stood.

Mom stopped me by the front door. “No. You can’t go out the front. That cop car is still there.”

“But—”

“If Mel had gone out the front, we’d know it already. She must have snuck out the back.”

I peeked out the window beside the door, taking in the stillness of the night. Mom was right. If Mel had gone out the front, we would have heard something already.

“Okay,” I said and headed for the sliding glass door at the back of the house.

“How are you going to get out of the backyard?”

In our neighborhood, all the garages faced the street and our back fences butted up to one another. The only gate out of our yard led to the front yard, which would do me no good.

“Hey,” I said with a grin I didn’t even begin to feel. “What kind of teenage girl would I be if I couldn’t sneak out of my own backyard. I’ve done this tons of times.”

Mom’s face twisted into a grimace of misery. “If I lose you both . . .”

“You won’t. I’ll be quick. I’ll bring her back. I promise.”

Chapter Eleven

Lily

Out in the backyard, I considered my options. The school was about a mile away and I could take mostly side roads. As long as I could sneak past the cop car watching our house I had a chance. If I scaled the fences—which I could sort of do—then I could travel from our backyard to the end of the block without ever being seen from the street. Assuming our neighbors weren’t paranoid gun enthusiasts. I was less sure about that.

I quickly scaled the fence to the west of our house, wedging my shoe on the cross-brace on this side and ignoring the way the wood bit into my palms as I levered myself over. The other side of the fence was smooth, so I had to drop to the ground in Mrs. Jensen’s backyard. I didn’t think she was the gun-nut type, but who could say for sure. She was in her seventies and lived alone. For all I knew she was paranoid. And suddenly I felt bad for not thinking to check on her before now. At least at our house we had each other. I kept to the back of her yard, creeping along behind her mountain laurels, praying that maybe she’d gone to visit those cousins of hers she was always complaining about.

I had
not
done this tons of times. I had done this once. Precisely once. Ninth grade. Stevie Kessler’s kegger. Practically the entire school had been there and I’d talked my friend Katrina into going with me. She had had a great time. I’d spent the entire night flitting around the edges of the party hoping to catch sight of Carter Olson. It had not been the first or the last bad decision I’d made when it came to him.

That was why I was so tough on Mom about Dad. I got it. I knew all about that crazy, obsessive thing we Price women seemed particularly vulnerable to. It made us stupid and weak. The world was changing quickly. The stupid and weak weren’t going to survive.

By the time I’d climbed the fence separating Mrs. Jensen from the Munozes’ yard, I was starting to fatigue. I had two—or was it three?—more yards to go. Why couldn’t I remember how many houses were on our street? Or who lived in them? At the very end of the street was that sporty family with all the soccer balls littering their yard. And next to them was . . . shit! Next to them was the single dad with the gun rack mounted in his truck and all the hunting bumper stickers.

No way I was going through his yard. I’d have to cross into the yard behind the Munozes and reach the street north of us that way. From there I’d only have to cross one major road to reach the high school. I dropped back down to the ground off the Munozes’ fence and landed hard on my ankle, yelping louder than I intended. A nearby dog barked, setting off a cacophony of yelps throughout the neighborhood. I crouched low, panting. Dogs. Why hadn’t I thought about dogs before now? Thank God I hadn’t encountered any before now!

I crept along the wooden fence until I found a hole and peered into the yard behind the Munozes’ on the other block. A pit bull lunged at the hole. All I could see was sharp teeth and snarling gums. I staggered back a step, falling on my butt.
Shit.

A light flickered on inside the Munozes’. I saw Mr. Munoz walk across the living room toward the sliding glass door at the back of the house. If their house was like ours—and it would be, because all these houses were essentially the same—there would be a light switch for the back floodlights right by the door. And then I’d be screwed.

I hobbled along the back fence, back toward my house, and scrambled up the fence. Pain screamed through my ankle as I scurried up the wood, which creaked ominously as I flung a leg over. The floodlights flashed on just as I dropped over the fence.
Shit.

Now I was wounded, exhausted, and closer to the house than I had been a moment ago. Great.

My phone bleeped, letting me know I’d gotten a text.

What the . . . ? Would Mom text me? Maybe she’d found Mel.

I pulled it out of my back pocket and glanced at it. It was a number I didn’t even recognize, but from a local area code.

Hey, Lily. This is Joe. Mel’s at my house. Don’t know what she wants.

Joe?
I typed back, my mind racing.

Joe? Joe who? Did I even know a Joe? I tried to think of the places Mel might go. The Joes she might know. And then it hit me. Joe Mateo.

I typed frantically.
Joe! Thank God she’s with you! Thnx!

He lived just a block over. We’d gone to elementary school together. We’d been friends but had drifted apart when we all hit middle school and Joe started dabbling in drugs. Kids around school called him Stoner Joe. He was the guy to go to if you wanted pharmaceuticals of any kind. But why would Mel go there? It wasn’t like she’d go buy weed at a time like this. Or ever.

I’m heading there now. Don’t let her leave!

No worries.

Front or back better?
I typed.

I’ll meet you at the front door. Be quick.

I scurried over the next few fences, going for speed rather than stealth. Now that I knew where she was, I was desperate to get there before she could get away.

Still, it was ten minutes at least before I dashed across Joe’s street and huddled in his doorway. The door opened before I could even raise my hand to knock.

