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“I know,” I cut off the sentence no one wants to have to finish.
“Uh, anyway, sorry to interrupt, but I tried calling and?—”
“I left my phone in the living room,” I say.
“No surprise there.” Willa groans with a roll of her eyes. “Carry on with…” she says, flapping her arms at us, “your pizza date.”
“Madden was telling the truth,” I say.
“Do you think the parents set the little girl up to hide the baby?”
“If Lara saw an opportunity to take me down, she wouldn’t think it through thoroughly, she’d just do whatever it took to see results.”
“You don’t think Lara moved past that fire by this point?”
I narrow my eyes as I try to stare through the wall between my bedroom and Willa’s. “I wish I could think that would be the logical way to be, but she’s never struck me as a logical type.” If there’s anything I know about Lara, Larissa Hoyt, it’s that she always knows how to get what she wants.
FORTY-FIVE
THIRTEEN YEARS AGO
It wasn’t too long ago that I refused to stay home alone at night. The creaks of the old wooden floor boards and the movements from other townhouses adjacent to ours made me think someone was trying to break in but I’ve come to realize those noises occur when Mom and Dad are home too, so I’ve compromised my fear by turning all the lights on in the house, locking myself in my bedroom and sitting on the floor against my bed while I focus on school work. Headphones and music help too, unless someone rings the doorbell. That, I can still hear.
I pull myself up by the edge of my bed and peek out of my bedroom window, able to see the stairwell out front but not the front door of our unit. As always, there are a bunch of kids, most of whom don’t live here but all go to school with me, playing basketball in the dark at the sad rusty hoop cowering against the woods across from the complex.
Just as I remove my headphones, the doorbell rings again. My pulse races as I go through a short list of people who might need to come to our door at night. It could be any one of the residents who live here, having an issue they need Dad’s help with.
I step into my parents’ bedroom before heading for the kitchen door and grab Dad’s heavy metal flashlight. It’s something. I wish there was a more inconspicuous way to peek out the front door but when the curtain moves, it’s obvious on the other side.
My eyes widen when I see Billy at my front door. Of all the people in the world, he’s the last person I would have imagined. He’s the one person I would dream about showing up here though. There are about forty pages in my diary devoted to him and his beautiful smile, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know I exist. I was sure of it until now.
I unlock the deadbolt and open the door enough to see what he needs. “Hi,” I squeak. “Do you need something?”
“Haley, right?” he asks, his voice deeper than some of the other boys in our grade. It seems like all the boys who play football look and sound a bit manlier than they did last year.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Do you have a minute?” he asks, looking over his shoulder toward the other kids playing basketball.
“What for?” I want to say of course. I have all the time in the world for you, but he wasn’t even positive my name is Haley. Our town isn’t big enough to act like you don’t know someone.
“There’s something I think you need to know.”
He has my attention, but in a way that makes my stomach hurt and my throat tighten. I open the door more and push my way outside, forcing him to back up. I won’t be inviting him in. I’m smarter than that.
He’s taller, not by a lot but he’s bigger in general, as if he was bred to play football. He’s the only one on the team that doesn’t have a shaggy haircut. He keeps his hair short and buzzed. He’s also quieter than the rest of the bunch, like he’d rather take everything in around him than contribute, which makes this encounter even weirder.
I shove my hands into the front pocket of my sweatshirt and my bangs fall into my eyes as I stare down between us, waiting for him to say whatever it is he came here to say.
“So, uh—there have been a bunch of kids talking about you at school. I think a lot of them caught wind of the so-called-rumor going around. Or at least, they think it’s a rumor, but according to my parents, it’s not, so?—”
“What? What, what rumor? What are you talking about?” I don’t mean to sound so defensive, but I’m not known for my social status at school. I’m more of a loner with a couple of casual friends I only talk to at lunch.
“It’s something about you?—”
The rumors again. “Let me guess…my parents?”
Billy shifts his weight from foot to foot. “There was an escape from some psychiatric hospital. I thought you should know that others are talking about it because, well—I’m sorry if it’s true. If there’s anything I can do…”
