The Rules for Disappearing (17 page)

Me, I feel like I’m one second from a full-blown panic attack.

Other people are running out of the house, too, but they all

seem to be going deeper in the back yard. We’re the only fools heading toward the cops.

A few vehicles become visible so I guess we’re almost to the

front of the house. Ethan’s truck is one of the farthest out and off to the side. We should come out of the trees just in front of it.

The front porch is full of people. Everyone who flew out of the front doors must have been quickly rounded up. There’s a group huddled together on one side where a policeman seems to be taking down names.

There are no other cops in sight. I assume they’ve gone into the house. We get to Ethan’s truck as quietly as possible, open the doors, and climb inside. I take the spot in the middle of the front seat.

We close the doors and all sit there in the dark. I glance down at the go-bag and suck in my breath. It’s open. The top of my bag is open, and I know I didn’t leave it that way. I stare out in the yard, trying to make out shapes in the dark. I can’t see anything. I grab the bag and dig through it quickly. It doesn’t look like anything is S—

missing, but I won’t know for sure until I get home and pour every-N—

thing out.

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Ethan puts his key in the ignition. “Okay. I’m gonna crank it

and we’re hauling ass out of here. Everybody ready?”

Nervous energy runs through the truck and Catherine starts

giggling again.

“Hit it!” Drew calls out from the backseat.

Ethan starts the truck and quickly puts it in gear. We’re mov-

ing. Fast. He takes out a few bushes since he threw it in drive instead of reverse. I turn quickly and peek out the back window. The cop on the porch watches us go. Ethan’s idea suddenly makes sense—

there’s no way he can leave all those kids alone to chase us. They’d scatter like the wind. We hit the main road and everyone starts cheering except me. I’m shaky.

Did I re-apply lip gloss before we went in? Pop in a piece of

gum then forget to close my bag? No. My mind starts ticking off every creepy thing that’s happened to me in this placement. I start second-guessing myself. Someone opened my bag. And I’m pretty

sure someone cut the power to the laundry room.

“Close call by the po-po,” Will jokes. He’s sitting next to me in the front passenger seat with Catherine in his lap. Trey, Julie, and Drew are in the back. I’m almost in the seat with Ethan.

“What would totally suck is if you were in that poker game,”

Catherine says. My freak-out cracks a bit. I can’t help but laugh thinking about those half-naked people scrambling when the sirens rang out.

“You parked there on purpose, didn’t you?” I ask Ethan.

His expression is cocky. “Hell yeah. Rookie mistake to park

close to the house.”

—S

I glance in the back and Trey and Julie are back to making out.

—N

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We should drop them at the closest Motel 6.

Catherine glances across me. “Ethan, I wonder if Emma got

out.”

Ethan looks surprised. “Was she there?”

I never saw her either. Or Ben.

“They were there earlier. She and Ben were upstairs. Went up

just before y’all got there,” Will says.

Okay. Well I can use my imagination as to what that means.

Ethan doesn’t ask anything else.

“I can’t believe the cops showed up. There’s no neighbor to complain way out there,” Catherine says.

What if whoever is screwing with me called the cops?

“Where to now?” Drew asks from the backseat. He scoots as far

from Trey and Julie as possible.

“We can go to my place.” Ethan offers.

There’s a general consensus throughout the truck. I can’t quit thinking about my bag. And everything else. I’ve got to get home and see if anything is missing. And then what? I lean into Ethan and whisper in his ear. “Can you take me home first?”

He looks at me quickly. “You’re ready to go home?”

I nod. There’s no good explanation to give him.

“Come to my house for a little while. I’ll take you home when-

ever you’re ready.”

I shake my head. I can’t explain how terrified I am. It was a

totally bad idea to go out tonight.

He looks frustrated. Everyone else in the truck is laughing and S—

recalling our great escape. Catherine is texting and calling out the N—

names of others who have gotten away as well. I sit quietly beside 138

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him, looking at my hands in my lap. I feel funny, like something’s not right. Sick almost.

We drive back into town and Ethan heads straight to his house.

Before I have a chance to say anything, Ethan puts a hand on mine.

“All right, everybody out. Y’all go on up. I’m gonna run Meg

home and then I’ll be back.”

Catherine stops in mid-motion from getting out of the truck.

“You’re not coming in?”

I shake my head. “No. I have to get home.”

She looks confused. It’s barely ten o’clock. “What the hell, Meg?

It’s early! Come up for a little while.”

“I can’t. Sorry.” She’s almost as hard to say no to as Ethan is.

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” she says then hurries off to catch up to Will.

Everyone else gets out of the truck and Ethan backs out of his driveway. I scoot to the passenger seat.

“No talking you into staying out longer?” He doesn’t look at me.

“I can’t.”

We ride in silence. Ethan pulls into the parking lot and cuts the truck. I want to kiss him. I want to tell him everything. I don’t want to go into that house.

But what I do instead is lean forward, kiss him quickly on the cheek, and bail.

Sleep evades me, which is nothing new, but tonight it’s different—

not the usual stomach-churning thoughts of waking up the next

day as someone else. Tonight, I can’t shake the sinking feeling I had

—S

when the cops showed up and then when I noticed my bag was open.

—N

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I searched through everything when I got home but nothing was

missing. It wasn’t even rearranged.

I haven’t told Dad anything. I have no proof: just crazy feelings and ridiculous stories about idling cars and power outages. If I tell Dad about any of this, he may go straight to the suits. And I’m not moving again.

Teeny’s fast asleep. I can’t roll around in this bed any longer, so I head to the kitchen for some water. I tiptoe out of our room quietly, not wanting to wake Mom and Dad. I’m really not up to dealing

with either one of them right now.

