Vanished (19 page)

You can't blame her for believing you and Jason might have been hooking up. What was she supposed to think? You used to push her buttons all the time. Annoying her
was funny to you. The idea of you being with Jason isn't completely ridiculous. It's not like someone already having a girlfriend was enough to stop you from fooling around in the past. You knew how much Jason meant to her, and you couldn't be bothered to reassure her because you were so busy with your fun new adventure. Britney deserved better than you gave her. You were a shitty friend, Beth
.

I know
, she wrote.

I wish I'd told her when I had the chance that I'd have done anything to help her through what happened with Jason. I wish she knew that even though she's gone, she can still always count on me
.

Brit always knew she could rely on you
.

You don't know that. We'll never know what she thought. I missed the chance to tell her, to make sure she knew without a doubt that I would always have her back, no matter what
.

My fingernail snapped as I jammed down on the keys. I tore the broken part off, wincing at the sharp pain. What I was writing wasn't a total lie. While trying to convince Britney that I was her closest friend in the world, I might have uncovered another truth. I was still mad at Beth too.

Beth had known Brit was upset, and upset for good reason, but she'd laughed off Brit's anger and protected Jason instead of telling the truth right away.

And I was mad at myself too. I'd been so focused on Beth I hadn't seen how close Britney was to the edge. I hadn't wanted to get mixed up in another one of their fights.
If I hadn't been so busy obsessing over Beth and trying to figure out what to do about Zach, then maybe I could have stepped in and defused things before this all happened.

Before things were forever fucked.

I picked up Roogs and buried my face in his fur. I needed to stay focused. I took a few deep breaths and then went back to the computer.

Sorry
, I typed, slower this time.
I had to get that out. I didn't want it to be between us
.

I'm glad you told me
, Brit responded.
Now we can move forward from here. No secrets
.

No more secrets
.

When I got home from school the following day, I went
up to my room and stopped short in the doorway, my body on high alert. Someone had been in my room.

It wasn't trashed. No one had dumped out my desk drawers or thrown everything in my closet onto the floor, but it felt wrong. Things were just slightly out of place, moved only enough to be noticeable to me.

I was compulsive about the things I kept on my dresser. I liked them arranged a certain way. My field hockey trophy needed to be lined up square with the upper corner. The silver hairbrush that belonged to my grandma had to be sitting horizontally, directly below the trophy, next to my jewelry box. The small ceramic bunny my dad gave me when I was
five had to sit at an angle so I could see his face when I was lying in bed. Yes, it was weird that it had to be like that, but it was like that. Always. But not now.

I slowly turned the bunny so he was at the correct angle. I hoped that would make me feel better, but I still could feel the wrongness of the room. The bedspread, which I always tugged all the way up, was folded back a few inches. My mouth tasted funny, almost electric, as if I'd been sucking on pennies. I stepped forward slowly, like I thought someone might be lurking in the closet, waiting to attack.

I reached for the things on my desk, but I was almost afraid to touch them. My fingers hovered above where my papers were still stacked, but I was almost sure they weren't in the same order. The window blinds were open all the way. I never left them like that. Never.

Thinking someone would break into my room just to rearrange things a touch was paranoid. Nuts. A prickle of sweat broke out under my arms.

Not someone. Britney. Somehow she knew I was lying to her, and this was a warning of what she could do.

I had to calm down. Brit couldn't have broken in. She was too far away. The things out of place were just a coincidence, or a trick of the imagination. There had to be another explanation.

I started organizing my room. I needed things to be back the way they were supposed to be. It felt as if my skin was smoldering beneath the surface, all itchy and wrong.
I shook out my folders and reordered the papers, tapping them each six times before tucking them back in.

I ripped the sheets off the bed. I didn't want to sleep on them. I hated the idea that Brit might have been here, looking through my things. I shoved the sheets into the bathroom hamper and pulled a clean set from the closet.

I twisted the blinds almost shut, trying to get the right angle. When I couldn't get it at first I almost started crying in frustration.

When everything was back the way it was supposed to be I thought I would feel the tiniest bit better, but I still felt horrible. It being right now didn't undo the wrongness that had been there. My heart was racing.

