I directed Ryan down the next driveway. Annika’s car was there, and so was her mother’s. I tried calling her again, but she still didn’t pick up.
After my car accident, when Annika couldn’t get ahold of me, she had come to the wall—waiting for me. Why hadn’t I done the same yet?
Annika’s house was twice the size of my own, even though only three people lived there. The front yard was landscaped to perfection, a bright patch of wildflowers beside the white porch. I rang the bell and heard footsteps approaching. Whoever was behind the door paused at the entrance. A shadow peered through the sheer curtains at the side window before opening the front door.
Annika’s mom always acted business-friendly toward me—and the house reflected her demeanor. Everything inviting, but formal and orderly. When I first used to come over, I was never sure which furniture was okay to actually use and which was purely for decoration. And her mom looked like she could blend right in.
But now Annika’s mom looked exhausted, like Jan had looked, and she had a phone resting on her shoulder. “Hi, Kelsey,” she whispered, dark circles under her eyes, hair like Annika’s thrown back in a low ponytail. “Sorry about that, the press keep showing up.”
I shifted foot to foot. “This is Ryan,” I said. “We came to see if Annika’s okay?”
She nodded, smiled tightly. “She will be. She’s resilient. Are you okay? Has there been any word about your mother?” She lowered her voice at the last question, as if Ryan wouldn’t be able to hear us then.
“No news,” I said, the words scratching my throat. “But I’m okay. Can I see her?”
She swung the door open wider. “She’s in the back TV room. I’m glad you came.”
Annika’s house was open and airy. The common areas had big floor-to-ceiling windows, with no curtains because the only thing out there was mountains and wildlife. When I’d come over, I used to stare at them in wonder. Now Annika was in the one room with no windows. The perfect dark for movie nights, no glare on the screen. But she was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a bottle of green nail polish balanced on the armrest beside her, television off.
“Hi,” she said as I rounded the corner. She held the brush over her thumb, like nothing had changed. Then she noticed Ryan behind me, and nodded once.
I could see, right away, that everything had changed. From the way she greeted me and Ryan together, to her location in the most sheltered room in the house, to her appearance. Her hair was braided down her back, small curls escaping around her makeup-free face. She was in black yoga pants, and her eyes were red, and she said nothing else.
I had done something to her, taken some of her Annika-ness. Welcomed her into my life.
“Hey,” I said, sitting beside her. “I’ve been calling. And writing.”
She nodded, concentrating on her next finger. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just—” She paused again, cut her eyes to me. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, my throat tightening.
She shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t even really remember, it all went so fast. The police keep asking, and the more they ask, the less I’m sure of.” She blinked slowly at me. “Is that happening for you, too?”
I thought of my mother’s voice on the recordings. The police and Jan, filling the gaps with new stories, new ideas. The story taking on a life of its own. “Yeah,” I said. “It is.”
She looked at Ryan, who was leaning against the wall behind us. I wanted her to say something stereotypically Annika, something about me and him, teasing but affectionate, but she continued as if he wasn’t even there.
“Cole’s okay, right? In the paper, it said he’s okay, but…he was so pale.” She lowered her voice. “At least, I think he was. I can’t really remember anymore. Maybe that’s just the way he looks in my nightmares.”
I shuddered. “He’s okay. Went to school today, even.”
“Good,” she said. She blew on her nails, and her fingers trembled faintly.
“Annika, I have to ask you something.”
But I could see her pulling back already, concentrating on the next hand, her eyes going slightly unfocused.
“Eli, have you heard from him?” I asked.
“What?” She started on her second hand without pausing. “Oh, no, the date was weird. Scratch that: he was weird. After you called, he insisted he bring me home. I think he just wanted an excuse to end it early. He was so obviously not into me. And the feeling was mutual.”
“Can I see his picture again?”
She gestured toward the table. “My phone’s over there. What’s this about?”
“I thought I saw him at school today.”
She shook her head, a curl escaping, and she blew it out of her face. “No, he doesn’t go to your school. Dropped out, he said. I told you, he works doing landscaping.” She looked out the window. “Another reason I think I’ll stay inside, thanks.” As if this was an argument she’d already had with her mother.
I pulled up his picture, zoomed in—it was definitely him. I handed it to Ryan so he could see.
“I’m going to send this to myself,” he said.
Annika looked alert for the first time, back rigid, shoulders straight, eyes moving between me and Ryan and her phone. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Annika,” I began, “can you call him?”
“Why?”
I swallowed. Looked at Ryan, who was better at keeping people calm.
Ryan came closer, lowered his voice. “We think he may not be who he says he is.”
She shook her head. Shook it again. “You’re scaring me. Do you think…” She raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh God, are you saying I was sitting in a car with one of them?”
“I don’t know. I want to call and talk to him,” I said.
She shook her head. “No. Please. Leave me out of it. I just want to forget it.”
“I’ll do it,” Ryan said, entering the info into his phone instead.
She turned to face me. “I’ve known you longer than anyone, you know that?”
Annika had moved here three years earlier, but we only saw each other summers and breaks. Still, she was the person I knew best, other than my mother and Jan. I thought our friendship mostly worked one way, but it seemed it was the same for her.
“I’m always the new kid. Do you know what that’s like?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. I knew the feeling exactly, of walking into a place for the first time, of feeling the vastness, the terror, the loneliness in the crowd.
“We moved around so much when I was younger. Everywhere I go, I’m scared nobody will notice.”
“How could anyone not notice you?” I asked.
She grinned. “I got asked to leave my last two boarding schools, did you know that?”
“No,” I said. And then I wondered why we never did this before. I thought how much easier it would’ve been for the both of us with somebody else who understood. I thought how alike we were, the secrets we kept.
“Oh, I got noticed all right,” she said. “The first time, breaking curfew. By a few days.” She grimaced. “I only went to see my brother. It’s not like I know anyone else. This last one, though, was just a strong suggestion—end of last year they told my mother I didn’t seem to mesh well with the school mission.” At this, she laughed. “I think the school mission was to bore everyone to death, so I can’t exactly argue.”
She leaned closer, her eyes watery, as if she had a bigger secret. “But now…now I want to disappear. I just want to go back to school. I can’t sleep. Every noise makes me jump.” She placed her hand on my arm, her cold fingers circling my wrist. “I’m sorry, Kelsey. I am. I know it’s worse for you, and I feel awful, but I just want to leave this all behind, forget it ever happened. I need to for a bit, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I wish I could, too.”
She sighed. “I’d hug you, but.” She held up her hands. “You’ll let me know, right? When they find your mother?” She tipped her head against my shoulder. “I’ll be back, I promise.”
Ryan lowered the phone.