
Run Like Hell
Copyright © 2012 Elena Andrews
All rights reserved.
Author's Note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. And any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For my Family & Friends.
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Thank you!
"Hindsight is always 20/20."
My father's said it a million times but I never knew what it meant.
Now I know.
"No, don't die on me now!"
Panic clenches my chest and I glance around for any sign of help. There isn't a soul in sight. Fear traps my breath. I'm alone and unprepared. Darkness surrounds me. This can't be happening. Not tonight. Why tonight?
The car slows, despite the pressure I'm applying to the gas pedal. "Please, please, please," I beg, wishing my pleas will miraculously help. One glance at the console confirms my fear. The gas tank is empty.
"Of all nights," I groan as I carefully steer the car to the side of the road. Its pitch black outside and I'm alone on the rural road. I turn on the hazards, hoping the hypnotic, red, flashing lights will persuade a passerby to respond to my distress.
So much for my party plans. I shut the engine off and lean back against the headrest. Now what?
My iPhone rests on the passenger seat where I tossed it after I bought dinner, a Diet Coke and Snickers candy bar from a convenience store. Will Jack have his cell phone with him? Not likely. His parents monitor his phone usage despite him never abusing his phone privileges. My boyfriend has the clearest conscious of anyone I know. Traci will have her mobile phone on her. I'll beg her to leave the party and bring me a gallon of gas. What are best friends for?
I dial her cell phone but the call goes straight to voicemail. I don't leave a message. Instead, I hang up and begin to text her, but I'm distracted when a car's headlights reflect off the rearview mirror. Help has arrived. No sooner am I elated than disappointment sets in. The car doesn't stop or slow down, but continues past me. What's wrong with people these days?
I can hear my mother's lecture now. She'd be furious if she knew I'm stranded on the side of the road in her new car, which I'm forbidden to drive. The lecture and the punishment will be infinite. She still blames me for totaling her old car, despite the fact that the other driver drove through a red light. At least Dad expressed concern in the emergency room when the doctor informed him I'd sustained only minor cuts and bruises. Mom, however, remained stern and barely shown any relief. I haven't been allowed to drive since then, and the accident was months ago.
Better she doesn't know I'm driving her car tonight. Come to think of it, I bet she purposely kept the tank on empty so I wouldn't drive her new Honda Accord while she's away. I can't explain why we're not close. Ever since I was six or seven she's been distant with me and very critical of everything I do. She's built a fortress around herself that's become impenetrable. Over the years I've created my own wall, blocking her out as well. I can't please her -- ever. Thankfully, my dad has no walls when it comes to me. His arms are always open. Too bad he's always traveling on business.
She and Dad are probably still on the plane, flying toward Chicago for his business trip. Mom couldn't contain her excitement over joining in on his trip to the Windy City. Time away from me is the highlight of her trip.
My iPhone beeps, indicating an incoming text.
Sorry! Working ridiculously late tonight. See you tomorrow. Call me if you need me. Don't find trouble like I would!
A silver lining! I forgot Aunt Rory's supposed to come over tonight. Mom and Dad mentioned she would be watching me, their seventeen-year-old daughter, while they're gone. I've been too preoccupied thinking about Chelsea's party and my night with Jack to remember when they said she'd come over.
Aunt Rory is Mom's much younger sister. She's also cool, unlike Mom. She works at a law firm as a legal assistant, although most people think she works at a tattoo parlor. She has a sleeve of tattoos, plus several on her back. Asking Rory for help will obligate her to tell Mom. Rory working late tonight means she won't know about this either. If she called the house, I'll tell her I was sleeping or in the shower. I'm in the clear.
I read several texts from Traci, who arrived at the party earlier tonight.
Here now, see you soon.
The whole school is here! Text me when you arrive so I can find you.
Jack says "Hi". He misses you. We both do.
Where are you???
After my parents left for the airport this afternoon, I napped and overslept. My evening plans were further delayed when Tiger, my three-year-old German shepherd dog, insisted on taking the long route around the neighborhood. Traci was supposed to pick me up, but I wasn't ready in time so she asked me to meet her there. She promised Jaycee and Tonya she'd pick them up too and didn't want to keep them waiting. Jack was going to the party with his friends. We planned to meet up at the party. I'm hoping I can make it there in time before everyone leaves.
I hadn't planned on driving my mom's car tonight. Traci must have assumed I was allowed since my parents are gone for the next five days. "Only drive the car in case of an emergency," Dad warned. Chelsea's party is an emergency -- a social emergency.
I begin texting Traci back when I notice headlights. Will this car stop? I observe it approaching in the rearview mirror. It appears to be slowing down. Nervous, I lock the doors. Slowly, it passes by and the driver, a young guy, looks directly at me.
The car parks in front of mine and a guy steps out. My headlights illuminate him. He's wearing jeans, a heavy metal t-shirt, worn sneakers, and appears to be in his twenties. He has brown hair and no distinguishable marks. Undeniably average looking.
He smiles as he approaches and, before I know it, he's tapping on my window.
"Need some help?" He peers in at me.
As anxious as I am to go to the party and for help to arrive, I'm also uncertain. I realize I'm biased as to whom I want to accept help from. My ideal rescuers would be a cop, a tow truck driver, or an elderly person. Can I trust the non-threatening appearance of the man at my window?
I hold up my iPhone and lie. "I have a tow truck coming, but thanks."
Regardless of how friendly he looks, I don't know this guy and don't want to get out of the car. He shrugs and begins to inspect the car.
"You don't have a flat. Engine trouble?"
Now he's looking through the passenger side window. I wish he'd go away.
Again, I hold up my phone. "I'm okay. Thanks for your help. A tow truck will be here any minute."
"You sure?"
His eyes dart around the interior of the car, focusing on my purse tossed on the passenger seat. His gaze settles on me again. I shake my head yes and he finally walks back to his car. As he drives away, my phone rings. Traci's calling.
"Where are you?" she asks as soon as I answer. The music from the party is blaring in the background.
"I'm out of gas," I yell.
"What?"
"I'm out of gas."
"Morgan, I can't hear you. Are you going to be here soon?" she yells back.
This is futile. She can't hear me and I can't hear her. I tell her I'll text her and hang up as she's still talking.
The battery indicator on my cell phone flashes. I'm losing power now? I know there isn't a charger in the car. I text Traci, telling her my car's on empty. I'm about to send another text telling her where I am, but as I hit send my iPhone shuts down. I don't know if the text was sent or not.
Damn. The stress builds again in my chest. Breathing deeply, I try to calm my nerves, but it's hard being surrounded by this stifling darkness. The only light on the road is from my own car's hazard lights and headlights, which I haven't yet turned off.
My eagerness to party got me into this mess. I'd assured my parents I would be fine but hours after they leave I'm stranded on road. This situation could've been avoided if I'd checked the gas gauge and my cell phone battery level before leaving the house. Another of my mother's lectures comes to mind. "Morgan," she reprimands, "you have to be more prepared." A favorite lecture of hers. I'm not like her, though. Living isn't always about crossing something off a to-do list. The best times I've had growing up are the events I never planned.
Now, I'm alone in the dark -- without a plan. Aside from the guy who peered in my window and offered to help, no other car has driven by. The trunk. I haven't checked the trunk yet. Jumping out of the car, I pop it open but am disappointed to find it empty. No gas container, no flares, no flashlight. Shaking my head, I slam the trunk shut and slide back into the driver's seat.
I need gas but I don't have a container. Nervously biting my nails, I attempt to think of a plan but nothing comes to mind. Leaving the car and walking in the dark isn't an option. I'm safer waiting here. How long can I feasibly keep the headlights on before they drain the car battery?
I've been on the side of the road for exactly an hour and fifteen minutes, based on the digital clock in the console. An oncoming car provides a sense of false hope as it passes by. Ten minutes later, two more cars drive by but they don't stop or slow down. I can sit here and do nothing or be more proactive.
Deciding to flag down the next vehicle, I step out of the car and wait. The night is cool and quiet. The air smells similar to the pine-scented air freshener Mom bought for the downstairs bathroom. Thankfully, no wildlife rustles in the nearby bushes.
Headlights appear around a bend in the road and I wave my hands excitedly. I brace myself against the trunk of my car as the car slows down and parks behind me. I'm blinded by the headlights. The engine shuts off, followed by a car door slamming. Gravel crunches beneath the footsteps. A dark figure approaches. I shield my eyes from the glaring light with my hand and try to discern the driver and the make of the car. Recognition sets in.
"Your help didn't arrive yet?" His hands dig into his pockets and he stops about ten feet in front of me. The headlights from his car illuminate him from behind and he appears much larger than he did before.
"Not yet," I respond. My options are limited at this point. Perhaps he's a nice guy who wants to help me.
"Are you out of gas?" he asks.
I nod my head.
"Okay. Well, I know there's a gas station a few miles ahead. Do you have a container in your car?"
I shake my head no.
"No problem, you can use mine." His brow creases in concern as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket. Looking inside the wallet, he now appears apologetic. "I don't have any cash or credit cards on me."
I remember the money Dad left on top of my dresser. I forgot to put the cash in my wallet. When I left the house, I only had two dollars on me, enough to buy the soda and candy bar. Could this get any worse?
"I don't have any cash either," I admit.
"Do you have a credit or debit card? I could use it to pay for the gas."
It's a reasonable request considering the circumstances, but I can't hand a stranger my credit card, a card Mom is a joint account holder on. He must sense my hesitation because he changes the subject.
"Are you from Upper Creek High School? My younger brother goes there."
"What's your brother's name?"
"Ricky Smith. He's a freshman."
I think for a moment. I do go to Upper Creek High School but don't know anyone named Ricky Smith. I barely know any freshman at school.
"Sorry, I don't know him." I lean against the trunk, unsure of what to do.
"Well," he explains, "he's at some party around here. I'm supposed to pick him up which is why I'm in this area."
"Is that why you stopped earlier?" I ask.
"Yeah, I'd dropped him off. By the way, you've been out here for a while. It's almost midnight." He avoids my gaze and scuffs the dirt with his sneaker. "Listen, I can drive you to the gas station. Its a few miles up the road, unless you're expecting help to arrive soon."
"You mentioned the party your brother is at. How far away is it?" He's got to be at Chelsea's party. Her house must be close. Why did fate have to intervene this way? The biggest party of the year and I'm stuck on a road with an empty gas tank and a dead cell phone.
"About seven or eight miles, but the gas station is closer."
"Can I borrow your cell phone?" I ask hopefully. He glances at the iPhone in my hand but doesn't ask why I'm not using it.
"Sorry, I didn't bring mine," he says and shrugs.
He remains standing several feet away from me, still illuminated in the headlights. He's waiting, I sense. Waiting for me to decide what I'm going to do.
I'm out of ideas at this point and will miss Chelsea's party. I imagine Traci, Jack, and my parents trying to call me, wondering where I am. The stress is making me anxious and irritated.
"Okay," I begin, taking a deep breath and thinking it through before I speak. It's either trek several miles along a dark, wooded road or hitch a ride with him. "May I ride to the gas station with you?"
"Sure."
I swear his eyes light up and his lips curve. Is he smiling? It's a ride, I remind myself. Perhaps he needs to be reminded too.
"I'll grab my purse." I duck inside the car and sling the long strap of my purse over my shoulder and across my chest. I toss my useless iPhone inside it and turn off the headlights before locking the car. I leave the hazard lights on. I'll be back soon with the gas.
"You said the gas station is a mile or two away, right?" I follow behind him to his car and slide into the passenger seat. It's an old sedan, the kind my grandma drives, with a long bench seat in the front and back. He starts the car and backs up, then pulls onto the road. Mom's car disappears into the darkness as we drive away. What have I done?
"It's close," he answers as he fiddles with the radio. "You like this song?" The station has a lot of static but I recognize the Billy Joel song.
"It's okay," I shrug, not interested in listening to the radio. I want to get the gas, fill up my mom's car, and go to the party.
"So do you go to Upper Creek High School? What grade are you in?" He glances at me and then resumes looking at the road.
"Yeah, I'm a junior there," I reluctantly tell him.
The car smells awful, a blend of cigarettes and dirty socks. I roll the window down for some fresh air and anxiously watch for the upcoming gas station. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel to the tune of the song. A street sign is visible ahead and I anticipate him turning, but he drives past the road. Disappointed, I wonder what Traci and Jack are doing. They must be worried about me.
"Hey, did you see the new movie starring Matt Thompson? I heard it got really good reviews. I'm a big fan of his films."
His voice invades my thoughts. I don't want to discuss movies, let alone a Matt Thompson film. He's an older actor and my dad enjoys watching his thriller movies, but they're not my preference.
"No, I haven't seen it," I say dismissively. Nor do I intend to. I rummage around in my purse to appear distracted.
"What about the upcoming Todd Smith film? The trailer is awesome."
What's this guy's deal with these older male actors and their movies? I'm not a fan of either one of these movie stars. "Maybe, I don't know. I haven't seen any movies lately." I want to drive in silence and get to the closest gas station soon. Once there, I'll call Traci, or a taxi, but I'm not driving back to Mom's car with this guy.
He drives past two more streets and I'm growing more concerned. He said the gas station is a mile or two ahead. We've driven at least five miles by now.
"Weren't we supposed to turn there?" I ask, wondering how much farther he's going to drive.
"Oh, it should be the next road," he says offhandedly.
I peek at the car's mileage and make a mental note of the number.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asks, glancing away from the road and looks me up and down.
Get out of this car, Morgan! His question hangs in the air and I'm unable to speak. My body is tense. My mind screams for me to escape and I try not to appear panic stricken. He must've sensed my uneasiness because he doesn't wait for me to answer.
"Sorry," he apologizes, "it's none of my business, just trying to make conversation."
I stare out the window but also keep an eye on him, worried he'll try to grope me. When we pass another cross street, fear replaces panic. Without slowing down or turning, he drives past a visible gas station.
"You passed the gas---" I begin but he cuts me off.
"Oh, that one's closed," he responds abruptly.
People were pumping gas and the store lights were on. The gas station didn't appear closed. An icy realization trickles down my spine. I've misjudged him. He has no intention of helping me. Paralyzed, I imagine what he might do to me and a cold darkness begins to cloud my thinking. I've watched this scene play out on movie screens. Am I to have the same horrible fate as those victims?
Breathing is difficult, despite the fresh air blowing through the cracked window. The stale cigarette smell now has a taste in my mouth and the stink from the old upholstery is nauseating. I close my eyes for a split second and breathe. Something within me -- my inner survivalist -- warns me to remain calm.
"Hey, I have to pee. Do you think you can pull over real quick? I really can't hold it any longer." I press my legs together tightly to make it appear I have to go badly.
"We'll be there any second. It's the next road coming up." He glances down at my locked legs and then looks back at the road.
I don't believe him. "I have a medical condition and when I have to go, I really have to go. I seriously can't wait." I feign a look of severe discomfort.
Despite the evening chill, beads of sweat are collecting on his upper lip. He appears different now -- threatening, nervous, anxious, and evil. My mind can't stop racing with different scenarios of why he wants me in this car, where he plans to take me, what he plans to do with me. My panic and fear builds, threatening to crack my composure. I have to get out of this car and far away from this guy.
He locks the doors using the little button on his arm rest. "We're close. Hold it a second longer," he says sternly, as if I've annoyed him.
A vision of my over protective mother flashes in my head. If she knew the situation I've gotten myself into, I'd never regain her trust. She'd be so disappointed in me. I've already violated two sacred rules she taught me growing up.
Rule number one. Don't talk to strangers. This rule was more applicable when I was younger. Now that I'm seventeen I generally disregard this rule. Otherwise, how else would I meet new people? I can't deny the fact that it would have prevented me from getting in this car.
Rule number two. Never get in a car with someone you don't know. Earlier I feared walking along a dark, wooded road more than hitching a ride with a stranger. Stupid me. Stupid, stupid, stupid me.
This leads me to rule number three. If taken, do whatever you can to get away from the captor -- fight, claw, scratch, scream. In other words, escape.
The landscape quickly passes by. The road remains bordered by grass and surrounding woods. He's not going to stop and the farther he drives, the farther away from my mom's car I am. My only option is to jump out of the moving vehicle. I calculate the risks involved, such as breaking an arm, a leg, or worse. The speedometer shows he's driving fifty-five miles an hour. Perhaps if the road curves he'll slow down and I can jump out then. I need to distract him while I wait for my opportunity.
Noticing the pack of smokes in the console, I innocently ask for one. I've never smoked before but this is a perfect diversion. Plus, a lit cigarette is a weapon. Looking less annoyed now, he reaches for the pack and pulls two out. I slide the cigarette between my lips and notice him starring at my mouth. Averting his eyes back to the road, he flicks his lighter and holds the flame steady for me. I stupidly cough when I inhale the first drag. He eyes me suspiciously then lights his own.
My escape lies ahead. A road sign indicates to slow for the curve. He eases up on the gas pedal and begins to turn the wheel left when I simultaneously stab him in the neck with the lit cigarette and manually unlock my door.
"What the hell?!" he yells and reaches for me but misses.
I push the door open but hesitate. My mother often tells me I'm too impulsive, I live my life without boundaries, and I don't consider the consequences of my actions. She's right. She's completely right. Then I leap from the car.
The impact is fierce and painful. My arms protectively shield my head and my legs lock as I roll and tumble across the unforgiving asphalt. I'm suspended in time. What seems like minutes is over in seconds when I come to a jarring halt. My body slams against a tree trunk and the air is knocked out of me. I know I'm alive because my body throbs in pain.
Stunned, I lay crumpled beside the tree. The woods and the evening are quiet and still around me. Disoriented, I gaze up and try to focus on the moon peeking through the treetops. The back of my head rests against the moist ground and the scent of fresh pine revives me. My body is motionless and my mind tries to register what happened seconds ago. Were it not for the sudden screech of brakes, I'd lay here awhile longer. My mind commands my body to move. I know I have to get up and run -- run like hell.
I struggle to my feet, uncertain of what injuries I've sustained but knowing this is my chance to escape.
"Where are you?" he screams.
His voice is close and his anger propels me forward. I run as fast as I can manage considering my collision with the road and tree. I'm limping but I grit my teeth through the pain and forge ahead. Thankfully, darkness cloaks me from his wrath. I try to put distance between myself and him. My side hurts from slamming into the tree and my arms are sore but not broken.
Though I'm damaged and beaten, I'm alive and my will to survive is strong. This nightmare will be over soon. I'll run, I'll escape, and I'll never have to see him again. My long limbs stumble in the dark and trip on the uneven ground. I fall several times but regain my balance and keep running.
The engine roars to life and I glance over my shoulder. He turns the car around and drives toward me. Ducking into the woods, I hide behind a huge tree trunk before the headlights illuminate me. My heart thunders in my chest and I take a moment to catch my breath. Kneeling hurts. Something is wrong with my leg. My hand runs down the length of my leg and halts at the ripped jeans and bloody fabric. My fingertips graze over the wound on my calf. I can't tell how bad I'm hurt in the dark.
Biting my lip, I remain quiet, but adrenaline fueled by terror, pain, and exhaustion, builds in me. I'm ready to explode with a mix of emotions. My heart jumps at the sound of the car door slamming. Foolishly, I step back and a twig snaps under my weight. He heard. He knows where I'm hiding. Panicked, I tear into the woods before he can advance. As I run, I try to stay parallel to the road so I won't get lost.
"There you are! Wait until I get my hands on you! I'll make you regret running from me," he yells as he pursues me.
He continues to threaten me as he tears through the forest, swiping at branches and overstepping fallen trees. His crude words propel me forward, despite the throbbing in my leg and side. I trip on a root and my face slams against a log when I fall. I scramble back to my feet and continue running but his hand clamps onto my upper arm. A terrifying scream erupts from me and birds flee from the treetops.
Defensively, my hand balls into a fist and I swing at his face, as hard as I can. I hit him, but not with the force I was hoping for. He becomes further enraged and I pull my arm back for a second punch, this time aiming for the cigarette burn on his neck. He bellows loudly and I know I've hit my mark. Momentarily, his grip loosens on my arm, allowing me to yank myself free of his grasp. I turn and run.
Breaking through the thick foliage, I sprint through the forest and run onto the road. I can't risk falling on the uneven ground again. My Converse pummel the asphalt. My heart hammers in my chest as I race ahead, trying to outrun him. His heavy breathing indicates he's close behind. I'm hoping he's not much of a runner. Pumping my arms harder, I focus on the dark road, careful not to trip or stumble. I'm in agony but it's nothing compared to what I'll endure if he gets his hands on me. The road is void of cars, not a headlight in sight as I continue running.
My purse slaps against my body. I stagger and sprint ahead. He could retreat to the car and run me down, but we've run too far. If he goes back for the car I'll have time to disappear into the woods, hopefully escaping him for good. I can't focus on his motives or why he's targeted me. He's still too close behind for me to consider myself safe.
I'm jerked back and slam against his body. He locks me against his chest with his powerful arms. His forearms press tightly against my sternum. I hadn't realized he was so close behind. Exerting all my energy, I struggle, bite, and claw at his arm. I'm attacking him like a wild animal defending a fresh kill. My size is slight compared to him. He's not heavy or too muscular but he's taller and stronger. His mouth is next to my ear and he's breathing heavily. I sense he's tired. If I can escape from his clutches, I'll have a chance to getaway.
I slam my foot onto his and he curses but doesn't loosen his grip. With a backwards and upward kick, I nail him in the groin. He howls in pain and crouches over. His arms release me and I run but I know he's not getting up. Crouched in the road, he's barely breathing. I consider myself lucky for accurately nailing him. Speechless, he watches me disappear down the street. I don't know how long or how far I've ran, but glancing behind I can barely see him. The moon dimly illuminates his shape. He's hunched over, his hands resting on his knees. I continue running until he disappears, swallowed by the night.
About an hour later I come upon the gas station we passed earlier. I'll call Jack or Traci and ask them to pick me up, but first I need water. I'm exhausted from running. Plus, the pain in my leg aches. My calf is sore from the bad road rash or gash I sustained earlier. What I'd do for an Advil or Excedrin right now. I remain in the shadows across the street from the gas station and survey the parking lot for any signs of my attacker. The lot is empty at this hour. Inside, I can spy a teenager working behind the counter. The coast looks clear so I proceed.
As I begin to cross the road, tires screech behind me and instinctively I run.
"Morgan! Wait!"
I stop and turn in the middle of the road. I'm relieved when I see Traci standing outside her VW Bug with its engine running. She slams the door and runs to my side. Panic and concern cloud her vibrant eyes as she takes in my appearance. I can't imagine what I look like.
"Morgan, what happened to you?" she practically shrieks.
Her hands hover, as if she's scared to touch me, but then her thin arms wrap around me and pull me into a hug. I must be shaking because she quickly pulls away and ushers me to her car.
"Come on," she whispers.
I stumble along until she pulls the passenger door open and I collapse in the black leather seat. The familiar mix of vanilla air freshener and flowery perfume fills my nostrils. I rest my head against the seat and close my eyes. She starts the car and slowly drives but stops minutes later. Opening my eyes, I notice she's parked at the gas station where I intended to call for help.
She sits behind the wheel, staring at me. I wait for her to speak but she doesn't. In the interior car light, I notice my torn and bloody jeans, ripped hoodie, and bloodied hands. I flip the visor down and peek in the mirror. I'm frightening. No wonder she's not talking. Blood is plastered across my face. It's probably from when I fell and hit my head against the tree trunk. My long, brown hair is littered with leaves and grass. Mascara is smeared all over my face, mixing with the blood and creating a reddish-black stain on my cheeks.
"I'm calling the cops," she says without knowing what happened to me.
She begins to dial on her cell phone but I place my hand on hers and gently take the phone away. I put the phone on her consol. Her greenish-yellow eyes are wide with alarm.
"Morgan, you've obviously been attacked. We need to call for help."
Shaking my head, I try to speak. My throat is raw and a lump of emotions blocks my windpipe. If I talk I'll cry. I'm too emotional and shaken. I grab a bottle of water from her drink holder and take a gulp. The water soothes my throat. After taking several deep breaths, I try speaking again.
"Please don't call the cops because I don't want anyone to know what happened."
Her eyes widen again, as if I'm talking all kinds of crazy.
I can't control it anymore, the tears begin to fall and I crumble in the seat. My thin legs fold up toward my chest and my arms wrap around them. I pull my hoodie over my face and hide within the fabric. The stress and bottled up emotions release as I cry in the comfort of Traci's car. Her arms encircle me and her hand strokes my back.
