“Ah. Parker. Of course.” There was a swishing sound behind him, as though he were in traffic, perhaps, talking on a cell phone. Parker wondered if this was a terrible time to call. He had a healthy life. A normal life. He didn’t want to be bothered by her.
“You’re busy,” she said. “I’ll go.”
“Wait, Parker,” Elliot said. “I’ll always take a call from you. Are you okay? What’s up?”
“It’s . . .” Parker swallowed hard. “Everything. My mom . . . this neighborhood I’m in . . . I feel like someone’s following me. . . . I’m sort of having a hard time coping. I can feel myself slipping away, and you said to call, so . . .”
“And I’m glad you did.” Elliot’s voice sounded closer now, not so muffled. “You’ve got to hold on, Parker. Try to stay in the here and now. Focus on something real—your hand, your foot—and tell yourself that it’s going to be fine.”
She was sitting on the bench at the bus stop now, her head between her knees. “But I don’t feel fine,” she admitted. “I feel like no one sees me.”
“You know that’s not true.” His voice was steady and trustworthy. “I see you, Parker.”
Parker gazed shakily out at the road, staring at the median divider until she came back into herself. Cars passed steadily now, none of them looking suspicious. Her heart rate began to slow. Her breathing wasn’t so shallow anymore, either. It was amazing: Just hearing Elliot’s voice had brought her back to earth.
A few moments passed. “How are you feeling now?” Elliot asked.
“Better,” Parker admitted. “Not as . . . tight. I can see everything again. I feel focused.”
“Good,” Elliot said. “Listen, Parker, let’s move up your next appointment. Do you think you can make some time?”
Parker’s throat felt dry. “I—I think so,” she said.
“Great,” Elliot said. “And listen. If you feel any more attacks coming on, if you need me for any reason, I’m always here. Please call. I always want to talk.”
“O-okay,” Parker said. She hung up and hugged her chest tightly. The paranoid feelings had disappeared completely, and in their place were visions of Elliot’s therapy room. That comfy couch. That soothing lighting. And Elliot’s safe, open face, smiling at her, helping her, saving her.
But then a police car drove by. The officer peered out the window at her, giving her a long once-over. Parker pulled her hoodie lower over her face, holding her breath until the car passed. She exhaled heavily, looking down at her phone. Elliot might want to save her, but if the police found out what she and her friends had done to Nolan, he might not have time.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IT WAS RAINING ON FRIDAY as Ava drove toward Mr. Granger’s house. At the end of the block, she turned onto Shadywood Road, a familiar street of small, quaint houses. As she passed Alex’s, she gave it a little wave, even though she knew Alex was out at the mall, shopping for a new pair of Vans. Then she pulled into the driveway just two houses down. It was funny: Alex had mentioned once that he’d seen Mr. Granger running on his block, but Ava hadn’t realized how close their houses were until she pulled into the driveway.
Granger’s house had blue shutters and a red front door. Rolling back her shoulders, Ava walked to the front stoop and rang the doorbell, adjusting the strap of her bag, which was filled with spiral notebooks and her laptop and even note cards, since she hadn’t been sure what she would need.
She heard footsteps, and the door flung open. “Miss Jalali,” Granger said with a smile. “Please come in.” Ava followed him inside, looking curiously around. His living room was warm, with two low-slung leather couches around a square teak coffee table. There were film noir posters on the walls, a bunch of ancient-looking cameras, and an old film projector on a side table.
“Does that actually show movies?” Ava asked, gesturing to it.
“Yep. I’ve thought about bringing it into class, actually. Maybe next unit.”
“I’d love to see something on it,” she said, then wondered if that sounded like she was inviting herself over again. “I mean, I bet it’s the best way to see old movies, the way they were designed.”
“Exactly.” For a split second, his gaze seemed to travel down her body, taking in her smooth skin. Her ample cleavage. Ava felt her cheeks growing warm—but a moment later she was sure she’d imagined it. Nolan’s stupid rumor was making her paranoid.
“Thank you for letting me rewrite the essay,” she said. The sooner they got started, the sooner she could call Alex.
“I think you’re a wonderful writer. I’d love to see you do more with it.”
She frowned, looking down at the floor. “Thank you. But I don’t think good writers get Cs.”