“Actually, I was writing about you. You were really great tonight. Thanks for getting us here. I knew you would, but … thanks.”
I stared at my radio. Had she written about what I’d done or about me? There was a pretty big difference. But it was still awesome. It’d been a long time since praise had hit me that hard. Weird, because she was basically still a stranger. I’d been with her for days and I still knew almost nothing about her. That gave me an idea.
I pressed the talk button. “Daryn. Tell me three things about yourself. Think of it as my reward for a job well done. Just three. They can be anything.”
There was a long stretch of nothing but engine drone. I kept waiting for her to tell me no. Bastian and Marcus were still sound asleep.
“Okay,” she said, finally. “Three things. First one … I have a sister. Her name is Josie. Josephine. She’s four years older than me and she’s a science nerd. Ask her anything about the planets, or about the weather, or the periodic table or any random sciency thing, and she knows the answer. She’s so smart. She knew from the time she was little that she wanted to be a doctor. I bet she’ll be starting medical school soon. She wanted to go to Purdue. I bet that’s where she’s going. Josie—she does the things she says she’s going to do. She’s amazing like that and … and I miss her.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.
“Two hundred and eighty-one days ago. And that should count as the second thing since I just answered another quest—”
I hit the talk button. “That was a subset of the first thing and don’t joke around about this. I busted my ass for these so no cutting corners.”
“You get mad so easily,” she said, laughing.
“You drive me to it. That’s why.”
“So, it’s not because you have a temper?”
“Don’t change the subject. Thing number two, go.”
“Okay. Thing number two. Well, let’s see … I spent three months in a mental institution last year—how’s that? It was right when I first started blacking out and waking up knowing things. Before I really understood. I thought I was going crazy. Literally, I thought so because my mom suffers from depression and anxiety, and it’s bad sometimes. Really hard on her. On all of us. My whole family. So when I started passing out, the doctors thought it was mental illness again, only manifesting in a different way. And I guess I did too at first. My psychiatric team—I had a team—strongly suggested committing me. My parents agreed and I didn’t disagree, so I ended up at this private hospital in Maine.
“I actually had to break out of there or I’d probably still be there. You’d have been proud of me. It was totally Escape from Alcatraz. I had to dig a hole and crawl under a fence. I gouged my back doing that. It hurt so much. It gave me a big scar that I can only see when I look in a mirror—three lines running down my back like a tiger almost caught me. It was pretty gross when it was new. But I did it. I got out and I haven’t been anywhere near there or my home since.”
My pulse had picked up, hearing all that. I wanted to shoot into the past and help her bust out of that place in Maine. And I wanted to know more about her. A lot more. “Why haven’t you gone home?”
“Because nothing is different. This is my life. This never ends for me. I always have to leave. I always have to go where I’m needed. And it would just be too hard to see my family, then have to say good-bye. It’d be too hard for them. I do what I can to make it easier. A few months ago I sent them a postcard from Croatia, telling them I was traveling around the world finding myself and not to worry. I hope it helped. It’s better than if they knew the truth.”
I could relate to that. I’d left Anna and my mom without an explanation or good-bye.
“Are you turned off yet?” Daryn asked. “Are you picturing me in a straitjacket?”
“Was that your plan? Nice try, Martin. But it backfired. I like you even more now.”
That last part wasn’t supposed to come out but there it was. And there it stayed, second after second. I had no idea what she thought of it. None. My confidence was dying a thousand deaths.
Then she said, “Don’t you want to hear thing number three?”