"How did you find me?" I ask between sobs. "Aren't you supposed to be at the party?"
"I got your text saying you ran out of gas. I found your mom's car down the road but I've been driving around looking for you."
She got my text? This alarms me. She was looking for me the whole time? I begin to cry harder, realizing I didn't have to get in the car with that man. After a few minutes, I slowly lift my head and wipe my tears on my sleeves.
"How long have you been looking for me?" It's been hours since I got stranded and sent her text.
Traci's porcelain complexion blushes pink in embarrassment. "Hours actually. I'm sorry it took so long for me to show up. I took a different route going to the party and I recently thought to program the GPS using your address. Found the car right away afterward." She brushes her long, glossy, jet-black hair over her ear.
The fact that she left the party to help me speaks volumes. "You've been driving around for hours?"
She shakes her head yes.
"I'd hug you but I don't' want to get you---." My voice cuts off as I stare down at my ripped, bloody and filthy self.
She looks great in her new outfit -- a deep purple v-neck sweater dress worn over black leggings. Her thin legs appear more toned in her high-heeled, knee-high leather boots. A delicate silver chain with a heart charm, a gift from her father, hangs from her slender neck. She's the envy of many girls at school for her fashion and physique.
"Thank you, Traci," I whisper, "Thank you so much." The alarm softens on her face and is replaced with concern.
"Now are you going to tell me what happened?" she asks.
I nod my head in affirmation. "But I want to clean up first. Will you ask for the bathroom key?" I nod towards the teenager working inside the convenience store.
"Are you sure? If you've been attacked, you'll wash off the evidence."
She has a point but she's not aware of what's at stake. "Traci, no one can know, especially my parents. I'll be grounded forever. I won't risk ruining my whole summer. I'm fine, really."
"You're fine? You just looked in the mirror and you're going to tell me you're fine?"
I have a friend who sometimes shows up at school with a black eye. When I ask if she's okay, she always tells me, "I'm fine", even though I suspect her step-dad is the one causing her face to discolor and swell. Another friend recently had a miscarriage in her first trimester. When I asked her one day how she was doing, she too answered, "I'm fine" even though tears were glistening in her eyes.
By responding "I'm fine" to Traci, I'm actually admitting I want this whole nightmare to be over with. If I ignore my attack, it will disappear.
She takes my silence as an answer and shrugs. "Okay, you're fine. I get it."
I can sense her reluctance but she leaves the car and enters the convenience store. The boy behind the counter smiles widely at her -- a typical reaction she gets from boys -- and hands her the bathroom key. When she returns, she assists me to the restroom, located on the side of the building. She unlocks the door and turns the light on. The fluorescent light flickers and hums and several bugs fly around in its glow. At least there's paper towels and soap in the dispenser.
I wash up and she leans against a nearby sink and inspects my wounds. The one on my head luckily doesn't need stitches. I lather up my hands and wash my face, including my eyes, to clean off the runny mascara and blood. The soap stings but I don't complain. When I rinse, I can't help noticing the combination of blood and dirt vanishing down the drain. My skin looks red and irritated from the harsh soap but at least I'm clean. I'll deal with my hair after I get home and take a shower. For now, I pull out some of the grass and twigs and gather the messy mass into a simple ponytail.
"Are you ready to talk now?" she asks.
I perch on the side of the sink and splash water on my leg wound. It appears to be the worst of my injuries. The gash won't require stitches either, but the road ripped apart my skin when I fell from the car. Gauze and antiseptic will be mandatory.
I begin relaying the events of the evening. Traci listens intently. I hold several paper towels against my leg to clot the blood and continue with the story. I can tell she has mixed emotions by the way her eyes light up and narrow. But when I tell her how I leapt from the car, she's heard enough.
"I don't care what you say, Morgan, but I'm calling the cops. This maniac will attack another girl. He's sick. You don't even understand the danger you were in."
"Traci, stop. You can't call them. I got in the car. It's my fault everything happened."
"He attacked you!"
"After I stabbed him with a lit cigarette," I argue.
I'm not admitting that he wasn't going to hurt me. I don't want the police and my parents involved. I want the whole situation to go away.
Traci puts her phone away, looking defeated. "Fine. This is your business, Morgan. I don't agree with what you're doing, though. I think you're putting others at risk by not reporting it."
I'm too ashamed to meet her gaze. I finish washing my leg and ease off the edge of the sink. I'm tired and don't want to argue with my best friend who's been driving around for hours looking for me.
"Let's go home," I suggest.
"Fine," she says and assists me out of the restroom.
After she returns the key, I remember the gas for my mom's car. "Do you have a gas container in your trunk? I need to refill Mom's car." Traci pops the trunk open and I'm relieved to find a red gas can inside. I open my purse to retrieve my wallet when my heart stops.
"What's wrong?" she asks when my mouth falls open.
"My wallet, it's not here." I rummage in my purse then dump its contents on the sidewalk, panic and fear consuming me. "My wallet's not here!"
Traci kneels beside me and collects my stuff off the sidewalk. "Morgan, calm down. Maybe you left it at home. I have gas money."
I stare at her. She doesn't understand. What if he has my wallet? What if he knows my name and address? I take a deep breath in order to hold back the tears are once again building up.
She stuffs my belongings back in my purse and helps me up. "It's going to be okay, Morgan."
I settle back in her car while she fills the container with gas. I'm tired and emotional. Jack! Oh my God, he's probably wondering where I am! And my parents, I have to text them. Does Traci have a charger in the car? I dig in the glove box and find one. I immediately begin charging my iPhone.
"Do you think you can manage driving tonight? Otherwise, we can come back and get her car in the morning." Traci slides behind the wheel after storing the gas tank in the trunk.
"I should be fine. Will you follow me home?" Imagining him lurking around my house scares me.
"Absolutely. You can spend the night at my house. It's probably better if you're not alone tonight."
I wasn't supposed to be alone tonight. Jack planned on spending the night. Poor Jack. He's probably worried about me. While my iPhone charges I check my messages and texts. There are many. Traci sent a bunch of texts and I have two texts from my parents. Jack sent a text when he got home from the party saying he hadn't seen me and wanted me to call him ASAP. I send Jack and my parents a quick text stating my cell phone battery died and I hadn't been able to get their messages until now. Hopefully my parents won't wonder why I hadn't charged my iPhone earlier.
Traci and I are soon on the road driving back to my mom's car. We're the only car on the road. Up ahead, Mom's Honda is illuminated by Traci's headlights. She keeps the engine running and her cell phone in her hand in case my attacker is hiding in the shadows. I fill the gas tank and then start the car. She follows close behind the entire way back to my house. I sigh with relief once I park Mom's car in the garage. I've returned it in the same condition.
Traci waits in the car and I enter my house. I'm met by an overly anxious Tiger. He dances around excitedly, jumping up and licking my face. I kneel down, hugging him close. Quickly, I attach his leash and lead him outside. Traci gets out of her car walks over while Tiger sniffs around the front yard.
"You want me to come inside with you?" she asks.
"I'll be okay. Give me a second to feed the dog and grab a change of clothes." I enter the house and turn on the lights. Tiger follows me up the stairs to my room. Pulling an overnight bag from my closet, I stuff a change of clothes into it and then grab a few items from the bathroom and hurry downstairs.
"I'll be back in the morning, Tiger. I promise." It's already past two in the morning. Tiger will be alone for another eight hours until I'm home. His sad expression makes it hard to leave, but I close and lock the door behind me, and then jog over to Traci's car.
"What time were you supposed to be home?" I ask, not wanting Traci to get in trouble for breaking curfew because of me.
"Don't worry about it. Mom and Dad won't say anything. You know I don't have a curfew. Besides, I texted Mom a half hour ago saying we'd be home soon. All she cares about is that I keep in touch with her."
I'm glad I'd texted my folks too. They're probably already asleep but at least they'll see the message when they wake up.
Traci lives in a large house. Even though she's an only child, like me, her parents own a five bedroom house. Two of the extra bedrooms are used as offices and the third spare room is a guest bedroom. I prefer sleeping in Traci's room whenever I spend the night, even though I'm offered the guest bedroom. She has a large queen size bed we comfortably share. Her parents don't wake up when we enter the house. Tired and exhausted, we head straight to her room to get ready for bed. Traci grabs several bottles of water from the kitchen before heading upstairs.
Lying in bed, I can't shake the image of the guy's face, the cigarette hanging from his mouth, smoke curling around his features. I'm independent, but when my parents leave town I get into a stranger's car!
"Are you all right?" Traci whispers. I roll over and face her.
"I'm worried he knows where I live. What if he comes after me?"
"You know how I feel. I think you should go to the police and report him."
I smirk and she continues. "Okay, then be prepared until your parents come home. Make sure you're not alone, keep Tiger close to you, and keep your cell phone charged and with you at all times."
It's good advice. The odds of him coming after me, or knowing where I live, are slim, at least I think so. If I'm prepared I won't be scared. My parents will be home in a few days and everything will return to normal.
"How was the party?" I change the subject hoping I can get him out of my mind.
Traci smiles. "You won't believe it, but I met a great guy."
"You did? What's his name?" A new guy is something to smile about. Hopefully Traci can get her mind off Steve, her ex-boyfriend who dumped her for no apparent reason.
"Carlos. He's hot and he's a senior. Actually, he's on the basketball team. I bet Jack knows him." Her expression becomes dreamy when she talks about him.
I remember meeting a guy on Jack's basketball team named Carlos. Traci begins to tell me in detail how they met at the party. I'm trying to pay attention but can't keep my eyes open. I'm exhausted and I realize I never showered before I put on my pajamas. Her voice lulls me to sleep.
I dream I'm at Chelsea's party, laughing, dancing, and kissing Jack. I'm thirsty and tell Jack I'll be right back. I enter the kitchen but a man is standing in front of me. When he turns around he smiles wickedly and I scream.
"Morgan, are you all right?" Traci runs over and sits on the edge of the bed. She's dressed in jeans and a slouchy sweater, revealing a bare shoulder.
I sit up in her bed and realize I'm covered in sweat. I dreamt about him.
"I had a nightmare. He was in it and he was at Chelsea's party." I shake my head, trying to erase the dream from my memory. "What time is it?" Traci's hair and makeup are perfectly done.
"Around noon."
"I have to go home. Poor Tiger, he needs to go out." I throw my legs over the side of the bed and wince in pain. My abdomen and leg hurts badly. I pull up my pajama top and stare at my bare belly. Traci's eyes bulge. My stomach is bruised badly. I know it's from slamming into the tree trunk.
"Morgan," she whispers.
I'm as frightened as she looks -- pale and wide-eyed. "It's just a bruise."
"I can drive you to the emergency room," she offers.
I decline. No bones are broken. "It looks worse than it is," I tell her bravely. She nods her head but I know she's not agreeing with me. "Will you be able to drop me off at my house?"
"Last night I made plans with Carlos but you're more important. I'll drive you home and we can hang out and watch movies all day. I'll take care of you."
Traci looks amazing and I know she labored over making her fashion choices. I wasn't about to ruin her chance of happiness with a great, new guy. Anyone who can help her get over Steve is someone I want her spending time with. Steve dumped her months ago and she's been hoping he'll take her back ever since. Traci deserves someone better.
"No, go out with Carlos and tell me about the date when you get home. What plans do you have with him?" I gingerly slide out of bed and turn my back to her and fasten my bra, then toss a clean t-shirt over my head.
"He's taking me to lunch and the movies. I think he should be here soon. Mom and Dad are at the gym, by the way. Before Mom left she asked if we had a good time. I told her about my date today with Carlos but didn't mention your incident last night. You're welcome to confide in my parents, Morgan. They're easy to talk to."
I know Traci means well and she's concerned about me, but the last thing I want to do is admit to an adult how stupid I was to get in some guy's car last night. I want to forget it ever happened. Shoving my belongings in my duffle bag, I pull a pair of sweatpants on and slide into my shoes. I'd die if Jack saw me now.
I give Traci a big hug, lucky to have her as a best friend. "Thank you, but I'm going to go home and invite Jack over. I have a lot of making up with him to do after ditching him last night."
"You didn't ditch him! You were attacked! Are you going to tell him what happened?" I know she thinks I'm making stupid decisions lately.
"Judging by my appearance, he'll suspect something."
The doorbell rings. "Carlos!" Traci gasps, checking her appearance in her bedroom mirror. "How do I look?"
Traci and I have been best friends for the past seven years. We've been inseparable since meeting in fifth grade. We share the same interests but we differ in our looks. Traci is gorgeous. She's tall and thin, with striking greenish-yellow eyes and long, shiny jet black hair. I'm the total opposite. I'm average height, skinny, brown eyes, and long brown hair. Traci wears designer brands and I wear whatever is in fashion at Target.
"Beautiful." I compliment her before she hurries downstairs. I slowly follow, wanting to remain unnoticed when she opens the door.
"Hi, Carlos." Traci's voice is soft and sultry and I practically laugh out loud.
If I didn't have to go home to walk Tiger I could watch this act of hers longer.
"Wow," he breathes softly.
Traci opens the door wider and Carlos catches sight of me.
"Carlos, this is Morgan. You may know her boyfriend, Jack, from basketball?" Carlos and I exchange a look of recognition and both smile and say hello. "Oh, so you do know each other. Anyways, Carlos, do you mind if we drop Morgan off at home before the movie? She needs a ride and lives close by."
"Sure, fine with me." Traci goes inside to grab her purse and I walk to the car with Carlos.
"Hey, Jack was looking for you last night. I bumped into him at one point and he asked if I'd seen you. Were you at the party last night?" he asks.
"I was on my way but something came up and I couldn't make it." I shrug, not wanting to elaborate, but I can tell he's staring at my cuts and bruises. "It's a long story," I say and he nods and then changes the subject.
"You and Traci are good friends?" Carlos opens the back door for me and I slide into the seat.
"Yeah, we're best friends."
"Maybe the four of us can hang out sometime." Carlos has a big smile on his face when she joins us at the car.
"I take it you two know each other pretty well?" she asks, looking amazing in her new wedge shoes. Tossing her hair over her bare shoulder she gives Carlos one of her dazzling smiles.
"Through basketball, Trace...Jack's introduced me to most of the team." Her face relaxes. She can be possessive over a guy she likes and even though she and I are best friends, I don't want her thinking I'm a threat. "Ready to go?" I'm anxious to get home, walk the dog, and take a shower.
Traci and Carlos get in the car and within minutes we pull into my driveway. The large two-story house I live in seems quaint and quiet on the outside. Inside, Tiger's barking. I thank my friends for the ride home and hurry inside. I drop my bags on the floor and kneel down to receive his kisses. Tiger's happy to see me. I grab his leash and leave for his walk. Whipping out my iPhone, I update my parents I'm still alive.
Alive. Of course I'm alive. Part of me agrees with Traci. I should call the police and report the guy. Another girl could be abducted. But I instigated the attack by getting into his car and by stabbing him with the cigarette. If my parents hear about the incident, my social life will become non-existent.
I'm in love with Jack. I'm ready to take our relationship to the next level. Even though I'm not a virgin, the thought of having sex with him scares me as well as excites me. Last night should have been our special night together but obviously our plans got sidetracked. We've been friends for such a long time that I'm worried sex will change our relationship. What if he doesn't like me after he sleeps with me? What if he only wants to be with me for sex?
Tiger pulls the leash and jerks me from my thoughts. He's sniffing a dead squirrel. "Tiger, gross!" I yell and pull him away from the road kill lying on the side of the street.
We continue down the street but something catches my eye. A car turns the corner and a chill tingles down my spine. The car looks like the old sedan from last night. I need to know if I'm being stalked. "Tiger, let's go." I run toward the street the car turned on. Tiger keeps pace and pulls me along. My body protests from the exertion, a reminder of the pain I endured last night.
We reach the street corner but the car is gone. Do I want to see his car parked on the street with him behind the wheel watching me? Or perhaps I'm stressed out from the whole nightmare and my imagination is in overdrive. Sighing, I turn around and begin walking home.
I text Jack.
I miss you. Come over.
Soon. In an hour. Miss you too.
An hour! I need to shower and get ready.
When we arrive home, I put the key in the lock but the front door swings open. Startled, I grab Tiger by his collar, holding him close. Had I forgotten to lock the door? I can't remember. The dog had been anxious to go outside. I might have closed the door but not locked it behind us. I push the door wide open, looking for signs of anything out of place.
My bag is still in the foyer, exactly where I dumped it. My purse is still on the side table I left it. I unhook the dog's leash and allow him to go in first to sniff out trouble. He goes straight to the kitchen. He laps at his water bowl and pads back to me, a quizzical expression on his cute face. I know he's wondering why I haven't entered the house yet.
My next door neighbor listens to an iPod with ear-buds while he cleans out his garage. He won't hear my calls for help if someone is inside.
"Tiger, are Mommy and Daddy home? Go upstairs and check." I point toward the staircase and Tiger dutifully bounds up and searches the house for my parents, even though they're not home. But if HE is up there, Tiger will sniff him out.
Tiger runs down the steps and sits in front of me, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I guess the coast is clear and I hadn't locked the door. Hesitantly, I enter the house and lock the door behind me while clutching my iPhone.
I don't have much time before Jack arrives. I make a sandwich in the kitchen and feed half to Tiger and eat the other half on my way to my room.
I draw a bath in my private bathroom and add some bubble bath to the running water. The scent of lavender permeates throughout my room. I remove my clothes and throw them in my hamper, then gingerly lower myself into the hot water. The water soothes my aches and immediately relaxes me. I text Mom and Dad from the tub, telling them I'm studying. Mom texts me back suggesting to heat up a frozen dinner if I'm hungry, or make a sandwich with the fresh deli turkey she bought yesterday.
I set my phone aside and lather up my dirty hair. Taking a deep breath, I sink beneath the water and rinse out the shampoo. I repeat the process and add some conditioner to make my hair soft and silky. I'd love another thirty minutes to soak and relax but I don't have time. I step out of the tub and notice the bruise on my stomach. It's ugly and the size of an orange. My leg looks worse, though. Thankfully, the gash on my head isn't noticeable since it's close to my hair line. If I comb my bangs over my forehead it's barely visible.
I wrap a towel around my body and enter my bedroom. I'll check the hall closet for some gauze and antiseptic for my leg. I pass the top of the stairs when Tiger barks. I hurry back to my bedroom window to see if Jack is parked in the driveway but I don't see his car. Tiger barks again, followed by a deep growl. Tiger never growls.
I throw on a bathrobe over my towel and creep down the stairs, my phone in my hand. I can't see Tiger but it sounds like he's in the living room. Avoiding the creaky step, I come to the bottom step and tip-toe to the kitchen. Grabbing a large knife, I slowly enter the hallway and find Tiger looking out the sliding glass door in the living room. I relax. He probably spied a cat in the backyard. He's always protective over the backyard, his stomping ground.
"Tiger, what's out there?" He barks and growls again, trying to get my attention. He stands on his hind legs and presses his front paws against the glass door. He wants to go after whatever is outside. Glancing around the yard, I don't see a cat, but the gate is open. Weird. The gate is always securely locked. I unlock the sliding door to go outside and close the fence gate when I realize the sliding door is already unlocked. I freeze.
"Tiger, was someone in the house?" I whisper. I scan the yard quickly but don't see anyone. Was he in the house when I was in the bath? Is he on the other side of the fence watching me now? Who the hell is this guy and what does he want? Or am I being paranoid because I lost my wallet? I run to the front door to make sure it's locked. It is. I check the garage door and the windows. Everything is closed and locked.
What was his brother's name? Ricky Smith? I run upstairs and pull out a yearbook and quickly thumb through the pages. He said his brother was a freshman though, which means I don't have the newest edition with the freshman photos. I throw the yearbook across the room in frustration and pull out my junior high yearbooks and scan them but nobody with the name Ricky Smith is listed. He lied. He probably told me he had a brother in high school to make me more relaxed.
I don't know what to think. Sitting on my bed, dazed, I'm staring at the pile of yearbooks beside me. Looking down at my leg, I realize I haven't wrapped it yet. Jack will be here any minute. There's no time to pretty myself up. I change into baggy black jeans and toss a t-shirt over my head. I brush my hair and teeth, then apply some quick mascara and lip gloss. In my parents' bathroom I find Neosporin and gently apply it to my leg wound, then wrap it in gauze. I'm heading downstairs when Jack's car pulls into the driveway.
I open the door before he has a chance to ring the doorbell. Jack steps inside and scoops me into his arms, kissing me hungrily. His t-shirt is soft beneath my hands and he smells like fabric softener. His mouth tastes like Big Red gum and can't help getting swept away by his kiss.
"I missed you..." he mumbles as he continues to kiss me.
"I can tell."
He slowly pulls back and gazes at my forehead. "Morgan, what happened?" Gingerly, he smoothes my bangs back and looks at the cut on my forehead. "You need stitches?"
I shake my head no. "I fell down last night."
He looks shocked and alarmed as his dark, brown eyes rake over me. "Why are you scratched up?"
Tiger barks and jumps around, begging for Jack's attention. I push the front door closed and lock it while Jack greets Tiger.
"I'm fine." I don't know what to tell him, or where to begin. The phone rings and I tell Jack I'll be right back. I dash into the kitchen to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Honey, how are you? Your father and I wanted to call and check on you. Is Rory there with you too?"
Mom's probably checking in to make sure I'm not having a wild party at the house, even though it's Sunday afternoon.
"Tiger and I are fine and Rory went to the store for some soda." Better cover for Aunt Rory and Mom knows she loves her soda, which Mom never buys. "How's Chicago?"
I half listen when Mom describes the hotel, the restaurant they ate lunch at earlier, and the agreeable weather. Tonight, they have plans to go on a sightseeing dinner cruise. Mom mentions he wants to spend the day with her today before he has to work tomorrow. She also mentions she booked a spa treatment and massage for herself at the hotel tomorrow.
Jack enters the kitchen and wraps his arms around me from behind and begins to kiss my neck. I press the mute button so Mom can't listen to his kisses.
"What are your plans today?" she asks.
I quickly click the phone off mute and step away from Jack. He hops onto the kitchen counter looking totally cute in his faded basketball t-shirt from several years ago and blue jeans. "My plans today? Oh, I'm probably going to the movies with Jack later. Maybe grab a bite to eat or something afterwards." Jack smiles as I lie.
"Well, don't stay out late tonight because you have school in the morning."
"I know, I won't, Mom." Blah, blah, blah. I don't want to listen to Mom's lectures when she's not even here.
"Please ask Rory to call me tomorrow morning. Your father and I will be out late tonight but we have our cell phones with us in case of an emergency. Is there anything you need to tell me before I hang up?"
What? How could my mother possibly know what happened last night? Is she assuming that something happened that I need to confess to?
"No, Mom. Please tell Dad I said hello."
"I will."
She won't.
"Oh, I've got to get going. Be safe, Honey," Mom says, then hangs up.
I stare into the phone a moment, wondering if anyone else has a mother like mine.
"What movie do you want to go see?" Jack teases, jumping off the counter and making a beeline for me.
We've been friends for years and have been dating for two months. I wonder why I didn't date him sooner because he's so incredibly cute and wonderful.
He's six feet tall with a lean, muscular build. His brown hair is buzzed short but it's his dark chocolate-brown eyes I love the most. They're warm, sexy, and twinkle mischievously when he's thinking about kissing me. Like now. I'm lucky to have him as a friend and a boyfriend.
He kisses my neck again and I close my eyes, enjoying the brush of his lips against my skin. He's definitely the best kisser compared to other boys I've made out with. Kissing Jack distracts me from discussing what happened last night.
"Let's go into the other room," he mumbles, grabbing my hand and leading me into the living room.
He flops onto the couch and pulls me down beside him. My mind reels with the possibility this could be it, our first time together. Succumbing to Jack's kisses, I feverishly kiss him back. It's not how I imagined it but we're finally alone.
The doorbell rings. I open my eyes but Jack continues to kiss me, his hands tangled in my hair. "Jack, I have to answer the door," I whisper.
"No you don't. Ignore it." He continues kissing me but finally stops when I wiggle out of his arms. "Fine, go answer the door, but come right back," he winks.
When I open the door no one is there. I didn't take that long to answer it. Looking down, a fist of fear smashes into my stomach. My wallet is on the porch. Tiger noses his way through the half-open door and barks. I don't see anyone or any cars on the road. Who returned my wallet? Where was it found?
