The Rules for Disappearing (7 page)

“Okay, so my friends and I have a question.”

I don’t take the bait. I’m going to make her work for this.

“That girl that was with you yesterday, was that your sister? Is something
wrong
with her?” Her face crinkles into a fake sympa-thetic expression. “Is she
special
?”

So not what I was expecting. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. This bitch is sitting here, making fun of Teeny, in front of all these people when she has no idea what we’ve been through in the past eight months. But I refuse to give in and give them what they want, which is some sort of scene.

“Hello?” The cheerleader giggles and glances back toward the

group behind here. “I guess it runs in the family.”

She gets up from the seat in front of me and I can’t resist—I

stick my foot out just as she starts to walk away and she goes flying across the floor. Her skirt comes up and her bare butt (except for the small strip her thong covers) is there for the world to see.

The entire room bursts out laughing, and for a moment I sit

there, stunned. Then I grab my go-bag and sprint from the room. I may have just started WWIII.

S—

The bathroom door slams against the wall, and the noise echoes N—

through the room. A girl jumps and grabs her purse protectively.

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“You scared the shit out of me!” She jams something into the

wall. The girl’s sketchy, dressed in black from head to toe with hot-pink stripes in her hair. She shoves a bunch of crap back in her bag and races from the bathroom.

I walk to where she was standing and look at the brick wall.

What did she do? I brush my hand against the bricks and feel

around, but nothing. Leaning against the wall, I slide to the floor and pull my knees up to my chin.

How could I have lost control like that? It must have been too many thoughts of home and my old life this morning. Elle and

Laura were my best friends, but they had a habit of finding their amusement at others’ expense. Now I know how bad it sucks to be on the receiving end of that.

The Plan is going to hell and I’m failing miserably at going

unnoticed. I have to get back on track. Dad’s a dead-end. He wasn’t much on talking in our old life so I don’t know why I thought he’d open up now. Maybe I can Google something, but what?
How to get
out of Witness Protection?
I’ve been terrified of the Internet ever since what happened the last time I surfed around. Trying that could be like a one-way ticket to the next placement. As much as this one sucks, the next one could be just as bad. Or worse.

I drop my head on my arms. There’s always Mom. Maybe I can

get her talking while she’s drunk. My stomach turns as soon as I think this. It seems wrong but I’m desperate.

A shrill ring vibrates through the bathroom and I join the

swarm of people in the hall.

Word must have gotten out about what happened in third

—S

period. Before, no one paid me any attention at all, but now I’m

—N

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getting all kinds of looks. Most of them not good but there are a couple that looked pleased. I can’t be the only person who’s ever wanted to knock that girl on her ass.

It’s incredibly hard to act like none of this bothers me. There’s no protection when you’re a loner. I’m like that one little baby duck you see on those wildlife shows that gets separated from the group, and the nasty alligator hovers just below the surface. Chomp,

chomp.

As soon as my next class is over, I make a break for it. After grabbing lunch from the cafeteria, I peek out the window into the courtyard where I ate yesterday—hoping to find a place to hide—

but Ethan is there, lying on the stone picnic table. He’s got his backpack under his head and his earbuds in. It’s almost the same exact pose I was in yesterday except I was on the ground.

I’m not going out there. I’ll have to find some other little hole to crawl in and wait out the lunch hour. It’s way too easy hanging out with Ethan, and it’s stupid to get too close.

The door makes a loud creaky noise and Ethan’s head pops up.

No sane argument in my head could stop my legs from walking out here. He smiles when he sees me but doesn’t get up.

He plucks his ear-buds out and says, “So, I heard you’re fitting in nicely, making friends, warming up to the locals.”

“Ha, ha.” I drop my go-bag on the ground and use it as a cush-

ion, then balance my lunch in my lap. “You’re funny. Those girls seriously hate me right now—and they started it! I’ll need eyes in the back of my head.”

S—

Ethan sits up and takes a deep swig of Coke. “That’s because

N—

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so there’s nothing left to get worked up about.”

“You and Ben don’t seem to have that problem.”

“That’s because Ben is a pain in my ass that won’t go away.”

“So, why are you out here and not hanging out with your

friends? Or do you not have any of those?” I ask between bites of turkey sandwich. I know that’s not the case since he’s surrounded by people every time I turn a corner, but it is strange that he hangs out here at lunch by himself.

“I thought you may be back. Wanted to see how you were han-

dling what happened this morning.

I stop chewing and look at him. That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time but I can’t ruin The Plan over some sweet words. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Good. So, have you had a chance to check things out around

town? You got here at the right time—Mardi Gras kicks off soon, and you can usually find a good party on parade nights.”

“I thought that was only in New Orleans.” My question may

make me seem stupid. I’m supposed to be from Arkansas, which is next to Louisiana, so I should probably know all this.

He shakes his head and doesn’t seem thrown off by my question.

“No, there are lots of smaller parades all through the state. The best ones are down there, though.”

Ethan digs in his bag and pulls out a sheet of paper.

“What’s that?” I ask.

He shakes it a few times. “Read it.”

I take it but know instantly that this is not going to turn out well. It’s a Wikipedia article about the Fouke Monster, which is

—S

basically a Big Foot–type creature that is believed to be in, well,

—N

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Fouke. There was even a movie about it, and a little map that shows Fouke is near Lewisville. The town is crazy about the myth, and people come from all over to try to get a sight of it. My mouth gets dry. I’m so screwed.