I threw myself through his doorway and landed against his chest. “Joe! Thank God you—”

“Shh,” Joe whispered. “My old man’s sleeping.”

I nodded my understanding and Joe led me through the darkened house to one of the bedrooms in the back. In the living room, the TV was on and a man was asleep on the sofa in front of it. He was snoring loudly. Even asleep he clutched a glass that was propped on his belly. A quarter inch of amber liquid jostled in the glass with each inhalation. There was an open bottle of whisky on the floor beside the sofa.

I thought of all the rumors I’d heard about Joe. That his father was a drunk and beat him. That Joe supported himself and his dad with the extra income he made. I didn’t know if any of that was true, but I was thankful that at least my mom had stayed sober throughout this.

A moment later Joe led me into what must have been his bedroom. The room was cast in a bluish light. Mel was standing in the corner, twisting her hands in knots.

At the sight of her the tension rushed out of me. I blinked back tears. She was here. She was safe. My knees felt suddenly weak. It was all I could do not to rush across the room to her. Instead, I sank to the desk chair right next to the door.

“Jesus,” I muttered.

Joe smiled a little. “See. Safe and sound. Just like I said.”

“Thank you!” I shot a look at Mel. “Jesus, do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you know how worried Mom and I have been? How much danger you were in? How much—”

Joe dropped a hand to my shoulder. “Hey. Chill. She’s fine. You’re fine. It’s all good.”

I shook off his hand. “Damn it, it’s not—” I blew out a breath. Joe was right. It didn’t matter. She was here now. She was safe. I looked up at Joe. “How did you find her? Was she out on the street?”

“No, man. She came to me. Snuck in through the back and just knocked on my window.” Joe gave a chuckle. “Just like a regular customer.”

“She came to you?” Until now, I’d assumed she was just so desperate not to get shipped off that she thought she could run away. I’d thought he found her wandering on the street. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She’s just, you know, rambling. Like she used to.”

Mel stepped closer to me. “Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”

“Okay, Mel. We have water at home. Let’s just go home.”

I walked over to her and held out my hand. She shrank away from me. So I reached for her arm. She jerked back, yelping loudly.

I held out my hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. I won’t touch you. Just come.” She didn’t even look at me. I tried to remember what the occupational therapist had told me about how to handle Mel when she was like this. I remembered being calm was at the top of the list. Yeah, right. Like that would happen.

Still, I exhaled and held my finger like a hook and waved it in front of her face. “Come on, Mel. Look at me. We have to go.”

“Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”

“You know, Mel, that’s not particularly helpful. We have water at home!”

She looked at me; her expression of frustration probably matched my own. “Water, water. Water, water. Not a drop to drink.”

I felt a scream of rage building inside of me. “That doesn’t help! Give me something else!”

Joe put his hand on my shoulder again and this time he crouched down and looked at me. “Hey. Chill. Maybe she came here for a reason.”

“Great. But until she freakin’ tells me why she came here, I can’t do jack about that.”

“Well, she means something, right? I mean, when she does this, she always means something. So just think it through.”

I blew out a breath, fighting my emotions. I was furious with myself for losing my temper. Furious with her for bolting and for being so damn coy. And even with Joe for having more sense than I had about what she needed.

But none of that mattered. If she needed something, if she’d come here for a reason, then she wouldn’t walk out until I’d figured it out. Mel might not be much of a talker, but she was stubborn as a pit bull.

“Okay,” I murmured. “Water.”

Mel nodded distractedly.

“But not really water, right?” Joe asked. “’Cause you have that at home.”

“Right. Water, but not water.” I scanned my memories for things about water that Mel had said or done. “Water. Water. Swimming. Pools. Hydration. Other drinks?” Mel just shook her head. “So maybe it’s not the water. Maybe it’s the poem. ‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner.’ Coleridge. Boats. Sailboats. Albatross. Birds.”

But she was scowling now. “Between the devil and the deep blue sea.”

“Okay, not the poem. The ocean.”

“Deep
blue
sea,” she said.

“So it’s water and it’s blue.”

She nodded. “Deep blue sea. Water, water everywhere.”

And that’s when it hit me. “Shit.” I looked at Joe and laughed nervously. “She wants to make a purchase.”

She nodded frantically.

Joe frowned, backing up a step. “What?”

“The blue sea. Water, water. She’s talking about Valium. She had a doctor back in middle school who put her on Valium for a while. Right after Dad left. They helped calm her down. She only took them when things were really bad, because she didn’t like them. She said they made her feel like she was under water.”

“And they’re blue,” Joe said simply.

“Yeah. And they’re blue.”

We both looked at Mel. She was nodding. An expression on her face almost like a smile.

How smart was she? She knew she was freaking out and needed to calm down. She was trying to solve the problem herself.

I looked at Joe. He and I hadn’t exactly been friends in the last couple of years. I hadn’t been a customer either, but of course, most kids knew the kinds of things he sold. Mostly pot, but prescription stuff, too. Prozac and Xanax mainly. “Do you have anything like that?”

He frowned. “Maybe. I’ll have to look. But you said she had a prescription.”

“She did. But Mom hasn’t filled it in years, because Mel didn’t like it. Still, she must have figured that she was going to need them.”

Now I wondered if that had been one of the calls Mom had made today. Had she tried and failed to get a refill of Mel’s Valium prescription? Was that why Mel had thought of it, or was Mel just thinking further ahead than either of us?