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My eyes strain with how hard I’m staring through Billy’s head while trying to digest this ridiculous story. My cheeks burn and my heart thuds from embarrassment. Why did it have to be him who came here to tell me this? Of all the people. The little girl in me wants to burst into tears, but I take a deep breath and try to hold in my pain so he doesn’t see how much this hurts. “Do you believe everything you hear?” I utter, gritting my teeth. I thought he was better than this, not someone who would sink this low for a boost in popularity. I realize now I had no reason to think this of him. I made him out to be a good person, but in my daydreams. I was wrong.
“Our parents know each other, Haley. I’m not the one who spread this information around, so I don’t want you to think that, but I’m sure the information isn’t something you want out there, either.”
“It’s not true,” I say with a snap. “My family is no different than yours. Is this the best story someone could come up with? It’s pretty—it’s pretty lame.” I take a small breath, fighting the pains in my stomach.
Billy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of newspaper. “So, this isn’t true?”
I take the paper and unfold it, my hands shaking. I find an aged newspaper cutout with two crackled photos. My jaw drops as I read the caption beneath the image. I pick at the dry skin on my bottom lip while reading:
A successful escape from involuntary commitment calls for a late-night search.
Following the escape from secured quarters, the property borders of Selina Behavior Health Facility were left unsecured. Authorities are searching the surrounding area to ensure their safety as well as the safety of everyone in the area. It’s unknown how the escape was made possible, with security systems in place, but faculty and police are investigating. If you or anyone you know have any information about this case, please call Selina’s Police Department.
I gaze at the large black and white photo again and shake my head. “No,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “This is fake.” My words do not sound confident or convincing, but I need him to believe me because these people look exactly like my parents, down to Mom’s one crooked tooth and Dad’s receding hairline. “These aren’t even my parents’ names.” I point to where they’re mentioned toward the bottom of the article.
Billy’s lips stretch into an open-mouth grimace as he tilts his head to the side and lifts his shoulders into a shrug. He sucks in amouthful of air through his tightly clenched teeth. “Geez. I don’t know. I was just trying to help?—”
“How’s she taking it? Freak of freaks!!!” a kid shouts from the basketball court. “Is she confessing her love to you yet?”
“Shut it!” Billy responds, holding his arm over his mouth to hide the snicker I’m sure he’s trying to suppress.
Faint high-pitched moans cry out, “Ohhh, Billy…” in mockery.
My nose tingles as hot tears burn the backs of my eyes. I need to keep it together. I can’t let them think they’re getting to me. “They all know what you’re doing here?” I ask.
“It’s not like that. I’ll tell them you said it wasn’t true. I just wanted you to know. You seem like a nice girl, and I felt bad listening to people talk badly about you.” His voice sounds like a deflating balloon, losing the air needed to continue his lie.
I crumple the article in my hand and reach behind me for my front door, returning inside in one fluid motion before slamming the door in Billy’s face. I replace the lock and spin around before sliding down the length of the door with the article pressed to my chest. Tears purge from my eyes as I unfold the crumpled paper, staring at the familiar tarnished portrait framed by vivid details about an escape from a behavioral facility. My parents must know this article has been floating around. Is this just supposed to be an event that we never talk about? Why would they keep this from me? They had to think that someone might eventually shove this very article into my face, leaving me dumbfounded?
By the time I make it to my bedroom, the squall of laughter from outside makes its way through the sealed cracks of my window, just loud enough for me to know he didn’t tell them the rumors weren’t true.
FORTY-SIX
THURSDAY, JUNE 15TH 9:00 AM
After going days without a good night’s sleep, I’m taking a moment to relish the comfort of waking up in the morning rather than the middle of the night, and next to Liam who has clouded me with a distraction that has lingered for hours. He’s been so understanding and supportive through all of this and for no good reason other than to impress a woman he just met. I guess life does work in miraculous ways while we’re preoccupied. Or is it that we’re too preoccupied to notice something that’s not quite right?
My eyelids flutter open, searching for the source of warmth that has held me close all night, but the other side of the bed is vacant, the sheets strewn into a crumpled mess and the comforter piled up toward the end of the bed. I pull my sheet up to my neck and sit up, finding Liam sitting at my small desk between the closet and my nightstand. He’s twisting around in the swivel chair in his board shorts and surf-brand logo T-shirt, one leg crossed over the other.
“For someone who hasn’t been sleeping so well, you must have been making up for all those lost hours this morning, huh?” he asks, a smirk pinching one side of his face.
He fumbles with something in his hand, and I try to focus on what he’s holding, but my eyes are still adjusting to the amount of light seeping in through the closed blinds. A familiar sound strikes a chord, a deep rusty scratch following a pop.
Liam has lit a match and has the stick pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “What are you doing?” I ask, rubbing my eye with the balls of my fist.
“I found the matches on your desk, but no candles,” he says, staring at the flame as if he’s entranced by the burning wood.
“Okay, well…blow it out before you burn yourself,” I scold him.
“If only someone said the same thing to you that night…”
“Liam,” I groan, “what are you?—”
“How long did it take you to recognize me, Haley?”
“Recognize you from what?” I ask, my throat tightening.
He smiles and puffs a whisper of air onto the match, killing the flame. He places the blackened match down on my desk and proceeds to light another. “You know, I have wondered how easy it would be to recall someone from so many years ago when we were kids on the brink of puberty; scrawny little nothings who had yet to grow into the people we’d eventually become. Even with the facial scruff, the shaggy bleached out hair and some additional height and weight, it’s still me, Haley, your favorite old neighbor.”
