twelve
Jeremy stares at me, then grabs the paper and skims through it himself. Then he turns to glare at Pam. “What is this? You and your dad have been stalking us or something?”
“Excuse me?” Pam puts her hands on her hips. “I didn’t even know you guys existed until last night.”
“Then why do you have a list of addresses in all the places we’ve lived? We’ve lived in way too many places for this to be a coincidence.”
“It’s not my list,” Pam retorts. “Our dads are friends, right? Maybe my dad was just keeping track of where your dad lived so he could send him letters.”
“But these aren’t our addresses,” I point out. “They’re the right cities and towns, but we’ve never lived on any of those actual streets.”
“Well…” says Pam, but apparently she can’t think of any good reason for her and her dad to have a list of the towns we’ve lived, because she doesn’t continue.
“They’re not in order,” Jeremy points out, still poring over the list. “These places—they’re not listed in order of when we lived there.”
Somehow, this makes me feel a little better.
I stand next to Jeremy and peer at the list in his hand, straining my brain to see if I remember where any of the other streets were, like how I remembered Marilyn Way. Nothing else jumps out at me. We’ve lived in way too many places in much too short of a time; everything sort of just blends together in my mind.
Jeremy’s finger lands on one of the addresses. 756 Hillbrook Street, Westford, Kentucky. “When did we live in Kentucky?” he asks.
I think about it. It must have been when we were really little, because I don’t remember ever living in Kentucky. I remember living in Indiana when I was six or seven, and Ohio when I was maybe ten, and I know we lived in Arkansas at one point in town because when I was really young I always used to try to find Champion, Arkansas on a map. I liked the name. But my mind is coming up blank when I think about Kentucky.
“You’re ‘living’ in Kentucky now,” says Pam.
“This is Kentucky?” Honestly, I had no clue what state we were in until Pam pointed that out.
Pam gives me a ‘you can’t be serious’ look. “Yes, this is Kentucky. I think I know where I live.”
There’s a definite flaw in her logic—something like, If she’s lived her entire life inside that little house and hasn’t really had the opportunity to go anywhere or interact with anyone, then maybe her dad just told her this is Kentucky and it’s really somewhere else. This could be anywhere! But I don’t bring that up. Instead I ask, “Is this Westford, Kentucky?”
Pam shakes her head. “Greentown.”
“Are we close to Westford?” Jeremy wants to know.
Pam shrugs. “We can ask my dad.”
“No!” Jeremy and I both shout at the same time.
Pam eyes us suspiciously. “What’s your problem with my dad?”
“Well, for starters, we don’t want him to know I took this list from his bedroom drawer,” I tell her.
“And we don’t want him to know we’re trying to find stuff out,” Jeremy adds.
Pam gives him a confused look. “Why not? He could help us.”
Jeremy and I exchange a glance. She is so naïve. Which makes sense, considering the way she was raised, with her dad as basically the only person she’s ever known.
“Maybe he would help us,” I say carefully. “But he would also probably tell our dad, and our dad would tell him not to help us. Our dad doesn’t want us to know anything.”
Pam purses her lips. “If your dad really doesn’t want you to know anything, don’t you think he has a good reason?”
“No,” Jeremy and I say together.
“I mean, he says he wants to keep us safe,” I grudgingly amend. “But I think we’d be safer if he did tell us everything. That way at least we’d know who to look out for.”
“That’s why it’s important for you to tell us everything you know,” Jeremy adds in a gentle voice, looking at Pam. “To help keep us safe.”
Pam looks from Jeremy to me, and I can tell she’s trying to decide whether or not to trust us. But before she has a chance to say anything, a police car comes driving up the road and pulls into Pam’s driveway.
Pam glares at Jeremy and me accusingly. “They followed you!”
“No they didn’t!” Jeremy protests.
“Even if they did, that’s not a bad thing,” I add. “They’re the police.”
Jeremy gives me a look, and I remember how we ran from the police at McDonalds. I remember how I’m supposedly a kidnapped kid and everyone is keeping their eyes out for me.
“We have to stay hidden,” says Pam. “No one’s supposed to know I exist, and they’re probably here because of you. Which means we don’t want them to see you. Come on.” Pam runs for cover in the woods.
I look at Jeremy. “What do you think?” I ask.
He looks torn. “Rachel’s in there.”
“Yeah, I know… but Mom and Dad are too.”
“And is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I don’t have an answer. I look up at the house again, where the policemen have gotten out of the car and are talking on their radios. I don’t think they’ve noticed us yet.
“Come on!” Pam hisses from the woods.
I weigh my options. If I stand out here in the open, the policemen will probably see me. Since I’m supposedly a kidnapped child, that would be bad. If I run toward the house to try to save Rachel—and I don’t even know how I would save her or even if she’s in any danger in the first place—they’ll definitely see me, and probably want to take me in for questioning. If I run into the woods with Pam, I can avoid being seen.
I head to the woods. Jeremy seems to be thinking along the same line I am, because he follows.
We lurk behind a large evergreen with thick, low branches. We watch as the officers enter the house.
We wait.
And wait.
And wait.
“We should go in,” I whisper. I can’t stand being out here and not having any idea what’s happening to Mom and Dad and Rachel.
Pam shakes her head. “We can’t.”
“But it’s the police. It’s not the bad guys. Not Dermott.”
Pam gives me a look that can almost be described as pitying. “You think everyone in a blue uniform is a good guy? You don’t think Dermott might have spies on the police force?”
I scowl because she’s right. We can’t trust anyone.
So we sit around and wait some more. Finally, the door opens and people step out of the house. A police officer. Pam’s dad. My dad. Mom, carrying Rachel. Another police officer.
