The Rules for Disappearing (11 page)

Uh-oh.

“I’m so sure. What makes you think that?” The sarcastic tone

I go for falls flat.

“Gut, mostly. Things you say. Things Mary says.” He shrugs.

“Arkansas isn’t much different from here, but you both look at us like we’re from a different planet.” His doesn’t say this mean, just S—

matter of fact.

N—

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I run my hands over my face. I have to get out of here. I stand up quickly, jerking my bag up with me.

Ethan jumps up and grabs my arm. “Wait.”

I yank my arm out of his grasp and whirl around on him.

“Meg, don’t go.” His hands are out in front like he’s guarding himself from a wild animal.

I shove him. “What gives you the right to say this shit to me?

Why do you care where I’m from? Why is anything I do or say any of your business?” With each question, I pound him on the chest.

I’m fuming by the time I finish. I knew he’d try to get info out of Teeny. She must have said something last night.

I all but run to the field behind school, looking for a place to sit and think. The marching band is walking through some sort of routine but without any instruments.

Scanning the field, I notice a pocket of people along the back fence. Smokers’ section. There’s so much smoke it looks like something’s on fire. On the other side, I see several small groups of people walking toward school from the back parking lot. Obviously it’s easy to cut out for lunch.

I plop down on the ground near the corner of the small build-

ing. What I am supposed to do now? Ethan’s not going to let this drop.

The longer I sit here I realize the waft of smoke coming from

the smokers’ section isn’t from a pack of Marlboros. It would be so easy to join their little group. They wouldn’t ask me questions about some stupid local legend or look for holes in my carefully fabricated background. They probably wouldn’t even notice when I left.

—S

—N

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Maybe Mom has the right idea. I could finish this placement out in a haze, move right into the same group at the next school. None of this could even matter.

And then Mom’s frail body flashes through my head. Her greasy

hair and bad breath. Her slurred words. I could never be like that.

I hear the bell ring and watch the fence line. None of them even flinch.

The thought of going to Health is more than I can handle. I can’t be near Ethan right now, and there’s no way I’m sitting through an hour with Emma either.

I don’t really know where I’m going, but my school day is over.

This is the first time I’ve ever cut class. Even in my old life I never left campus without permission. As I cross the large open space between school and the road, I wait for someone to scream for me to stop but no one does. It’s easy; you just keep walking and don’t look back.

I head toward cobblestoned Front Street. At least it’s pretty

warm this afternoon with the sun out.

The go-bag gets heavy as I walk, but I find the weight comforting. I’ve got about two and a half hours before Teeny will get off the bus, and I’m not going back to the house before I have to. It takes about thirty minutes to make it to Front Street, where I window shop for a few blocks. Almost everything for sale has the fleur-de-lis symbol or a crawfish on it.

Mom would love this place. She’s a sucker for all this touristy crap.

S—

When she’s not a sucker for vodka.

N—

I keep thinking about Ethan and the bomb he dropped in the

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courtyard. Who does he think he is? If I look at people around here like they’re from another planet, it’s because they are! Weird food and weirder animals. The gas station near our house has a jar of pickled pig feet sitting on the counter. And people buy them. To eat. And part of the info they gave me at the safe house was how to identify poisonous snakes. I mean, we live near downtown for God’s sake. Why would I need to identify a snake?

On the next block I find a coffeehouse. It’s fairly empty, so I choose a table in the back.

“What can I get you?” A young waitress walks up to the table—

late teens or early twenties—and she has a piercing in her lip, nose, and eyebrow. We have almost the same haircut but I must admit, hers is cuter.

“Small chai latte.”

“You want anything else? Scone, beignet, muffin?’

“No, thanks.”

This place is like old meets new. The building itself is old brick walls and scuffed wood floors but everything in here is state-of-the-art. On the back wall, flat-screen monitors and wireless keyboards line a long table, huge TVs fill every corner, and there’s a sign offering free Wi-Fi. I’ve been terrified of the Internet but I’m tempted now to take a peek. The problem is I don’t know enough about it to know who can see what. If I search back issues of my hometown newspaper—will that throw up a flag to someone watching?

I’m torn. My need for information is equal to my fear of being picked up by the suits.

The waitress brings my latte.

—S

“You okay?”

—N

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Not trusting my voice to speak, I nod.

She shrugs and walks off. Once she’s behind the counter, she

glances over several times. Maybe she’s afraid I’m going lose it and go nuts in here. Maybe I should wear a sign,
“Caution: contents may
explode under pressure.”

Taking small sips of my latte and staring at the computers, I try to decide which website will be the safest to log onto.

“Don’t even think about it.”

I jump out of my seat, spilling the latte all over the table and nearly turning my chair over. It’s one of the suits. The waitress runs over with a rag. She glances between the two of us and I resist the urge to hide behind her. My body vibrates with tension.

This suit is young, no way he’s over thirty. Military haircut, nice body, black jacket. I’ve seen him before but I can’t remember his name.

He pulls out the seat across from me. “Sorry about the mess.

Will you bring her another cup? I’ll take coffee, black.”

The waitress throws me a look. I think she’d kick his ass if I wanted her to.

“It’s fine,” I mumble and sit back down.

The suit calls out to her as she makes her way back to the bar,

“Bring us an order of beignets, too.”

I wait until she disappears into the kitchen before I ask, “Are we moving again?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“How did you know I was here?”

S—

“You left school. We’re one of your contacts. Apparently, your N—

mom was unable to be reached.”

