RULES FOR DISAPPEARING
BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:
Most mistakes are made when you think no one is watching. And someone is always watching.
I tiptoe into the house. Mom’s waiting for me on the couch. It’s day two on the sober train. And she’s been crying. Teeny’s peeking from the hall, her eyes big.
“Sissy, I’ve been waiting for you.”
I mouth the word “shower” to Teeny and motion her down the hall. I drop onto the couch next to Mom. She’s got tissues bunched up in both hands and alternates between the two, mopping up her face. “I’m so sorry I slapped you yesterday.”
“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said that about Dad.”
Mom waves her arms around. “We shouldn’t be here. Dad may be close to working things out. We may not have to do this much longer.”
I scoot closer and hold her hand. “What does that mean? Will we stay here? Or go back home?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not sure, Sissy. He won’t tell me much, and he’d be really upset if he knew I told you anything.” She pulls me in close. “Please don’t tell him what I’ve told you.” She lets go and runs her fingers through my short dark hair. “You and Teeny were the cutest little girls. I can’t believe what they did to your hair.”
I’m reeling over this bomb she just dropped on me, and she’s upset about a bad dye job. “Mom, if all this may be over soon, please tell me what happened. I won’t tell Dad you told me.”
She picks at a lock of my hair and stares at it. “Sissy, there are a lot worse things than your dad finding out what we’re talking about.” Her voice is hard, bitter.
I’m applying lip gloss when Pearl sticks her head in the bathroom. “Ethan’s outside.” Pearl looks me up and down. “Whoa, girl. Look at you.”
I can’t help the smile that grows across my face. This is the first time in this placement that I’ve “dressed up.” It’s minor compared to what I used to do to get ready for a party, but it’s about ten steps up from the normal towel-dried hair and gray hoodie. I took a break halfway through my shift and ran to a funky little clothing shop I saw on Front Street. I used most of my tip money but got a really cute distressed leather jacket that looks great over a plain T-shirt and jeans. I don’t really have any other options for shoes, so these hideous sneakers will have to do. The jacket is a ridiculous waste of money, but it’s been so long since I’ve splurged on anything for myself, I couldn’t resist.
“Thanks, Pearl. Will you tell him I’ll be out in a minute?”
“Sure thing, honey. Nothing wrong with making a boy wait.”
Since my talk with Mom this afternoon, my mind is racing. There’s a dangerous thing brewing in there—hope.
I haven’t abandoned The Plan, but I am encouraged by my conversation with Mom. And as much as I try to push Ethan away, I’m already sunk.
Next week I’m going to try a new approach. I’ll surf the Internet for anything I can find, and I may break down and call Laura or Elle to see what they know. Maybe something came out after we left—I don’t know. It would be a hard thing to do, but that may be my only option.
I’ll have to be smart about it, though—maybe take a bus to another town first. This will no doubt bring down the wrath of the suits, but I don’t care anymore. Whatever Dad is working on can go one of two ways: we’re out and free, or it blows up in his face. I still need to figure out what’s going on, now more than ever.
But tonight is for me. I’m going to have one night to be a normal teenage girl who is going out with a really hot guy. If Dad and I both fail, my family could be running the rest of our lives, and then what? Someone could be right around the corner and kill us all dead! College is out when you move around like this. I’ll be stuck finding some job like I have here and taking care of Mom and Teeny. Forever. So for tonight—screw it.
Pearl gave me a big-ass aerosol can of Aqua Net. It looks about twenty years old and is probably full of all the bad stuff they banned years ago. The bathroom fills with a cloud of sticky fog as I try to style my hair. I’m trying to mimic the hairstyle of the girl from the coffee shop, and the end product is actually pretty close. The only thing I truly despise is leaving the brown contacts in.
I throw my work shirt into my go-bag and head out of the bathroom. Ethan is talking to Pearl in the kitchen and actually gets tripped up in the middle of a sentence when he sees me. I blush to my hairline.
“Meg, you look great.” It’s said in a tone like, Holy shit, you’re not a total troll, but I don’t take it personally. I know I normally look like a war refugee. He looks down at the bag. “You want to drop that off first?”
I grip the handle a little tighter. “No.”
Awkward silence.
In the truck I push the go-bag far under the seat. Hopefully, out of sight, out of mind. “So where’s this party?”
“A friend of mine’s house. His parents are gone. They live right outside of town. Shouldn’t get busted.”
I hadn’t really thought of that. If I got picked up by the police at a party, I may as well pack the van myself. My screw-it bravado wavers slightly.
“Can I borrow your cell phone to call home?”
Ethan hands me the phone, and Dad answers on the second ring. “Hey. Get a pen and take this number in case you need me.” There would only be two reasons why he would have to call: Mom or the suits. Ethan calls out his number digit by digit as I repeat it to Dad.