"Tiger, come with me." I bravely stroll around the house with the dog by my side but don't find anyone lurking in the bushes. It's three in the afternoon and the sun shines brightly. There aren't any dark, shadowy areas for someone to hide in. I round the front of the house and find Jack standing on the porch giving staring at me oddly.
"What are you doing?" he asks, holding my wallet. "And why did you leave your wallet on the porch?"
"Tiger needed to pee," I lie. "I took him out back. And I didn't leave my wallet on the porch, someone else did." I grab my wallet from his hand and open it. My credit card is there but my driver's license is missing. Jack watches me closely. I explain to him how I'd lost my wallet last night and someone returned it. Why would someone keep my driver's license?
"I better call the credit card company to make sure there weren't any recent purchases." I usher Tiger back inside and Jack follows.
This weekend isn't turning out the way I'd planned. If anything else strange happens today I'm calling the police. Was it the same guy from last night that returned my wallet, or did someone else drop it off? I'm happy to have it back but I wish my driver's license wasn't missing. The credit card company confirms the card hadn't been used in the past forty-eight hours. One less thing to worry about.
I return to the living room to find Jack watching a ball game on TV. The romance is gone. Perhaps that's for the best. Underneath my baggy clothes I'm covering up my bandaged leg and bruised stomach, both of which I haven't explained to Jack.
"Want something to eat or drink?" I ask, trying to be a good host.
"Sure, but only if you're getting something for yourself." He leans back on the sofa, his attention barely diverted from the game on the large flat screen TV.
"I'll be right back." Heading back to the kitchen I imagine Jack and me, ten years from now, living together. The same scenario, Jack watching a Sunday sports game on TV and me in the kitchen, comes to mind but I shake the image from my head, not yet ready for such domesticity. I empty half a bag of potato chips into a bowl and grab two bottles of water from the fridge and head back to the living room.
Sitting on the couch beside him, I blame myself for the change of mood in the room. The romantic spark extinguished. Jack's heated kiss convinced me to take advantage of the privacy we have. But I won't rush into sex. It'll happen when we're ready for it to happen.
Jack dives into the bowl of chips and starts snacking like he's starving. I sip water and text Traci while Jack watches his game. She and Carlos saw a movie earlier and are on their way to eat. She'll call me later tonight. I thumb through a recent magazine and I snuggle on the couch beside Jack. I can't help wondering who rang the bell earlier before I sleepily doze off.
I awaken to Jack snuggling against me on the couch.
"Hey sleepyhead," he murmurs. "I figured I'd let you sleep. You passed out as soon as you sat down."
I did? I don't remember being that tired but my body aches from last night.
"I'm sorry, Jack." I lay against him, enjoying his arms around me.
"Nothing to apologize for. You took a nap and I watched the game on TV." He kisses the top of my head. "But you still have to tell me how you got that gash on your head and why somebody dropped your wallet off."
"I know we haven't talked today," I begin but Tiger's wet nose nudges me and I'm torn between the two males in my life I love. I smile sheepishly at Jack. "And now we'll have to talk outside." He understands because he has two dogs at home and loves them dearly.
When we're outside I'm surprised at how late in the day it is. The moon hangs in the sky like a lit paper lantern and a cool breeze blows across my face. I zip up my hoodie against the evening chill. I'm wearing a pair of slip-on-sneakers, not the most fashionable shoes but convenient for walking Tiger.
Jack's fingers lace through mine. Tiger walks beside us, stopping to sniff and lift his leg periodically but he's not frantically pulling on his leash. I don't tell Jack the whole truth about last night. Instead, I tell him that my car ran out of gas, my cell phone died, and I walked to the gas station, where I met Traci since she received my last text. Regarding my cuts and bruises, I tell him I stumbled through some bushes and fell on my way to the gas station.
I don't want Jack knowing about my lapse in judgment. Getting into that guy's car is a secret between Traci and I and I want it to remain that way. I tell him my wallet must've fallen out of my purse when I was jogging to the gas station in the dark. He's convinced it's his fault since we didn't ride together and he didn't have his cell phone with him. Plus, he's upset that I walked to the gas station in the dark.
"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?" His hand squeezes mine protectively.
Um, yeah. I have a pretty good idea. His question lingers but he's distracted when we turn onto my street and he notices a black car parked next to his in my driveway.
"Who owns the Jaguar?"
It's easy to spot her. She's sitting on my porch smoking a cigarette and waving her hands in the air at the two of us. Tiger recognizes her and I release his leash so he can run over and greet her. He knocks her backward but she manages to keep the lit cigarette away from him, finally grinding it on the walkway with her stiletto shoe once the dog eases up on her.
She's laughing and smiling and I can tell Jack is processing her appearance -- tight jeans, tank top with spaghetti straps barely supporting her large breasts, and tattoos on her arms and back. Her black hair hangs long and loose. She's incredibly sexy and beautiful, and she also happens to be my mother's younger sister.
Jack can barely keep his eyes off her. I swat him playfully. "Jack, this is my Aunt Rory."
Jack's mouth hangs open even wider, much to my humiliation. He's supposed to be drooling over me this weekend, not my aunt. It occurs to me that Jack has never met Rory. Weird, considering that Jack and I have been friends for years.
Tiger's still licking Rory but she stands, surprisingly steady on her high heels. "Nice to meet you, Jack."
Jack foolishly stares instead of talks so I speak instead. "Have you been here long? Aren't you cold?" Really, a tank top? Cover up.
"About ten minutes ago. Tiger wasn't barking inside. I figured you were walking him. I would've left soon if you hadn't come back. Your mother never gave me a key, despite the fact that I'm supposed to stay with you all week."
Rory lights another cigarette but then crushes it out. Mom doesn't allow smoking in the house. "And no, I'm not cold." She holds up her jacket in her other hand with a snarky look on her face.
We enter the house but Jack stands awkwardly in the foyer. Rory produces several movies from her leather bag.
"George Clooney, Brad Pitt, or Ryan Reynolds. Your choice." She waves the movies around enticingly.
"Actually, I have to get going. I have to study tonight. I'll call you later, Morgan."
Rory raises an eyebrow at me but I ignore her and follow Jack to his car.
"I'm sorry, Jack," I apologize. His arms circle around me and he pulls me close. I bite my lip to keep from wincing in pain because he's pressing against my bruised stomach.
"Hey, the timing wasn't right tonight but I still love you." He kisses me long and sweet and his arms thankfully loosen around me. "I'll call to you later and will see you at school tomorrow. I have an early basketball practice in the morning. I can pick you up and take you to school."
I shake my head no. I'd rather get an extra hour of sleep, even at the expense of taking the school bus. School starts early enough as it is. "Thanks, but no thanks." Kissing him one last time, I say good-bye and return to the house to find my aunt rummaging in the refrigerator.
"Wow, what's with all the organic food? My sister's obsessed with her health." She pulls out organic chicken breasts and broccoli, and then selects a box of organic whole grain pasta from the cupboard. "I'm cooking tonight," she beams.
I'm starving and Rory is a great cook. I pull up a kitchen stool while she prepares dinner.
"What'd I interrupt? Boyfriend planned on spending the night?" She gives me a wicked smile and I shrug.
"Something like that," I admit.
Rory's fifteen years younger than my mother, and a complete opposite of her. Although I don't see Rory often, whenever I'm around her I always enjoy talking to her, unlike my own mother. Rory's actually Mom's half-sister; their mother remarried and her second husband is Rory's dad.
"Okay, I'm the adult here so I have to ask. Are you two having sex?"
If anyone other than Rory asked me that question, I'd roll my eyes and gag. But Rory is twenty-five and much cooler than other adults in my life.
I shake my head no and I swear Rory sighs with relief. She probably doesn't want to harbor any secrets about me from my mother. Then the realization of her visit kicks in and she looks up at me, her eyes big.
"Wow, I was the third wheel tonight, wasn't I? That's why Boyfriend disappeared so quickly. I killed his game plan." She laughs as she chops the chicken breasts into strips.
"He'll live." I'm not resentful. In fact, part of me is relieved she arrived when she did. I'm tired, bandaged and bruised. Not exactly the look I was hoping for to impress Jack with considering it will be our first time together.
Over a delicious dinner, Rory and I discuss school and her job. I can't imagine her wearing a business suit for work each day but she assures me she does. She loves her salary and the power she has over her boss's schedule.
The evening is enjoyable and dinner is delicious. Sitting across from me at the kitchen table, Rory narrows her eyes and I anticipate her question before she asks it.
"So, when are you planning on telling me about the cuts all over your face and arms? What happened last night that I need to know about?"
Fate is on my side when it comes to answering questions tonight. No sooner does she speak when the door bell rings. Rory looks at me, surprised to have someone ringing the doorbell now. She goes to answer it and I eat the last bite of my dinner. Tiger is tied up in the backyard, barking.
"Morgan," she calls from the foyer.
I wipe my mouth with my napkin and head towards the door.
Rory is standing in the open doorway, thanking the person on the porch as something is handed to her. I can't see who she's talking to because she's blocking the doorway.
Stepping aside, she says, "Morgan, this nice man dropped off your driver's license. He said he'd found it in the street. Did you even know your license was missing?"
I don't hear my aunt talking because I'm staring into the face I've been trying to forget since last night. My attacker is standing on the porch. He smiles. All the blood in my body pools in my feet.
Rory blocks the door as she rests one hand lightly on the door and her other hand on the frame. "Morgan, you should thank this nice man for returning your license."
My mouth is dry and chalky. I can't speak. He silently backs away from the door and waves good-bye.
"Wait, don't you want a reward or something?" Rory calls after him but he disappears into his old sedan.
Without hesitating, I push past my aunt and run outside to get his license plate number. Rory yells at me for shoving her but I ignore her. I tear across the grassy yard and stare intently at his car while he drives away. Turning back toward to the house, I repeat the number in my head over and over again until I jot it down in the kitchen on a scrap of paper.
"Explain what that was about," Rory demands, standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips. "Is he responsible for your face being cut up?"
She impresses me with her deduction skills.
"You never know what freaks people are. I don't know him but want to have his plate number in case." I tack the scrap of paper onto the bulletin board my mother keeps in our kitchen to organize the family's schedule.
"In case of what?"
In case he comes back.
"Just in case, that's all," I answer cryptically.
Rory extends her hand and I take my driver's license from her. I still don't want to call the police even though I told myself I would if anything strange happened. Finding my attacker on my porch is strange. Why am I not confiding in Rory or calling the police?
What's his plan now that he knows where I live? Is he going to stalk me, or was that his warning for me to keep my mouth shut? The whole night is unclear to me. The more I think about it, the more confused I am.
I'd willingly gotten into his car. If he'd pulled me into the car I would be compelled to report him. But I'd gotten into the car so it's my own stupid mistake. Did I misinterpret his intentions? I trust my instinct, which is why I leapt, but what if he was driving to another gas station down the road? Although, he chased me through the woods and threatened me. And he tried to haul me back to his car before I'd stomped on his foot and gotten away. I don't know. I just want to forget the whole incident. And I don't want my parents finding out about it.
We silently clean up the dishes then go into the living room. I choose the Ryan Reynolds movie and we flop on the couch. When the opening credits flash on the screen I realize I'm not in the mood to watch a movie. I pity her. She should have a busy social life rather than babysitting me.
"Do you have a boyfriend, Rory?"
"I don't think your mother would appreciate me answering that question." Her smile assures me she has a list of men who would welcome a call from her, any hour of the day.
"You know anything you tell me will stay between us, right? So, tell me---" A fun story told by my aunt will get my mind off the guy's unsettling smile. A smile I want to forget.
Rory and I sit back into the plush couch and get comfy. Tiger squeezes onto the sofa beside me and I pet him while I listen to her story.
"In high school I dated a guy named Adam. He was totally hot but the worst influence on me. My mother knew it too but couldn't keep us apart no matter how many times she forbid me to see him. Adam and I were meant to be together, until he cheated on me. Then it ended. Soon after, I met Tyler. He was hot and smart, unlike Adam who wasn't too bright. Tyler was everything I hoped for in a boyfriend. We dated for several years and continued dating in college, until he hit me one day. Then I refused to see him again."
My mouth drops open. I can't imagine a man hitting my sweet aunt.
I'm dying to know more. "What happened?"
"After Tyler I realized I'd been in a relationship since I was a fifteen and needed some space. Seven or eight months passed and I dated a lot of guys but wasn't interested in commitment. Then, I met Alex. He was sexy, smart and rich. Even better, I thought. Alex and I got serious right away. He wanted to buy me a condo but didn't want to live with me. I didn't care about his money. I found out he was married and he wanted me to be his mistress. I left him. I'm not seeing anyone right now.
What I've learned from my relationships is no guy is perfect. They have their individual faults. As a woman, you need to decide what you're willing to live with. Me, I wasn't willing to live with being cheated on, beaten, or being a home-wrecker. I still haven't met Mr. Right, and I may never meet him, but I'll keep looking."
"Rory, I can't believe your relationships were so bad." I can't imagine Jack every disappointing me the way her old boyfriend did with her.
"Oh, they weren't all bad. I had some great times with them, but they weren't marriage material. But you're still young. I'm telling you this so you can think about what you're willing to endure for the love of a man. Jack seems nice. You two make a cute couple." Rory pats my leg and stands to retrieve the movie from the DVD player. We weren't watching it.
Before heading upstairs I remember Mom's call earlier. "Rory, Mom wants you to call her in the morning. She and Dad are on a dinner cruise tonight."
"Are you two getting along?" Rory asks. She's witnessed the dissention between Mom and me. "If not, you need to start communicating better with her. I know she can be difficult, but she has her reasons and she loves you very much, more than you know."
"What reasons?"
"She'll share them with you when she's ready. But remember she isn't perfect even though she appears to be. Cut her some slack, okay?" Rory gives me a hug and kisses the top of my head.
Why should I cut her some slack? It should be the other way around. I'm a good daughter and could be doing a lot worse. I don't use drugs, or smoke, and my grades are good. I don't roll with the wrong crowd either. Jack and Traci are good influences on me.
I need to call Jack. I miss him. I planned on spending the whole weekend with him but only saw him for two hours. Plus, Traci should be home from her date with Carlos and I want to hear about their day together.
"Thanks for making dinner, Rory. Remember to call Mom in the morning."
Before I go upstairs I open the front door to let Tiger out. He lifts his head and barks, then tears around the house toward the backyard.
"Tiger!" I yell and chase after him. "Tiger, stop!"
When I round the corner of the house I realize the gate to the backyard is still open. He's growling and barking at the far end of the yard but I can't see anything in the dark. "Come here, boy." After more barking and growling, Tiger reluctantly comes after I persistently call him over. "We're staying indoors the rest of the night." I lock the gate and we return to the front of the house.
The open front door gives me a sense of dread, despite knowing Rory is inside. Once again I kick myself for my own stupidity. If I'm going to get through these few days without my parents around, I need to make smarter decisions. Leaving my house open for trouble isn't smart.
"Rory?" I yell into the house.
She steps out from the kitchen into the foyer. "What?"
"Oh, just making sure you're inside the house. I didn't want to lock you out." Tiger and I step inside and I close and lock the door behind us.
"Why would I be outside?"
"No reason. Okay, I'll be upstairs." Without giving her a chance to say anything else, I dart upstairs and go to my room.
I have an idea. If this guy is intent on stalking me, I can call the cops if I suspect anything suspicious. He'll be charged with breaking-and-entering if he attempts to get inside my house. And I can call the cops and inform them of any suspicious behavior outside my house if I'm threatened. I don't have to explain to them that I suspect it's the same guy I hitched a ride with Saturday night. I'll tell the cops someone is lurking around and the police will come and search the perimeter of my house.
I'm empowered and less afraid knowing I can call the police without having to reveal my stupid mistake Saturday night. He has no right messing with me and if he does, he's going to find himself in a heap of trouble.
It's nine-thirty when I call Jack. He's finished studying and asks to come over. He can't stay long but insists on seeing me. He tells me he forgot to give me something. Intrigued, I invite him over and hang up. What's he going to give me? While I'm brushing my teeth and rechecking my appearance, my iPhone rings. Traci.
Excited, she divulges all the details of her date with Carlos. She's talking fast and I imagine her pacing in her room, or jumping on her bed. I'm happy for her. I can tell she had a great time by the way she's describing him. She says he paid and he put his arm around her in the movie theatre but didn't kiss her. She deserves a great guy in her life after the way Steve dumped her. We plan on meeting the next morning at school to get coffee at the Coffee Cart before first period.
I spray a light fragrance on my wrists and the back of my neck then go downstairs to wait for Jack to arrive. Rory is in the dining room working on her laptop. She looks up momentarily, then resumes typing. More legal work, I suspect.
Jack's car pulls up and I meet him outside.
"Hi again," he says and kisses me.
It's chilly outside so I lead him into the house. Rory waves hello but doesn't say anything when we head upstairs to my room. Mom and Dad allow me to have boys in my room as long as my bedroom door remains open. Tonight, I close it.
Without speaking, Jack reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a small box wrapped in purple paper.
"What's this?" I ask in wonder as he hands the gift box to me.
"It's for you. Go ahead, open it," he encourages so I carefully unwrap the paper and open the box. My eyes widen in surprise.
"Jack, it's beautiful." Gingerly I extract the thin gold bracelet and examine the gold charm attached to it. It's engraved, I love you forever . "I love it." I gush and kiss him. I hold out my wrist and ask him to clasp it on.
"I wanted to get you something special. We've been friends for such a long time and having you as my girlfriend is more than I could have ever imagined. I mean, I definitely imagined it, and hoped you'd be my girlfriend one day, but I want you to know, no matter what happens between us, I'll always love you."
His words are touching and take me by complete surprise. "I feel the same way, Jack. Thank you so much."
He's gazing at me with his hypnotic brown eyes. I've never loved him more than I do now. I pull his shirt over his head and love the hardness of his bare chest under my palms. Jack touches my face and is about to say something when the door bell rings.
Will we ever have a moment alone?
"Are you expecting anyone tonight?" Jack asks suspiciously and puts his shirt back on.
"I don't know, but whoever it is needs to go away." I peek out my window but don't see a car other than his and Rory's in the driveway. The door bell rings again and I go downstairs to answer it. "I'll get it," I tell Rory. Jack trails behind.
"Who is it?" I yell, but there's no reply.
Jack steps in front of me protectively and peeks through the peep hole. "I don't see anyone," he whispers.
I run to the kitchen and grab the portable phone, ready to dial 911.
"Who's at the door?" Rory asks, coming up behind us.
Jack slowly opens the door but the porch is empty. I hold Tiger back so he can't run out of the house. We stare at each other blankly. It's too late for the neighborhood kids to be playing ding-dong-ditch on a Sunday night.
"Do you think it's the same person who returned your wallet?" he asks.
"I don't know." I have my suspicions though. After we close the door and go back to the living room the doorbell rings again. Jack runs and opens the door but no one is there. How could someone have run away quickly without us seeing them?
"This is ridiculous," Rory mutters and pushes past us through the door. "Knock this off or we're calling the cops!" she yells outside and slams the door. "Punks," she mumbles.
Jack peers through the peephole waiting for someone to return but the porch remains vacant of visitors. Then there's a knock on the sliding door in the living room.
"Call the cops and report them," Rory advises, heading to the living room to survey the deck and backyard.
I call the police and tell them someone is ringing our doorbell and banging on our windows. I'm told a police car will stop by shortly. Tiger is agitated and barking and running around the house.
The knocking continues, on various windows, but when we glance outside we don't see anyone. Rory doesn't want us going outside, especially since the cops will be arriving soon.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings and it's the police accompanied by two young teens with their heads hanging low. I'm relieved to see the cops. The officers tell us they found the boys hiding in the bushes outside our house. I breathe a sigh of relief. One officer peers over my shoulder and looks in the house.
"Anyone here with you?" he asks.
"My aunt." At the mention of her, Rory rounds the corner and walks over and says hello.
The officers exchange a glance. "We found these two lurking around. We're planning on hauling them back to the station. Their parents can pick them up."
The boys glance at one another and then stare at me. I know them. One kid lives across the street and the other is his friend who hangs around with him. I think they're about thirteen years old.
"Why were you bothering us?" I ask my neighbor.
He looks nervous, but shrugs and admits, "I know your folks are out of town and I thought it would be funny to scare you."
At least he's honest. Knowing it was the two of them lurking around rather than that freak from last night is a relief.
I eyeball Rory and she nods in understanding. "Officers, we'd be happy with an apology and a promise that they won't prank us again. Perhaps you can avoid taking them back to the station." My neighbor looks at me gratefully.
"Boys, it sounds like she's giving you the opportunity to repent."
The boys immediately mutter apologies. It's good enough for me. One officer escorts them across the street to speak to the kid's parents.
We thank the other officer for assisting us. He smiles when he sees Tiger behind us. "Looks like you have a good guard dog protecting you too." Tiger barks from behind my leg.
The officers leave and I close the door and sigh heavily. I'm exhausted by all the surprises today. "Jack, I think we should call it a night," I admit. This weekend will be remembered as a big Fail, in every regard. The silver lining is the bracelet on my wrist and the sweet words Jack told me. Right now, I want to go to bed and wake up to a new day.
"I understand. I have a game tomorrow night, will you come? I can stop by after the game if you'd like me to."
"Sounds like a plan. Maybe Rory will be working late tomorrow." I finger the small heart charm dangling from the bracelet. "Thank you for the bracelet. I love it." I lean towards him and give him a light kiss.
Tiger roams around the front yard and Jack's staring at me, hesitant to leave. "You sure you'll be okay tonight?" His concern is touching.
"I'll probably fall asleep as soon as I get in bed."
"Okay, then I'll see you tomorrow." Jack's kiss is a great way to end an otherwise horrible weekend.
Walking back into the house, I lock the doors and leave the outside lights on. I say good-night to Rory and head upstairs to my room, overcome with exhaustion. I keep the home phone and my iPhone beside my bed. Once my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep.
Monday morning. It's a struggle getting out of bed, and even harder disguising my forehead gash with concealer. A long-sleeved, black t-shirt layered with a grey hoodie covers my scratched arms. My hair hangs long and straight and I brush my bangs over my forehead. Normally I'd swipe my bangs to the side but it's necessary to cover my gash to avoid all questions of "what happened to you" at school today. I've redressed my leg bandage and it's sufficiently covered by my jeans.
I head downstairs and refresh the dog's food and water. I don't have the energy to walk Tiger this morning. Instead, I open the sliding door to the deck and he roams around in the backyard while I fix myself something to eat. It's unusually quiet in the house without my parents around. As much as I love the freedom of being alone, the silence is unsettling. Rory must've left for work early since her car isn't in the driveway. She didn't leave a note.
The toaster pops, interrupting my thoughts. I hurriedly grab two hot waffles with a napkin, entice Tiger back into the house with the lure of a dog biscuit, and then leave for the bus stop. A few other high school students are waiting at the bus stop down the street from my house. Julie, a friend of mine, smiles as I drop my backpack on the ground and sit on the curb beside her.
"How was your weekend?" She barely glances up from her cell phone. Her red painted fingertips fly over the tiny buttons on her phone. She blindly reaches beside her and grabs the paper coffee cup on the curb and takes a sip.
I shrug, wanting to avoid all discussions pertaining to the weekend. "Fine, and yours?"
Her face brightens as she glances away from her phone and looks at me. "I went to Chelsea's party Saturday night and it was amazing! Did you go too? I don't remember seeing you there."
"I was going to go but something came up. I heard it was a good time."
"Too bad you weren't there. She hired the DJ from Club Extreme, that awesome club in the city. Anyways, the music was insane and everyone from school was there."
Everyone but me, I wanted to correct her.
She talks on and on about the party, suddenly uninterested in her cell phone. I'm thankful when the bus arrives and I gratefully sit by myself. Conversations regarding Saturday's party swirl around me. People are discussing Chelsea's huge house, how lucky she is her parents travel frequently and leave her with her older brother, and I even overhear someone talking about her pet parrot. I dig in my backpack and extract my iPod to drown out the chatter. Settling into the seat and pulling my hoodie over my head, I close my eyes for the remainder of the bus ride before we arrive at school. This morning I woke up earlier than usual to walk Tiger and I'm already tired.
