“Hey,” Nisha said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Emma exhaled, then laughed nervously. “You didn’t. I’m just a little on edge, I guess.”
“From hanging out with Ethan?”
“Yeah—I mean, no, of course not. For other reasons. But yeah, Ethan and I were hanging out.” Just saying his name brought a smile to her lips.
Nisha shook her head. “You guys are the weirdest couple of all time.”
“Why do you say that?”
The motion-sensor light in the Banerjees’ driveway shut off, and they were left in the dark. Nisha cleared her throat. “Sorry. Forget I said it. Anyway, I saw your car and just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I mean, after all the craziness at the hospital.”
Emma stared down for a moment, picking nervously at the fabric of her still-damp tank dress. “The woman who escaped yesterday is my birth mom. Your dad’s been treating her.” She shifted her weight and blurted out the thought that had been bothering her more than any other. “Nice genetics, huh?”
Nisha’s eyes were soft behind her glasses. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I’m not really sure,” Emma replied. She was grateful for the darkness. It would have been too hard to talk about this if Nisha could see her face. “I mean, she’s obviously crazy. You don’t end up in the psych ward unless you’re crazy, right?”
“Crazy’s not exactly the word I’d use,” Nisha said carefully. “People have all kinds of problems that land them in treatment.”
“Well, whatever her problems are, I’m apparently one of them.” Emma sighed. “Nisha, would you mind not telling anyone about this? No one knows any of it—that I’ve met my birth mom, or what she’s like. It’s a secret between me and my dad.”
“Of course,” Nisha said. She paused, a shallow frown wrinkling her forehead. “Why did she call you Emma?”
Emma fidgeted, her pulse surging. “Um, it turns out Emma was the name she gave me as a baby,” she said, thinking quickly. “My parents changed my name when I was a few days old.”
Nisha nodded. “You got lucky. Emma sounds like an old maid. Sutton’s way better.”
Emma pursed her lips, but I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.
“Anyway, I’m sorry if I was prying,” Nisha said. “The whole thing just seemed really scary, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. It’s not the same, but … I understand what you’re going through. It’s tough to watch your mom not acting like herself.”
Nisha’s mother had died of cancer last year. Emma had gotten the sense that it had been fairly quick, but surely Mrs. Banerjee had undergone treatment—radiation, chemo—that would have made her unrecognizable.
“What’s it like, volunteering up there?” Emma asked. “I mean, isn’t it hard, being around all that … insanity?”
Nisha took off her glasses and polished them on the edge of her shirt. “To be honest, I signed on for the psych ward because my dad works there,” she said bluntly. “It’s the only way I ever get a chance to see him anymore. He’s always been a workaholic, but it got way worse after Mom died.” She slid the glasses back on, making her eyes look bigger and somehow more vulnerable. “It’s actually not so bad. I mean, there’s lots of creepy stuff that happens there. But sometimes you get to watch someone getting better. It’s like they come back to themselves or wake up from a really bad dream. It’s pretty inspiring.” She cleared her throat. “That sounds so cheesy.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Emma said softly. “I think it sounds amazing.”
The floodlight snapped back on. Emma flinched, squinting into the sudden glare. Nisha looked back toward her driveway. “Don’t worry, it’s probably just the neighbor’s cat.”
Emma exhaled heavily. “I’ve been jumpy ever since my mom escaped from the hospital. I just wish I knew exactly what was wrong with her. No one will tell me anything. What if she’s … violent?”
Nisha nodded slowly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Emma bit her lip, glancing at Ethan’s house.
“Do you know a way I could look at her records?” she asked. Nisha recoiled slightly. “I would never ask you to get them for me,” Emma said quickly. “I know they’re confidential. But if you knew how to get them … it would mean a lot. Maybe I could figure out where she’s gone. Maybe I could find her.”
Nisha tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. She fidgeted with a gold initial pendant on a chain around her neck, the letter D. Emma suspected it must have belonged to Mrs. Banerjee.
“I think I might be able to help you,” Nisha said. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Can you wait here for a second?”