Moment of Truth (Love, Life, and the List #3)(6)

I squinted to read the title. The Hunt for Red October. I’d never seen it before.

“He loved spy movies,” Mom said.

It surprised me that year after year she could come up with new things about him. I didn’t think she’d ever repeated herself. Never used the same memory twice. My palm started to sweat where it gripped the shopping bag. The Hot Tamales seemed so stupid now. My mom had brought the candy just last year.

The next thing she pulled out of the box was a water gun. “He was a jokester. He loved to hide out sometimes and surprise me when I rounded the corner.” She laughed a little. It was an odd thought—my mom getting pelted with a water gun. I couldn’t even imagine her reaction. Then again my brother had gotten the younger version of my parents. Now they were in their late fifties, graying hair and wrinkles in place. I wondered if they’d been more laid-back then. Either way, I wouldn’t dream of squirting any version of my mom with a water gun. I, apparently, was not a jokester.

“And last, I brought a picture of Eric with Julie at his junior prom. Do you remember this, Daniel?” She showed my dad first and he smiled.

“The funny thing about it was that just thirty minutes before this picture he was covered head to toe in grease from working on his truck all day. He cleaned up nice.” My dad showed me the picture.

I could see a little of myself in my brother. We had the same auburn hair and the same freckled skin. But he got my mom’s green eyes where I got my dad’s brown. I stared at the picture, wanting to know the stranger looking back at me. Wanting to know what it would have felt like to have an older brother. But again, I felt nothing.

My mom replaced the picture in the box and shut the lid, then walked to the truck. She removed the box from last year, tucking it under her arm, and reverently set the new one in the passenger seat, where it would sit for a year. I wondered what my mom would put in a box like that for me. What things she would choose to highlight in my life. I wasn’t sure she knew me as well as she knew my brother.

To end our ceremony, she exited the truck and placed a single hand on the hood. “You will forever be remembered and forever be missed.”

My dad nodded his head toward the bag I clutched. “Did you have something to add, Hadley?”

“Oh. No. I’m good.” I quickly touched the hood, then took two steps back.

My dad patted the hood as well. “We miss you, kid.” Then with a few quick steps he was back in the cab, turning off the ignition.

My mom hugged me, tears in her eyes. Then she pulled away and retreated into the house. Probably to make our annual meal—Eric’s favorite.

Back in my room, I clicked on my music, dug the Hot Tamales out of the bag and stared at the picture of the sunglassed flame speeding across the front of the box. I had never actually tried them before even though my mom had bought them over the years. When I was a kid I had declared my own favorite candy—Twix—and insisted she buy me that every time she bought Hot Tamales. And maybe it had become a habit, but I still hadn’t tried them.

I opened the box, poured a handful into my palm, and popped them into my mouth. Ten seconds later I was in the bathroom, scooping water into my mouth. I patted my stinging lips with a towel and dropped the rest of the box in the bathroom trash. It gave a loud clunk as it hit the bottom. Gross.

I wiped my eyes—the heat from the candy producing the first tears of the day, proving my tear ducts were in functioning order. So it was just my heart that wasn’t working right. Shouldn’t I have felt something, anything, out by that truck today? I sighed.

I took a long, extra hot shower, then pulled on some shorts and a tee. My shoulders gave a dull ache, reminding me of my last race. My computer was open on my desk and I stared at it for a moment before I sat down and powered it on. From friends posting online, I had seen a few pictures of the guy in the mask showing up at events before. But I had never cared enough to care. Never really looked into his accounts.

I pulled up a search engine and typed, “fake Heath Hall” into the bar. Pages and pages of hits about the hero spy movies came up along with pictures of Grant James and his sometimes-girlfriend—actress Amanda Roth. I closed out the tab and went to check social media sites for any information on him. I found lots of fake Heath Hall fan accounts, none of them verified and each only boasting a couple thousand followers. After a while I found the account I was looking for and scanned several pages worth of pictures and posts. But I couldn’t find the event map Amelia had been referring to the night before. I shot her off a text: Hey, where did you find the fake Heath Hall appearance map online? I still wasn’t sure how Katie or anyone else was convinced he went to our school and I wanted to see if the map provided any proof.

She didn’t answer back right away. She was probably sleeping. I moved the cursor on the screen to the little envelope icon in the corner, and before I talked myself out of it, I clicked. Once in his DM, I typed a quick message: Is it your goal to distract people to the point of losing? You are messing with futures.

My finger lightly rested on the Send key, but as I read the message through three times, I decided it wasn’t right. I deleted the two sentences. He obviously didn’t care how his antics affected other people. What he really cared about was himself. So instead, I typed: Stay away from the pool or I’ll tell everyone who you really are.

Sure, I had no idea who he really was, but he didn’t know that. I hit Send and went to get myself some breakfast, the taste of Hot Tamales still lingering on the back of my tongue.