Traci's waiting for me outside the school at the main common area, sipping her usual medium, non-fat mocha. I order my favorite, caramel latte with whip, from the Coffee Cart and savor the steaming hot beverage. With coffees in hand, we walk to our homeroom.
"How are you feeling?" She sidesteps a group of leering boys in the hall. Traci's always so blasé about the attention she attracts.
"Slightly better. Do I look like I ran a marathon through the woods?"
Her vibrant eyes peer at me over her coffee cup. "You're perfect, except---" gingerly she brushes my bangs forward, "---there, much better. Now, no one will know what you've been through."
I know she's hinting that my secret is safe with her. I never had a doubt.
The hallways are littered with students texting, listening to their MP3 players and gossiping. We wave and say hello to several of our friends as we continue to our class.
"Carlos called me last night after you and I talked. He wants me to go to his game tonight. Are you going too?"
She's not a big fan of basketball, but she's gone to the games with me in the past when I went to support Jack. "Yeah, I was planning on going. Let's go together then." She agrees to pick me up before the game as we arrive at our classroom.
We have the same homeroom and take our usual seats off to the side. Our English teacher hasn't arrived yet. The other students file into class and as I expect, they are all discussing the party on Saturday night. I groan, not wanting to listen because it's a reminder of the attack as well as what I missed out on. All my friends updated their social media statuses based on the party and posted tons of photos online. I'm already sick of hearing about the party and school hasn't even started yet.
Traci's discussing a reality-show she watched last night on television when she suddenly stops speaking. Several girls nearby awe in unison. Carlos is standing in the doorway holding a single rose and small teddy bear. A rosy blush has crept across Traci's features but she doesn't take her eyes off him as he walks toward her. They're staring intently at one another as he advances.
Silence settles over the classroom as Carlos kneels beside Traci's desk. "I want to thank you for our date yesterday." His fingertips brush hers as he hands the teddy bear to her. She softly inhales from his slight touch. Slowly, Traci leans forward over her desk and offers him a kiss. His hand touches her cheek as their lips meet.
"I had a great time," she whispers.
"I'll see you tonight at the game?" His eyes lock on hers.
"Absolutely," she breathes before he hushes her with his lingering kiss.
I'm reminded of Jack's gift and speech from last night. I caress the charm dangling from my wrist and think ahead to our plans this evening, after the game.
Carlos stands and realizes we're watching him. He flashes the class a charming smile then hurries out of the room. It occurs to me that Carlos has the confidence and good looks to pull off a stunt like this. I can't imagine any other guy in our school having the nerve to present a girl with a teddy bear and rose in front of an entire class.
Several girls sitting nearby ask Traci how long she's been dating Carlos. As Traci entertains their questions I can't help admiring Carlos's romantic showmanship. I pull out my cell phone but remember that Jack won't have his cell phone on him. I put my phone away just as our teacher walks into the classroom. The school has a strict "no cell phones in class" policy.
After third period, Jack meets me at my locker. The familiar notes of Jack's body wash alert me he's near before his arms slide around my waist. I love the way he smells after his morning showers. I turn in his arms and greet him with a soft kiss. His mouth tastes hot and spicy, like cinnamon.
"How was practice this morning?" I murmur against his lips, unwilling to break our kiss.
Jack's hands thread through my hair, brushing back my bangs as he looks at my scraped forehead. "It went well; I think we're prepared for tonight's game." Tonight's game is against the Otters, a neighboring Pennsylvania team. "How was everything last night after I left? Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?"
"I'm managing. I went to sleep right after you left." Closing my locker, I grab his hand and walk to class. "Oh, did you know Carlos and Traci are seeing each other? They met at the party Saturday night. He surprised her in homeroom this morning with a teddy bear and rose."
"Really? I barely talked to him this morning at practice but I'm happy for Traci. Carlos is a great guy."
I hope Carlos is as nice as he seems because Steve, Traci's ex-boyfriend, was a complete jerk. It took months for her to regain her confidence after he dumped her and I don't want to see her destroyed again.
"Tonight's game starts at six. Do you want to meet in the gym? I'll be there early for warm-ups."
"Sure. Traci and I are going together so we'll be rooting for you in the stands." Several girls give Jack the once-over and whisper to one another as we approach. Their eyes narrow as I stare at them but they're not intimidated. Their cattiness doesn't surprise me. Since we've been dating he's drawn attention from the girls at our school. I pull him close and kiss his mouth then shoot them a warning look. They glare at me and turn away.
"You're planning on coming over to my house after the game tonight, right? We can celebrate your big win against the Otters." Whispering in his ear, I hint at the fun we'll have tonight. I pray Rory has to work late tonight. Despite my injuries I'm feeling the zest I was lacking yesterday.
"It's all I've been thinking about," Jack murmurs.
"Save it for the game and for later," I tease, sensing his spike in testosterone.
"Fine, fine. I'm getting used to handling it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Morgan, I didn't mean it..."
"How did you mean it?"
Jack gently pulls me aside so we're not standing in the middle of the hallway. "I meant we've had several times recently when things were hot and then we got interrupted. But as a guy, I was still turned on...." Jack looks around to make sure no one is listening.
"I'm sorry, Jack," I whisper. "I know things haven't gone as planned but I think about being with you too."
Jack sighs. "I know. Tonight will be different. No interruptions."
"No interruptions. I promise." The butterflies flutter in my stomach and his gaze makes me wish we could sneak away to my house now. But we'll wait until tonight.
Jack gives me a lingering kiss. I care for him and our decision to be together is the right one. He grabs my hand and we stroll to class but my mind is on tonight. How many other girls would love to be in my position? The thought catches me off guard and I suddenly wonder if I'm pushing myself to take this step with Jack to ensure he'll stay interested in me. He hasn't indicated he's unhappy in our relationship but I can only imagine the conversations he's had with his friends. Most of his friends are on the basketball team. Does Carlos know Jack and I haven't slept together yet?
The warning bell rings. Reluctantly, I release Jack's hand at the entrance to his classroom and continue down the hall to my own. A chill travels down my spine. Am I being watched? I quickly glance over my shoulder. No one is paying attention to me. Several steps later, the chill returns and I spin around. I catch the gaze of a small kid with glasses. He looks away and disappears around a corner. There's no time to follow him as the bell rings and I step into my classroom.
By the time lunch rolls around my stomach is loudly grumbling. The waffles I'd eaten at the bus stop held me over until an hour ago. I'd love a large order of fries and a burger but I join Traci in line at the salad bar and load up on chick peas, cherry tomatoes, and sliced turkey.
Traci confides that Carlos kissed her under the stairway after second period. It was their first kiss. Her eyes are dreamy and she holds up the line for a few minutes while she describes how wonderful he smelled. She laughs as she admits she had to tilt her head all the way back to kiss him because he's so tall.
We set our trays down at our usual table in the cafeteria. Before I sit, Carlos appears beside her.
"Mind if I sit with you two?" His grin is disarming and we nod our heads mutely.
Traci pulls out the chair beside her and indicates for Carlos to sit down. Jack joins us soon after, carrying a tray with a turkey sandwich, an orange, and small bag of chips. I steal a few of his chips while we discuss the game this evening.
"Maybe we can all hang out after the game," Carlos suggests.
Jack and I exchange a glance.
"Morgan and I have something planned tonight but we can probably hang out over the weekend," Jack explains between bites of his sandwich.
Traci raises an eyebrow at me but I ignore her and pop a cherry tomato in my mouth.
"Well, then I'll have Traci all to myself tonight," Carlos teases, grabbing Traci's hand affectionately. "Are you free tonight?"
"Not anymore," she laughs and runs her hand along his shoulders.
Carlos is incredibly good looking with buzzed dark hair, thick eyelashes, dark eyes, and his build is tall, lean and muscular. He resembles Jack but his complexion is darker, he's several inches taller and his upper-body is more muscular than Jack's. And, as Traci likes to remind me, he's a senior. I think she's already planning her dress in anticipation of going to the prom with him next month.
The guys finish eating and then join their teammates at another table. Traci and I scoot our chairs closer together after they leave so we can talk privately.
"So, what do you think?" Her long black hair cascades down her shoulders. "Isn't he great? He's so sweet and nice."
"I'm happy for you," I tell her as I lean in and hug her, happy to have the old fun-loving Traci back. Tonight will be fun rooting for the guys at their game.
Her greenish-yellow eyes sparkle as she continues to discuss Carlos and the sexy way he pulled her aside and into his arms earlier.
After lunch we walk outside and Traci points to the large tree in the front of the school. A lone boy is seated beneath the tree with his back resting against it, a book propped against his bent legs. "Morgan, do you know him? He was staring at you in the cafeteria. I meant to tell you earlier."
He's not recognizable. As if he senses my stare, he glances from the pages in front of him and looks directly at me. Do I know him from somewhere? I can't place his name or face but he seems familiar.
Traci spies several of our friends and ushers me over to them. I forget all about the boy beneath the tree. As the day progresses, talk of Chelsea's party continues and the stories become increasingly ridiculous. For instance, one guy says Trent Wren, the lead singer of a popular band called Dirty, was there. A girl in my biology class insists she made out with Billy Worthington, a Hollywood actor. I know Chelsea is popular but I highly doubt her party was A-List, and if it was, then it really sucks that I missed such an awesome party.
By the end of the school day, I'm desperate to go home, eat, walk the dog and take a nap before the basketball game tonight. As I shuffle toward my bus, someone calls my name. It's the boy from beneath the tree. I stop short. How does he know my name? He unlocks his bike from the rack and motions for me to come over. Hesitantly, I glance at my bus and then back at him. My curiosity gets the best of me.
"You're Morgan Butler, right?"
He appears to be really young, like he belongs in junior high, not high school. His finger pushes his black rimmed glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. I have him beat in height by several inches.
"Yeah, why?" I ask, eyeing my bus so I don't miss it.
"You met my brother this weekend," he states.
What's he talking about? Is his brother the kid lurking around my house last night?
"I don't know who your brother is."
"Wow, you really do resemble his ex-girlfriend. Scary similar, actually," he breathes in amazement.
"Whose ex-girlfriend?" This kid is weird and he's going to make me miss my bus.
"My brother's. Listen, I don't want to hold you up but I need to talk to you. You'll be at the basketball game tonight?" He swings his skinny leg over his bike, ready to pedal away. "Maybe we can talk there."
"Yeah, but what do we have to talk about?"
"My brother," he says, as if I should know what it's regarding.
My bus's engine roars to life, sputtering exhaust in my direction and alerting me it's time to leave. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about and I have to go." I back away. He opens his mouth to say something but remains quiet. I shrug and dash to catch my bus. Before the door closes, I jump aboard and find a seat. Through the window I spy him pedaling away.
Weird. I text Traci about my cryptic conversation with lunch-boy. She confirms he's creepy and probably wants my phone number.
At home I'm anxious to crash. Tiger roams in the backyard while I make myself a snack in the kitchen and flop on the couch to watch TV. An Oprah repeat lulls me to sleep and I awake to Tiger barking on the deck. The house is eerily quiet and I realize Traci will be arriving to pick me up soon. I clear the dishes from the coffee table and dump them in the sink, then let the dog back inside. After showering and changing, I'm ready for my night with Jack. No word from Rory either.
Rory has never been a constant in my life. She flutters in and out sporadically. She'll visit for a holiday or family event, but will then miss the next one. Mom often complains about Rory's lifestyle to my father. Ever since she started working at the law firm several years ago, she's matured. Her days and nights are dedicated to the firm. She's told me before that she's trying to turn her life around.
Through her hard work and overtime she's eliminated all her financial debt and she's currently saving to buy her own house. Plus, she likes to travel to warm, exotic locations when she's not working and that leaves little time for her to visit. I'm not surprised that she's not checking in on me. Being responsible for her seventeen-year-old niece isn't something she's familiar with.
Traci honks when she pulls into the driveway. I finish feeding the dog, then lock up as I leave. Having forgotten to text mom and dad as promised, I send them a message while Traci drives us to the school. I attach a photo of myself in the car with her, saying we're off to the basketball game. Dad responds by telling us to have fun. Two more days until Mom and Dad return and so far I'm in the clear with Saturday night's events.
Our school's basketball team always draws a large crowd. The parking lot is full and students wearing the team colors, red and black, file into the gym. Several friends wave to us as we enter and indicate for us to join them in the stands. Winding through the crowded bleachers I catch sight of Jack and he smiles at me. His smile is infectious and I return the same goofy grin, both of us thinking of our plans later. I haven't told Traci about my post-game plans with Jack. I don't want to jinx our plans since we've been up against enough obstacles.
The horn blares and the game begins, with Carlos first to put points on the board. Jack skillfully runs across the court and manages to put double digits on the scoreboard. It's an exciting game. If our team wins, we advance to the district championships. I know Jack's been anxious about tonight's event even though he hasn't admitted it.
I'm so enthralled with the game that I'm not aware I'm being watched. Across the gym I spot the kid who was talking to me after school. Our side of the bleachers is packed with fans so he's forced to sit with the fans from the opposing team. He's not the only one sitting on the opposing side. A splattering of black and red is intermingled with the Otters fans. He waves when I catch his gaze. Oh, brother.
The horn blows, indicating halftime. Jack and the team are downing water and sports drinks while their coach talks to them on the bench. I excuse myself to the bathroom. Traci remains with our friends. Despite the pep talk from the coach, Carlos's attention is fixed on her. I bet she wants to stay behind with our friends so she can stare at him as well.
The line for the women's restroom extends into the hallway. I'm relieved when it's finally my turn. When I exit the bathroom the wiry kid is standing in the hallway waiting for me.
"Morgan, do you have a second to talk?" he asks, looking hopeful.
"I guess I have a minute." Might as well find out exactly what he wants to talk about.
"Can we talk over there instead?" He indicates down the hall, away from the crowd milling about the hallway talking. I relent and follow him to a quiet section.
"What's up?" From what I recall, I've never noticed this kid at school before. He must be a freshman based on how young he looks.
He hesitates but finally speaks. "My brother mentioned he picked you up Saturday night."
The blood drains from my face as I stand before him. His brother is the guy who picked me up, the one who threatened me and returned my driver's license? His brother is the lunatic, whose face I've been trying to forget?
"What's your name?" I whisper. The sounds from the gym have gone silent. In fact, I can't hear anything around me. All I'm focused on is the small boy standing in front of me. My attacker's brother. That's why he looked familiar. He has the same eyes and similar facial features. But he's so much smaller than his brother.
"Ricky Smith," he confirms.
"Why aren't you in the yearbook?" My heart is racing. What if his brother is here too?
"Yearbook?" he looks confused. "I'm a freshman. The yearbooks haven't been printed yet." He gives me an odd look. "Anyways, the reason I wanted to talk to you is because my brother keeps talking about you."
It occurs to me that Ricky is the boy in the hall I'd seen earlier today when I thought I was being watched. "You've been spying on me all day," I accuse him.
His hollowed cheeks turn red. "Yeah, I guess I have been. I didn't mean to, though. My brother keeps saying you're Caroline and I had to see for myself what he was talking about."
"Who's Caroline?" The sounds and sights are returning. The crowd is dissipating in the hallway. The hum of the people in the gym vibrates. The game will start soon.
"His ex-girlfriend. You look exactly like her." Ricky has a way of staring that is very uncomfortable. His glassy eyes hone in on me with such scrutiny I have to glance away.
"Ricky, I'm not following you. So what if I look like Caroline? Why is it a big deal?"
Ricky sighs and his small shoulders slump. Inside the gym I hear the horn blow, indicating the game is starting. I don't have time to talk.
"Ricky, talk quickly," I prompt him, anxious to get back inside the gym.
"It's a big deal because I don't want to see you get hurt," he shouts above the cheer of the crowd. The players must be back on the court now.
Despite the thunder inside the gym, I hear every word out of his mouth. And I freeze. He has my complete attention now. "What are you talking about?" My voice shakes as I speak and he steps close enough to hear me without me shouting.
Ricky pauses, as if deciding which words to use. He doesn't have time to explain because suddenly Traci shouts my name, "Morgan!"
I jerk around and can tell from her alarmed expression that something happened.
"Jack's hurt!" she hollers.
Her message echoes throughout the hall. Torn between Ricky's warning and Jack's injury, my indecisive feet are glued to the waxed linoleum floor and my heart hammers in my chest.
"Morgan, hurry!" Traci waves dramatically.
Without looking at Ricky, I run toward Morgan. When I reach the doorway to the gym I turn around but he's gone. I'm surprised by his sudden disappearance but don't dwell on it because Jack needs me.
The crowd is on their feet cheering. I spy Carlos dribbling the ball down the court and effortlessly shoots and scores. Our side of the gym goes wild, the rooftop shaking from the excitement. On the sidelines, Jack face contorts in pain as the coach assesses his leg and ankle. His mom and dad weave their way toward him from the bleachers.
I hurry to his side and squeeze his hand. "Jack, what happened?"
"I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts to move it."
"Stay still, Jack. Sit tight for a minute." The coach intercepts his parents as they reach the court, allowing Jack and I a moment alone.
"The cards aren't in our favor, Morgan. I'm sorry about tonight."
Jack touches my cheek and I could care less about our plans later. "Jack, your ankle is more important." It will kill him if he can't play in the district championship games. His thumb rubs over the back of my hand as I kneel beside him. I block out the noise and commotion of the ongoing game and focus on his warm, soft gaze. Ahem. His coach and parents have returned.
"Jack, Coach thinks it's a sprain but we're taking you to the ER to get your ankle examined. Morgan, do you need a ride home?" Jack's dad kindly asks.
"Thanks for the offer, Mr. Miller, but my friends can drive me home."
Jack squeezes his eyes shut as he attempts to stand, wincing at the inevitable pain when he puts pressure on his right foot. His father immediately leans down and offers his solid shoulders for support. Jack graciously wraps his arm around him and leans against him.
"Call me when you know something." Helplessly, I watch as he hobbles off the court with his father's assistance.
"I will," Jack calls back to me.
The crowd gives him a standing ovation and he waves but I can tell that he's suppressing the pain of his injury and his disappointment. College scouts are expected to be at the district finals and even though Jack is a junior he wants to get on their radar for next year. He won't have a chance to make an impression if he's benched during those games.
Once again, fate intervenes with our plans to be together. Maybe fate is telling me to wait. Either way, I'm alone again for the evening. My mind returns to Ricky and his warning, "I don't want to see you get hurt." What does he know about Saturday night?
As I weave through the bleachers back to Traci and my friends I wonder what happened between Ricky's brother and Caroline. Is that why his brother stopped Saturday night? Because I resemble his ex-girlfriend? I search the bleachers for Ricky's face but can't find him. Next time I see him, I intend on getting some questions answered.
"Wow, are you sure you left enough lights on?" Traci teases as she parks in my driveway.
My house is illuminated like a well-lit Christmas tree. Practically every light must be on inside and outside. A ball of terror drops in my stomach because I know I didn't leave any lights on and Rory's car isn't parked in the driveway or on the street.
"Will you wait here?" My voice quivers with trepidation.
Traci nods as I step out of the car.
I hear music blasting inside the house as I approach but Tiger's barks are muted.
"If I hear you scream, I'm calling 911," Traci yells at me.
I nod in agreement and put my hand on the doorknob, alarmed to find it unlocked. The door easily swings open.
"Hello?" I call out, "Rory, are you home?"
I'm not expecting an answer. With my keys clutched between my fingers defensively, I'm ready to strike if attacked. I begin to walk through the house. I lower the volume on the stereo in the living room. Around each corner I'm expecting to find Brian standing in front of me. After a thorough perusal, I'm confident the first floor is empty. Rory must've turned all the lights on and left the house unlocked. I'll need to remind her to be more conscientious the next time she goes out. Where is Tiger? It's odd that he hasn't greeted me.
I reach the landing at the top of the stairs. Thump. What was that? It sounds like it came from my room. Thump. Is Tiger locked in my room? I clench my hands nervously around the keys I'm gripping. My bedroom door is closed but I head toward it, ready to defend myself. I kick the door open with a surge of power and confidence, then instinctively duck and protect my head with my arms as a wooden bat swings toward me.
"Morgan! What are you doing here?!"
I open my eyes and realize the bat is held in mid-air, inches from my skull.
"Rory! You could've killed me!" I jump to my feet and grab the baseball bat from her firm grasp.
"I didn't know it was you." Her face is panic stricken, ghostly white, and her body is shaking.
"Morgan! Morgan? Are you okay?" Traci yells.
I tear out of my room and see her standing in the foyer with her cell phone in her hand. "The police are on their way. I heard a scream so I called them."
"I'm fine, Traci. My Aunt Rory is in the house."
Rory joins me at the top of the landing and we stare down at her. Traci's visibly shaken and looks ready to cry. I've put her through too much these past few days.
After consoling Traci and assuring her I'm fine, I watch her drive away. She was reluctant to leave, even knowing the police are on their way. I know she wants to meet Carlos at Sonic to celebrate the teams win and I don't want her missing out because of me. Jack has yet to text me what's wrong with his ankle. For all I know, he's still waiting in the emergency room lobby.
Rory and I sit on the front porch and wait for the police to arrive. The house is too quiet and Rory still hasn't explained why she was hiding in my room with a baseball bat.
"Where's Tiger?" Fear swells in me when Rory looks at me blankly. "Where's my dog?" I scream. Has something bad happened to him?
"Morgan, he wasn't in the house or the yard when I arrived," Rory admits. "I thought he was with you."
Flashing blue and red lights flood our neighborhood street and the realization kicks in something bad has happened. Rory wasn't hiding upstairs for any reason and Tiger wouldn't leave the house on his own.
The cops exit their squad car and run over to us. "Are you okay? We got a call you had an intruder in your house. Stay here while we go inside."
Rory nods and we silently wait until the two cops return and assure us the house is empty. A backup squad car is parked in my front lawn. The two officers tell the backup car it's safe to leave and the car backs up and drives off. Mom's going to wonder why there are tire marks on our front lawn.
The two remaining officers are familiar and I realize they're the same cops who responded to my call last night.
"What happened?" one asks.
I turn to Rory, waiting for her explanation.
"Well," Rory begins, "when I arrived after work the house was dark." She looks at me sternly. "You should always leave a porch light on when you leave for the night. By the way, where were you tonight?"
The officer's exchange glances but don't interrupt.
"I'm sorry I forgot to leave the porch light on. I was at Jack's basketball game tonight at the high school." I want to remind her she isn't my mother and I don't need her permission to go out at night, but now isn't the time. "By the way, where's your car?"
"Oh, my car is in the shop for an electrical problem on my dashboard. My co-worker dropped me off tonight." Rory continues, "So, I arrived at the house to find it totally dark so I thought my niece was out walking her dog. I have a house key and I let myself in and began to make a snack while I waited for her to return. I was in the kitchen, eating several stalks of celery with peanut butter, when I heard a noise on the deck. I went to the living room, turned on the deck light, and saw a young man standing on the deck looking in at me. I screamed and ran away."
An officer pulls out a notepad. "Can you describe this young man? Teenager, twenties? Anything usual about him? Glasses, facial hair, tattoos, piercings?"
Rory shakes her head. "I don't know. I saw him for a second before he ran off and before I ran back into the kitchen. He looked kind of tall, with brownish hair and brown eyes. Honestly, it was dark and we really surprised one another so I didn't get a good look at him."
Kind of tall, brownish hair and brown eyes. That describes the guy who picked me up Saturday night. Ricky's brother. Now is when I should tell the police about the incident on Saturday night and report this guy who is now trespassing on my property. But I've been withholding this information for several days and I hadn't told these same officers about him last night when they responded to my call. How can I tell them without getting myself in more trouble?
My father always told me it's easier to tell the truth then to lie. I'm beginning to understand his advice. If I'd told an adult or the police about Saturday night's events they could be investigating him and these reoccurring incidents wouldn't be happening. But now I have to lie, to pretend I have no idea who this guy is or why he's roaming around my house. I should confess, even if it's just to ease the stress building in my chest and to slow my nervous heartbeat.
I need to speak to Ricky first. I'll give him a message for his brother --- I'll go to the cops if his brother doesn't stop stalking and harassing me.
Rory elbows my arm, startling me. "What are you thinking about? I've been talking to you and you're not listening." Rory and the two cops are staring at me.
"Is there anything you'd like to add to her story?" one of the officers asks.
"Um, I was at a basketball game tonight and my friend dropped me off. The lights were on all over the house and when I went inside it was empty. I heard a noise upstairs and my aunt almost clobbered me with a bat when I went in my room to investigate."