Mom, Dad, and Pam’s dad are escorted into the back of the police car. The two officers get in the front. And they drive away.
“Excuse me?” Pam puts her hands on her hips. “I didn’t even know you guys existed until last night.”
“Then why do you have a list of addresses in all the places we’ve lived? We’ve lived in way too many places for this to be a coincidence.”
“It’s not my list,” Pam retorts. “Our dads are friends, right? Maybe my dad was just keeping track of where your dad lived so he could send him letters.”
“But these aren’t our addresses,” I point out. “They’re the right cities and towns, but we’ve never lived on any of those actual streets.”
“Well…” says Pam, but apparently she can’t think of any good reason for her and her dad to have a list of the towns we’ve lived, because she doesn’t continue.
“They’re not in order,” Jeremy points out, still poring over the list. “These places—they’re not listed in order of when we lived there.”
Somehow, this makes me feel a little better.
I stand next to Jeremy and peer at the list in his hand, straining my brain to see if I remember where any of the other streets were, like how I remembered Marilyn Way. Nothing else jumps out at me. We’ve lived in way too many places in much too short of a time; everything sort of just blends together in my mind.
Jeremy’s finger lands on one of the addresses. 756 Hillbrook Street, Westford, Kentucky. “When did we live in Kentucky?” he asks.
I think about it. It must have been when we were really little, because I don’t remember ever living in Kentucky. I remember living in Indiana when I was six or seven, and Ohio when I was maybe ten, and I know we lived in Arkansas at one point in town because when I was really young I always used to try to find Champion, Arkansas on a map. I liked the name. But my mind is coming up blank when I think about Kentucky.
“You’re ‘living’ in Kentucky now,” says Pam.
“This is Kentucky?” Honestly, I had no clue what state we were in until Pam pointed that out.
Pam gives me a ‘you can’t be serious’ look. “Yes, this is Kentucky. I think I know where I live.”
There’s a definite flaw in her logic—something like, If she’s lived her entire life inside that little house and hasn’t really had the opportunity to go anywhere or interact with anyone, then maybe her dad just told her this is Kentucky and it’s really somewhere else. This could be anywhere! But I don’t bring that up. Instead I ask, “Is this Westford, Kentucky?”
Pam shakes her head. “Greentown.”
“Are we close to Westford?” Jeremy wants to know.
Pam shrugs. “We can ask my dad.”
“No!” Jeremy and I both shout at the same time.
Pam eyes us suspiciously. “What’s your problem with my dad?”
“Well, for starters, we don’t want him to know I took this list from his bedroom drawer,” I tell her.
“And we don’t want him to know we’re trying to find stuff out,” Jeremy adds.
Pam gives him a confused look. “Why not? He could help us.”
Jeremy and I exchange a glance. She is so naïve. Which makes sense, considering the way she was raised, with her dad as basically the only person she’s ever known.
“Maybe he would help us,” I say carefully. “But he would also probably tell our dad, and our dad would tell him not to help us. Our dad doesn’t want us to know anything.”
Pam purses her lips. “If your dad really doesn’t want you to know anything, don’t you think he has a good reason?”
“No,” Jeremy and I say together.
“I mean, he says he wants to keep us safe,” I grudgingly amend. “But I think we’d be safer if he did tell us everything. That way at least we’d know who to look out for.”
“That’s why it’s important for you to tell us everything you know,” Jeremy adds in a gentle voice, looking at Pam. “To help keep us safe.”
Pam looks from Jeremy to me, and I can tell she’s trying to decide whether or not to trust us. But before she has a chance to say anything, a police car comes driving up the road and pulls into Pam’s driveway.
Pam glares at Jeremy and me accusingly. “They followed you!”
“No they didn’t!” Jeremy protests.
“Even if they did, that’s not a bad thing,” I add. “They’re the police.”
Jeremy gives me a look, and I remember how we ran from the police at McDonalds. I remember how I’m supposedly a kidnapped kid and everyone is keeping their eyes out for me.
“We have to stay hidden,” says Pam. “No one’s supposed to know I exist, and they’re probably here because of you. Which means we don’t want them to see you. Come on.” Pam runs for cover in the woods.
I look at Jeremy. “What do you think?” I ask.
He looks torn. “Rachel’s in there.”
“Yeah, I know… but Mom and Dad are too.”
“And is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I don’t have an answer. I look up at the house again, where the policemen have gotten out of the car and are talking on their radios. I don’t think they’ve noticed us yet.
“Come on!” Pam hisses from the woods.
I weigh my options. If I stand out here in the open, the policemen will probably see me. Since I’m supposedly a kidnapped child, that would be bad. If I run toward the house to try to save Rachel—and I don’t even know how I would save her or even if she’s in any danger in the first place—they’ll definitely see me, and probably want to take me in for questioning. If I run into the woods with Pam, I can avoid being seen.
I head to the woods. Jeremy seems to be thinking along the same line I am, because he follows.
We lurk behind a large evergreen with thick, low branches. We watch as the officers enter the house.
We wait.
And wait.
And wait.
“We should go in,” I whisper. I can’t stand being out here and not having any idea what’s happening to Mom and Dad and Rachel.
Pam shakes her head. “We can’t.”
“But it’s the police. It’s not the bad guys. Not Dermott.”
Pam gives me a look that can almost be described as pitying. “You think everyone in a blue uniform is a good guy? You don’t think Dermott might have spies on the police force?”
I scowl because she’s right. We can’t trust anyone.
So we sit around and wait some more. Finally, the door opens and people step out of the house. A police officer. Pam’s dad. My dad. Mom, carrying Rachel. Another police officer.
Mom, Dad, and Pam’s dad are escorted into the back of the police car. The two officers get in the front. And they drive away.
