Gone (Gone #1) (13 page)

What had happened to her? Where had she been?

We sat there not talking for so long, I finally stopped crying. There was nothing left in me. I started asking her questions about where she had been and stuff, but she kept acting like she wasn't even there. She wouldn't say a thing! Not one thing. I asked the same questions over and over. I hoped that maybe she would finally answer one of them.

I know I sound like a baby, but I want my Mommy back. I missed her so much when she was gone. It was so hard not talking with her. Some kids hate talking with their parents, but not me. My mom is my best friend. I can tell her anything—anything at all. She doesn't judge me about anything, no matter what it is. Boys, kids doing drugs, you name it. Nothing's off limits with her. She doesn't go crazy like some of my friends' parents.

Even when I wanted a pink streak in my hair, she was behind me. Dad said no way, but Mom let me get one underneath so I could pull my hair up at school and all the kids could see it there, then I could take it down before Dad got back from work. She gets me. Not even my friends get me like she does. I can't even explain it.

Macy sat back, taking it in. It must have been nice for Heather to be able to talk to her mom about anything. The pink streak reminded Macy of Zoey—not that Zoey would ever want to wear anything pink, but Zoey always wanted to do things to stand out.

What had happened to Heather's mom? Macy had been certain that she had disappeared forever. It wouldn't have surprised her if she was dead. Would this diary tell her what happened to them?

She listened, not hearing anything. The last thing she wanted was to be caught reading the diary. Chester would take it away.

My mom wouldn't get up for dinner. She just sat on that couch staring at nothing. I didn't even know if she knew she was home. Why wouldn't she acknowledge me? Not even a nod of the head or something? Something!

I couldn't even look at Dad. I knew he had something to do with this. Who knows what? But something, and he wasn't talking. The stupid jerk was acting like everything was fine. He thought I should be happy that she was back. Of course I'm glad she's back, but I'm not even close to happy about how she's acting. How can he not be concerned?

After dinner, I got my homework and did it on the couch. I talked to Mom like everything was normal, even though it's totally not. It couldn't be more not-normal. I'm pissed off, but trying to put on a smile. I told her about my friends and the latest drama with the stupid cheerleaders who have been playing pranks on us. Then I talked about Jared and how I still couldn't bring myself to talk to him, and about Parker who likes me, but I really don't like him like that.

Dad overheard me talking about the boys and he got upset. He lives in the dark ages and thinks I shouldn't have any interest in boys. Never mind the fact that he had girlfriends when he was younger than me. For some reason, I'm supposed to be above that. Hypocrite. Sometimes I think Mom and I need to move across the country to get away from him.

I don't know if she'll ever get over what's going on though. I mean, I hate to think this, but what if she has brain damage? What if she's never going to be herself again? I can't think of anything else that would make her like this.

Macy read on. There were several more days' worth of entries where Heather essentially said the same things. Her mom wouldn't respond to anything. She wasn't sure if her mom was even eating, but she had to be getting up to go to the bathroom at some points, so Heather thought maybe she was eating, only not in front of her.

Then about four days later, something changed.

I slept in really late today. Usually, I sleep in on the weekends, but not like this. It was afternoon when I woke up. I guess I needed it after all the stress of worrying about Mom. Even with having her back, my stress is still through the roof. Maybe worse. Before, I could at least tell myself that it was possible she was on a personal vacation. I don't have that now.

Anyway, I got up and Mom was standing by the window. Standing! I didn't know if I should say anything or not. I was almost afraid that if I said something, she'd like go back to the couch and never leave again. So I went and stood by her. She didn't seem to notice.

I whispered to her and she looked at me. She actually looked
at
me! Not through me. I had a million questions running through my head, but I asked her what she was looking at. It seemed like a safe question. I didn't want to send her back to hiding inside herself again. I decided not to ask where she had been, at least not yet.

She pointed to a kid riding a bike across the street. Then she started talking about when I was little and learning to ride a bike. I didn't know what that had to do with anything, but I let her keep talking. She was actually talking. Would she keep talking until she told me where she had been and what caused her to act like this?

Mom talked about my childhood for a little while and then stopped. She looked outside for a while, even after the kid went inside. I asked her if she wanted to eat something, but she shook her head. At least that was a response. I wanted to ask her about where she went, but I was so scared that she wouldn't keep talking.

I didn't know what to do. I've never been so scared in my life. What if I said the wrong thing? I just wanted her back, the way she had been before. Finally, I took her hand. She actually smiled! Then she moved a little closer to me, but she still didn't say anything. I stood there with her until she wanted to take a nap. She went back to the couch. It's pretty much her new bed now.

Should I dare ask about where she went? I don't know what to do.

Macy continued reading about Heather's fears. She wrote them out over and over, most likely because she had been trying to figure out how she felt about what was going on. She hadn't told any of her friends, because she didn't want anyone thinking her mom was weird. So the diary had been her only confidant.

Heather didn't mention it, but Macy couldn't help wondering if she was also afraid of her dad. He would undoubtedly lose it if she told anyone at school what was going on with her mom.

The next day's entry showed that Heather had made a decision.

After getting all my worries out in here, I decided to ask Mom my questions when I woke up. I was so anxious about it, I woke up early. Dad was still sleeping, so I had that to my advantage.

Mom was back at the window again. That had to be a good sign, right? I walked right up to her, took her hand, and said good morning. She squeezed my hand and talked about the squirrels and birds playing in the yard. I waited for her to pause and then I prepared myself to ask my questions.

