Some Quiet Place (Some Quiet Place #1)(54)

“What do you—”

“You’re scared.”

That’s not true; Fear is nowhere around. My hair is falling into my face. Ironic, since Joshua’s is finally smoothed out of the way. “I don’t have time for this,” I say. I move past Joshua. He lets me go, his irritation obvious.

“If we don’t take any risks, then we won’t find the things worth living for,” the boy calls after me.

“Go to class, Joshua,” I toss over my shoulder. I think of the poem I’ll never show him, never show anyone else but Mrs. Farmer.

There are different kinds of hiding.

I hide, I protect, I pretend.

I give no promises or look to tomorrow.

There is only this, only me.

A shadow and a whisper.

I hide, I protect, I pretend.

Everyone else.

No one else.

Impossibility and useless efforts.

Reasons?

I don’t know.

I just know this.



During my lunch hour—among the aging stories and forgotten history of the library—I finally find the newspaper article I’ve been looking for. This time it doesn’t disappear, but all my efforts toward finding it have been in vain; there’s nothing more to know here than in what Sarah has already told me.





Girl Survives Car Accident

Yesterday, Elizabeth Caldwell, four years old, wandered out to the highway by herself. The driver of an oncoming car didn’t see the little girl until it was too late. When questioned, he had little recollection of what had happened. An ambulance was immediately called, and paramedics say Elizabeth was conscious and lucid on the scene. She escaped with nothing but a few scrapes and bruises. Doctors say it’s a miracle. She’s already been discharged.

I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a point to finding the answers about my past. Maybe the truth really isn’t beneficial to my survival here in Edson, and this mystery is best left alone.



End of the day. Final bell. Girls shrieking and boys shouting down the halls. Teachers lecturing about assignments, calling for quiet. Lockers slamming shut, doors closing, lights dying. I wait in a corner with my book bag until everyone has left and the air is still, waiting for tomorrow. The school is ghostly after hours, and I chase my shadow when I make my way to the front doors. White light spills through the glass, beckoning to me.

I answer because there’s no other logical solution.

I could avoid Sophia and her friends now, of course, but that’ll only make her more determined to find me later. Even though her revenge will make me late getting home—Tim will definitely notice the delay—I think I’ll let her do this tonight. And after her petty vengeance is out of the way, I can focus on my fa?ade and she’ll go back to her usual forms of torment.

Sunlight breaks through the clouds. I squint up at it as I step outside. I stand on the steps for a moment, studying the girls waiting for me in the parking lot. I’d guess that there are none that are actually upset with me—they’re only here because they’re afraid of Sophia. Most are probably glad that it’s not them in my position.

“Hey, freak!” Sophia raises her voice so I can hear her across the lot. I hide my bag behind a bush so they won’t terrorize my books. My keys jangle as I set it down.

If I had a sense of humor, the sight before me would be comical. Besides Stephanie Dill, a hulking girl Sophia keeps around for muscle, these girls are small. They’re all wearing miniskirts and too much makeup.

“Come on, we don’t have all day!”

My truck is a couple yards away from them. They wanted to make sure I didn’t leave. Squaring my shoulders, I start toward the group, listening to my shoes scrape against the pavement. They all stare. So many Emotions … and so much emptiness where there should be actual beings. Which can only mean one thing: whatever sent them running is back. And nearby, maybe.

The flag whips against the pole, bringing me back to the situation at hand. As soon as I’m in earshot Sophia says in a low, furious voice, “You owe me an apology.”

I realize my expression isn’t correct for this situation; I try to look nervous and regretful. “I’m sorry,” I respond, adding a wobble to my voice for good measure.

She clenches her jaw. “Too easy.”

I stop just three feet away from her little group. “What do you want me to say?”

“She’s so weird,” I hear one of them mutter.

“Do you really think ‘sorry’ is enough for ruining my party?” Sophia snaps. “Do you think it’s enough for humiliating me? Especially in front of … ” She trails off, but we all know whose name is on the tip of her tongue. She’s holding her cast with tight, enraged fingers.

Any answer I give will only rile her further.

Stephanie—the big girl—scowls impatiently. “Can we just get this over with?” she demands. “I want to get to the hardware store before it closes.”

Sophia sighs. “Fine.”

That one word is all it takes. All the girls tense, but it’s only Stephanie who jumps at me. She clearly expects me to struggle or run, because the first thing she does is pin my arms to my sides. I just look at the ground. “Okay, I’ve got her,” Stephanie says, triumphant, as if she’s won a big contest. Her breath blows down on my face, and I can’t hold back a gag. It reeks heavily of chewing tobacco and rot.