I sat down and tried to do the deep breathing that I'd learned years ago with Dr. Sherman. But I was shaking harder, breaking down. It wasn't working. I could feel control slipping out of my grasp. It felt like I was hanging off the roof of a hundred-story building and my fingers were sliding off one by one.

My breathing was coming faster. I worried my heart might explode out of my chest.

I dialed the phone. It took me two tries to hit the numbers right. When it went to voice mail I jammed the off button and called again. And then again. I gripped the phone like it was the only thing holding me in place.

“Kalah, I meant it when I said I needed some time,” Zach said instead of hello when he finally picked up.

“Help,” I gasped. I couldn't get enough air in my lungs to say more.

“What's wrong?” Zach's said, his voice instantly concerned. “Wait, never mind, where are you?”

“Home,” I whispered.

“Do you need me to call the cops? Or an ambulance or something?”

“No. You.”

“Stay on the phone. I'm close to your place. I'm on my way.” I could hear him grabbing things. “I'll keep talking to you until I get there, okay? You don't have to say anything, just let me know you're there once in a while.”

I gripped the phone like it was a life jacket and my ship had just gone down. I couldn't focus on what he was saying, but he kept talking in a soothing voice, keeping me from sinking. I heard his car squeal into the driveway within minutes.

“Kalah?” Zach yelled as he came through the front door. His feet pounded up the stairs. My door flew open and he spotted me on the floor. I must have looked as bad as I felt because his eyes grew really wide. He crouched down next to me. “Are you hurt? Should I call nine-one-one?” His hands patted my sides as if looking for a bullet wound.

I shook my head. Every nerve in my body was on high alert. “Panic,” I gasped out.

“Panic attack,” Zach finished. I'd told him about them, but he'd never seen one. Even though I knew it was all in
my mind, it felt impossible to stop it. I was trembling and sweating. It seemed possible I might die.

Zach looked scared, but he sat down on the floor and pulled me between his legs so that my back was against his chest, and wrapped his arms around me.

“Try to breathe with me,” he said. He took a long breath in and held it for a beat before letting it out. I tried to match it but couldn't. My entire body was shaking. “Shhh, you're okay. I got you,” Zach murmured.

I tried to tell him I was sorry, but I couldn't get the words out.

“Don't talk. Don't think. Just breathe. We're going to get through this together.” He took another deep breath in and out. I did the best I could to clear my thoughts and parrot his breathing. Time slowed down.

I closed my eyes and slowly felt myself start to calm. My heart no longer felt like it was straining out of my chest. I relaxed into Zach. His familiar smell helped. I became more aware of how close we were, how the heat of his body warmed mine. Zach's thumb slowly rubbed the back of my hand.

I sat forward, putting some space between us. “I'm better now,” I said. I was embarrassed and grateful and mad at myself all at the same time. Why did I have to have this problem? Why could no part of me be normal?

Zach leaned against my bed. He let out a shaking breath. “That was freaky.”

“Sorry.” I pulled my knees up and rested my chin on one. My shirt was stuck to my skin with sweat. Great. No better way to see your ex-boyfriend than while having a panic attack and sweating like a freak.

I tried to explain. “I wouldn't have called you, but my parents are at a cooking class. Nadir is too far away to do anything. I didn't know who else to call.” The fact that there was no one else in my life that I could reach out to said a lot about how shitty things were going. “Thank you.” I felt a chill where his warm body had touched mine just seconds before.

Zach shrugged uncomfortably. “I don't mind that you called.” He looked like he minded. He looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor, which made two of us hoping for a magical way out of this awkward situation. “What happened?” he asked.

“It's a panic attack. They just happen sometimes.”

Zach raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Out of nowhere?”

No way I was telling him that I was freaking out because I had a feeling that Britney had been in my room. He'd think I was losing it.

“I'm okay now,” I said instead. Part of me hoped he would push, that he'd beg me to tell him what was going on. I wanted to tell him everything. I needed him on my side.

Zach stood. “Okay. If you say so.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. Zach knew me. He had to know I wasn't okay. But he didn't want to be messed up in this.

