The Rules for Disappearing (22 page)

Brandon, beautiful Brandon, drops to the floor. From behind the couch, all I can see are his feet and they aren’t moving. I look down and I’m covered in blood—Brandon’s blood.

S—

Then the noise in my head dies down and it’s finally quiet. All I N—

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can hear is the rhythmic dripping from the sink. My face is wet and I realize I’ve been crying.

Drip . . . drip . . . drip. . . .

I can’t move. Or think. Brandon’s dead. Mr. Price is dead. The movie in my mind fades to black. That’s it. That’s the last thing I remember.

I don’t know what to do. I feel sick again. Those were not just nightmares. They were memories. My memories.

Oh, God, I can’t believe he’s dead. And I’ll never see him again—

he’s gone.

I curl up on the floor and stuff my fingers in my ears. I can’t take this. Brandon’s dead and now someone wants me dead, too. I’m close to passing out again just like I did in the woods.

I start humming.

Anything to drown out Mom’s words rolling through my head.

“It’s you they’re after . . . it’s you they’re after. . . .”

My head hurts. It feels like ten thousand needles are sticking in my left arm. I try to get up, but the arm buckles underneath me. There is a soft light filtering through the windows of the laundry room. I check my watch. Dad will be up soon.

I suddenly realize how horrible I’ve been, blaming him for getting us into this, when it was me this whole time.

Throwing my bloody shirt away, I stagger to the door. In no

time, I’m flying down the driveway to the house. Mom’s still passed out on the table and Teeny’s still sleeping but I hear Dad starting to stir. He’s probably figuring out Mom never came back to bed.

—S

—N

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I lock myself in the bathroom then turn on the shower, strip,

and jump in before the water gets hot. I slide to the floor and pull my knees in close. Questions roll through my brain so fast it hurts.

What am I going to do? What does it mean that I remember? Obviously someone is after us because of what I saw. Is it the man with the scar? And why is it a secret?

Brandon’s dead.

The thought pops in my head and I begin to cry. Hard. I’ve

gone this long blocking out his death and now the only thing I can think of is his crumpled body and the obscene amount of blood that splattered out of him. I try to think of a time when he was alive and happy but I can’t picture him any other way.

Why was he there? Why was I there? There’s so much that’s

still fuzzy.

I hear the shouting match between Scar Face and Mr. Price in

my head again.

Where are the ledgers?

That’s what he kept screaming. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying

to remember. I think there was a book. I can see Mr. Price with something, but what was it? Every detail I try to focus on retreats out of my head. Like my mind is playing a game with me.

Arghhh! This is so frustrating.

Dad said earlier that going to trial doesn’t mean we’re getting out of Witness Protection. And he’s kept this from me all this time.

Why? Will I have to testify? He didn’t even hesitate before he killed Brandon. Every time I think about Brandon, my eyes swell with

S—

tears and I wonder horrible things like did he know what was about N—

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body. I don’t think I could ever be in the same room with Scar Face again.

I scrub my hair and body as if I could wash away the last

twenty-four hours. I have to get out of here. There’s no way to face Mom this morning after our conversation last night. I run from the bathroom in my towel and get dressed in record time. I wake Teeny, rushing her to get dressed, too. I’m scared to see Mom. I’m afraid she’s going to remember what she told me. The only thing I know for sure is I’m not ready to let anyone know I have my memory back until I can figure some things out. I can’t shake the feeling there’s still something missing.

We get outside early to wait for the bus. Ethan told me last

night when he dropped me off that he would be taking Bandit to the vet first thing this morning so he wouldn’t be able to pick us up.

Teeny’s pouting, walking around the lot kicking loose rocks. I don’t know what has made her madder—that I got her up so early or that we’re back on the bus. I sit on the bottom step and wait. My entire body is in a state of tension I didn’t know existed.

The bus drags down the street. Just as it stops at the curb,

Ethan pulls into the parking lot. Teeny lets out a yelp and tries to get in his truck before it even stops. I walk toward him more slowly.

After last night, I don’t even know what to do.

Once I’m in the truck, Ethan says, “Morning” to Teeny, then

looks at me, “You okay?”

True concern is written all over his entire face. He’s worried about me and what happened and, God, how can I let him be anywhere near me right now? I’m a target, the reason my entire family

—S

lost everything we had and are living under a fake name. And he

—N

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thinks I’m just some girl who freaked out over a dog getting hurt and a hog getting shot.

“Fine.” I answer.

Teeny starts jabbering about something. She’ll take care of all the conversation until we pull away from her school.

“I totally creamed them in Monopoly. You should have seen it,

Meg was the first one out and then I went for Dad.”

Ethan’s laughing. They’re sitting here talking about regular life and I’m one step from full panic mode.

Scar Face killed Brandon just for walking in the room. Ethan

could be next. Or Teeny.

The enormity of this is finally sinking in.

The entire trip to Teeny’s school, I watch the side mirror. I’m close to hyperventilating by the time we drop Teeny off. Every dark-haired man I see makes my heart stop.

“Man, that girl can talk,” Ethan says once Teeny’s gone. “Are

you sure you’re okay?”

Hell, no.

I nod. “I’m fine. I thought you’d be with Bandit this morning.”

“I was. Dad and I took him over around five this morning. He’s all stitched up and sleeping it off at the vets.” Ethan looks at me closely and says, “Maybe you should’ve stayed home today?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine, really.” I’d go crazy trapped in the house with Mom and my thoughts all day long.