"I was scared!" Rory admits. "After he ran off the deck I ran throughout the house and turned on all the lights, inside and outside the house. I thought you were out walking the dog and didn't want you coming home to a dark house."
"Ok, but why the bat and why did you leave the front door unlocked?"
"I grabbed a bat because I thought I heard him banging on the windows and doors. And I didn't leave the door unlocked. I double locked it."
We stare at one another. "You're positive? The door was unlocked when I got home. And where is Tiger?"
"Ok, ladies, calm down. Who's Tiger?"
I glance at the officer's name badge. "Officer Whitman, Tiger is my German shepherd dog and he's missing."
"Missing? When was the last time you saw your dog? And what about the locked door? You didn't unlock the door when you came home?" The officer looks at me and I nod my head in agreement.
"I last saw my dog this morning when I left for school." My voice shakes with emotion. I breathe deeply, holding the tears at bay.
"And you apparently double locked the door?" He looks at Rory and she nods her head and confirms she didn't see Tiger when she arrived tonight.
"We better check the door." The second officer walks over to the front door and begins to examine it.
My neighbors are congregating across the street and next door. Paranoia sets in. What if he's amongst them, watching me? What if he's hiding in the bushes? The police haven't checked the perimeter of the house.
"Officer, I have to find my dog. Rory, can you drive me around the neighborhood in Mom's car?" I can't sit here any longer discussing details about tonight. If my attacker was here tonight, did Rory surprise him? Interfere with his plans? He must've known I was at the basketball game. Did he unlock the door and get in my house? Did he take my dog?
The questions are too unsettling to contemplate. I need to search for Tiger. No way would he leave the confines of the backyard or the house. He's never run away before.
The officers suggest we scour the neighborhood for the dog while they examine the house. Rory and I gratefully leave and speak with the neighbors. We inform them that Tiger is missing, friendly, and to please contact us immediately if they find him. We drive around the entire neighborhood five times before Rory insists we return to the house.
The police are still there. Officer Whitman hands me his business card and suggests I call him if anything comes up. As he hands his card to Rory I get the impression he's interested in her by the way his gaze lingers on her and his fingertips brush hers. Based on Aunt Rory's confession yesterday about her dating history, Officer Whitman could be a good match for her. Plus, he's cute and seems relatively nice.
After the cops leave I run upstairs. My emotions are a dam, ready to burst. Slamming my door, I collapse on my bed in tears. Where is Tiger? Rory quietly enters my room and settles against me on the bed. She wraps her arms around me and smooth's my hair back the way Mom used to when I was little. We don't talk and I have to admit, it's nice to be held and comforted.
"I should call your parents," Rory breaks the silence after a while.
I bolt upright. "You can't!"
"Of course I have to call them. The cops were here two nights in a row and now Tiger is missing. And some guy was lurking around the backyard. The incidents warrant a phone call."
I repress the sigh that wants to escape my lips. She's right. Once she talks to my mom my whole life, my existence, will come to a screeching halt. I'll perpetually be that problem child in Mom's eyes, the one that can never be trusted. I can't risk losing the small amount of trust she has in me now. I don't want Dad's handsome features etched with worry, or his eyes saddened with disappointment.
"Rory, do you remember when I got in the car accident and Mom's car got totaled?" Rory was at the ER that night so I know she remembers.
"Yeah, what's your point?" Her eyes squint suspiciously at me.
"The point is ever since the accident, I haven't been allowed to drive. Mom blames me for the accident even though it was the other driver's fault for running a red light. If you call Mom and Dad now, Mom will come home early and she'll hate me for disrupting her trip with Dad. Plus, I won't be allowed to see my best friend and boyfriend over the summer." I'm about to get on my knees and plead for her not to call them, but I can tell from the way she's watching me, thinking, that she's having second thoughts.
"I'll be right back," she says and leaves my room.
Anxiously, I wait for her to return and when she does she's carrying two bowls of chocolate chip ice cream with whipped cream on top.
"Eating helps me think," she mumbles as she climbs on my bed and crosses her legs, her ice cream bowl resting in her lap. Her eyes close as she savors a big bite.
I eat a scoop and wait for her to internally debate the pros and cons of calling Mom.
"So, obviously there's an age difference between your mother and I. I honestly feel more like an older sister to you than an aunt. Being your aunt makes me old." She takes another bite and I remain silent as I wait for her to continue. "I know your mother isn't easy to live with but she's still your mother and deserves your respect and love. That being said," she pauses to lick whip cream off her spoon, "I won't call her."
I set my bowl on my bedside table and hug her tightly, squealing with joy.
She pulls away after a moment. "Hey, don't get too excited because I still intend on telling her, just not tonight."
I can deal with that. Tomorrow I'll track down Ricky Smith before school starts and will demand to know about his brother. And, after Ricky delivers my message to his brother, his brother will be too scared to step one foot on my property. And if he even thinks about stalking me, he has something else coming to him.
"Thank you so much, Rory! You don't know how much I appreciate it." I give her another quick hug then let her finish her ice cream. For being so slim, she sure likes to eat.
"I'm sorry I had to leave early this morning and I'm sorry I wasn't here when you came home from school. But I'll be in the spare room tonight so you don't have to be afraid, especially since Tiger isn't here." She scoots off the bed and collects the empty bowls. "And don't worry about him. He's fine. He probably chased a cat down the street or something. I'm sure he'll be waiting on the porch in the morning." She winks at me and closes my door after saying good-night.
As I settle in for the night, I can't help thinking about Ricky. Twice he's tried to talk to me and I haven't listened to him. I regret brushing him off.
I bypass the Coffee Cart and Traci the next morning and head straight to Freshman Halls. Avoided like an island of lepers, Freshman Halls are the hallways in the school that are farthest from all classrooms. It's a rite of passage for freshman to schlep their book in their backpacks most of the day because their lockers are too remote to visit between periods. As upper classmen, we've all endured this inconvenience.
Dead set on finding Ricky, I ignore the curious glances I get from several freshmen. Admittedly, I haven't been in this hall since my own freshman year. Up ahead, I target a short, wiry kid from the back and I know it's him. He pulls several books from his locker and stuffs them into his backpack. I casually lean against the neighboring locker and stare him down.
"I want my dog back."
Startled, he jumps back and drops the book he was holding. "I don't know what you're talking about," he stammers and glances around to see who's watching, which appears to be everyone around us. "Can we talk somewhere else?" he whispers.
I don't care if we have an audience. I need him to talk and if he's more comfortable somewhere else, then so be it.
"Fine. Hurry up. The first bell will be ringing soon." I need answers now and don't want to waste the rest of the day worrying about my dog. I can't risk him skipping out on me either.
He slams his locker and I follow him outside. He walks past several groups of students until we're out of earshot.
"Where's my dog?" I repeat impatiently.
"First of all, I don't have your dog so let's get that clear."
I can't help noticing how he's nervously looking around and acting fidgety.
"Your brother was at my house last night and my dog went missing yesterday. Coincidence? I don't think so. So talk or I'm going to the cops."
"Listen, I don't know anything," he stammers.
"Then why did you approach me twice yesterday to talk? Your brother obviously picked me up on Saturday night and wanted to hurt me."
"Okay, enough." Ricky glances over his shoulder and shifts his weight from side to side. Soaking wet he can't weigh more than one hundred pounds. "I don't know about your dog but I know about your driver's license. I found it in Brian's room the other day. Let's just say he's not the kind of guy that likes me knowing his business so he got angry when I asked him why he had it." Ricky pauses and looks around, then continues. "You resemble Caroline, his ex-girlfriend. Brian has a bad temper. He and Caroline argued a lot."
The students aren't within hearing distance but he's fidgeting and looking around like we're being watched. "Why are you so nervous?"
His eyes hold mine for a second. "My brother, he shows up at school sometimes."
"Why? He doesn't go to school here anymore." The thought of him watching me now makes my muscles tense and my eyes dart around the perimeter of the school, yards from where we're standing.
Ricky shrugs, "I don't know, he just does."
Students begin filing into their classrooms. Time is running out. "Where were you and your brother last night after the game?"
"I finished watching the game and then went home. I wasn't with my brother. By the way, how's Jack? Is he all right?"
Jack. He never called last night or this morning. I've been so upset over Tiger that I haven't had time to worry about him.
Brian isn't nearby, or at least not visible, so my gaze shifts back to Ricky. "I didn't see you for the remainder of the game," I accuse him. Even though Jack has left shortly after halftime, Traci wanted to stay until the end to watch Carlos.
"I took a piss if you need to know and then sat with some of my friends. Besides, why are you so angry with me? I didn't do anything to you. I'm trying to help you."
"When I got home last night my Aunt was at my house and said she saw a guy on the deck that looked like your brother. And my dog is now missing." My voice breaks and my resolve cracks. Knowing my dog isn't waiting for me at home is all it takes for the tears to well. I blink and turn away. I don't want him to see me cry.
"My brother was on your deck?" Ricky whispers.
I shake my head yes and wipe my cheeks with my sleeve.
The morning bell rings. I can't risk being late but I need to talk to Ricky. "What do you have for first period?"
"Woodshop," he answers.
"Fine, I'll meet you outside your class. I need to know why your brother was on my deck, and you still have to tell me where my dog is." He's already heading to class and gives me a final nod. I watch as he disappears around the corner. At least the woodshop classroom is close to my first period. Without Ricky, I don't have any other options other than to directly question his brother or go to the police.
First period is a daze. All I do is worry about Tiger and Jack. I'd gotten Tiger when he was eight weeks old and he and I have been inseparable since. He's my guardian angel, my protector, and my friend. And Jack, I haven't heard from him even though he said he'd call.
Traci keeps glancing at me, asking what's wrong. She left last night before we discovered he was missing and I don't have the heart to explain to her now why I'm upset.
My parents are coming home tomorrow night. Dad promised to take me car shopping if I stayed out of trouble while he and Mom are away. My only chance of getting a new car and driving privileges is to get Tiger back and end this stalking from Ricky's brother.
My life has enough restrictions. I don't need my parents worrying about me getting abducted or physically assaulted. Although, I presume they already have those worries. They certainly don't need to know that I jumped from a stranger's car because I feared something awful was going to happen to me. Contacting the police is an option but I still believe I can deal with this situation on my own. My instinct is telling me that Ricky's reaching out to me for a reason. I need to understand what the reason is.
The bell rings and I jump from my seat. Over my shoulder I tell Traci I'll see her later as I rush out of the classroom. When I reach woodshop most of the class has already filed out and Ricky is nowhere to be seen. He thinks he can hide from me? Angry, I kick the wall in frustration. I wanted to resolve everything this morning and now I lost my chance. He probably skipped school and went home, fearful I'd keep harassing him.
Before lunch Traci bumps into me in the hall. "Morgan? Why are you so upset?" She falls in step with me, despite my quickened pace. "Slow down, tell me what's wrong." The slight pressure of her hand on my arm forces me to stop.
Traci and I live relatively normal lives for teenagers - shopping, boyfriends, movies, and school. Tragedy hasn't touched our lives. This weekend was an eye-opener for me. I've always known safety and security but the bubble I've been living in has popped, making me susceptible to the dangers in the world I was once invincible to.
Silently, I step aside in the hall and Traci follows uncertainly. My problems can't be her problems too, but right now I can't handle this situation on my own. I need her help. "Tiger's missing and I think the guy from Saturday night took him." Traci inhales sharply, her eyes widen in alarm.
"What are you going to do?" she whispers.
The idea formulates quickly -- like I've plugged in my old Light Bright toy to view an explosion of color.
"I'm going to his house and I'm getting him back."
Traci raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. "Do you really think that's the best idea?"
Leave it to my best-friend to be my conscience when my own is lacking. "Yes, but I need your help."
I won't allow her do anything she's not comfortable with but I can tell by her steady, confident gaze and the way she's squeezing my hand that she's in.
Without hesitating, she agrees. "Okay, but what does it involve?"
"If Ricky, the boy from lunch yesterday, is still at school then we follow him home. He rides a bike to school so we should find him at the bike rack after school." He mentioned he found my license in his brother's room which makes me believe they live together. My gut is telling me Tiger is at his house. If he's not there, I'll resort to Plan B, whatever that is.
"It's crazy, but count me in," Traci agrees.
Her constant support warrants a big hug of appreciation. The warning bell rings and we scatter to class. When I sink into my seat, I realize I didn't ask Traci about her evening with Carlos. Covertly, I hold my cell phone in my lap and under my desk and text her. I still haven't heard from Jack. I'm dying to know how he's doing. I'll stop by his house after my reconnaissance mission with Traci. As I hit send on my cell phone I hear the click of heels beside my desk. Ahem. My guilty gaze meets the narrowed glare of my instructor, Ms. Summers. She silently holds out her hand and I place my cell phone in her palm.
"I'll return your phone after school, Morgan. I shouldn't have to remind you of the school's policy. In the future, you'll have to request your cell phone back from the principal. Consider this a warning."
I nod my head in understanding but mentally slap myself. Retrieving my phone will cost me valuable minutes. I need enough time to meet Traci at her car after school as well as find and follow Ricky.
At lunch, Traci and Carlos are huddled together at our usual lunch table. I set my lunch tray down but hesitate before sitting. They're whispering to one another and I don't want to interrupt their private conversation. Carlos notices me first and smiles.
"Morgan, sit down."
"Have either of you seen Jack today?" I bite into a turkey sandwich and notice how flushed Traci's face looks. What were they discussing?
"No, but how is he?" Traci asks, concerned, and takes a bite of yogurt.
"I don't know. I haven't heard from him yet. I hope he's okay." My sandwich tastes like cardboard. Slowly, I chew and swallow but I've lost my appetite. Great, now Jack and Tiger are missing. My stomach tightens with fear. Could Jack have been targeted by Ricky's brother? Perhaps he saw Jack at my house and perceived him as a threat. I scan the lunch room, searching for Ricky. Maybe he's under the tree. I leave the two lovebirds alone and Traci and I agree to meet at her car after school.
Outside, he's nowhere to be found. Damn. I scan the school yard but don't see him. Did he ditch school? I smile at several friends as I near the bike rack. Was his bike the one with the purple seat? Purple comes to mind when I think of our conversation yesterday. A bike with a purple seat is locked up. Could this be his? I'm certain it is which means he's still at school.
I interpret his avoidance as guilt. He knows something and he's covering for his brother. But I'm also hopeful. Tiger must be at their house if Ricky is avoiding me. If only I had my cell phone then I could call Rory to find out if Tiger came home. Before I left for school she groggily mentioned that she was working from home today.
Before lunch is over I search Freshman Halls for Ricky but there's no sign of him. Frustrated, I spend the rest of the day in a fog. When the final bell rings it's like my old track and field days in junior high school, minus the hurdles, as I sprint through the halls. Several teachers warm me to slow down and walk but I ignore them. I clear the length of the school in minutes and skid into my Economics class.
I sincerely apologize for my indiscretion to Ms. Summers. With my iPhone in my hand, I race to the parking lot and jump in Traci's car. She's waiting with the engine running and expertly maneuvers the car out of the parking lot in record time. Luckily, we avoid the gridlock of school buses, student drivers, and parents picking up their kids.
"There he is," I point to the boy with glasses unlocking the bike with the purple seat. Ricky appears to be hurried and quickly pedals away. He weaves between students and cars as he crosses the street. He jumps the curb and continues on the sidewalk with his checkerboard backpack securely behind him.
His silver BMX bike disappears around a street corner and Traci turns left and follows at a safe distance behind him. He had been avoiding me all day, I realize. Angry and anxious to rescue Tiger, my eyes remain glued to the black and white pattern of his backpack. He's completely unaware of us following him. He's strictly focused on the route in front of him and hasn't looked back once. His behavior is odd considering how nervous he appeared this morning.
We follow him along several more tree-lined neighborhood streets. Traci quietly drives but looks over at me when we near my street. Ricky lives in my neighborhood? Why doesn't he ride my bus? His bike slows and Traci eases up on the accelerator. A car isn't following us so she crawls along the street. As Ricky rides up the driveway, Traci waits a moment, then parallel parks on the street opposite his house.
Ricky leans his bike against the side of the house. Traci and I watch as he fishes his keys out of his pocket, unlocks the front door, and disappears inside. The house is a two-story Ranch home with a single car garage and a fenced in backyard. Is Tiger in the backyard?
"Now what?" Traci shuts off the engine and drums the steering wheel, looking expectantly at me.
Uncertainty keeps me rooted in her car seat. Do I knock on his door and surprise him or go directly to his backyard and search for Tiger? What if Tiger is inside the house?
"Wait here, I'm checking the backyard." If I ring the doorbell I doubt Ricky will let me inside. He didn't want to talk to me earlier at school and I'm sure he doesn't want me standing on his doorstep. I hurry across the street and hide on the side of the house, trying to avoid the windows so I won't be detected.
"Tiger," I call. No response. "Tiger!" I keep my voice low even though I'm tempted to scream his name. My call is met by a shuffling noise in the backyard. My heart swells. It has to be Tiger. Deciding to enter the backyard to retrieve him, I snake my arm over the top of the gate to release the inside latch.
"What are you doing?" a familiar voice snarls at me.
Busted. I slowly peek over my shoulder and find myself face-to-face with Ricky. His face is scrunched up and he's glaring at me. It's obvious he's pissed, but he should know never to mess with a girl and her dog.
"Getting my dog, isn't it obvious?" I may be trespassing but at least I'm not a dog-snatcher. My finger hooks under the latch and the gate swings open. Ricky's intent on blocking me but I push past him and storm the backyard.
The yard consists of a cement patio with mold-covered plastic furniture and overgrown grass. The plot is vacant of trees and shrubs. And no Tiger. Hope plummets and my shoulders sag with the realization that he's not here. Breathing deeply, I suppress the tears that are threatening to fall. A rabbit hutch tucked against the house catches my attention. A large, grey rabbit is shuffling around in its bedding. It's the sound I heard on the other side of the fence.
"Wow, no dog, what a surprise."
Ricky's sarcasm grates on my nerves and my fists clench in the front pockets of my hoodie.
"Guess you can leave now."
He's standing behind me, graciously holding the gate open for me to leave through. I'm not easily swayed. Tiger could be in the house. I scan the yard and my gaze settles on what I suspect to be dog poop. I smile, trusting my instinct.
"You don't have a dog, right? Only a rabbit?" My gaze levels on him.
"Ah, yeah," he quips.
Inside the confines of Ricky's wooden fenced backyard I recognize several piles of dog poop. My heart sings within my chest. "If you don't have a dog, why is there dog poop in your yard?" I indicate the piles littered around the yard. He stammers but I quickly shush him. "I'm not leaving without my dog."
"Then I guess you're not leaving," a deep voice threatens behind me. The gate slams shut and the latch falls into its cradle.
My bravado plummets when I turn and find myself face-to-face with my attacker from Saturday night. Even Ricky looks scared, which doesn't ease my fears.
Traci is waiting in the car. I'm not alone and I know she'll call the cops if she suspects something. Damn. My iPhone is in my purse, in Traci's car. He'll suffer if he tries to hurt me or my dog. My instinct once again tells me to run, to get as far away from him as possible. But I won't leave without Tiger.
"You shouldn't have run from me the other night." He advances, his eyes unwavering.
"Let her go, Brian," Ricky implores. "She's looking for her missing dog."
"Shut up!" Brian yells.
His face is red and steaming. His crazy eyes are bulging. Ricky cringes at his brother's outburst, as if he's prepared for the strike that doesn't come. Does his brother hit him? Ricky's slight frame is nothing compared to the lumbering, crimson-faced man confronting me. I empathize with Ricky. Is he masking his pain with sarcasm? Was his paranoia this morning a result of the beatings he receives from his brother?
"Ricky, I'll handle this." Brian runs his hand through his short, brown hair.
The tell-tale cigarette burn is covered by a bandage and barely visible behind his shirt-collar. The scratches on his hands are noticeable. The sight of his multiple abrasions gives me pleasure.
I'm not waiting around for Brian to determine how he plans on handling me. The sliding door is my entry into the house. I bolt for the door, praying it's unlocked. Thankfully, it slides open but Brian is shadowing me. Half a second later I turn the lock and he turns a deeper shade of crimson, his fury darkening. I exhale, temporarily relieved and thankful for my narrow escape.
He releases the door handle in defeat but hastily tears around the house. The front door! I have to lock the front door. Unfamiliar with the layout of the house, I dash through several rooms and locate the front door. I turn the lock and a second later the handle rattles and I hear Brian bellow in frustration. He then rams the door, causing the wood to creak and moan against the force of his outburst.
"Tiger!" I scream. "Tiger!" A heartwarming bark breaks the silence in the house and he runs from another room and barrels into me. I sink to my knees and wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in his musky doggie scent. He laps at my face with his wet, rough tongue.
The door has stopped rattling on its hinges. It's too quiet. What are Brian and Ricky up to now? For all I know, there could be other people in the house with me. I walk up the short flight of stairs into the upstairs living room and peer out the window. Below, Brian is pacing on the walkway and Ricky appears to be silently standing by.
I try to get Traci's attention but she's watching the two guys, who are obviously locked out of their house. If only she'd see me waving at her through the window. The phone! I need to find a phone and I'll call her on her cell phone to let her know I'm coming out through the front door. She can ensure nothing happens to me or Tiger and can have the car waiting.
I hastily turn to find a phone and mistakenly trip over the dog. My head hits something hard. Whomp. Pain pierces my skull and I'm overcome by complete darkness.
"Do you think she's going to wake up soon?" a soft, familiar voice whispers above me.
"I hope so because my mom is coming home from work," another voice responds.
Water drips onto my face and something wet touches my cheek. I elicit a soft groan.
"She's waking up!" the female voice exclaims.
Groggily, I open my eyes and am immediately greeted by Tiger, happily lapping at my face.
"What happened?" I moan.
Traci and Ricky hover beside me on the floor. I'm sprawled out in what I presume to be Ricky's living room. The décor on the walls is sparse except for several photos displayed in black frames and a shelf decorated with angel figurines.
"I think you tripped and bumped your head on the coffee table when you fell. But I was locked out of my house so I'm not entirely sure." Ricky makes no attempt to mask his sarcasm.
"Oh, right," I mumble. "I remember. So how'd you get in?" I sit up and try to focus but my head is throbbing. "Am I bleeding?" I gingerly touch the large lump above my ear.
"You're not bleeding but you have some swelling. Do you want to stand up?" Traci offers me her hand and I grasp it. She gently pulls me to my feet.
"I tripped over the dog." Then the realization of the whole situation sets in. "Ricky, you liar! You had my dog! How dare you!" My head throbs as I raise my voice.
"I never lied to you. Your dog wasn't here when I left for school this morning. I guess my brother must've found him," Ricky shrugs. "I swear, Morgan. I had nothing to do with your dog going missing."
At the mention of his brother, I nervously glance around the house.
"He's gone," Ricky says. "He ran off earlier. I entered using the spare house key my mom hides under a rock by the front door. Brian doesn't know about the spare key."
"You didn't want to let him in earlier?"
"No, he needed to calm down and I knew he'd leave soon. He always leaves when he's upset."
I can't help wondering why Ricky and I have been thrown together in this crazy situation. We'd only met a day ago and already he's protecting me from his older brother. He knew not to let his brother in the house. What would have happened to me if Brian had come in?
The throbbing in my skull isn't ceasing. I want nothing more than to lie in my bed, snuggle with my dog, take a pain reliever, and sleep.
"Traci, let's get out of here." She follows me to the door.
"Wait!" Ricky yells and we halt. I can't ignore the hint of desperation in his cry. "I have to find Caroline and you're the key."
Behind his black rimmed glasses is the face of fear.
"What do you mean I'm the key? And where is Caroline?" I question.
"Who's Caroline?" Traci looks from me to Ricky, waiting for one of us to clue her in.
"Caroline is my brother's ex-girlfriend. She's been missing for several months. Morgan looks exactly like her."
"What do you mean she's missing? If she's his ex, maybe she left town for a while. How old is she anyway?" Traci's always so pragmatic.
"She's twenty-one and lives at home. I know her. She's kind and sweet. No one's heard from her in months. She'd never leave for that long without telling someone where she was. Her parents reported her missing when she never returned home after a night out with her friends."
Ricky's emotional reaction indicates Caroline is someone he cares about. Looking around the shabby house -- old, threadbare couch, a scrappy coffee table, and yellowed lamp shades -- I wonder if Ricky is a latch-key kid. Is he at the mercy of his brother's temper often?