If he could play it cool, so could I. “I should get started on my homework.” I pulled on my sleeves. “I really appreciate you coming over. I know you didn't have to.”

Zach looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't figure out what it was. He nodded and moved toward the door. “I'm sorry I was a jerk when you first called,” he said. He was practically halfway out the door already.

“Don't worry about it. You came when it counted,” I said. I mentally willed him to stop being so stiff and formal. To ask me why I'd talked to the reporters. To ask me what was wrong.

Zach smiled weakly. “You can always call me if you need to.” But it was obvious he hoped I wouldn't.

Zach started down the stairs, then stopped and turned back. “I hope you know what you're doing,” he said.

I smiled instead of answering.

As soon as I heard the front door close I started crying. I cried until I couldn't anymore. I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I crawled onto my bed, pushing the set of clean sheets onto the floor. I wrapped the duvet around me and turned on my computer screen. I would go through all the chats with Britney. Reassure myself I hadn't said anything to give myself away. Then I'd forget this and move forward.

When the chat program opened I thought I must have done something wrong. I shut it down and opened it again.

The history section was empty. All of our talks were gone.

Vanished.

I clicked open the deleted items folder. Nothing. My breath slowed down. I clicked on the sent folder. Also empty. I leaned back against the pillows. Where were all the messages?

Above my desk I had a cork board. Directly in the center was a piece of paper listing all my school and personal passwords. I used the same one for email and chat, and for most of my social media stuff. Brit wouldn't need to have seen the Post-it, though. We'd all known each other's passwords at some point.

How could I have been so stupid? I should have realized she would access it. What else had I screwed up? What other messages in my history had she seen?

I wondered if I could get into her account. I typed her new user name and the password she'd always relied on in the past. It was declined. I tried Beth's, but that failed too. I tried switching the numbers in it to Brit's birthday and then the day she started dating Jason. Declined. I typed in the date she'd “died.” This time a window popped up.

You've exceeded the number of password attempts for this account. If you've lost your password, enter your email and it will be sent to you
.

Shit
.

My hand shaking, I picked up my phone and dialed Nadir.

“Hey, sis,” he said picking up. “How's it going?”

“Not great.”

“I was thinking I might come home this weekend,” he said. His voice didn't contain any of the usual teasing.

I closed my eyes. I wanted my big brother to come back and fix everything, but I knew he couldn't. “You don't have to do that. You're getting ready for exams. I'll be okay. But I needed to ask you something.”

“Whatever you need.”

“Do you know how I can recover lost chat transcripts?”

He paused. I could tell he hadn't expected that question. He was likely wondering who was left for me to chat with. “It depends on the program. Open it up and I'll see if I can walk you through it.”

I knew having a computer whiz for a brother would come in handy. “I'm looking at it now.”

“Have you checked the history and the trash?”

“Seriously?” I asked, annoyed.

“Hey, when I help Grandma with computer stuff I start by making her double-check that the computer is plugged in. Which often solves it.”

“Yes. It's turned on and the chats aren't there. They're not in the trash, they're not in the history, and they're not anywhere else I can see.”

“I'm sorry, Kay-Kay, but that means they're gone. Unless the other person saved them. You're using a web interface, so they're not stored elsewhere on your computer.”

He had me open the settings tab. There was a box checked that said
delete all chats after sign-off
. “There's your problem right there.”

“But I didn't want that. I never checked that option,” I said.

“You might have selected it by accident. Happens all the time.”

“I didn't change it,” I said, my voice louder. “I would remember if I had. I'm not delusional.”

Nadir was silent.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to snap.”

“Maybe the default settings changed. Whatever it was, those chats are gone.”

It wasn't the default. Britney had deleted them. I was sure of it, and it was my own fault. It never occurred to me to change my password.

Beth underestimated her too. Beth had assumed she could manage Britney, and look how that turned out.

“Thanks for trying to help,” I said.

“No problem, what are big brothers for? Look at the bright side—it was just some chats. At least you didn't lose a term paper or anything important.”

I had no way to tell him I'd lost everything.

“I have to run to class, but let's talk later, okay? Think
about me coming for a visit. It's not just for you; I could con Mom into making some
kadhi
.”