I Wish You All the Best(21)

“Hannah and Thomas are just sitting outside in their car.”

Mariam starts laughing to themselves. “Maybe they’re making out.”

“Gross.” I crawl toward the window, pulling back the curtains as slowly as possible. The driveway isn’t that long, but it’s still too dark to really tell the color or make of a car. Not that I would’ve known anyway. There are cars, trucks, and SUVs. That’s pretty much the extent of my car knowledge.

But my stomach sinks when I realize that this car definitely isn’t Hannah and Thomas’s large black SUV. That much I can tell, even in the dark. No, this car looks an awful lot like Dad’s.

“No.”

“Ben?” Mariam’s voice scares me. I’d already forgotten they were here.

Panic fills my chest as I pull back the curtains and run to the front door to check the locks. Mom and Dad can probably see my shadow running from one end of the house to the other, but that doesn’t really matter right now. I grab my phone and keep my thumb hovered over Hannah’s number.

Mariam’s voice keeps echoing through the hallways. “Ben? What’s going on? Hello? Ben?”

I hover at the top of the stairs, making sure I can just barely see the glow of the lights through the dense curtains, ready to sprint to my room if I need to. But after a minute, the headlights turn off. I run back to the window, brushing past the curtains. It’s still there, the engine no longer running.

Then there’s a knock at the door.

They’re coming. Holy shit. They’re coming for me.

“Ben? What happened?”

“I need to call you back!” I shout without meaning to.

“Ben!”

“I think my parents are here,” I choke out. I can hear the crack in my voice. I don’t wait for their response, I just close the laptop and grab everything. I run back to the guest room, taking the steps so quickly that I almost fall at the top. I make sure to lock the door behind me.

They can’t be here. Right? Do they even know where Hannah lives? Why would they even be here? They didn’t want me in their house, so there’s no reason for them to be here.

My phone starts to ring in my hand. I’ve been holding it so tight that I managed to switch it off silent mode. It’s Mariam, texting me, and trying to restart the FaceTime call.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to calm my breathing, can’t take my eyes off the stark white bedroom door. I have to listen closely, for a car coming up the driveway, or the front door opening and shutting, the sound of feet coming up the steps.

Then come those unmistakable sounds. The door swinging open, then closed, quiet chatter that I can’t make out. It’s Hannah and Thomas. It has to be; it’s their voices. They gave me the only spare key they had. They even told me that themselves. And the doors are locked. It has to be Hannah and Thomas. But is that really what they sound like? Is that their muffled voices? Their footsteps?

What if it’s not?

One set of feet, two sets, slowly approaching the top of the stairs. “He’s probably in his room,” someone says. Hannah?

At least, it sounds like Hannah, but I can’t be sure. “Their,” she says. “They’re probably in their room.” It’s got to be Hannah; it has to be. But my mind refuses to accept it, no matter how much I want it to.

“Ben?” There’s a knock on the door, and the handle jiggles a little. “Ben, the door’s locked.”

I open my mouth to speak, to say something, anything. But nothing comes out.

“Ben, are you okay?”

“No,” I force out, like I’m swallowing nails.

“Can you open the door?” The handle keeps wiggling back and forth.

“Ben?” It’s Thomas, or at least it sounds like Thomas. “I need you to open the door for me, okay?”

I can’t, I’m stuck. Because what if that’s Mom and Dad on the other side of that door? Nearly every part of my brain is screaming that it can’t be, but there is still that chance, no matter how slim it is.

They both whisper something I can’t understand, and then I hear footsteps fading away.

“Ben? Thomas is going to unlock the door, okay?”

I try to say something, but my mouth feels impossibly dry, and I can’t control my breathing. It’s almost like there’s a fifty-pound weight sitting on my chest, and no matter how many times I wipe my face, I can’t seem to stop crying. It’s worse than it was in Dr. Taylor’s office. Or that New Year’s Eve night. This feels like I’ll never know the end of it.

“We’ve got one for the bedrooms. Just in case of emergencies.”

There’s the sound of something on the other side of the door, and the click of the lock sliding and the door slowly opening. Thomas steps away and lets Hannah walk in slowly ahead of him.

“Ben?”

“I’m sorry.” I tuck my knees to my chest, trying my best to hide my face. I can’t even look at them.

“Ben? Can I sit down?” She points to the bed.

I shrug. “’S your room.”

“It’s your room.” The bed dips under her weight. I can tell she wants to reach for me, raising her hand before pulling it away again. “Ben, what happened?”

“Mom and Dad.” My voice is barely a murmur.