The Girls I've Been(26)

“Took me weeks to get him to punch in the combo with me in the room,” she mutters as she goes down on her knees in front of the safe and opens the expensive leather tote that all the richer moms carry. “Maybe I’m losing my touch.” She keys in the number. The safe swings open.

The noise she makes is all pleased triumph. She moves faster than I can believe, and that money is all in the bag lickety-split. She swings the safe shut with a snap.

“Walk me through it,” she orders.

“I’ll offer to go get more help for Adrian. Then I slip out and walk across the greenbelt, where you’ll be waiting in the car.”

She smiles and kisses her pointer and middle finger, pressing it to my cheek. “That’s my girl. Let’s do it.”

I grab the blanket off the couch in the office and go out the door, and she climbs through the window with the leather tote full of love offerings.

I run down the hall, exaggerating my breathlessness as I push the bathroom door open, brandishing the blanket. “I found this! To soak up the water!”

Adrian is standing in the middle of three inches of toilet water, his normally pristine button-down stained and his eyes a little wild.

“That’s—That’s good,” he says, looking hopelessly around, because one blanket is not going to be enough. “How did this even happen?”

I look down, worrying my lower lip.

“Haley,” he says, because I’m being obvious enough that even he picks up on it. “Do you know something?”

“No, I—” I stop, biting my lip again.

“You can tell me.”

“It’s just that I saw Jamison coming out of the bathroom. That’s all. But I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

“Yes. I’m sure there is.” He clears his throat nervously. “Why don’t you run and try to find the janitor? And can you please tell Pastor Elijah what’s going on? They’re going to need to shut off the building’s water, and he has the access keys.”

“Okay. I’ll go right now.”

“Thank you, Haley.”

“Anytime.”

The excitement—the rush—is thrumming under my skin as I take to the halls again—but not toward the sanctuary. I’m heading out now.

Finally free of this place and Jamison Goddard and his pinching and slapping and bruising, that little shit. But as I make the final turn on my mental map, it’s like me thinking about being free of him has conjured him up, because he’s standing there in front of the vending machine that’s stashed outside the break room.

Shit. It’s too late to turn back. I have to keep moving. His focus is on the candy selection, but any second it’s going to snap to me.

I have a split second to decide. What to do?

“Hey.” The voice out of my mouth is not Haley’s; she was softer and timid. This is my voice: lower, harsher.

My fist smashes into his face the second he turns. He staggers, falling right on his ass in front of the vending machine; it’s more out of surprise than because of my strength, but it pleases me all the same.

He sputters out my name like he can’t believe it.

I smile. My real smile this time, and for the first time, I don’t just understand the power here, I like it, because his eyes go wide like I’m the creepiest thing he’s ever seen.

“You know, you hit enough girls, eventually you’ll find one who hits back.”

“I’m—I’m—”

I don’t even let him finish—I don’t have the time. I need to go before he starts yelling or something. “Don’t forget.” And then I skip off, not wanting to run but needing to get the hell away. I push through the doors beyond him and break into a run, just in case he does try to follow. But he doesn’t. He’s more likely to run to Daddy than chase me.

The church is spread across acres of undeveloped land, and I don’t see the car for a few minutes as I swish through knee-high grass sheltered by old oak trees. I try to ignore the little spike of panic inside me, the irrational little voice that says, She left without you.

But then I catch a sight of blue through the trees. I pick up the pace, awkward in Haley’s plaid Mary Janes that have no grip on the soles.

I slide into the car and she starts the engine, driving on the dirt road until we get to the main one, turning left and heading away from the church.

“All clear?” she asks, glancing at her rearview mirror.

“All clear.”

“What did you do?” She gestures to my hand.

“Jamison was in the hall,” I say as we turn onto the highway.

“I thought you said all clear.”

“I did. It’s fine.”

She merges into the flow of traffic, taking the middle lane. She never drives too fast—it’s amateur to get pulled over for something like speeding—and we’ll sail over the state line toward the West Coast long before they even realize we’re gone.

“But you punched him?”

“I had to get past him. It seemed like the easiest way.”

She laughs.

“I thought it’d give us more time,” I explain. “He’ll go to his dad and cry about it. Elijah will text you. When you don’t text back, he’ll think it’s because you’re dealing with me. He might be so distracted, he won’t even check the safe until tomorrow night or something. He’ll probably blame Adrian before he realizes we’re gone.”