I was so nervous that I was holding my breath without even realizing it. So, I had to take a deep breath before saying anything. Then I asked her where she went. I told her that I had missed her a lot.

She squeezed my hand again and then looked into my eyes. My eyes! She asked if I wanted to sit. I would have agreed to anything at that point. So we sat on the couch and she covered both of us, not herself, with the afghan. She looked around. She was obviously nervous about something—probably Dad. I told her that he was sleeping. I waited a minute and then asked her again where she had been.

She looked at me and said, "The barn."

What barn? I asked her if she meant the one at Grandma and Grandpa's. She nodded yes.

Macy turned the page. It was the last one and nothing else was written.

"That can't be all," Macy whispered. "There has to be more." She carried the diary back to the shelf and looked behind all the books. There were no more diaries. She slid it back into place where she'd found it.

Macy lifted the mattress and dug through Heather's stuffed animals, not finding anything. She looked through the clothes in the dresser. There was no diary there either.

The doorknob jiggled and Macy went to the bed and sat, pretending to act natural.

Deeper

Chester walked into the bedroom. "Get out to the living room. Your grandparents are here."

Macy followed him out there and looked out the window. The old car pulled up the long driveway at a snail's pace. What were Chester's parents like? And how was she ever going to convince them she was their granddaughter? They were bound to figure it out. And what would Chester do?

The rocks in the driveway crunched as the car came closer to the house. Macy put the picture back into place and looked out the window again. The car doors opened, and two people about her own grandparents' age got out of the car. The lady had big glasses and short, curly hair. It was probably supposed to be black, but it shone blue in the sun. The guy was mostly bald, except for a thin line of grayish-white hair along the back of his head.

A wave of fear ran through her, and her heart started racing. When was she going to get away? This couldn't actually be her new life. It couldn't be. She turned to look inside. The room felt as though it was going to swallow her up. Was it actually shrinking?

"Wipe that sour look off your face, Heather," Chester said. "You need to greet your grandparents with a smile." His gaze bore into her soul. Macy could almost feel the evil emanating from him. He narrowed his eyes. "I need to see you smile. Smile, dammit!"

Her throat closed up, while at the same time tears filled her eyes.

His lips turned white as they formed a straight line. Anger covered his face. "Don't make this difficult, Heather. You don't want to go back into the barn, do you?"

The blood drained from her face. She shook her head. "No, please. Don't."

"Then smile." The lines around his eyes deepened as he furrowed his eyebrows. "If you like that bed more than you like bales of hay, you better get over yourself and show your grandparents how happy you are to see them. Do I make myself clear?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see them walking toward the house. She swallowed, and then nodded. She forced a smile.

He stepped closer to her. "That's pathetic. You couldn't convince a blind person you were happy."

A tear spilled onto her face and then forced her smile even wider.

He frowned, shaking his head. Stepping closer, he grabbed her shirt. Macy gasped, stepping back. He tightened his grip and pulled her forward. She could smell him, he was so close. "You need to stop being a spoiled brat and get over yourself. Do I make myself clear? Do I?" Spit sprayed onto her face.

Macy nodded, blinking back tears.

"Stop being selfish and make your grandparents feel welcome. They haven't seen you in a long time. Pull yourself together." He shoved her backwards. The window sill jabbed her in the back.

Without thinking, she reached back to rub the spot.

"You're not going to make this difficult on me, are you?"

She shook her head.

"Good. Because if you do, I guarantee you'll regret it." The look on his face told Macy that he meant it.

"Okay." She already regretted ever getting into the truck with him. The last thing she needed was to regret anything else. She took a deep breath. All she needed to was to get through this, and then she would find a way out. Even if she had to run out the front door, sounding the alarm in the middle of the night. That would give her enough of a head start that she could get away.

She had already had some meals and her strength had gotten a lot better. She wasn't back to normal, but she wasn't as weak as she had been earlier, in that dungeon—and there was no way she was going back there.

He got in her face, so close that he bumped her nose with his. "Remember, if you keep acting like an ungrateful brat, you're going to wish you had never been born. Make your grandparents feel like the most important people alive." He stood back, adjusted his shirt, and then walked toward the front door. He reached for the alarm system. Macy could hear him pushing the buttons. He turned back to her. "I'm going to reset it so that if any door or window is opened, everyone in the house will be alerted, so don't get any ideas."

Staring at him, she refused to acknowledge his words. She was going to hang onto whatever shreds of dignity she could, even if it was something as small as that.

As she heard the alarm disengage, a key sounded in the front door.

Chester turned around and glared at her. The look in his eyes told Macy that he would hurt her if he had to. Maybe even kill her. She had never had someone look at her like that before. Cold fear shot through her.

Still giving her that look, he pointed to the ground near him, the intensity of the anger and hate burning deeper on his face. "Get over here. Now."

Macy ran over to him. She would rather do what he said than find out what he would do if she didn't.

The door opened. He turned his attention to his parents. "Mom, Dad. It's so good to see you." He smiled as though he hadn't just threatened Macy. "Let me help you with your bags." He stepped forward, taking both of their suitcases. "Did you have a nice trip?"

Macy stared, unable to pay attention to what they were saying. Before she knew it, she was wrapped in an embrace. Her
grandma
was giving her a hug. Macy knew she had to play the part well if she wanted to keep Chester happy. She put her arms around the old lady, hugging her tight.