I hang up the phone and hand it back to Ethan. “Thanks.”
He drops it into a cup holder. “No problem. I’m surprised you don’t have a phone.” He cranks up the heat in the truck.
I was really hoping for no questions so I wouldn’t have to lie to him tonight. “Yeah, I had one but lost it. Dad refuses to buy me another one right now.”
“Did it suck leaving your friends halfway through senior year?” he asks.
When I answer, I’m not thinking of the friends I made in the last placement, which was nowhere near Arkansas, but of Laura and Elle and how complicated it is. “God, more than you can imagine.” Even though everything was so screwed up between us when I left, I still miss them. Miss my old life.
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think it would be awesome to pick up and get out of here. Move off where no one knows you. Start all over.” This surprises me. Except for the crap with Ben and Emma, he seems to get along with everybody.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” I say.
Ethan pulls out his iPod. “Okay, getting too deep. What do you want to hear? I have it all.” He cocks his head and looks at me sideways. “Let me guess what kind of music you like. Your favorite.”
I turn sideways in the truck, facing him. “Go for it.”
He chews his lip and looks back and forth from the road to me. “Not country.”
“Good so far.”
“Not Top Forty.”
“Keep going.”
“No heavy metal, headbangers, or big-hair bands.”
I pull my feet up in the seat. “Getting closer.”
“It’s a toss-up. Depends on your mood. Every day you like alternative, indie pop, but on other days you’re not afraid to bust a rhyme. You like a little hip-hop, a little Mary J. and even some Beyoncé, although she’s Top Forty.”
I’m shocked. He nailed it. “How did you know that?”
“Can’t give away my secrets.”
I lean forward and push his arm playfully. “Really. How would you know that?”
“So, I’m right?”
I shrug my shoulders and say, “Pretty close.”
He fiddles with the iPod and says, “The first day when I found you outside singing, I didn’t know what in the hell that was, but I finally figured it out. The Ting Tings.”
The mention of my singing embarrasses me, and I’m glad it’s dark in the truck. “You just figured it out, huh. It’s not like they’re mainstream.”
“Emma was listening to them last night. Sounded familiar.”
My upper lip instantly and uncontrollably curls up. “Shut. Up. There is no way we like the same music.”
Ethan holds his hands up in a defensive posture. “I’m telling you what I heard.”
“Fine. Okay, so how’d you figure out Mary J.? ’Cause I do love her. Beyoncé, too.”
“Mary told me. I asked her what kind of music you liked. She said to turn on Mary J. Blige if I really want you to loosen up.”
“That’s cheating! And what did she mean loosen up? I’m loose.”
Ethan starts laughing. Hard. “Loose. You’re kidding, right? You’re wound up tighter than a pissed-off rattlesnake.” Mary J. fills the truck, and I smile. “I couldn’t stand that Ting Ting shit or Beyoncé either, but I found a few Mary J. songs that didn’t totally suck,” he says.
I can’t believe he downloaded songs for me. I wonder if he would be surprised if I reached over and held his hand. My screw-it attitude is back in full force.
We pull up to the party and the yard is full of cars. I have a small moment of panic about what to do with the go-bag. I can’t very well lug it around all night, but I hate the idea of leaving it in the truck. Ethan waits for me while I struggle with what to do about the bag. Leaving it is really my only option.
“Did you lock the car?”
He shakes his pocket and I hear the keys rattle. “Yeah, you need back in?”
“No. Just wanted to make sure it’s locked.”
Ethan grabs my hand and pulls me close. “Loosen. Up.” He kisses me on the tip of my nose. It is so quick, but the contact leaves me with a warm, fuzzy feeling that goes all the way to my ears. On the walk to the house it dawns on me that I should be afraid of what’s going to happen if Ben and Emma are here. Especially if Ben pulls that same crap he was doing at school.
I stop, forcing Ethan to stop, too. “Hold on. Promise me something.”
Ethan takes a small step toward me. It’s so dark, I can barely see his face. “Promise what?”
“Don’t let Ben piss you off. That’s what he’s trying to do, you know. Piss you off.”
His hand stiffens in mine. “I know exactly what Ben is trying to do. Don’t worry, I can take care of him.”
The closer we get to the house, the louder the music gets. On the front porch there’s a guy from my homeroom doing a keg stand while a group of people watch. He flips over, lands on his feet, and everyone cheers. Ethan speaks to several people as we make it up the steps. Most do a double take when they see me, either shocked that I actually look decent or that Ethan brought me here. Or both.
We head to the kitchen, and I’m relieved to see that Catherine is here. And what’s even better is she seems excited to see me too.
Ethan grabs two beers and hands one to me. “Everybody remembers Meg, right? Meg, I don’t think you met Drew.”