Traci shoots me a skeptical look. "So, his brother is the guy who picked you up Saturday night and chased you through the woods? The same guy who stalked you and stole your dog? And now he ran off to who knows where? And, you look exactly like his missing ex-girlfriend?"
I nod my head yes and Traci's expression changes from confusion to exasperation.
"Morgan! Why haven't you called the police? What are you waiting for? You want to go missing too?"
I slump onto the worn couch. My head is pounding and I can't deal with my best friend yelling at me.
"Don't sit down, Morgan!" she continues. "This is his house! He could be returning soon. We have to get out of here."
She stands in front of me and tugs on my arms, trying to pull me to my feet. Obediently, I stand and she pulls me toward the door.
"Morgan, if we find my brother he'll lead us to Caroline. I know he has her."
"Then why haven't the police arrested him, or questioned him?" Traci challenges.
"Because they don't have any evidence to tie him to her disappearance. They did question him, but couldn't hold him on suspicion." He then appeals to me, "Listen, will you at least think about it? Morgan, you're not safe either. He could come after you as well. It's what I've been trying to warn you about."
"Why are we discussing this?" Traci interjects. "We should discuss this with the police, not amongst ourselves. How are we supposed to solve a missing person's case? This is crazy, Morgan, you realize it is, right?" She sighs and shakes her head when I don't respond. "Please, let's leave now or are you going to stay to discuss this crazy plan of his?"
I'm relieved to have Tiger back, but I'm not safe. What if I was the lucky one who got away? What if Brian stalks other girls and harms them? I can't live knowing I did nothing to prevent him from hurting other people.
"Fine," my gaze locks with Ricky's, "but I need to go home and rest. And we have to do this tonight because my parents are coming home tomorrow."
"Tonight?" His eyes widen in surprise.
"Yes, tonight. It's now or never." My steely gaze confirms my seriousness. Traci shakes her head in amazement and holds her hands in the air like she wants no involvement with our vigilante plan.
We exchange cell phone numbers and agree to talk at eight. During the ride home, Traci attempts to talk me out of my decision. I can't argue with her. All her points make perfect sense. Yes, I've endured enough over the past several days. No, I don't need to sustain any more injuries. Yes, my parents will be furious if they knew about my decision.
But I can't ignore my own instinct. Tonight's plans are something I have to do. Tiger whines softly from the back seat and lays his head in his paws.
"Oh, no. Now what?" Traci indicates to the police car parked outside my house.
Rory's Jaguar is no longer in the shop and is parked in the driveway. Did Brian come to my house after he fled his house? He was furious with me earlier and I could imagine him vandalizing my house as payback.
"Want me to wait here?" Traci asks as she drops me off.
"No, I've put you through enough. Rory's home. We'll be fine. Thank you, Traci." I lean over and give her a hug. She hugs me back. We never manage to stay mad at one another.
"Morgan, I'm not mad at you. I'm only worried. You've been through so much. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."
Her light eyes plead with me but I've made my decision. "I need to do this tonight. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal, I promise." Traci shakes her head mutely. "Will you keep your phone on you tonight, in case I need to call you?" I know it's asking too much from her, after everything she's already done for me. But she's the only backup I have.
Traci nods and wishes me luck. Tiger and I enter the house as she drives away. As I close the door I'm met with Rory's laughter vibrating throughout the house. Tiger bounds ahead and I hear my aunt cry his name in surprise. When I enter the living room I find Officer Whitman seated on the sofa beside Rory. They stop laughing at the same time and stare at me. I'm obviously interrupting something.
"Morgan, where'd you find Tiger?" Rory ruffles his fur and enjoys his wet kisses.
"My friend found him running around the neighborhood. I picked him up at his house," I lie. No way am I telling the truth. The truth has become increasingly complicated. Tiger retreats to the kitchen and I can hear him munching on his dry food and lapping at his water bowl.
"Everything okay here?" I ask the officer.
"Todd stopped by to visit after his shift," Rory smiles sheepishly.
Good for her. Officer Whitman seems like a nice guy and he and my aunt would make an attractive couple. Watching them smile at each other reminds me to call Jack. I'm about to excuse myself from the room when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a nearby mirror. My eyes are drawn to the lump on my head, disguised under my hair. I then study my face and remember Ricky's pleas for help. Do I really resemble Caroline?
"Officer Whitman, may I ask you a question?" I don't want to raise their suspicions, but since a police officer is sitting in my living room, I might as well ask. He tears his eyes off Rory and looks at me expectantly. "Are you familiar with a missing person's case of a twenty-one year old woman named Caroline? I believe she disappeared several weeks ago." His eyebrows rise when I mention her name.
"I'm familiar with her case. Why do you ask?"
"Do the police have any suspects?" A curious expression crosses Rory's face when her gaze fixes on my fingers twisting a silver ring on my hand.
"I can't reveal details of the investigation. Why such interest in the case?" He leans back against the sofa. His blue eyes narrow suspiciously. Caution, Morgan. Think before you speak. He's trained to ask questions and observe body language. My fingers still on the ring and my hands drop limply to my sides.
"Oh, a friend mentioned the case and since you're here at the house I thought I'd ask. Isn't it true most missing person's cases are linked to the victim's significant other? Did she have a boyfriend the police investigated?" Rory's eyebrows raise and she crosses her arms, now looking suspicious.
"Well," Officer Whitman hesitates, "she did have an ex-boyfriend but we didn't have anything to link him to her disappearance."
Rory uncrosses her arms and places a hand on top of his. Her slight touch distracts him and he turns his attention away from me. "Perhaps we shouldn't be discussing this," she advises.
She glares at me. Go Away.
Message received.
"Well, thanks anyways Officer Whitman." I'd love to remind her that this is my house and if she wants to cuddle with her new police-officer-friend then perhaps she should go home and snuggle with him there. "I'll be in upstairs, Aunt Rory." I smile sweetly at her and give them their privacy.
Climbing the stairs makes my calf throb and tingle. Once in my room, I pop two pain relievers and chase them with a glass of water. My bed looks so comfortable and inviting. A nap beckons. Tiger enters my room and I pat the mattress, indicating for him to join me on the bed.
Rory and Officer Whitman were so enthralled with one another they hadn't noticed the golf ball size lump on the side of my head. On my cell phone, I quickly search the web for signs of a concussion. My fainting spell earlier and my sudden tiredness have me concerned. I can't risk a visit to the emergency room tonight.
Jack. I close the web search and dial his number. He answers on the first ring.
"Morgan, I'm so sorry. I should have texted you, or called." His deep voice is comforting and I've missed talking to him.
"I've been worried about you. How's your ankle?"
He's quiet. I imagine him lying in bed, listening to his iPod -- ignoring his cell phone. When he's upset, he shuts himself off from the world, including me.
He sighs, "I'm benched for the rest of the season."
His voice is laced with disappointment. Nothing I say will sway his mood. I can only be supportive.
"I'm coming over." A night of snuggling and watching a movie should cheer him up. Jack is more important than the plans I've made with Ricky.
"Nah, you don't have to."
His moodiness doesn't discourage me. "Jack, I'll be right over. We can hang out and relax. Besides, I miss you." The sound of his breath exhaling and his long pause prepare me for his next words.
"Morgan, I know you mean well but I prefer to be alone tonight. I'll see you at school tomorrow."
Arguing with him in the past never got me anywhere. I'll give him the space he needs. If he's miserable tomorrow I'll go to his house after school and hang out with him.
"I'll see you tomorrow then," I murmur and we hang up.
Lying in bed, I study the small glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on my ceiling. Years ago, Jack and I stood on my bed and pressed them against the ivory paint in a circular pattern. The stars always remind me of him. He'll come around tomorrow, I assure myself. My eyelids slowly close as I'm lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of Tiger's breathing as he rests beside me.
Later, the ring of my cell phone jars me awake.
"Morgan, it's Ricky. Can we meet now? This is the only time I can sneak out of the house."
The yellow digits on my alarm clock read seven-thirty. The lump on my head is still tender but after the long nap I'm refreshed. We agree to meet in fifteen minutes at a nearby park, walking distance from my house. Hastily, I change into black leggings and a long-sleeved, black t-shirt and dark purple hoodie.
Downstairs, I'm surprised to hear Officer Whitman's laughter in the kitchen. A delicious aroma wafts throughout the house and my stomach rumbles as a reminder of how little I've eaten over the past few days.
"Morgan, where have you been?" Rory asks as I enter the kitchen.
She's sautéing chicken breasts on the stove. I head to the cupboard to raid Mom's stash of protein bars and drop one in my pocket.
"I've been in my room." I pause and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. "I'm taking Tiger on a walk and also meeting up with a friend. I'm not sure when I'll be home."
Rory cocks an eyebrow at me but refrains from challenging me in front of her new friend. Officer Whitman casually leans against the counter, his eyes on Rory the whole time. She begins to chop onions and green peppers. He readily takes the knife and cutting board from her and offers to prep the veggies. A pot of boiling water bubbles nearby, beckoning the box of fettuccine Rory tears open.
"I'll save you some leftovers," she responds as she dumps the pasta in the boiling water.
"Thanks, Rory. Dinner smells delicious. You two enjoy your evening," I call over my shoulder as I leave the kitchen. In the doorway I pause, "It was nice seeing you again, Officer Whitman." He comments to Rory how nice I am as I leash Tiger in the foyer. My attempt at impressing him works. And from the way his gaze lingers on Rory, she's impressed him as well.
A soft breeze greets me as I step outside. A light shiver runs down my spine from the cool nip in the air. Several neighbors stroll along the sidewalks with their dogs on their evening walk. Tiger sniffs bushes and trees and but obediently follows when I tug his leash.
My legs follow a familiar route. I've taken this path to the park hundreds of times, starting from a young age when I used to enjoy the thrill of being pushed on a swing or going down a slide. These days, my visits to the park entail hanging out with friends or walking my dog.
I've agreed to meet Ricky but have no idea how he plans to locate Caroline. For some reason, he's convinced we'll be able to find her. How am I involved in his scheme? Am I baiting Brian? And why is Ricky afraid of his brother? Is he bullied or beaten at home?
Tiger walks beside me tonight. It's as if he understands he's here for support tonight and to back me up if needed. As we enter the park the sun casts a low light, enough for me to recognize Ricky. He watches from his perch on top of a picnic table as I approach.
"Do you take him everywhere with you?" he questions, indicating Tiger.
"Only when I suspect I need him to defend me," I answer with a snarky smile.
"Fine," he jumps off the picnic table. "Let's go." He heads toward the woods bordering the other side of the park.
"Where are we going and what's the plan?" Are we walking into a trap? I want to avoid an ambush.
"My brother lives at home but he's rarely there," Ricky explains. "I know where he hangs out when he's not home. We're going there."
"So we're going to his friend's house? And you expect him to be happy to see us and invite us in?" I'm already regretting this adventure.
"He's not going to know we're there." Ricky glances at me in the waning dusk.
"So we're spying on him?" Will Tiger remain quiet while we lurk around the house?
"Yeah, and we're looking for Caroline too."
We cut through the woods and even in the dim light Ricky appears to know where he's going. Tiger and I follow him but as the nocturnal animals awaken so does Tiger's interest in them. I hold his leash tight to prevent him from chasing an animal foraging nearby. As we near the edge of the woods, the shape of some residential homes appears.
We exit the woods on a well-worn path located between the properties of two small, homes. The sun has set and the moon provides a slight glow over the quiet neighborhood. Several homes have their windows cracked open, welcoming the cool, evening breeze. I can hear the sound of a television from one of the homes we pass by and a loud guffaw as the resident laughs. Several street lights illuminate the block of small homes. The street is quiet at this hour. Glancing at my cell phone I note its eight forty-five pm. Most families are probably getting their kids ready for bed or watching TV.
Ricky continues walking ahead and I follow. I text Traci to let her know what street I'm on, just in case. I also send a short text to my parents, telling them I'm was looking forward to seeing them tomorrow night. Mom immediately replies with a smiley face. That's weird of her.
Ricky signals me to slow down. I kneel down and explain to Tiger we have to be quiet now. He licks my face in understanding. How I love him!
Ricky slinks beside a brick home and motions for me to follow. Jogging over to him, I push my back against the side of the house and wait for his instructions. What we're doing still doesn't make sense to me.
"I'm going in," Ricky whispers.
"Where are you going? In the house?"
"Yeah. You and the dog wait here and don't come in no matter what," Ricky warns. "And I mean no matter what."
Before I can respond he disappears behind the back of the house and I suddenly hear a loud voice.
"What the hell, Ricky? I warned you never to come here."
Is Brian yelling at him?
"Where's Caroline?" Ricky demands loudly.
Ugh. This is not the covert operation I expected. Confronting the suspect and demanding where the missing person is will result in---
"Oww!" Ricky groans, followed by a distinct thud.
I suspect Brian punched him and Ricky, sporting a black eye now, landed on the ground. So, it's up to me now to rescue the little runt and find this missing girl? Fine.
"Tiger go!" I command. He stares at me for a second, then tears around the house, barking. As Tiger creates a diversion in the backyard I run to the front of the house and ring the doorbell several times, then disappear around the other side of the house. I peek into the backyard. Ricky's lying on the ground. Brian's nowhere to be seen. He must've run inside. I hurry over to Ricky and haul him up from under his arms and drag him into the neighboring yard. Tiger follows us.
"Shh," I warn the bruised freshman. Thankfully, he's a wiry kid so I'm able to pull his weight easily. I know Brian will be looking for him soon, and Tiger. He'll know I'm here too because of the dog.
"Your heroism is impressive," I whisper to Ricky. "Too bad I didn't get to see your moves."
His lips curve into a slight smile. "You know, I did take Tai Kwon Do---"
"Maybe when you were four. Besides, your moves got you knocked out and now you've pissed your brother off. Let's get out of here while we can."
He tries to sit up but winces and clutches his ribs. Damn. What did his brother do to him?
"Surprise, surprise," a voice croons.
Through the shadows emerge three tall guys, one of which is Brian. They break through the line of arborvitae trees we're hiding behind and surround us. Tiger immediately begins to growl and confronts them.
"Of course I knew you were here too once I saw your dog. But we love your dog, don't we AJ?" Brian looks at his friend who's smiling broadly. Neither of them looks intimidated by Tiger who's snarling and barking viciously at them.
AJ holds a box of Milky Beef-Bones and shakes it enticingly at Tiger. Milky Beef-Bones is Tiger's favorite doggy treat. Our best defense has now sided with the enemy. Tiger stops barking and turns his attention on the box of treats. He cocks his head to the side and whines like a puppy.
"How do you think we lured him from your house?" Brian smiles knowingly at me.
AJ extends a dog treat to Tiger and he happily eats it from his hand, allowing AJ to grab his leash and lead him back to the house. The other two guys loom over Ricky and I and order us to get to our feet. Ricky struggles to stand so I offer him a hand and help him up. The guys flank either side of us and push us toward the house.
"Help!" I scream but then a hand clamps over my mouth, muting my cries. I struggle, kick and flail, trying to wriggle free from Brian's arms locked around me. He pulls me against his chest and my breath is caught in my lungs.
"There will be none of that," he snarls and shoves me inside the house.
I fall onto my hands and knees on the linoleum floor and hear the lock click as the sliding doors close. I'm yanked to my feet and dragged through the dark house. Ricky and I are thrown into a small bedroom. I grasp the handle on the closed door and rattle the knob but it's locked from the other side. Ricky slumps onto the twin mattress and lies on his side in a fetal position. He groans softly. He must have one or two broken ribs.
I begin to pace the confines of the small room. I should have dialed for help before running toward the backyard. Another failed move on my part. I've been making a lot of bad decision lately -- too many to keep track of. Instinctively, I reach into my pocket to retrieve my cell phone. Then I remember Brian confiscated it before his friend tossed me in this room. I press my ear to the door, trying to overhear any conversations.
Their muffled voices aren't clear over the loud music they have blaring from the stereo in the living room. I don't hear Tiger either, but he's probably still munching on doggie treats. There's a small window in the room but it's covered with metal bars on the outside. I always wondered why people install these window cages on their homes. I feel like I'm in a prison cell.
"Well, Caroline isn't in this room," I say, masking my fear of being held hostage in a house with three grown men. "What were we thinking?" Ricky's watching me helplessly from the bed. "You need a doctor and I don't want to think about what they're going to do to me."
He isn't leaving this house without my help. Our escape is resting on my shoulders. I need to keep a clear head. I have to act fast.
Panic, fear, and adrenaline tingles in the pit of my stomach the same as it did the night I was in Brian's car. Do or die. Putting thoughts of Caroline aside, I focus on my own situation. He's trapped me twice and he's stolen my dog twice. Plus, I don't know how many times he's beaten his younger brother. Tonight, after I escape, I'm calling the cops and reporting him.
All my mistakes will be corrected this evening -- all my bad decisions rectified. I don't care if my parents ground me for the next two years. My social life isn't more important than protecting myself, my dog, and my new friend, Ricky. He's worked his way under my skin and I'll help him at all costs. There's a reason he reached out to me after school. Fate intervenes in weird ways and I know we've been thrown into this situation for a reason. Perhaps I'm the first person to want to help him.
I kneel beside Ricky and hold his hand. His eyes cloud with pain and I vow to protect him. "I'm getting out of here to find help. You need to stay here and rest. I'm not abandoning you. Trust me."
He nods his head weakly and remains quiet. His condition could be worse than just a broken rib or two. He could be bleeding internally. I have to get out of this room, this house.
I bang on the door. "Hey, I need to pee! Let me out of here!" I yell and bang harder. The door shudders under my fists but the music is blaring and I want to ensure they hear me.
AJ opens the door. He's tall and heavy-set with sinister, beady eyes and thin lips. "What's all this noise about?" he grumbles and sticks his head in the door to investigate.
Instinctively, I launch my fist at his face. I cringe as my fist connects with his nose and blood splatters. He groans and stumbles forward in a daze and he reaches for his nose. Without hesitating, I grab the side of the door and slam it against his head. He bellows loudly and tries to tackle me but I step aside and shove him to the ground. As he's on his hands and knees I give him a swift kick in the groin from behind. He crumples onto the floor beside the bed. Ricky cocks an eyebrow at me and I watch him reach for the lamp beside the bed. Before I run out of the room Ricky has the lamp poised over AJ's head, ready to strike. I turn and leave but hear the whack of the lamp against AJ's skull and the shatter of glass breaking.
I tear through the house. Brian and the other guy aren't around. As I'm searching for the front door Tiger bounds over to me, then leads me to the front door. Yanking the door open, I'm greeted by Brian and the other guy standing on the front lawn smoking. Surprise flashes across their faces when I bolt past them. This is my only chance of escape. Tiger barks and snarls at them but follows me toward the wooded path. My legs fly over the pavement as I race down the sidewalk with the two guys chasing me. Pumping my arms, visions of Saturday night flood my head and I know if I can once again keep a fast pace I can outrun Brian, the smoker. I hope the other guy loses stamina as well.
The path comes into view. I'm leery of running through the dark woods but I have no idea what neighborhood I'm in. If I can get through the woods and across the park then I'll be close to home. I trust my instincts on finding my way back to the park and Tiger can lead me there too. The moon offers a subtle glow to illuminate the path. My legs fly over roots and rocks but I don't dare turn around and risk losing my footing. All it would take would be one fall to allow these two to catch up and grab me.
Their labored breath is close behind and I hope they're tiring. I push myself harder, despite the cramp in my side and the ache in my calf from my injury Saturday night. Tiger charges ahead and I follow him as best as I can. His sense of direction is better than mine so I trust he remembers the way home. My dark clothes camouflage me but the sound of my breath and the twigs breaking under my stride give away my presence. I desperately want to stop and catch my breath but I force myself to continue running. I can't choose to stop now with them in pursuit. In the hands of these two guys, I could disappear.
The edge of the forest looms ahead. I pray Officer Whitman is still at my house visiting with Rory. I'll have an earful to give him once I get home. Tiger reaches the park and waits. I risk glancing back and find the guy in close pursuit. Determination is carved on his face. Brian is nowhere to be seen. I imagine him hunched over in the woods, gasping for air. This friend of his is fast though, considering his size and bulk. In the dim light I can see his mouth moving but I can't hear a word he's saying.
Breathless, I break through the forest and want to collapse on the moist ground. Despite the lack of air in my lungs, I push onward through the park. Tiger is once again in the lead, heading home. I envision my well-lit house, Rory and Officer Whitman inside enjoying dinner as I burst through the front door, screaming for help before I collapse in the foyer from exhaustion.
I'm jerked back from my shirt being tugged at. I fling my arm behind me, hitting at the guy behind me, forcing him to release my shirt. One false move now and the chase will be over. He's so close I can smell his pungent breath on my back. His fingertips skim the back of my shirt, itching to grasp the material, to possess me. One more sprint. My legs run on autopilot and my heart hammers my chest. I swerve past several trees, hoping to lose the lumbering idiot behind me. Another quick glance behind confirms he's still on my tail.
The park is a blur of shadowy trees as I race home. Relief floods through me when my feet land on the familiar pavement of my own street. The finish line appears ahead but his grunts and groans are close behind me. Is he aware my house is ahead? Does he have any idea where I'm running to?
"Rory!" I scream my voice too weak and hoarse to be heard from a distance. "Rory!"
Did she open the windows to allow the cool evening breeze in? Officer Whitman's cop car is still parked outside in the shadows. If this menacing idiot chases me home then perhaps he can arrest him. My foot lands on the soft lawn of my front yard. Tiger is barking on the porch, scratching at the front door.
"Rory! Help!" My weak voice is carried away by a soft gust of wind. I fall forward and land with a thud on the grassy lawn. He has me pinned under his weight. His huge, sweaty mass suffocates me as he sits on my back and his hands encircle my throat.
Officer Whitman launches himself from my front porch onto my attacker. Rory runs out of the house and screams at the sight of me being strangled. Tiger's snarling and growling but I can't see him from my position. The attacker's fingers bite into my neck. I crane my neck to the side and can see his dark eyes, full of hatred, staring down at me. A split second later I gulp a welcoming breath as his weight is pulled off of me. Officer Whitman wrestles him beside me and pins him onto his stomach, handcuffing his hands behind his back. I roll over, gasping for breath, too weak to move. Tiger quiets down and nudges me with his nose.
"Rory, call 911!" the officer yells.
His hands had dug into my windpipe so vehemently. I'd never even met him before. Why did he have so much fury and rage against me?
My throat burns from the strength of his hands. I remain on my back and lie motionless. Rory disappears inside the house and soon reappears talking into the cordless phone. She calls out to let us know the cops are on their way.
What would I have done if Rory and Officer Whitman hadn't responded in time? The guy was too big for me to have thrown off. Would Tiger have been my saving grace? Tiger's wet nose nudges me again, in need of constant reassurance I'm alive. Reaching my hand out to him, I ruffle his thick fur and he whines softly.
Within minutes, I hear the sirens before the blue and red lights flood my street. Immediately, I'm examined by several medical attendants. Rory remains by my side and silently cries when they tell her they're taking to me to the emergency room for further examination. They're concerned about the damage to my throat and a possible concussion.
Rory locks Tiger inside the house because he's too excited and agitated from all the activity. I know the sight of me sitting on a gurney isn't helping either. He only wants to protect me, I remind Rory before she tugs him into the house.
The guy who chased me is sitting in the back of a cop car, glaring at me. The whole situation feels like it unfolded an hour ago but in reality it's only been minutes. Officer Whitman approaches. The time to tell the truth is upon me. He raises an eyebrow at me and in an emotional plea I tell him about Ricky, who's in dire need of an ambulance, and Brian, who's still out there -- somewhere.
By morning, the news of what happened last night already circulated thanks to my neighbors, their cell phones, and social media. When I arrive at the bus stop everyone wants to know what happened, who got arrested, and if I'm okay. On the bus the interrogation continues and when I arrive at school its worse. I have to politely push people aside to access my locker. Everyone wants to know why I was attacked, by whom, and why I'm not in the hospital since my neck is horribly bruised. Many of the girls are afraid the same thing will happen to them. I don't tell them it can't.
After I sit down in first period, my teacher receives a call from the office and I'm instructed to go there at once. My classmates watch as I pack up my books and leave. The halls are empty and I duck into a bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I study the bruises on my neck. I've tried to conceal the purplish marks with my usual hoodie and a scarf but they're still noticeable. I powder my nose and cheeks and leave, wondering why I'm requested at the office.
