The Perfectionists

Parker made a face. “I could never.”

 

 

“Hear me out, Parker. What happened has already happened; you can’t take it back. Your dad is gone, Nolan is dead. Now you need to find a way to move forward.”

 

Parker cocked her head. “How do I do that?”

 

Elliot stood and held out his hand. “How about we take a field trip?”

 

“Don’t you have another session?”

 

Elliot shook his head. “You’re all I’ve got today, Parker Duvall. So you’re stuck with me.”

 

He led her down the gray-carpeted hall and out a heavy door to the parking lot. Parker’s bike was chained to the rack, but Elliot bypassed it, heading to a silver car with a couple of bumper stickers for car-racing companies on the back.

 

“Let’s go for a drive,” Elliot said, opening the passenger door for Parker.

 

“O-okay,” she said, but her heart was thumping. She knew Elliot in the context of one safe room. Venturing out felt different—somehow foreign. But she trusted him.

 

Elliot slid behind the wheel and started the engine. In moments, a fast-paced, hard-rock song by a band Parker had never heard blared through the stereo. Elliot turned down the volume, casting Parker a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s cool,” Parker said, pushing her hair off her face for one moment. She caught a glimpse of herself in the side mirror and nearly gasped. The way the shadows angled, she almost looked . . . normal. She almost couldn’t see her scars.

 

Elliot pulled onto the main road and drove a few miles over hilly terrain. They passed the main square and all the shops, several developments, the high school, and then the road Nolan had lived on, a road Parker had once known well. She looked at the turnoff, then back at Elliot.

 

“Uh, where are we going, anyway?” She’d thought they were going to park outside Nolan’s house, and maybe Elliot would ask her to say good-bye to Nolan on his front lawn or something.

 

“You’ll see,” Elliot announced, hitting the gas.

 

Parker shrugged. Maybe they would keep driving all the way to the sea. All the way out of her life.

 

But Elliot was slowing to a stop. Parker frowned at the rolling green hills in front of her, then at the wrought iron gates to the left. In scrolled writing along the top read MCALLISTER CEMETERY.

 

Her heart froze.

 

Elliot shifted into park and cut the engine. He got out of the car, then swung around and opened Parker’s door.

 

She stared at him. “What are you doing?” Her voice was flinty, sharp. Parker shook her head violently. “No. No way.”

 

Elliot frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean I’m not going in there.” Parker got out of the car and took a few big steps away from him.

 

“Why?” Elliot cocked his head. “What’s happening in your mind right now?”

 

Parker wasn’t sure what was happening—all she knew was that warning bells were going off like crazy. She saw flashes of light, then felt the painful twinge of an oncoming migraine. Nolan’s face swam in her mind, his eyes narrowed. Then she saw her father’s face above her. His hand coming down again and again. She heard someone screaming and only realized later that it was her. How she’d lain there, limp, lifeless, on the floor.

 

When she looked at Elliot, all she could do was shake her head. Pain seared from temple to temple. “I can’t go in there,” she whispered, her eyes closed tightly. “I just can’t.”

 

A crow flew overhead. Elliot’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Okay,” he said faintly. “It’s just that—”

 

“Parker?”

 

Parker whirled around. Julie stood behind her, looking angelic in a white diaphanous blouse and with her hair strewn around her shoulders. Her eyes were round with concern. “I was just on my way to town to get something for my mom and saw you here. What’s going on?”

 

“Thank god you’re here,” Parker said, collapsing against Julie.

 

“Come on,” Julie said, reaching out her hand. She glanced at Elliot. “I’m taking her home. We’ll catch the next bus.”

 

Elliot blinked. “Uh, sure,” he said, stepping aside. “I was just trying to help.”

 

“You have to be careful with her,” Julie said protectively, carefully taking Parker’s arm. The headache had come on full force, blocking Parker’s vision, turning her stomach, sending waves of pain down her back. “It’s okay,” she could hear Julie’s voice above her. “You’re going to be fine.”

 

“I couldn’t do it,” Parker moaned, though every word she spoke hurt. “I just couldn’t.”

 

“I know,” Julie said, seemingly understanding even though Parker didn’t quite get it herself. Maybe it was another hole in her memory: Maybe old Parker had hated cemeteries. Maybe something bad had happened to her in one.

 

But she didn’t care about the reason right then. All she wanted to do was sit on the bus bench with her eyes closed. All she wanted was to never think again.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

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