Everyone says hi except Julie and Trey, who are too busy making out against the counter to even notice we’ve walked in the room.
“What’s up, Ethan? Didn’t know if you were coming,” Drew says.
“Yeah. I had some stuff to do at the farm before I could go out.”
Will pulls Ethan into a headlock and messes up his hair. “Yeah, we’re gonna catch hell tomorrow.”
Ethan shoves him away, laughing. “Damn, boy, I worked hard on my hair tonight.” He makes a big production of smoothing it back down.
Will laughs and says, “Dad says we’re working cows in the morning. That son of a bitch is gonna make me get up at the crack of dawn.” He punches Ethan in the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll crash at your house. Your dad isn’t as big of an ass as mine is.”
Ethan turns to me and says, “Will’s dad and mine are partners. They farm and have a couple hundred head of cows.”
“Yeah, and they love to work the shit out of us,” Will says. A few more drinks and he won’t be worth anything tomorrow.
While the guys talk, Catherine hops up on the counter and sits next to me. Her dark red hair is curly tonight, but not in that awful beauty pageant sort of way that’s common around here.
“Hey. I’m so glad you came. Ethan wasn’t sure you could make it.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Catherine’s pretty in a different way, with tiny freckles across her nose and big brown eyes, but there’s something else that really makes her stand out. It’s her confidence—she wears it almost like a physical thing. It reminds me a little of Elle, but Elle’s confidence had claws and was something to be feared.
“So, how are you handling the Ethan/Ben/Emma drama?” she asks.
I hesitate. What am I supposed to say? “Uh, not really sure.”
“You just need to ignore her. She loves drama. She’ll totally suck you into her cuckoo-crazy world if you let her. And Ben’s not much better.”
Since most people come into the house through the kitchen, it gets a little crowded. Will leans back into the counter where Catherine’s perched, and she wraps her legs around his waist and rests her elbows on his shoulders. He keeps talking to the guys while she’s talking to me, and it’s almost as if they’re unaware they moved into one another.
“I take it you’re not a fan of Emma’s?” I ask.
“P-lease. I learned my lesson with her years ago.”
I hang with Catherine for a while, and it’s nice to just girl talk. I didn’t realize how much I missed this until now. Some guy comes through offering Jell-O shots, but I stick with beer since I don’t trust myself to get tipsy or drunk.
Ethan has his back to me, talking to Drew, but he turns to look at me every couple of minutes, like he’s making sure I’m still here. Julie and Trey are still making out against the counter. They should find a room.
As the party rolls on, I get a running commentary from Catherine. “That’s Sadie and Anthony,” she whispers, and points to a couple who strolls through the kitchen, hand in hand. “They’ve got the record for breaking up and getting back together. It’s like twenty-four or twenty-five times now. Ridiculous.”
Another girl walks in and starts talking to Ethan and Will.
“That’s Mary Grace. Watch out for her. Her favorite hobby is hooking up, and most times she doesn’t care if the guy is with someone or not.” Catherine leans over Will’s shoulder and says, “Mary Grace, you’ve got to look somewhere else, sweetie—Ethan’s with Meg tonight.”
Maybe Catherine has a few claws of her own.
Mary Grace throws a fake smile at Catherine, then flips her off. Ethan laughs, and mouths the word thanks to Catherine. I try really hard not to blush.
Catherine fills me in on everyone who has the unfortunate luck to walk through the kitchen. She seems to know everything about them, most of it way more information than I need, but it’s funny as hell.
As soon as a slow song starts, Ethan breaks away from the guys and grabs my hand, pulling me to the den. There’d been a steady stream of people dancing when the music was faster, mainly girls in a group, but there are only a few couples left once this slow song starts.
We pass the open door to the dining room on the way and see what looks like a very enthusiastic game of strip poker going on. Most people are down to underwear, except one guy sitting at the table who is fully dressed. He’s draped with what looks like all the clothes that other people have lost.
Ethan walks to an empty corner of the room and pulls me in close, one hand in mine and the other wrapped around my lower back. I used to love to dance. Would dance to anything, but I especially loved to slow dance. It was my favorite, being all cuddled up to a guy I liked and swaying with the music. This is the only time in all these months that I’ve even had a chance.
I’m still pretty nervous around him, so I bury my head in his neck. This way I won’t have to look at him or try to find something clever to say. He smells delicious.
We move to the music and it’s nice. Really nice. Warmth spreads from the contact on the small of my back, and the friction between his calloused hand and mine is making it impossible to concentrate. He feels strong. And safe.
The song ends and Ethan pulls back slightly. Everyone else leaves the dance area, but we’re glued to our spot. His eyes are on my mouth. My heart is pounding. He moves back in, and I curl my fingers through his hair.
And then we hear sirens.