The assistant instructs me to take a seat and wait for Ms. Bridges, our high school principal. The office is empty so I sit on a wooden chair. My attention is drawn to the office door. The bells hanging from the door knob jingle as it's opened. Jack arrives, on crutches, with his mom. I stand, shocked to see him on crutches.
"Morgan? What are you doing here?" he asks, looking as surprised to see me as I am to see him.
"Have you been on Twitter or Facebook?" I ask in soft voice.
Jack shakes his head no while his mom signs him into school. She's dressed in a business suit and heels so I suspect she's on her way to work. She waves pleasantly at me and gives Jack a quick peck on the cheek, then leaves.
"I was attacked last night," I whisper. I don't want to discuss the attack here. The assistant looks away from her computer monitor and is now staring at me.
"I'll tell you about it at lunch," I mumble. Jack must've noticed the bruises on my neck because he hobbles over to me on his crutches, his eyes big and round and filled with concern.
"What happened to you? Are you okay?"
He's clumsy on his crutches but he's close enough to reach out and trail his fingers lightly along my neck. His brown eyes are flooded with worry as he stares at me, waiting for an answer.
The phone rings and the assistant stops staring at me to answer it. She puts the phone back on the hook and looks back at me. "Ms. Butler, Ms. Bridges is ready to see you."
I nod but Jack grabs my hand.
"Morgan, who did this to you?"
I glance toward the Principal's door. "I have to go, Jack. I'm fine so please don't worry. I promise to tell you everything at lunch." I kiss his cheek quickly then hurry to the principal's office as Jack watches me leave.
I didn't call him last night. By the time I'd talked to my parents and assured them I was fine it was past midnight. Mom wanted to fly home first thing this morning but I told her I'd be at school all day so there wasn't any reason for her to come home early. Rory also assured Mom and Dad she'd stay at the house until they came home. The police also spoke to Mom and Dad and explained they had many officers on the case.
The night had been endless. After the guy had been arrested, I learned his name is Tommy. The police went to AJ's house and rescued Ricky, who was then taken to the emergency room. I was taken to the emergency room as well and was treated and examined for my various injuries. Luckily, I did not have a concussion from when I fell at Ricky's house. My throat is bruised and sore but the doctor assured me there was no permanent damage. My leg was treated too, but again, it wasn't anything serious. The doctors assured Rory I could go home and I'd need some rest and pain relievers. I have a follow-up appointment next week for the doctor to inspect my neck injury.
Officer Whitman informed me that Ricky had two broken ribs. Poor kid. AJ's nose is broken too, thanks to me, and he too was taken to the ER to be treated and then was being held at the police station. The police called me a hero. I feel more like a fool for all my bad decisions. I'm certainly not a hero.
Brian wasn't found. The police searched the woods and had dogs tracking his scent, but he'd followed the stream to escape and his scent had been lost. Because Brian is on the run, the police fear he'll come after me again.
"Ms. Butler, the police informed me of last night's incident. I want to assure you I've taken the appropriate precautions to ensure your safety at school."
I've always liked Ms. Bridges. She's a petite woman who always has a smile on her face and is tough but fair.
"I'd like you to speak with Ms. Trudell, the school counselor. What you went through must've been extremely traumatic."
Her gaze levels on me and I'm at a loss for words. Guilt, fear, adrenaline, surprise, terror, disappointment, concern, and sympathy have been feelings I've experienced over the past few days. Sitting in her office now, I'm still too exhausted from last night to fully comprehend what she's suggesting. Is she insinuating that I'm emotionally unstable?
Ms. Bridges escorts me to the counselor's office and I wonder what I'll be expected to discuss. I don't want to be perceived as a head-case but it would be nice to talk to someone I'm not related to. I don't have anyone, besides Traci and Jack, I'm comfortable confiding in. Dad's always traveling, Rory isn't usually around, and my relationship with Mom is too complicated. Having Rory around this week has been nice and I think we've grown closer. When Mom and Dad return I want her to visit often and possibly spend the night.
Ms. Bridges excuses herself and leaves after making the introductions. Ms. Trudell smiles as I enter. She definitely likes plants, I muse as I plop into a cushy chair facing her ornate, wood desk. Ferns, vines, and flowering potted plants are arranged all over the office and add a cozy feel to the small space. A vanilla scented candle burns on the window sill behind her.
She closes her laptop and gives me her full attention. I shift uncomfortably and notice a cute cat calendar hanging on the wall beside her desk. I curiously gaze around, noticing the pig figurines displayed on a bookshelf. I've never sat in her office before.
"So, how are you?" she asks pleasantly.
"Could be better, could be worse." I focus on the window behind her. The windowpane is adorned with sun-catchers that reflect the morning sun beautifully. Ms. Trudell turns around, realizing I'm not paying attention to her.
"My son gave me those," she replies fondly. "I once mentioned to him how much I enjoy having a window in my office, except the view isn't grand, a brick wall. So, for my birthday he got me this one," she points to the flower sun-catcher. "Every year for my birthday he gives me another one. I love looking at them because they remind me of him."
"Is that him?" I indicate to the photos of a cute little boy and a handsome young man displayed on the bookshelf.
"Yes, he's twenty-two. He's graduating college in a few months. I miss him."
She stares at the photos and I glimpse sadness in her eyes.
"Are you very close?" I wonder how different her relationship is with her son compared to my own with my mother.
"Not as close as I wish we were. I haven't accepted that he's grown up and ready to live his own life, even though he's attended college out-of-state the last four years," she laughs nervously.
Is that why Mom is distant with me? She's worried that I'm leaving for college in a few years?
"Tell me about yourself." She shifts the conversation. "Your file indicates your parents are still married. Do you have a good relationship with them?"
I shrug and cross my legs. "My dad, yes. My mom, no."
"Oh?" she sounds surprised and leans forward in her chair. "What's your relationship like with your dad?"
I pause to study her. "I thought I was here to talk about what happened last night."
She nods in understanding. "We're getting to know one another first."
Again my gaze is drawn to the sun-catchers. If I worked in this office all day I'd turn my desk to the side so I had a better view of the window.
I relax, realizing that sitting here is better than sitting in class. The only thing missing is a hot mocha in my hand. But I'm happy to talk about my dad. She listens attentively and laughs several times as I relay stories of my father and me. When I finally pause, she asks about Mom. Her question is followed by an awkward silence. How am I supposed to tell her that my beautiful mother, whom I've always idolized, wants nothing to do with me? Just thinking about it hurts. I take a huge breath to clear the soreness in my throat caused by the impending tears.
"It's hard to talk about?" she asks quietly.
I nod, not trusting my voice to speak without crying.
"I've felt the same way about people in my life," she admits.
Leaning over, she rummages in a red cooler on the floor beside her desk. She pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to me. I kindly accept it.
"I'm here if you need someone to talk to, or someone who will listen."
I exhale deeply and take a big gulp of water to soothe my throat. I appreciated her offer to listen. I trust her warm smile and kind eyes. The coziness of her office entices me to curl my legs up underneath me and talk. But not today. Knowing this quiet reprieve exists for me to retreat to is comfort enough.
"I'm worried about my friend, Ricky Smith," I admit once I'm comfortable speaking without crying. "I think his brother has been beating him. Something tells me he needs someone who will listen to him."
He's annoying and someone I typically wouldn't befriend. However, I've become very protective of him. When he's released from the hospital I want to know that he'll have supportive people in his life to reach out to, in addition to myself.
Ms. Trudell nods her head in understanding. "It's kind of you to be concerned for him and he will get the same support available to you."
She opens a notebook and jots something down but I can't glimpse what she's writing. She closes her notebook and asks if there's anything else I'd like to discuss. I shake my head no. She books another session with me for next Monday but at a different time. She recommends we meet once a week over the next few weeks. As I stand to leave her office I thank her and she smiles at me and says, "You're welcome."
The bell ending first period rings as I leave the office. The hallways flood with students hurrying to their lockers and second period. I haven't talked to either Traci or Jack about last night. I wished I'd been the one to tell them first rather than them hearing about it through the school grapevine. Traci stood beside me despite her objections to the decisions I made. I hope Traci didn't get into trouble on account of what I had gotten her involved with. Her parents are lenient but I don't want her dealing with the aftermath of my mistakes.
I hold myself accountable for getting in the car with Brian. What would've happened had I stayed on the side of the road and declined his offer? Would he have driven off, or would he have forcibly taken me?
Gossip circulates fast in high school and stories of my ordeal spread quickly. The girls give me pitied looks whereas the guys eye me with respect and admiration. They're impressed I escaped my three captives? Who knows? At lunch I'm besieged with offers to "sit-down and join us" when I walk through the cafeteria with my tray of yogurt and Jell-O. My throat is sore and I only want to eat soft foods. I spy Traci, Jack, and Carlos sitting at our usual table and I excuse myself to join them. They're the three people I've missed the most today. Dropping into my seat, I breathe a huge sigh of relief to be around them.
"How you hanging in there?" Traci asks.
"It's been a crazy morning, including a visit to Ms. Trudell's office." I eat a spoonful of yogurt, suddenly ravenous. I swallow slowly and my friends are sitting quietly, watching me. "I'm sorry," I breathe. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. Last night was one of the longest nights of my life. When I finally had a moment to myself, I fell asleep. And then today happened---"
"Morgan, what happened?" Traci cuts me off.
The question of the day. I begin telling the three of them what happened and soon other students from nearby tables are listening too. Before I know it, a crowd of people surround our table but I continue, knowing they want to know the truth too. The sad thing is, Caroline is still missing and Ricky is in the hospital. I plead to everyone to visit Ricky at the hospital, to be a good friend to him when he returns to school, and to report any information they may have about Caroline to the police. Someone has to know something. How can someone just disappear? It happens all the time, though. I could've been the next missing persons.
My friends are quiet when I finish talking. I get a lot of hugs from the girls and the crowd disperses. I finish eating my lunch and am aware of my friends staring at me, as if I'm suddenly a different person.
"What?" I ask. Have I disappointed them? Did I lose their respect? Oh no, I need them in my life. I don't know what I'll do without Traci or Jack. I lied to Jack about what happened Saturday night. Will he hate me now?
Jack speaks but Traci talks over him. "Morgan, I can't believe what you went through."
She hugs me and I thank her for always being there for me. Jack is now quiet and I wonder what he was about to say. My cell phone vibrates as I get a text from Mom. Luckily, the police retrieved my iPhone from AJ's house last night and didn't hold it as evidence. It's my lifeline and I think Officer Whitman had something to do with me getting it back.
Mom explains that they're flying home tonight as scheduled. She talked to Rory this morning and Rory assured her we'll be fine today and it's not necessary for her to return home early. I exhale loudly. As soon as they land I'll be grounded.
"Why don't we all visit Ricky after school?" I suggest. My friends avoid looking at me and I wonder what I said to offend them.
"Morgan," Traci begins, "I'm so sorry but I'm not allowed."
Not allowed? Or won't? I want to ask but I can tell from the way her eyes are cast downward that something is wrong. Jack has the same miserable expression. Carlos, new to the group, remains quiet.
"Ok, you two. Spill it." The truth has been pouring out of me since last night and I don't want to deal with anyone's deceit at this time.
Traci takes a deep breath. "I'm not allowed to hang out with you for a while," she confesses.
"What?!" My voice shakes with desperation. We're best friends. Why wouldn't she be allowed to hang out with me? But the answer is suddenly clear to me.
Traci takes another deep breath and tears brighten her eyes. "Your mom called late last night and talked to my parents. She wanted to know if they knew what you'd gone through. My parents hadn't known but they came to my room and asked me about it and I had to tell them, Morgan." She hesitates and the pained expression in her eyes is more than I can take. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't lie to them."
Like I lied to my own parents.
Had Mom called Jack's house too? Judging by the guilty look on his face I knew she had.
"My parents didn't know your folks were out of town. They were upset I'd been at your house several times while your parents were away," Jack confesses.
Ashamed for what I put them through, I apologize. They don't deserve to be punished. It's my fault. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm going to be grounded for life once my parents get home but I want you to know that I'm not upset with either of you. I only hope you can forgive me."
A horrible feeling hits me like a tidal wave. Standing up quickly, my chairs falls over and I hurry to the ladies room. My body breaks out in a cold sweat and I lunge for the toilet and lose what little I had to eat. Heaving and vomiting over the toilet, I'm faintly aware of Traci calling my name.
"Morgan, are you feeling all right?" Traci asks, her hands gently holding my hair away from my face.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and exit the stall. After thoroughly washing my hands, I cup them under the cool running water and thirstily lap at it, rinsing and spitting the vomit-taste from my mouth. I blot the sweat from my brow with a paper towel. The suddenness of the nausea has me nervous to return to the lunchroom. My stomach still feels queasy.
"You should see the nurse. Come on, I'll take you there," she coaxes.
Jack is waiting outside the bathroom holding my book bag.
"I'm taking her to the nurse," Traci tells him. "She threw up."
Traci tells Carlos she'll see him after school and he waves as she leads me toward the nurse's office. Jack walks beside us on his crutches. I feel I have so much explaining and apologizing to do but don't have the strength for it.
When we arrive at the nurse's office, Traci hugs me again and I know our friendship will weather this recent storm.
"Call me later," she says and then leaves Jack and me alone.
"I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't plan for these past few days to have turned out the way they did." My fingers brush his as he grips his crutches. He reaches out and squeezes my hand.
"We have time," he whispers.
His gaze locks with mine and I'm lost in the familiar depths of his dark brown eyes. Eyes I've loved for years but was always too bashful to stare into, until we started dating.
Jack looks down at his bandaged ankle and laughs. "I've got a lot of time on my hands now."
Supporting himself on crutches, he maneuvers us into a hug and I rest my head on his shoulder, enjoying scent of his cologne on his skin. He's my rock, even on crutches. Tilting my head toward him, I kiss him softly and wish this moment could last longer. My nausea has subsided somewhat but I need to sit down. I kiss him again, and then say good-bye. I watch as he hobbles away. Even on crutches he's cuter than ever.
The nurse expected me. The principal advised her to release me if I came to her office. After a quick check-up, she suspects stress and shock are affecting my nerves and making me nauseous. Whatever it is, I'm thankful when Rory arrives at school to take me home.
I sink into the passenger seat beside her and doze on the short ride home. She appears tense and nervous but I'm too exhausted to talk. I want my bed. The bump on my head has subsided but it still hurts.
When we arrive at my house I go directly to my room and lay down. It's only twelve-fifteen in the afternoon but I'm in dire need of sleep. I strip off my clothes and toss them on the floor. Snuggling underneath my covers in my underwear and a t-shirt, I fall asleep immediately.
I dream of Brian hunting me in the woods while I'm walking Tiger. Soundlessly, he sneaks up behind me and clamps his hand over my mouth, stifling my screams. I kick and fight back but can't escape his rage and violent grip. He drags me through the forest to somewhere dark and musty. Before he leaves me alone in this cold, forgotten place he stares down at me and says, "I thought I killed you, Caroline."
I wake up panicked and confused and covered in a cold sweat. Sunlight streams through my curtains and I sink back into my pillows. It was a nightmare but the dream was so real.
Caroline, what did Brian do to you?
Are you still alive?
In my gut, I know Brian had something to do with her disappearance.
Footsteps running up the stairs and down the hall rumble throughout the quiet house. My bedroom door bangs open and a breathless Rory runs to my side.
"What happened? I heard you scream."
"I had a nightmare," I groggily reply.
She walks into my bathroom. I hear the sound of running water and then she returns with a wet facecloth. Gingerly, she sits on the bed beside me and wipes my forehead with the cool cloth. I close my eyes, enjoying the attention and her soothing presence.
After a few moments I open my eyes and notice she's dressed in a business suit and her hair and makeup is done. She looks beautiful and professional. "You have to go to work?"
She nods. "The office called and I'm needed this afternoon. Will you be fine if I leave for a while?"
Rory's hazel eyes are yellow-gold today, a stunning contrast to her jet-black hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail. Her tattoos are discreetly hidden beneath the fine fabric of her suit. Her concern is touching. Regardless of the nightmare and my gut feeling about Caroline, I feel better after my nap. More rested and less nauseous.
"I'll hang out here. Besides, what could happen?" I crack a sarcastic smile, knowing a lot could happen based on recent events.
"That's what I'm worried about." Rory ruffles my hair like I'm six-years old and stands.
"Rory, go to work. I'll be fine." Famous last words. But she'd done enough for me and it's only two o'clock in the afternoon. Most of the events occurred at night, not during broad daylight. I'll hang around the house and she'll be back in a few hours. She gives me a lingering look, then hugs me.
"Take a shower while I'm gone. And eat something so your mother doesn't think I starved you." A soft smile spreads across her face.
It occurs to me how similar her smile is to Mom's. Mom has a nice smile but I wish she'd smile more often.
Tiger pads into the room and lies in a sunny patch on my carpet. I shed my sweaty t-shirt and head to the bathroom and run the shower. The warm water and my favorite shower gel leave me feeling refreshed and energized.
Even though I told Rory I'd hang out at home, I want to take Tiger on a short walk and visit Ricky at the hospital. After the hospital I'll come home and fix dinner for myself and Rory. She's been cooking for me so it's time I return the favor. Mom and Dad will be back tonight as well and I want to clean the house before they come home. The rest of my day will be busy. Good thing I took a nap and feel better.
Having showered and nibbled on a granola bar, I hook Tiger's leash to his collar and exit the house. An officer sits in a police car across the street. He nods at me and I wave back. I hadn't noticed him earlier when Rory drove me home from school. I must've overlooked his squad car due to my tiredness. Or, perhaps it was a favor called in by Officer Whitman and he arrived recently. Regardless, his vigilance provides peace of mind. With Brian still out there, it's nice to know someone is watching over me.
Tiger bounds toward the long route but I steer him along the shorter route. My time is limited this afternoon. He resists but I manage to lead him down the street. The neighborhood is relatively quiet at this hour. Most residents are either at work or school. My bus will be dropping off students within the half hour.
Tiger suddenly halts and I stumble but regain my balance before I pitch forward on the sidewalk.
"Come on, Tiger. Let's go home," I command but he doesn't budge. He's snarling at a fence. A cat must be on the other side. I tug the leash again but he doesn't budge. He continues to stand his ground, snarling and barking erratically.
"Fine, sniff out the cat and then we'll leave," I sigh, knowing his resistance is a battle I won't win.
I loosen the leash and he approaches the fence and jumps up, barking loudly. Looking around, I hope the owners aren't home. Luckily, nobody comes outside to see what all the noise is about.
"Tiger, down!" But then I hear a cough. The distinct sound came from the other side of the fence. A chill travels down my spine. I'd forgotten my iPhone at home and I'm several streets from my house. Who's on the other side of this fence? An unnerving silence settles around Tiger and I. Tiger has stopped barking and is looking at me expectantly. Are we being watched? I can't discern anyone through the slats of the fence.
"Tiger, let's go," I say in a lowered voice. With a final tug on the leash I pull him and begin to jog, anxious to leave the creepy yard. Am I being paranoid? Probably, but I can't risk another life-threatening incident. Casting a fearful look over my shoulder, I'm expecting Brian to emerge from the other side of the fence. Nobody is there.
My jog increases to a run and as I near my house I don't slow down. Out of breath, I knock on the window of the police car parked across the street from my house. The officer inside the car appears surprised by my sudden appearance. He rolls his window down and I tell him someone might've been watching me. Although it could be my nerves and active imagination, I don't want to take any chances.
The officer starts his car and drives to Apple Street to investigate. I wait on the porch for him to return. His car turns the corner ten minutes later and he confirms he didn't see anything suspicious, but I'd done the right thing to report it. Feeling foolish, I thank him and go inside.
I'd gotten a text from Rory on my iPhone while I was gone.
Feeling better?
I refrain from mentioning the incident involving my over-active imagination.
Yes, heading out to visit my friend Ricky at the hospital. Will be home for dinner. I'm cooking.
She responds with a cute smiley face. To cover all bases, I text Mom and Dad, Jack and Traci. I let them all know I'm feeling better.
I grab Mom's car keys and open the garage. I know Mom and Dad will ground me once they return so what's the point of worrying about driving Mom's car? I haven't driven her car since Saturday night. The hospital is only a few miles away so I'm not concerned with the mileage showing on the odometer and there's enough gas to get me there and back.
As I slowly back out of the garage I notice the officer watching me. Again, he nods and I wave as the garage door closes and I drive by his car. He doesn't follow. His instructions must be to watch the house, not necessarily me. I make a pit-stop at the local Rite-Aide and buy three magazines, an assortment of candy bars, and a "Get Well Soon" card for Ricky, and then head to the hospital.
A receptionist directs me to Ricky's room and I pass patients walking the hallway and several visitors exiting the elevator. I ride the elevator to the third floor and hesitantly exit. Will he want visitors? I lightly knock on the closed door of his room.
"Come in," he answers.
Ricky smiles when I enter the room and I know visiting was the right decision.
"How are you feeling?" I ask.
"Better, thanks to you," he grins.
I hold up the pharmacy bag. "I brought you something." I set the bag next to him and he eagerly dumps the candy bars and magazines onto his lap. He has several pillows propping him up in bed. The television is turned on but muted.
"I don't know about you, but candy always makes me feel better." It's a small token of friendship but I think for Ricky it means a lot. His smile is genuine as he tears the wrapper off the candy bar and takes a big bite. His hospital room is so bare. Have I been his only visitor?
"Thanks, Morgan." He waves the chocolate bar in the air, "You didn't have to come, much less bring me something."
"Why? I've been worried about you and besides, you're my friend." The shades are open and the afternoon sun is shining brightly in the room. "You have a nice view," I remark, gazing at the parking lot below.
"I wouldn't know. I've been in bed the whole time, watching TV and sleeping." He grabs the remote control and turns the TV off. "Morgan---"
"You don't have to say anything. None of this was your fault."
He's wearing a traditional gown but I can see the bandages wrapped around his ribs peeking out through at the neckline of the gown. Quietly, he shifts his attention to the thin hospital blanket pulled to his waist and fingers the satin edging.
"Brian's still missing. The police have AJ and Tommy in a juvenile facility. Apparently, they're seventeen. I've never seen them at school before."
"Who knows who my brother hung around with," Ricky murmurs.
"Do you really think he had something to do with Caroline's disappearance?" Dead or alive, where is she?
"I think so." Ricky's voice is so faint the words are barely audible.
The next hour passes quickly as we watch TV together and he thumbs through the magazines I brought. Several nurses circulate through the room during my visit, checking his bandages and vitals. We keep our conversation to safe topics. We don't discuss last night. The situation is out of our hands and in the lap of the police.
"I'll stop by tomorrow after school to see you."
I'm ready to leave when a woman enters the room. She's wearing worn jeans and a shabby t-shirt. Her long, greyish-brown hair is pulled back in an unkempt ponytail. Weariness is etched on her face and displayed in her pale, blue eyes, showcased by dark circles under them. Despite her worn façade, her faces lights up at the sight of Ricky.
"Hi, Honey," she greets him with a light kiss on his forehead. "How are you feeling today? And who's your friend?"
"Hi, Mom. This is Morgan." Ricky nods in my direction.
"Nice to meet you," I tell her. "Actually, I'm on my way out. I'll leave the two of you alone."
His mother stares at me. Her warm expression suddenly concerned. "You're the girl Brian attacked?" she asks quietly.
I look uncertainly at Ricky, but he nods slightly. "Yes, I guess I am," I answer.
Pity washes over her expression. "Oh, Sweetie, I am so sorry for you."
She approaches me and circles her thin arms around my shoulders in a hug. I limply hug her back, surprised by her reaction.
"I'm so sorry for what my son did to you." She pulls back and stares at me.
I want to leave, to run out of the room. I'm at a loss for words.
"Mom---" Ricky thankfully breaks the silence.
Her weary arms release me and she steps back, looking apologetic. "Sorry Morgan. I feel awful about all of this." She shifts her attention to her son. "And you, I'm so sorry Ricky. I had no idea what Brian was doing to you."
Tears well in her eyes. I don't know Ricky well enough to witness such a personal moment.
"Ricky, I'll visit soon. Nice meeting you." I nod to his mom, grab my purse, and leave.
