The Leaving(24)

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” It wasn’t her fault there wasn’t more!

“Who knows about this?” Sounding like an accusation.

“Just me and my mom. Maybe my dad, but I doubt it.”

“Do me a favor,” he said. “Don’t mention it to anyone. Until I check it out. No more little on-camera stunts? And if I catch a whiff of any social media posting nonsense—” Chambers wasn’t the most pleasant-seeming guy.

“It’s a free country,” Avery said. “What are you going to do, exactly? To check it out.”

“I’ll send someone over to pick it up. We’ll get it to the lab. Dust it for prints or other trace evidence.”

Avery said, “And you’ll let me know? You’ll call me?”

“I’ll speak with your parents, yes.”

“It would be better if you just called me.”

He was quiet for a long second. “Everything okay at home?”

“Nothing’s okay at home,” she said.

“It’s better if you call me,” he said. “Give me a couple of days.”

“Okay,” she said. But she didn’t want to hang up yet. “Do you think it’s really from him?”

He breathed so loudly that Avery pictured his nostril hairs cowering in fear. “Truth?”

She stared at a flyer gripped by a magnet clip on the refrigerator. Dates and times for the auditions. Next Wednesday. A lifetime away. They had to post a reward before then. “Truth.”

“It’s probably a prank,” he said, sounding almost nice. “A really sick, pathetic prank.”

“What’s wrong with people?” Her hands were still shaking when she ended the call.





Scarlett


She’d helped Tammy into the passenger seat and had gotten behind the wheel. She turned the key, put the car in Drive.

Had to look around a bit—horn, there.

Hazards, there.

Fluffy dice and stale air freshener there.

But driving felt familiar.

Someone had taught her to do this.


No encouraging mother or father in an empty mall parking lot.

No driver’s ed class with friends.


Who did this?


What else did you teach me?


At home, she’d poured Tammy into bed and put a glass of water on her bedside table.

It was 7:00 p.m.

She went to her room to change her clothes.

Then changed them again.

And again.

Shorts didn’t feel right.

At all.

Sundresses slightly better.

But florals, no.

Stripes?

Better.

She didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

It was just . . .

. . . all . . .

. . . wrong . . .

Would have to go back . . .

But then what would she wear?

Would have to find better . . .

. . . other . . .

. . . stores.

Finally, she settled on the gray A-line skirt and black tank top.

Lying down on her bed, she searched for “oval metal objects” on her phone.

A locket maybe?

Religious medal?

She put the phone down.

Could not keep sleeping in this room.

Not with it like this.

All stuffed unicorns and Glinda.

She stood and stared at the cardboard witch for a minute and imagined a field of poppies, a yellow brick road leading her to . . .

. . . where?

. . . then left.

She opted to drive and was early, even with all that, and had been sitting in the parking lot beside the playground for maybe fifteen minutes thinking about lockets and religious medals and flying monkeys when— KNOCK-KNOCK.

Gasp.


Kristen.

Black cargo shorts.

White top with a black anchor on it.

Black bracelets on her left wrist.


Scarlett leaned over and opened the passenger-side door. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

Kristen exhaled cigarette smoke, then got into the car, bringing the smell with her. “You smoke?” Scarlett said.

Kristen shrugged. “Apparently.”



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Crickets.



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Palm leaves brushing against each other in the breeze. /



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Just tell her!



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Kristen said, “Do you think anybody else is going to show?”

“I think Lucas will.” He had to; she needed to see him even if she wasn’t sure exactly why. ”It was his idea. But I don’t know. Have you been watching the news?”

Kristen said, “They’ll never show.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” She’d heard about Kristen during that brief news clip, too. “Hypnosis?”

“Yeah, it was all Father’s idea. And Mother’s, too, of course!”

“Are they awful?”

“They got divorced, turns out. So I’m living in this totally weird house with my mother and now they have to figure out custody? I don’t know. It’s like they’re offended that someone did this to them. It’s all so . . . unsavory. My father thinks we were kept in some pervert’s basement.”