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I’m sure she was. I hide my hands under the table so he can’t see them shake.

“But how did you know I was
here
?” There is something familiar about him but I can’t figure it out.

“Lucky guess. You don’t have a car so I figured you’d be on foot.

Started looking through the windows once I hit Front Street.”

I’m not sure if I buy that answer. The waitress comes back with the order and he pushes a beignet in front of me.

“Am I in trouble at school?”

The suit stirs his coffee slowly. “No, I covered for you. Told them you had a doctor’s appointment, and I forgot to call the school to let them know.

“Am I in trouble with you guys?” I pinch off a piece of beignet and pop it in my mouth. My fingers are dusted with powdered sugar and the sweet fried pastry is delicious.

The suit lets out a quick laugh. “No. No more ditching though.

I may not be on duty next time.”

The second I saw him, I thought we were gone. And while

it wouldn’t hurt my feelings to never see Emma and the minions again, I’m sick of starting over and I want out for good. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not ready to leave Ethan behind.

I’ve never had one of the suits be so nice to me before. They’re usually very distant and say the least amount as possible. Maybe I can get him to talk.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

“Agent Thomas.”

“Oh, it’s you. We talked on the phone.”

—S

He nods and sips his coffee.

—N

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“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, but I might not be able to answer it.”

I take a minute, hoping to phrase it just right. “Why won’t anyone talk to me about what happened? It’s not fair that Teeny and I have to suffer through this without knowing why.”

I sound like a whiny baby but I can’t help it. Maybe this is why most of the suits treat me like I’m seven, not seventeen.

“Well, from what I understand, your parents are trying to pro-

tect you. I haven’t been with the agency long but I do know you don’t get offered protection unless the situation is dire. Your parents are coping the best way they know how and I’m sure when the time is right, they’ll answer all your questions.”

“I guess it gets old having to move people around all the time.

Making them start over, again and again.”

He laughs and says, “Only when I have to chase down kids who

skip school.”

I lean forward, elbows on the table, chin propped up in my hand.

“So, there’s no way to talk you into telling me what’s going on. Or why we have to move every month or so? Can you tell me that?”

“I wish I could, Meg, but I can’t.”

I’m frustrated now and I hope it shows. “Okay, what would hap-

pen if I decide to go home? Tell my parents to screw off, take Mary and go live with one of my old friends?”

Agent Thomas comes close and whispers, “I would not recom-

mend that. You may not understand who or what you are being

protected from but I promise you, it’s nothing you want to deal with S—

on your own.”

N—

“I just want some answers.”

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“I’m sure if you think hard enough, you can figure some of

it out.”

Thanks for the cryptic answer. Agent Thomas puts some money

on the table for the bill. “Let me give you a ride home. School’s almost out and you have work soon.”

It totally creeps me out when the suits do this. They seem to

know every little thing that goes on yet we never see them. I wonder if he’s the one that got Mom booze in the safe house.

“I’ll walk. I have some time.” I get up and grab my go-bag.

Before I can leave, Agent Thomas puts his hand on my bag. “I

know it’s tempting.” He nods toward the computers. “But don’t do it. You have no idea who is watching.”

I jerk my bag out of his hand and storm out of the coffee shop.

—S

—N

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RULES FOR DISAPPEARING

BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:

Don’t fall into a routine. Shake things up. Doing the same thing over and over makes you feel comfortable. And feeling comfortable is bad.

Wednesdaysat the restaurant are busy. Pearl says it’s

all those Bible-beaters eating early before church. I haven’t stopped moving since I walked in at four, but I can’t get Agent Thomas off my mind. When I got home from the coffee shop, I searched

through my bag looking for some sort of tracker or bug or something. I hadn’t been in that coffeehouse long and it’s freaking me out how fast he found me.

Ethan had the nerve to show up around six. His boots and jeans were covered in mud again, so I figured he’d been at the farm. He and Teeny have been in the kitchen ever since. Every time I hear them laugh, it pisses me off. He can’t accuse me of being a liar then waltz in here and win my little sister over. He’s probably back there pumping her for more info. I’ve worked for months to make her

happy, but two days making pizzas with him and she’s back to her old self. So not fair.

S—

Catherine and another girl from my homeroom come in to

N—

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Pearl’s a little after Ethan. She seems surprised to see me working behind the counter.

“Hey, Meg! How long have you been working here?”

“Not long. What can I get you?”

They order a seafood pizza and two drinks. Gross. The other

girl, I think her name is Julie, heads to a booth but Catherine lingers at the counter.

“So, how do you like Natchitoches so far?” she asks.

“It’s fine. The people here are really nice,” I answer.

“It’s good to get new people around here. Livens things up.”

Yeah, my family could certainly do that.

“Julie and I are heading down to Fat’s after we eat. It’s an old bar near the marina on Cane River and they have some pretty cool bands come through there. If you want to go with us, we can wait until you get off,” Catherine says.

This is so unexpected. And friendly.

“Oh, I wish I could but I have to get home. I have a ton of

homework.”

“Okay, that’s cool. Maybe we’ll see you this weekend.” She

joins Julie at the table and I try to keep busy and not think about how much fun it would be to hang out at some old bar down by the river.

Shortly after Catherine and Julie leave, Dad pulls into the parking lot and I run outside to catch him before he comes in. I need to talk to him and I’d rather not do that inside the restaurant.

“Hey. Teeny busy making pizzas again?”