A muffled voice comes from the kitchen and it sounds like Dad.

He’s whispering. I put my back against the wall and inch my way down the small hallway. When I get to the end, I slowly peek my head around.

Dad’s on the phone. It’s the wall-mounted kind and he’s stretched the cord across the kitchen and tucked himself halfway inside the broom closet. Whoever he’s talking to, he definitely wants it to be private. This of course makes it crucial for me to know who it is.

I duck down and crawl to the table in the breakfast area, put-

ting me very close to the closet. Hopefully he won’t see me hiding underneath it.

I strain to hear what he’s saying.

“No, we’re not doing it like that.” His voice seems frustrated.

He’s quiet for a few seconds and then says, “If you want my help with this, you will do it the way I say.” I know that tone. He’s getting pissed.

S—

What are they talking about?

N—

“You push me too hard on this and we’ll disappear.”

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Holy shit! Can he do that?

Dad lets out a deep breath. “Yes, I’m aware of what can happen.

The pictures you showed me made it very clear.”

Pictures?

The
tick tock
of the kitchen clock echoes through the dark kitchen.

“No, of course I don’t want to lose my family. I never wanted

any of this to happen.” His voice is different now. Resigned.

“As soon as I have it, I’ll contact you. Do I have your word this will all be over?”

Over? What’s over? And what’s he going to have?

Dad backs out of the broom closet and I’m frozen underneath

the table. Do I confront him? Force him to spill it? I have more questions now than ever. He hangs up the phone and walks to the sink. Gripping the edge, he hangs his head and sobs. It’s shocking, especially when my own eyes fill with water. He’s been such a hard ass since all this started. This is bad. Very bad.

I crawl quietly down the hall and back to my bed, forcing the

broken down image of my dad out of my head.

Hands are grabbing at me, pulling me in every direction. Voices talking
fast but I can’t understand the words. I feel nauseous. Bright lights. I can’t
see anything. Stone walls sprout up around me, trapping me. I bang on
them until my hands bleed. I fall to the floor and watch the blood drip
down the wall.

My eyes pop open. My heart races, but hopefully I didn’t scream out loud this time. Focusing on the big piece of chipped-off paint

—S

that looks like the state of Texas, I work on slowing my breathing.

—N

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I try to lick my lips but my mouth is so dry, my tongue gets stuck to them.

I think of everything but the nightmares that torture me. Dad

and the one-sided call. The close escape from the police last night.

The total disaster I’ve become. I ache to write all of this down and mourn the loss of the journal all over again.

Teeny pokes her head in our room some time later. “Dad made

some breakfast. You want some?”

“Maybe in a little while.” The words come out in a soft croak.

She comes in and sits on the bed next to me. “Are you sad? You look sad?”

Yes, I’m a complete failure. Everything I wasn’t going to do I did. I’ve fallen for Ethan. I love working at Pearl’s. I even like this crazy little town. And Ethan’s friends last night were really cool to me, especially Catherine. Whatever Dad is working on to get us out of Witness Protection, he’s doing from the broom closet in the middle of the night. That’s the worst part—he must have done something really horrible to get us in this and I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that.

But I can’t tell her any of this. I shake my head. “No. Just tired.”

“Are you working this weekend?”

“No.” I’m dreading the next two days stuck in the house with

my parents and nothing to do. Especially with all the questions rolling around in my head.

“Oh.” Teeny sounds as disappointed as I feel. “Dad says we’re

going out later. Do you think Mom will come?”

S—

I shrug my shoulders. “Who knows.”

N—

Teeny grabs her book out of the go-bag and leaves the room.

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I stare at the ceiling a little longer. It’s like I’m zapped of energy.

Those few carefree hours last night sucked everything out of me.

After hearing Dad on the phone last night, something is gonna

change. And whatever it is, we’re waiting around for it.

There’s a knock on the door and Mom sticks her head in.

Her eyes are red and puffy and she looks tired. And old. “Can I come in?”

I nod and Mom sits at the end of Teeny’s bed. She looks sober

but it’s still early. Her hair is wet and combed back. At least she showered.

“Just wanted to check with you about school this week. Have

you gotten settled? Made some new friends?”

Is she kidding? She’s been drunk for two weeks and now wants

a little mother-daughter time?

Do I want to tell her there’s a cute boy who seems to like

me, but his sister is a total bitch and her boyfriend is making it increasingly likely that I will get my ass beat by a gang of cheerleaders? No.

I guess I should be glad she’s been sober for a few days and

trying to stay that way, but I can’t muster the energy for that so I describe the school on the surface. What it looks like, names of teachers and what classes I’m taking. Once I’m done, Mom tries to keep the small talk going but it falls flat.

I sit up in the bed. “Mom, don’t start drinking again.” I may get another whack across the cheek, but it needs to be said.

She picks at her nails, and then raises her head. “I know. I’m trying.” She stands to leave. “Dad wants to get to Wal-Mart soon.”

—S

“Are you coming?” I ask.

—N

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“I think I will.” She escapes the room and I almost fall out of the bed, stunned by her good attitude this morning.

The Aqua Net left my hair feeling plastic and crunchy and I can barely get a hand through it. It’ll take shampooing it twice to get all the gunk out.

By the time I’m dressed, my family is assembled in the kitchen, waiting for me. Dad’s finishing a list of some sort. We’ll probably be there all day. I grab my go-bag and open the door.

The phone rings.

We all stare at it a moment. The suits never call us, they just show up and we’re all here. I look at Dad quickly. Could it be the person he was talking to last night?

Dad answers it and holds the receiver out to me. “It’s for you.”