Sitting in Mom's car, I'm overwhelmed by thoughts of Caroline, missing and possibly dead. Brian, inflicting pain onto his own little brother, and Ricky's mom -- claiming to be unaware of Ricky's abuse but perhaps avoiding it for her own reasons. Regardless of what really happened to Caroline, she's still missing. Ricky and his mom will have a lot to deal with themselves. And Brian -- what compels him to beat his own brother? Was he beaten too? And where's Ricky's dad?
I want my mom. I miss her and long to feel her arms around me. Like Ricky's mom, is she blind to the fact that I'm hurting emotionally? Do I mask my own pain the way Ricky masks his? I take several deep breaths before I start the car. My parents will be arriving home soon. I need to get back to the house to fix dinner and to be there when they arrive.
But first I want to visit Jack. When I arrive at his house his mom is unpacking groceries from her car. She seems happy to see me and tells me Jack is upstairs in his room, studying. I grab the remaining grocery bags and follow her into the house and set the bags on the granite kitchen countertops. She thanks me for my help. As I ascend the stairs I bend over and affectionately pet Jack's dogs -- Marley and Barley. They lift their heads appreciatively as I scratch under their chins.
Jack's door is closed so I lightly knock.
"Come in," he shouts.
He's resting on his bed with his legs stretched out and his bandaged ankle elevated by several pillows.
"Morgan." A sexy smile spreads across his face.
I close the door and sit beside him on the bed. Leaning forward, I kiss him lightly. "Hi. I missed you," I whisper softly.
"Me too. I'm so happy you stopped by." His hand threads through my hair. "You're a good distraction. I'm tired of studying for my Science test."
His urgent lips press against mine. This kiss is longer and more passionate.
"How's your ankle?" I ask after we break for air.
"Better. Doctor says I'll be on crutches for a few weeks before I can walk on it." His hands lightly pull my hair back, exposing my bruised neck. "How's your neck? Sore?"
"Yes," I pull my hair from his grasp and cover my bruises.
"I'm so sorry that happened to you, Morgan." He pats the bedside and smiles. "Here, lie down next to me."
He scoots over and makes room for me on this twin bed. I lie beside him and rest my head on his chest. His hand soothingly rubs my back and I listen to his quickened heartbeat. We remain silent. Lying beside one another is enough. I start to doze off when the ringing of my cell phone wakes me up.
"Hello?"
"Morgan, where are you? I need you to come home right away." Rory sounds concerned.
"I was planning on coming home soon."
"Fine, but I need you home now. I have to take you to the police station."
I sit up straight in the bed. "Why?" Jack watches closely. The room is silent and he can overhear Rory on the other end.
"Todd just called me. The police arrested Brian. Todd needs you to identify him at the station." My heart stills. Jack and I stare at one another.
"I'm on my way." I end the call and stand up. My nightmare is over. At least I know Brian isn't hiding in the bushes or lurking around my house, waiting to attack me.
"I'll go with you." Jack attempts to stand.
"No, Jack. Stay here. I'll be fine." I kiss him and he grabs my hand tightly.
"Let me come with you. I want to see this guy---"
"I need to do this on my own," I assure him.
Jack sits back down. We have our own battles to fight. Mine is with Brian, his is with himself and his own healing. I can't heal him. Only he can heal himself.
"I'll call you when I get home." He shakes his head and I leave, saying good-bye to his mom as I pass her in hallway.
On the short drive home all I think about is Brian. I remember when he passed my car and stopped twice when I was stranded on the side of the road. I remember when I jumped from his car, fearful of his intent to hurt me. I remember him standing on my porch, returning my wallet. I remember finding Tiger at his house. And it was only yesterday when he and Tommy chased me through the woods. He'd even convinced his friends -- AJ and Tommy -- to hurt Ricky and me and to hold us captive.
When I pull into my driveway, Rory's waiting outside with her car keys in her hand.
"I'll drive," she says and slides into her car and unlocks the door for me.
I park Mom's car in the garage and jump into Rory's Jaguar. The plush, leather seat molds to my body as I sink into the passenger's seat. Rory keeps glancing at me, as if she wants to say something, but she remains quiet.
At the entrance to the police station she stops and gives me an encouraging look. "Are you ready for this? Todd said they need you to identify him and give the police an official statement."
"I'm ready," I say and she hugs me close. I appreciated her support until my parents arrive home in another two hours.
"We can go in now." I squeeze her hand reassuringly.
Officer Todd Whitman is inside waiting for us. He winks at Rory and flashes me a big smile, all the while thanking us for arriving quickly. We're led to a bare room housing a table and several chairs. Five minutes later he returns and we follow him into a room with a large mirror.
He assures me the men in the other room can't see through the double-sided mirror. Each man is instructed to step forward and I immediately recognize Brian, number three.
"That's him. He's the guy I was in the car with and who chased me through the woods." The line-up is over. I follow Officer Whitman back to the first room he asked Rory and I to wait in. Now he instructs me to sit and write down everything -- from the beginning -- that happened to me. As I begin to write, Rory scoots her chair away from the table and busies herself with her cell phone. Officer Whitman leaves the room, assuring me he'll be back soon.
My pencil flies over the notebook pages. I hurriedly fill the pages, describing the events that transpired over the past several days. Writing everything down is so cathartic. My bottled up feelings pour out of me in the form of written words. Several times I feel Rory's gaze rest upon me as I studiously write but nothing distracts me from telling my side of the story. When I'm finally done, I've written seven pages. Mentally exhausted, I hand the pages to Officer Whitman when he returns.
"I know this must've been very hard for you," he says.
I'd included all the details of the events and I'm certain nothing is missing from my story. I wearily stand, anxious to be home and for this all to be behind me. Officer Whitman thanks me for cooperating and for coming in.
Rory's hand guides me out of the room. "I'll call you later," she says over her shoulder to Todd as we leave.
Mom and Dad arrive in Dad's SUV after Rory and I park in the driveway. Mom immediately jumps out of the car as Dad turns the engine off. Her arms fold around me and she hugs me harder than she's ever hugged me before.
"Morgan, I'm so sorry," is all she manages to say before she cries.
Mom's arms around me and hearing her sobs in my ear makes me tear up. Standing in the driveway, I mirror Mom's sobs. Her arms wrap tighter around me until I'm gasping for breath. She steps back and kisses my temples several times, then tugs me into her arms for another smothering embrace. She's so warm and smells of her chic, expensive perfume that I often spritz on myself before school. How I've missed her smell, the sound of her soft breaths, and the motherly comfort of her arms.
Dad slams the car door and hauls several of the suitcases to the porch. Once Mom pulls away, Dad steps in and wraps me in a big bear hug. Over Dad's shoulder I watch Rory and Mom embrace. Mom thanks Rory for everything she's done this week.
"I'm so sorry," Dad whispers in my ear.
"Why?"
"I shouldn't have left you."
I pull away and stare hard at him. "Dad, you did nothing wrong."
"You're my little girl. You were in trouble and I wasn't here to protect you."
I'd never seen my dad so deflated, weak, and vulnerable. I'd done this to him. I'm his Achilles heel. My dad, my protector -- he has to accept that I'm growing up and I have to make decisions for myself.
I can't talk. My throat is constricted and I know if I speak I'll cry. My actions hurt my dad. I want my strong, confident, fearless father back -- not this man standing before me, filled with worry and concern. I wrap my arms around him and his arms circle around me too. I rest my head against his chest, close my eyes, and listen to the steady beats of his heart. He's home now, Brian's at the police station, and life can reset back to normal.
Once inside the house, Mom and Dad settle in and I retire to my room until dinner. Rory, despite my objections, wants to cook dinner for everyone tonight. I relent, feeling the need to lie down and rest. I curl up on my bed and close my eyes when I hear the house phone ring. Nobody calls that number anymore. Everyone I talk to calls my cell phone. I roll onto my side and scrunch my pillow under my head, wanting a nap desperately. A light knocking on my door interrupts my rest.
"It's open," I call from my bed.
Rory steps into the room. "I know you must be tired but Todd called." She walks across the room and sits on the edge of my bed.
"Got a hot date planned?" I tease her but she doesn't smile. Instead, she reaches for my hand and holds it gently.
"I'm so sorry, Morgan, but the police released Brian."
I suck in my breath. "What? What about my statement? I identified him!"
This can't be happening. Things are supposed to be normal now. Brian's supposed to be in jail and Mom and Dad are home. My attacker isn't supposed to be on the loose again.
"I don't understand." My heart is racing and sleep is the furthest thing from my mind now. I swing my legs off the bed and begin pacing the room nervously.
"Morgan, they don't have any evidence to support your statement. They can't hold him without evidence."
"But he chased me yesterday and he had my dog at his house. This is bullshit, Rory. You know it too." I can't think straight. It's so unfair. I'd confessed everything and he's being released.
Rory shakes her head in understanding. "Tommy is still locked up. He's the one who attacked you."
Her attempt to make me feel better doesn't work.
"They all attacked me. And Ricky too." I stare out my window, now dark outside. I hear Mom and Dad talking downstairs. I want to be alone. Rory stands up, as if sensing my need for privacy, and walks toward the door.
"Do you want this closed?" she asks.
"Please." Before she shuts the door I stop her. "Rory, thank you. Thank you for being here these past few days."
She smiles and closes the door. I hear her tell Mom and Dad in the hallway that I want to be alone right now. They must've come upstairs to check on me.
I ignore the messages and texts on my cell phone. Frustrated, I log onto my laptop and Google stories about other girls who had been attacked and how they dealt with it. Then I do something I haven't done yet -- I research Caroline's disappearance online. I don't know her last name so I have to navigate through many links to finally locate the local story.
I do look like her! I stare at my computer screen with her photo from the article that ran in the local newspaper. The similarities are scary. Had Brian really hurt her or killed her? Did he have anything to do with her disappearance? Would the police ever find her? Reading the articles isn't encouraging. The police have no leads and it's been months since she went missing.
I devour the article and the details of her disappearance. She's twenty-one and had visited several local bars with her friends on a Saturday night. Her friends claim Caroline didn't drink that night and was sober when she drove home. She never made it home, though. Her car was found several days later in a wooded area. Police searched the woods for signs of her disappearance but they hadn't found anything. I don't know how long I sit in front of my computer, starring at her picture, but I can't get over the fact that she's been missing for four months. How close was I to facing the same fate as Caroline?
I shut down my laptop and run a bubble-bath in my bathroom. The tub fills and the lavender-scent permeates through my bathroom. I grab my iPod, strip out of my clothes, and sink into the warm water. My favorite music pipes through my ear-buds and drowns out the world around me.
Visions of the past week flash through my mind as I soak in the water with my eyes closed. I recall the moment Mom's car ran out of gas and I parked on the side of the road. Brian's face, pressed against the passenger side window, is clear in my mind. I envision him driving with the cigarette in his hand. I recall hiding behind the tree in the woods, hearing him approach, his grip on my arm, my fist connecting with his face, his threats, yells, and angry words --all reminders of what I escaped.
I place my ear-buds on the side of the tub, next to my iPod. Sinking beneath the water, I hold my breath, imaging myself buried, forgotten, gone. I hold my breath for over a minute. Rising beneath the remaining bubbles, I exhale, happy to be alive.
The thing about high school is eventually a new story replaces an old one. After a month, the gossip shifted from me to Aurora Blake when her pregnancy started showing in her fifth month. Girls have gotten pregnant in my school before, but Aurora is the local minister's daughter. Even more shocking is her boyfriend's admission that they've never had sex which has everyone speculating who the father is. Immaculate conception, indeed. I could care less. At least my name isn't whispered anymore.
Mom and Dad ground me indefinitely. They admit I've disappointed them and they need time to regain their trust in me. I also suppose they're scared something will happen to me, especially since Brian is free.
One morning Dad suggests I stop by Shop-Aide, the local drug store, after school to talk to Mr. Milon, a friend of his who's the store manager. He heard Shop-Aide is hiring. After completing an application and interviewing with Mr. Milon, I get hired. I'm scheduled four nights a week and all day Sunday as a cashier. By the end of the summer I'll have enough saved for a down-payment on a car. Awesome!
Jack and I have taken a step back in our relationship. The conditions of my grounding don't allow me to hang out at my friends' homes. They're allowed to come to my house but we're confined to the living room or the front porch. Jack and I only have privacy when he picks me up after work or when we hang out on the porch. Dad's always watching the news in the living room when he's home so there's no point hanging out in there.
These days, Traci and Carlos are inseparable. Traci rarely stops by. We talk and text more than we see each other. I'm happy for her, though. Carlos is a great guy and he's crazy about her. The past few weeks Traci and Jack have gotten in the habit of visiting me at work. I enjoy restocking the shelves at night because they can talk to me in the aisles while I work. Sometimes Mr. Milon will give me a warning, but I've never been late to work and my register has never been short money so I'm on his good side for now. Therefore, he overlooks my friends talking to me for twenty minutes during my shifts.
Ricky and I haven't kept in touch despite what we went through. I visited him twice before he was released from the hospital. Occasionally, we bump into one another in the halls at school but he always looks embarrassed to see me or talk to me. I think he's carrying a lot of guilt and shame around on his shoulders and I really hope he's receiving some counseling.
Ms. Trudell, the school counselor, and I still have our weekly sessions in her office. I enjoy talking to her. I'm relieved after our conversations. Disclosing my fears and worries is cathartic. She knows I love Brach's watermelon hard-candies and keeps a bowl on her desk filled with them especially for me. I leave her office with a handful stuffed in my pocket and the payoff is worth the discussions. I often wonder if Ricky talks to her too, but it's not my business to ask. Perhaps I'll ask him one day if he likes watermelon hard-candies too.
Tonight, my shift at work ends in ten minutes. I finish ringing up my customer's order and smile at Rose when she arrives and stashes her purse under the counter. Rose disappears into the back office and returns with her register till to relieve me. After balancing my register in the office, I say good-night to my co-workers and meet Mom outside. She's parked in front of the store waiting for me. Jack's ankle healed and tonight he's playing basketball at the gym with his friends.
My relationship with my mother has improved. She often picks me up at work if Jack is busy and we've shopped at the King of Prussia mall three times since she returned from Chicago. We even met Traci and her mom there one day and all shopped and had lunch together. Traci helped me pick out new jeans, boots, sweaters, and hoodies for school. Mom and I actually had fun shopping together. She wasn't serious and moody like she typically is.
"How was work?" Mom asks as she pulls away from the curb.
"Fine."
"Hungry? I thought we could grab a bite to eat at Victor's. Dad's working late tonight. He's taking clients to dinner." Mom's hands rest casually on the steering wheel, her nails perfectly manicured.
"Sure, sounds great. I'm starving." I worked three to seven so I didn't have time to eat after school and before work.
I've resolved to ease up on Mom. If she makes an effort, which she has lately, then I'll make an effort too. As we drive to Victor's Mom asks me about school, tests, and my friends. We chat openly. But when she parks the car in Victor's parking lot her easy going attitude is lost. Turning to me, I can't ignore the serious expression on her face. Uh-oh. Now what.
"Morgan, before we go inside to eat there's something I want to discuss with you." Mom rests her hand lightly on my knee. "I've wanted to tell you for a while but I didn't know how to bring it up."
Are Mom and Dad getting divorced? Is she sick? Did she lose her job?
"Just tell me." I squeeze her hand encouragingly, but I'm nervous about what she's going to say. Her words could change everything.
"When you were seven your father and I were expecting a baby boy." Tears well in her eyes.
Stunned, I don't know what to say. I would've been an older sister. I would've had a little brother. But what happened to the baby?
"Mom?"
Mom nods her head and takes a deep breath. "When I was four months pregnant your father rushed me to the hospital. You stayed with Grandma while I was in the hospital for several days. The doctors and nurses monitored the baby but on the third day I lost him." Tears roll down Mom's smooth cheeks. "We never told you about the baby. I should have told you, Morgan, but losing the baby was a tremendous loss for me. I tried for many years to get pregnant after you were born. He was my miracle baby and I knew my body wouldn't carry another after him."
Without hesitating, I unbuckle my seatbelt and throw my arms around her thin shoulders. Her warm tears soak into my Shop-Aide shirt. As she cries I sense her relief after finally sharing this secret she's been harboring for a decade.
"Morgan, I'm so sorry," she sobs. "After I lost the baby I couldn't imagine losing you too. I pushed you away to protect myself from getting hurt again, but I missed out on the joy of having you in my life."
Her admission leaves me speechless. Finding out I would've had a little brother is shocking, but even more surprising is seeing my stoic mother vulnerable and trembling before me. I don't hate her. She should have told me sooner, but I can't begin to understand the loss she's suffered. Mom loves me, I know she does.
"Okay," the words roll off my tongue.
"Okay?" Mom asks.
We still have a long way to go to repair our relationship. But I imagine Ms. Trudell telling me, "You're heading in the right direction."
"Okay," I repeat with a glimmer of hope.
Mom smiles hesitantly and kisses my cheek. "I love you so much, Sweetie."
Once we've dried our eyes and comforted each other, we go to dinner and enjoy a great meal despite the tears and confession in the car. We talk about college and Jack. Somehow the conversation shifts to celebrities and movies we want to see. Mom suggests we invite Jack to the movies this weekend. I haven't been to the theater in months. Even though it's a double date with my parents, I'm already looking forward to a night out.
After a wonderfully delicious dinner, Mom and I arrive at home the same time Dad pulls into the driveway.
"How are my two favorite ladies?" Dad beams, handsome and dazzling in his suit, button down shirt, and tie.
"Wonderful. How's my gorgeous husband?" Mom croons, linking her arm through his and kissing his cheek.
"Great, now that I'm home with the two of you. Plus, I scored a big account over dinner." Dad always wins his accounts with his industry knowledge, charm, and engaging smile.
Lately, I've wondered if my relationship would've improved with my mother if I hadn't been grounded. My parents and I have been getting along better since I've been home. I miss seeing my friends and going to parties but I admit that it's been nice at home without arguing with Mom or dealing with her bad attitude. She's more relaxed and hasn't raised her voice at me in ages. Even she and Dad are getting along better. There's a happy vibe in the house that I want to last.
We're greeted at the door by Tiger. "Morgan, do you have a minute to walk Tiger? I'd really like to change my clothes and talk to your mother."
"Sure Dad." I leash Tiger and head out the door. At the end of the driveway I realize I should have grabbed a flashlight on the way out because it's dark outside. I continue ahead. I know these streets like the back of my hand and besides, it's only a short walk. I want to change out of my work clothes too and call Jack.
"Come on, Tiger," I urge, anxious to get the walk over with.
The night is quiet and the half-moon casts a familiar glow over the neighborhood. A quiet summer breeze kisses my skin. Tiger and I are the only ones roaming the streets at this hour. A nearby bush rustles. Tiger barks and sniffs around, searching for the source of the disturbance. I suspect it's a rabbit but stop and let the dog investigate. Darkness cloaks us as we stand beside a neighbor's wooden fence.
I tug the leash, anxious to move on and go somewhere more lit. "Tiger," I hiss but he ignores me as he sniffs the ground.
"Come on," I tug the leash again. This time he stops and turns. He walks away from the bushes and stands beside me. His growl resonates throughout the silent night.
I realize I'm not the one who distracted him. Behind me, I hear the shuffling of footsteps. A familiar scent of clove cigarettes lingers nearby. Tiger's growl rumbles deeper in his chest followed by a warning bark. Slowly, I turn and face the figure that steps from behind a tree and blocks my path.
"Hello, Caroline." The voice shatters the evening's peacefulness. The person steps out of the shadows. Moonlight brushes his face.
Shocked, my heart hammers in my chest as I stare into Brian's dark, menacing eyes.
"How did you---" he begins to ask.
"I'm not Caroline," I stammer as I glance around for a way to escape. His hands are clenched at his sides. Is he concealing a weapon? Tiger advances and protectively stands in front of me.
"This time you're not getting away," he threatens and glances down at the dog.
Regaining my senses, I drop the leash and bolt for home. My injuries have healed so I'm faster and stronger. I race toward my house. Tiger yelps, halting me. I stop and turn but can't see him or Brian. I shouldn't have dropped his leash. Without hesitating, I run toward the sound of Tiger's yelp.
Out of the shadows, Brian plows into me, knocking me on my side in the middle of the road. My shoulder bears the impact of the fall. He straddles me and his hands hover over my throat. I imagine Tommy's hands clenched on my neck, blocking my breath. Not again. I jerk my hips up forcefully, throwing Brian off balance. Seizing the opportunity, I shove him to the side and roll from under him.
His powerful grasp clamps onto my arm but I counteract by shoving my fingers in his eyes. His scream pierces the night and I scramble to my feet. Shouting at the top of my lungs, I race down the street. Dad's form is silhouetted against the porch light as he steps outside.
"Call 911," I scream. "Brian's after me!"
Glancing back, I spy Brian chasing me. Tiger emerges from the shadows, biting at his heels. This will end tonight, I resolve. Caroline and I are not destined for the same fate. I'll fight him with every ounce of strength I have.
Dad runs toward me, fury etched on his face. My heart swells as he runs to my aide. Bravely, I turn to confront Brian but he's gone. Scanning the surrounding houses, I can't see him or Tiger. They've disappeared. Even Tiger's barks are hushed.
"Are you hurt, Morgan?" Dad asks, rushing to my side.
"Just my shoulder," I groan. The street is suddenly silent other than our labored breathing.
"Where'd he go?"
"I don't know." I breathe. "He was right behind me. Tiger too." I don't trust Brian. He attacked me before from the shadows when I stopped to help Tiger. "Let's get back to the house."
"Mom called the police. They'll be here any minute," Dad confirms as we cautiously head home.
Sirens scream through the neighborhood and the constant red and blue lights flash in front of my house. I relay my story to the police. Squad cars disperse in search of Brian and Tiger.
Officer Whitman arrives at the house with Rory. They were on a dinner date when he got a call informing him Brian attacked me. An EMT is bandaging my shoulder as he approaches. Déjà vu. It was only recently when he questioned me outside an ambulance after Tommy attacked me.
I relay the exact words Brian spoke to me. Officer Whitman's jaw tenses but he lays a reassuring hand on my good shoulder. In my gut, I know Brian hurt Caroline. He had me mistaken for her and meant to harm me the same way he harmed her. I pray he's caught and confesses what he did to Caroline.
A squad car parks in front of my house. Brian's glaring at me from the backseat. The officer informs us he hid in some bushes but Tiger cornered him.
Tiger! Where is he? Another police car pulls up and Tiger's sitting in the backseat. The officer jumps out of his vehicle and opens the back door. Tiger bolts from the car directly toward me. I immediately notice the stain on his black and tan coat. He's hurt.
Dad helps me calm him down so an EMT can examine him. It appears to be a knife wound. Brian stabbed him? Fury and rage builds deep within me as I stand and begin walking determinedly toward the car he's locked in. I can hear Dad calling my name and Mom yells for me to come back. It's Rory, though, who steps in front of me. I don't even know what I intend to do. I want to hurt him the way he's hurt me, and Tiger, and Caroline. I want him to suffer too.
"He's not worth it, Morgan," Rory says as she presses her palm against my chest to halt me.
"He's not getting away with this," I yell, outraged by the smug expression on his face as he watches me.
"He's not. The police arrested him. This time he's getting locked up."
"It's not enough," I cry.
Rory wraps her arm around my shoulder and guides me inside the house, away from his ugly gaze and the curious stares from my neighbors.
The rest of the night is a blur. I call Jack at some point and tell him what happened. Shortly after, he arrives at my house, accompanied by Traci and Carlos. The three of them are a great comfort to me. We sit in the living room with Rory and my parents. Officer Whitman went back to the police station.
Later that night while we're all watching TV the phone rings. Rory jumps off the couch to answer it. Dad puts the television on mute while we all listen in as she says one or two sentences, nods and then is quiet on the phone. After she hangs up, she glances at us.
"That was Todd. He called to let us know Brian confessed," she says quietly. "He killed Caroline."
Dad turns the TV off and a sorrowful hush lingers in the room. Caroline is dead. Sadness swells in my chest as I think about her family, Ricky, and his mother. Knowing she's dead is devastating.
"What happened?" I ask quietly.
Rory slumps on the couch beside my mother and is enveloped in her arms.
"He told the police they'd argued. He struck her and she'd fallen and hit her head. He hadn't meant to kill her. He told the police where he buried her body."
A heavy silence hangs in the room. My heart pounds fiercely.
He would've killed me. I know it.
I hitched a ride with a killer and I survived.

