“Okay, we’ll d-do it again. Holding your hands,” Mags says.
She scoots her chair closer to me. Her hand is small and cool, and Adam’s is wide and warm. They are absolute opposites, and they both fit me just right.
“Close your eyes,” Maggie says.
Something in me struggles, still afraid of what will be waiting when I open my eyes. Most of all, I fear the truth of the six months I can’t remember. Knowing there will be pieces I wish I could forget.
No. This is not me. I jump off bridges. I pull fire alarms. I don’t have a place in me for this kind of fear. I push it back, tamp it down, and focus on Maggie’s words.
“Should we start with the lake?” she asks, voice gentle.
I feel the rising panic as the unknown draws closer. I think of the person I’ve been. Of the things I might have done and said. And then I feel the welcome softness of Adam’s lips against my temple. It’s featherlight, nothing like the heat and pressure he usually delivers.
I feel his lips near my ear, then a soft whisper. “We find what we find. And we move on.”
“We leave it in the past,” Maggie whispers.
I let out a sigh, one that comes from the deepest parts of my soul. Maggie starts to count, and they both hold me tight. Finally, I begin to let go.
***
I look around the blurred edges of this memory, down at my black sweater and jeans. At the wet snow clinging to my boots. Something dark peeks out from my curled fingers.
“I’m holding the box,” I say, but my voice comes out somewhere else. I’m here but not here. Watching it like a bad movie, where the color is distorted by static.
I move through the yard, my steps pushing through the snow to the wet grass underneath. A familiar house stands across the yard, the back steps covered in snow.
“I’m at Maggie’s house.”
I walk away from the house, my feet slipping through the slushy backyard. Am I going home? No. Not home.
I know where I’m going. Around the compost pile and down to the base of the tree. I drop to my knees and wipe the snow away with my bare hands. My fingers burn and ache from the cold. There’s a shovel in the tree, but I don’t use it. I just rip the loose chunks of dirt away until I see the metal rectangle.
The Not Treasure Box.
“I found it.”
I wrangle it out and wrench it open. Bracelets and bookmarks and coded letters in Maggie’s writing and mine. Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I put the new plastic box inside, pulling the latch open to look at the contents.
Four syringes rest side by side in the bottom. I snap the lid shut and tuck the container beneath an old Tinker Bell T-shirt. Then it all goes back into the ground. I scoop mounds of half-frozen dirt back over the hole, stomping it down with my feet. The snow turns the dirt to mud, but it’s good enough. It will have to be.
“Are you still at Maggie’s house?” The voice is nowhere and everywhere at once.
“Yes.” My own voice is still crisp and clear in that other place. “I’m leaving now.”
I find my car parked crookedly two streets over. I turn the key in the ignition with shaking hands and slip-slide my way back to the main road.
Lights flash overhead, green and red. I don’t know if I stopped. I don’t even know if I was supposed to. I’m on autopilot with no destination, turning blindly from one street to the next. This is crazy. I have to stop this.
I pick up my phone, dialing the only number I can think of.
“Don’t tell me you’re stuck on number twenty-nine,” Adam says by way of greeting.
I try to keep my voice normal. “Can you meet me?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong? You don’t sound right.”
“Chloe, are you ready to come back now?”
“Yes.”
The faraway voice begins to count. It pulls me away from the cold and the snow, tugging me closer to the sound. Then it is right there with me. Only inches from my ears.
I am back.
I hear the soft drone of the radiator and the shuffle of Adam’s boots against the floor. It’s okay. Everything is okay this time.
“I know where I hid the drugs,” I say.
I open my eyes.
I’m facing the window I saw the first time I woke up. This time there’s a man standing in the snow beyond the glass. He’s tall, graying, and either he can read lips or he has mutant hearing. Because the smile on his face tells me he knows what I said.
Chapter Thirty-one
“Adam?”
The terror must be as clear on my face as it is in my voice. Adam swears softly under his breath. His back is to the window, but he knows who’s out there. I’m sure of it.
Daniel Tanner.
Out of nowhere, Adam lunges out of his chair, hands reaching for us. His chair knocks backward, and I hear him whisper even as he hooks his fingers in my shirt. “Run!”
I jerk back, shocked, and he kicks at the chair, like he’s tangled up in the legs. I can’t do anything but stare, my mind reeling to catch up. He fumbles for my sleeve, but Maggie yanks me free, dragging me toward the door.
Daniel is watching us. Adam nods and waves him toward the cafeteria before reaching for me again.
“You’re not going to get out of here until you tell me where they are!” Adam yells, but the sharp edge in his voice doesn’t match the worry in his face.
My face feels hot, my jaw too tight. This can’t be happening. He can’t have fooled me for this long. But he told me to run. I heard that. I’m sure I did.
Something flings past me. Maggie’s thrown a chair. It hits Adam in the shoulder, and I don’t know if she’s acting or if he’s acting. I don’t know what’s happening, but I run. We rush into the hallway and around a corner with Adam right on our heels.
He grabs both of us by the shoulder, hauling us back easily. I take a breath, feeling a scream build, but then Adam’s hand is over my mouth and his cheek is pressed to the side of my face.
His voice is low. “I’ll keep him off your trail, but you have to get out fast.”
Relief floods my senses. I nod and curl my fingers around his wrist as he pulls his hand away.
“H-how? Where w-will we go?” Maggie asks.
“Get the drugs and go to the police.” Adam holds my gaze. “You can do this.”
Distantly, I hear a scraping squeak. The cafeteria door squealing open. Daniel’s inside.
“Okay, I need you to hit me and run,” Adam says.
My head feels loose and fuzzy, like static is buzzing through my brain “No! We can’t just leave you.”
“Yes, you can. Use the back door in the library then cut away from the school. Now, hit me.”
I shake my head. “Adam—”
I see something flying by my face and then I hear the sickening smack of flesh against flesh. Adam’s jaw whips back, and I cry out as I see blood bloom on his lip. Maggie pulls her fist into her open hand, rubbing her knuckles as red blotches rise on her cheeks.
“Maggie!” I cry.
“Good hit,” Adam says.
I hear footsteps in a nearby hall. The sound sends ice up my spine. I turn to Adam, feeling my heart spiraling into my throat. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave him.
He reaches for me, his fingers warm against my cheek. “Be safe,” he says softly. And then he slaps his open hand against a locker. The crashing makes me jump. “Stop, you little bitch!”
We race back down the hallway, hearing the distant mutter of footsteps and then male voices in the front of the cafeteria. We cut across the back instead, passing the stairs where we eat lunch, and then the school office. We file into the library, wide-eyed and panting.
It’s darker than dark in here. The smell of aging books and new highlighters tickles my nose.
Mags volunteers in the library, so she knows it like the back of her hand, thank God. She slides along the south wall, and I follow her, spotting the muted red glow of the emergency exit at the end of a narrow row of shelves.
The door is old and wooden, a relic of a school with a limited remodeling budget. I twist the knob and push hard. Nothing. I twist again, grunting with the effort.
Maggie’s hand clamps like a vise into my shoulder. I’m about to yelp when I hear footsteps thundering toward the library.