Four Walls (Book One) ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Bathroom is down the hall to the right. The linen closet across from my bedroom has extra blankets and pillows. Oh, and if get hungry in the middle of the night, the kitchen is usually pretty well-stocked with snacks."

"Thank you." I wrap Jessica's fuzzy purple blanket around my shoulders, sip my peppermint hot chocolate, and glance down at the well-loved stuffed monkey, Bananas, who Jessica said I could hold on to. "Thank you for everything."

"I mean, what was I supposed to do? Let you freeze to death outside?" She takes a sip of her herbal tea and stares at the scratches on my face. "I guess I'm lucky I found you when I did."

"No, I'm the lucky one." I put my mug down and rotate my head toward her, flashing a guilty smile. "Jessica, I'm... I'm sorry for what I said to you in the bathroom the other day. I was out of line."

"Yeah, well, I understand why you think that about me," she says with a shrug. "On the outside, I seem pretty superficial, huh?"

"No," I lie. Until about two hours ago, I thought she was as shallow as a kiddy pool.

"I get it. I hang with the so-called 'popular crowd.' I dated the quarterback for two years. I allowed said quarterback to treat everyone who wasn't in our inner circle like garbage. If I were you, I wouldn't like me, either."

"It's not that I don't like you," I begin. "I just... well, I don't understand you."

"And you think I understand you?" She raises her perfectly plucked eyebrows in disbelief. "I found you covered in blood, and you refused to tell me what happened. I might seem like a self-obsessed bimbo, but you're a whole different type of enigma, Layla Dodds."

"I suppose you're right," I mumble, still shocked that I'm here, that I'm engaging in this conversation.

I look around her bedroom. I always envisioned her sleeping quarters to be a sparkly chamber filled with unicorns, magazine cut-outs, and everything pink, but my assumptions were incorrect. There are no unicorns; however, she does have an assortment of ceramic horses on her shelves. The only posters hanging from her lavender walls are of rock bands I've never heard of. As far as my pink theory, there is a fuchsia throw pillow on her bed, but it has the words "Girl Power" embroidered on it, so I can't judge. For all I know, she's a feminist icon. Perhaps she's the next Gloria Steinem.

"I'm beginning to think that I grossly misjudged you," I declare.

She shrugs her shoulders. "Honestly, you wouldn't be the first person."

"So tell me about yourself," I say, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "Who is the real Jessica Jermain?"

Over the next few hours, I hear Jessica's life story. Despite her popularity, she likes to be alone. She likes to read—something she and I have in common—as well as draw, hike, and go horseback riding. She loves music. Her favorite bands are Fallout Boy and Weezer. She's seen the latter in concert three times. Evan is the only boy she's ever dated. He asked her out in eighth grade, and she felt pressured to say yes. At the time, "no" didn't seem like a valid answer. She feared he would retaliate against her in some way if she rejected him. From what I know about Evan Miller, it was a sound assumption.

I also learn that she was raised by her Aunt Heather. When she was in pre-school, her parents were killed in a car accident.

"It was late. They were almost home when a passing vehicle swerved into their lane and hit them head-on," she explains. "The other vehicle was reported stolen, but the driver of the car got away. Police never caught him."

"I'm so sorry," I reply. "That must have been so hard for you." Another thought crosses my mind. "Wait, is that why you asked me about Ada? Because of the whole talking-to-the-dead thing?"

"It was," she admits, blushing. "I know it's silly, but ever since I first heard the rumor that Ada could, you know, do that, I wanted to reach out." Her gaze drops to the floor. "You must think I'm crazy."

"Trust me, I don't," I assure her. "It sounds like you just wanted answers. That's something we can all relate to."

She offers me a half-smile. "Thanks, Layla."

"You're welcome, Jessica."

"Anyway, enough sad stuff," she changes the topic. "Aunt Heather has been good to me. She raised me like her own daughter. I know I could have had it a lot worse."

She could have. Had her aunt not stepped up, she would have been thrown into the foster system.

Which is exactly what will happen to me if Hank's crimes are unveiled.

That's why I don't say much when Jessica asks me to tell her about myself. I tell her the basics, but nothing more. I know better. After what happened at the pool with Jose, I need to be extra careful with what I share.

Around three a.m., we decide to go to sleep. She promises to make us waffles for breakfast. Before she turns off the lights, her lips part into a warm grin.

"I had fun tonight. Truthfully, I didn't think I would," she confesses.

"Same here," I concur, referring to both parts of her statement.

"Well, goodnight, Layla." She flicks the switch and closes her eyes. Within minutes, I hear her gentle snoring.

My mind goes back to the trailer, to Hank, to the battered woman I tried to save. I hope she got out of there. I hope she is safe and sound in her own home and far away from my deadbeat father.

I hope my epic chase scene through the woods wasn't for nothing.

I snuggle into my makeshift bed on the floor, clutch Bananas to my chest, and wait for sleep to take me.

A/N:
I know it's been a while since Hank's made an appearance. I thought I'd bring him back with a bang. What did you think of Layla's ballsy plan? The chase scene? 🤔
As for Jessica, I've been hinting at this friendship for a while. She'll never replace Ada, but she'll be the female companion our protagonist needs. What do you think of Miss Popular so far? 💁🏼‍♀️