We pull into school and walk toward the building. Lots of peo-

ple in the parking lot this morning but I zero in on the perimeter. Is S—

someone out there, right now, looking for me? Would he kill Ethan N—

just for being with me?

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Before we part to go to our lockers, Ethan says, “Meet me in the parking lot at lunch. We’ll get out of here for a little while.”

I nod, then stand there watching Ethan walk away. There’s no

chance of a relationship with him now. I won’t go to lunch . . . or ride to school with him . . . or anything else. The best thing I can do for Ethan is stay as far away from him as possible. Anyone close to me is in danger.

I should have stuck with The Plan. Distance. No relationships.

No friends. Definitely no boyfriends. The Plan was in place for a reason.

More and more details from that night at Brandon’s house have

been flooding in. One minute I’m staring at the chalkboard, the next I’m back in that room. I’m remembering weird things, like the vase of flowers that flew off the desk when Mr. Price and Scar Face started fighting.

I still can’t figure out why I was even there that night. That’s bugged me all morning.

While my English lit teacher drones on about
Macbeth
, I squeeze my eyes shut and start at the beginning: walking up the steps at Elle’s house, petting the dog, and Laura’s high-pitched laugh while she made fun of me to Brandon. Oh, God, Laura! She told Brandon she would meet him at his house. Was she there?

I rack my brain but I can’t pull up a single memory of Laura at his house that night.

I know I went to that sophomore’s party and wanted nothing

more than to get drunk and forget about what happened.

—S

I run my hands through my hair as the party gets a little clearer.

—N

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That’s not true—after downing a few beers, I decided to confront Laura and Brandon. I didn’t care anymore what they would think of me. I knew they’d be at Brandon’s so that’s where I went. I remember stumbling across the lawn, tripping over the garden hose by the back door. I wanted to surprise them so I didn’t knock, just tiptoed in through the kitchen door. The house was dark. And quiet.

But they weren’t upstairs so I expanded my search downstairs,

wandering into Mr. Price’s office, and saw him behind his desk.

After that, my memory gets hazy. He was doing something. Lift-

ing something big, or maybe moving it—I can’t remember. I heard someone coming down the hall so I dove behind the couch. Everything seemed wrong all of a sudden—like I knew I shouldn’t be

there—so I hid. A few minutes later, Scar Face entered the room and he scared the crap out of me. No way was I coming out after I saw him. I decided to wait them out.

And then all hell broke loose.

The bell rings, ending class, and I’m happy to be pulled out of my thoughts. I have to shut my mind down for a while. I’m overwhelmed with the influx of information over the last twenty-four hours and completely numb at this point. I slide a note in Ethan’s locker and hide in the deserted stairwell when the bell rings for lunch. I need to end things with him—push him away to keep him safe—but I can’t handle that right now. And I can’t act like everything is fine either.

Catherine finds me after lunch and drags me into the girls’

bathroom with her.

S—

“What happened last night? I checked in late to school and then N—

you were a no-show for lunch. Girl, you had me worried.”

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“I don’t know. Just got a little scared.”

She steps up to the sink, digging around in her purse. She pulls out three different tubes of lip gloss before deciding which one she wants. Catherine hands one of the other tubes to me. “This one will look great on you.”

I take the tube from her and stare down at it. “Thanks.”

Catherine applies the gloss and smacks her lips together a few times. “You looked great Friday night. Ethan couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. And you should have seen him at lunch—lost without you. So what’s up with being Mrs. Frump at school?”

I blush slightly, shrugging my shoulders. I know how bad I look today. I spent half the night riding through the woods and the other half sleeping on the cold concrete floor in the laundry room.

I hand the gloss back to Catherine without ever applying any.

I’ve got to push her away too—Ethan isn’t the only one in danger just for being with me.

“Meg, he’s all yours if you want him, you know,” she says.

I nod. Wanting him is so not the problem. And after last night, I don’t believe there’s a chance in hell there could ever be a future for us, at least not while Scar Face is after me.

—S

—N

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RULES FOR DISAPPEARING

BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:

You can only disappear successful y if you know who you need to disappear from.

Iscrub the counter at Pearl’s, trying not to glance at the clock.

Fifteen minutes to eight. Ethan didn’t come in today. He told me in Health that he was going to check on Bandit then head to the farm.

He was more worried than pissed that I stood him up for lunch and his concern for me is going to make what I have to do that much harder.

I’ve been plagued all day with thoughts about how to break

things off with him and there’s no way to avoid it any longer. I have to do it tonight. But that doesn’t solve the more serious problem I have—someone wants me dead.

Assuming Scar Face is the one after me, these are my main

questions that I can’t work out:

1. Why did my parents hide the reason we are in Witness

Protection?

S—

2. Why didn’t the suits force me to get some sort of help to get N—

my memory back?

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3. Who is Scar Face and what are the ledgers he kept

screaming about?

4. What’s in the ledgers that is so important that Mr. Price

and Brandon had to die?

5. Who was Dad talking to in the laundry room? He asked

“What happens if I can’t find it?”
What is
it
? Is
it
the ledgers?

Is he helping Scar Face now?

6. What about all the crazy things that have been happening

to me lately? Feeling like I’m being followed, that night in

the laundry room, my missing journal, my open go-bag, the

man who called Pearl’s. . . . Is someone out there screwing

with me or am I completely losing my mind?

“Meg, you’re gonna rub a hole in that counter you keep scrub-

bing it like that.” Pearl’s watching me.

“Sorry.” I mumble.

“We’re done for the night. Let’s shut ’er down.”