Ethan takes a swig of Coke. “I don’t think you’re from

Lewisville.”

And there it is. The suits explained what to do if someone questions your story but he’s called me out.

“What? Of course I’m from Lewisville.” I try hard to look

offended. Jumping up, I heave the go-bag to my chest. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

I cringe at my choice of words but beat it to the door anyway.

At this point, I’m sure he thinks I’m nuts. Multiple personalities or something. He doesn’t say anything else, just watches me run back into school.

S—

N—

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RULES FOR DISAPPEARING

BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:

Do not join clubs, dance line, or any other real y fun organized group at school. This leads to making friends and then real y awkward questions like,

“What’s wrong with your mom?”

Tosay it was a bad day would be like saying the Titanic had a little accident. My new archenemy wasted no opportunity to make snide comments about my hair, clothes, and overall existence throughout the day. And then I
had
to come back with something equally ugly.

War has officially commenced.

Last night I expected Ethan to show up at Pearl’s. Every time

that door dinged, my neck hairs stood up. But he never showed and that was almost worse. The walk home from Pearl’s was brutal—

three blocks in the freezing cold. I need to buy a pair of gloves or my fingers may very well fall off.

I climb the front steps, lugging the few groceries I was able to carry home from the store near Pearl’s.

“Where have you been?”

I almost fall backwards. Dad’s sitting on the top step.

I hold up the bags like
duh.

“I thought you were coming straight here. That was the deal if

—S

you’re going to walk home.” He gets up and grabs a few of the bags

—N

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from me. “Teeny fell asleep crying in her room. She thought you weren’t coming back.”

I follow him in the house, dropping my remaining bags on the

table, and check the clock. “I’m not that late. Did you try to convince her everything was okay?”

Dad brought Chinese home for dinner and the empty contain-

ers are scattered all over the counters. I throw the trash away while Dad puts away the groceries.

“Of course. But she wouldn’t talk to me. Sissy, we’re not on vaca-tion. You have to be careful. Don’t go anywhere unnecessarily.”

I twist my face into the worst surprised expression I can man-

age and say, “What? You mean this crap shack isn’t part of the Four Seasons. Shocking.”

He doesn’t answer, just goes to his room once we’re finished

putting everything away. God, what an asshole.

I jump in the shower and it isn’t until the hot water pours over me that I start to warm up. Dad is freaking me out. In our old life, I had plenty of freedom, coming and going pretty much as I wanted.

Mom was always off doing whatever moms who don’t work do when

they get together and Dad was at work. All the time. When we got in the program, both of my parents took more interest in my where-abouts but we still tried to act normal about it. That’s the suits’

motto in fact—Act Normal. But Dad is not acting normal.

After I shower I head to bed. I barely get the covers over me

when Teeny whispers.

“Sissy, is that you?”

S—

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?”

N—

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She gets up from her bed and jumps in mine. “Can I sleep with

you tonight?” She doesn’t wait for my answer, just snuggles in under the covers.

I can’t say no, even though this is a twin bed and neither one of us will get a decent night’s sleep if we’re both in it.

She curls up next to me. “I thought something happened to you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll call if I’m running late next time. I didn’t know you would worry like that.”

She’s shaking under the covers and I have the feeling there’s

something more to it. “What happened around here after Dad

brought you home?”

It takes a while before she answers, “Mom and Dad had a bad

fight. They went in their room but I could still hear their voices.”

I run my hands through her short hair. “What was the fight

about?”

Teeny squirms around. “I don’t know. I could only hear the

parts they said really loud. Mom said the F word a lot.”

Holy shit. This is kind of a big deal for them. My parents were the ridiculous type of couple who still seemed to actually like each other. If Dad wasn’t at work, he was with Mom. They used to watch movies together on the couch late at night and Mom rubbed his

feet. Totally gross, but she seemed to like it. They fought, but it was always short, and they hardly ever raised their voices. And as crazy as Mom could be, she never said the F word.

This really bothers Teeny, and I don’t want to force it out of her, but I need to know if they said anything about what got us here.

“What else?”

—S

—N

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“She did yell out once that it was time for Dad to tell the truth.

Then Dad started yelling at Mom about how much she drinks and

then she started crying.”

Oh. My. God. What’s he been lying about? My mind races with

accusations. Teeny gets quiet and I continue to stroke her hair.

Finally, her breathing changes. She’s asleep. I lie in the bed and think.

There are so few bits and pieces to work through that nothing

makes sense. My parents have been totally silent about all of this, and it makes me crazy. If Teeny and I have to live through all these moves, it’s only fair we know why.

Two days into The Plan and I have more questions than answers.

I let my mind drift and play scenes from the day. Those cheer-

leaders are vicious, but I let them get the better of me today. And Ethan. Out of everything that happened, he’s the one thing I’m the most worried about. I think he’s on to me.

Stupid ass Fouke Monster.

The bus ride home on Friday afternoon was like heaven. Well,

as close to heaven as you can get riding a school bus when you’re months away from being a legal adult.

It was a tough first week. The entire cheerleading squad is out to get me, and I finally learned the name of my new archenemy. It’s Emma. And she and Ben like to hook up. A lot. Against my locker.

I’m sure she picked that particular piece of real estate on purpose.

Archenemy and her minions were total bitches all week. Ethan