“What department should we start in?” Mom moves for the up escalator. “Women’s casual wear?”
I nod and pretend like I know what she’s talking about. Women’s casual wear? Sounds like a disease or something. I used to do most of my shopping at garage sales and concert merch tables.
When we weave through the people and get to the escalator, I balk. Not long enough for Mom to notice, but I do. Ten years. From the way I just had to run through how to step onto an escalator, it might as well have been a century.
When we reach the second floor, Mom gets off. I’m thankful we don’t have to climb on the one stretching to the third floor. She starts for a department with a lot of jeans and cotton shirts—women’s casual wear—when I hear my name shouted from behind.
I flinch, half expecting it to be the swarm of reporters who’ve resorted to shouting my name whenever I drive by. So far I haven’t been stalked out in public, but I know that won’t last. Not with the interview deals I’m getting. Everyone in the world seems to need to know every last ugly detail of my captivity.
“Jade!” the voice calls again.
I turn around slowly to find a couple of girls my age powering my way, balancing on heels so high they might as well be stilts.
“Jade Childs, no frickin’ way.” The brown-haired one nudges the blond one when they stop in front of me.
Mom comes up beside me, but instead of glaring at them with skepticism like I am, she’s smiling politely. “Candace. Morgan. How are you girls?”
Candace. Morgan. The names are familiar. I can’t remember last names, but I remember us being friends. They don’t look like anyone I remember, but a decade’s gone by. I’m probably not recognizable either.
“Taking advantage of the shoe sale, so pretty darn amazing.” Candace, the brown-haired one, holds up a couple of large bags.
Beside her, Morgan does the same.
“But enough about us. How are you?” Candace leans in and rests her hand on my wrist like we’re best friends.
“I’m good.” I slip to the side so her hand drops from my wrist.
She and Morgan exchange a look. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Mom shifts.
“I’m so sorry about what happened. What a nightmare.” Morgan sets her bags down and looks like she wants to hug me. I slide back some more. “When we heard you were found, god, we threw a celebration party.”
“You threw a party?” It seems like a strange thing to do after what happened. I can’t process it.
“Practically everyone from our class came. They’re all so happy you’re back, Jade. You know how much everyone liked you.”
I sweep my hair behind my ear. “Everyone came?”
I’m on repeat because I don’t know what to say. I was missing for ten years, and people threw a party when I came back? I can’t make it compute. I should be glad friends were happy I’m back, but it’s been so long that so much of the old me is gone. I don’t remember them.
“Of course. Well, everyone but the ones who moved away or, you know, died.” Morgan bites her lip and looks to Candace for an interception.
“And Torrin—he didn’t make it.” Candace gives me a look I feel like I’m supposed to understand, but I can’t translate it.
“He’s a busy guy.”
Morgan bobs her head while Candace shakes hers. “You’ve heard about him, right? Well, of course you have. I saw you two on the news when you came home from the hospital.” She nudges Morgan, but I don’t know what it means. “Can you believe that though? I mean, crap, I go to St. Marks.” Her head shakes again. “Do you know how awkward it is to go to confession and talk about my dirty thoughts to the same guy who’s responsible for them? Sheesh. That’s one boy who grew up in all the right places.”
She laughs a little, then Morgan stabs her elbow into Candace’s side. Another look.
Candace’s face drops. “Oh yeah, you guys were a pretty big thing in high school, right?”
If you consider agreeing to marry each other one day a pretty big thing, then yeah, we were a pretty big thing. I answer her with a shrug.
“That must be crazy weird for you then . . .”
“Not weird at all.”
Mom clears her throat and looks behind us.
“Really?” Morgan asks.
“Well, I was kidnapped for ten years, and no one thought I was still alive to be found, and here I am.” I lift my hands at my sides. “Torrin becoming a priest isn’t so hard to wrap my head around.”
I think Morgan and Candace are regretting their decision to come up to me almost as much as I am. They’re looking behind them now too.
“You know, we should get together.” Candace pulls a phone from her pocket. “Like soon. We’ll spread the word so you can catch up with all of your old friends. Oh”—she waves her phone at me—“I’ve got a friend who is so single and so hot it should be illegal. He’s got a 401(k) that would drop an heiress’s panties, and he drives a 911. I should introduce you two.”
I guess the way I’m breathing catches Candace’s attention because she stops talking. She looks at my mom, who’s looking at me with the same concerned expression.