This story will become FREE on August 30th, 2023!
When 17-year-old Arbor Hayes' best friend turns up alive after a mysterious six-month disappearance, she must piece together the fragments of her story to make sense of what happened. But as clues e...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Monday morning, Mey corners me as soon as I get to my locker. "Is there a reason why you avoided my calls yesterday? I thought you were coming over."
I'm too exhausted to devise an excuse. "Sorry. Something came up."
The hallway echoes with the chatter of students walking to class. They curve around Mey like a boulder in the river, but she's rooted in place, her lower lip jutting into a pout. "But I made brownies and I had to eat them all myself, thank you very much."
She acts like that's a bad thing, though she doesn't sound upset. If anyone can throw back a pan of brownies, it's Mey. I've seen her in action.
"What happened?" she asks.
"Emma happened. She's out to get me." Somehow, her name feels unfamiliar on my lips. I hang my coat on a hook and close my locker.
"What do you mean?"
Two boys walking past are discussing Jordan's accident. I tilt my head and listen for information I don't already have, but come up blank. I drag out a breath and lean into the metal door. "My mother set us up on a playdate," I say through gritted teeth.
"Seriously?" A grin tugs at her rosebud lips, and the way they tremble tells me she's trying not to laugh.
"She never even asked if it was alright."
"I take it things didn't go well?"
"That's putting it mildly."
More than anything, I want to tell her what Emma said about Smith, but I haven't even confessed to losing my virginity yet. If I disclose that story now, Mey will be offended I didn't confide in her sooner.
But it doesn't matter. Because something else happened—something I didn't find out until after I got home. "I took Emma to Yoder's—"
Mey gasps. "Oh my God, their butterscotch pie is to die for!"
"Mey. Focus. This is important." I try not to roll my eyes as Mey slides an imaginary zipper across her lips. "I assumed it was my mom who invited Emma over, but it turns out they came on their own because..." I have to force the words from my mouth, "because Emma thought my mom should know."
A wrinkle spreads across Mey's forehead. "Know what?"
The pause that follows is long. My eyes dart down the hall before I motion Mey to come closer. For added safety, I lower my voice, making certain no one can overhear. "She told my mom I've been acting paranoid again. You know—like before."
Confusion manipulates Mey's expression as she processes what I've said. All at once, her eyes widen. "You mean ..." She doesn't want to say it.
Emma's not the only one who knows what happened with my father. Our friends do, too. And they also know that if I dwell on it, which comes as natural to me as breathing, it's the one memory that threatens to destroy all the hard work I've put into managing my symptoms.
