The Rules for Disappearing (6 page)

“You look even dirtier than you did this morning.” I try to make this sound really rude and offensive, but it comes out more like I’m curious. Which I guess I am.

“Yeah. Working on a farm will do that to you.” Ethan rubs his

hands down his coat sleeves, knocking dirt on the floor. A huge chunk falls on the table and before I think twice about what I’m doing, I flick it at him, hitting him square in the forehead.

His expression is perfect. Completely amused and surprised at

the same time.

“You’re gonna get it now,” he says as a wicked grin spreads

across his face.

I push away from the table, laughing, but I’m in a bind. I’m in the corner of the room with Ethan blocking any possible escape.

—S

—N

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I try to scoot one way and he mirrors my moves. Not sure what

he has in mind once he catches me so I hold up both hands and say,

“Truce. We’re even now.”

“Even?” His hands go out to his sides, like he’s confused. “How do you figure we’re even?”

“You made fun of my singing. That deserved a little bit of

retaliation.”

Ethan drops back down in his seat and pulls mine closer to the table with his foot. “For the record, I said you sounded good. Not my fault if you can’t take a compliment.”

I move my seat a little farther from the table before sitting back down, not trusting he won’t go for some sort of revenge.

“What do you grow?” For some reason this whole farm thing

fascinates me. I’ve never known anyone who actually had a farm or grew things. Or looked so cute covered in dirt.

“Mostly cotton, some corn and soybeans.”

“So what do you do there, exactly?”

Ethan lifts up his cap and slides it back and forth a few times before fitting it back on his head. “Well, this time of year we mostly fix equipment and get the fields ready. We have cows, too, so you gotta make sure they have plenty of food since it’s so cold out.”

His face looks chapped from the wind, and the tips of his dark hair curl over the edge of his cap. And that voice, deep and smooth, those words rolling right out.

“Why were you fighting with that other guy?”

Ethan’s smile drops.

S—

“He’s an asshole.”

N—

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I wait for him to explain, but apparently that’s all I’m going to get.

“Did you get in trouble? It kinda surprised me that you didn’t get suspended.” I tear off a small chunk of crust and pop it in my mouth.

“Technically the fight happened off school grounds,” he says

putting “off school grounds” in air quotes. “Principal couldn’t touch us. That jackass wanted to keep going once we hit the parking lot.

That’s why we got called in.”

I’m starving so I give in and pull the plate closer. There probably won’t be any leftovers at home so this may be my only chance to eat. I pick every single thing off the pizza and Ethan laughs at me as he shovels his fourth piece in his mouth. It’s a good thing Teeny and I don’t have an appetite like that, or we would have starved months ago.

“Now my turn for a question. What’s the story on Meg Jones?”

Loaded question if there ever was one. “Not much. Just moved

here from Arkansas. My dad got a job here. That’s pretty much it.”

The guilt eats at me every time I lie. I’m going to need coun-

seling at some point—maybe I should find a Liars Anonymous

meeting,
“Hi, I’m Meg from Louisiana. No, that’s not right. I’m Suzie
from Texas. No, not that either. . . .”

“What part?”

“Um, Lewisville.”

Ethan’s face lights up. “No friggin’ way. Ever see the Fouke

Monster?”

What the . . . Fouke Monster? There was no mention of a

—S

—N

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monster in my neatly typed three paragraphs. I shake my head.

Surely,
No!
is the right answer here.

He watches me a second. I tuck a few short strands behind my

ear and try not to panic.

“So, how’d you end up working here? This is your first day,

right?”

“Came in and ordered a pizza. Asked for a job. The last waitress quit, so lucky for me.” His mouth opens, I assume for another question, but I’m saved by the door chimes. I jump from the table.

A few new customers trickle in to pick up to-go orders. Once

they leave, I want nothing more than to run back to that table. I force myself to stay at the counter. Ethan walks over when it’s clear I’m not coming back.

Before he can say anything, I put my hand up. “Ethan, thanks

for the pizza, but I need to get back to work. I don’t want to make Pearl mad or lose my job.” It had been too nice—a simple conversation with a cute boy. It wouldn’t take long for it to progress to something else. And then what? Ethan would look for me one day at school, and there would be no trace of me left. I lost myself for a few minutes but it’s not too late to pull back.

He slides his hat off and back on again and studies me. Leaning over the counter, he grabs a cardboard pizza box from under the counter and yells, “Bye, Aunt Pearl! See ya later.”

Pearl sticks her head out of the kitchen. “You going, already?

Well, bye hon.” Pearl nods toward me. “Meg, you can go on and go, too. You weren’t planning on working tonight, I can handle it from S—

here. Be back at four tomorrow.”

N—

I grab my hoodie and go-bag from behind the counter and head

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out the door. It opens and closes behind me but I don’t turn back—

just keep walking. A moment later, a truck comes up beside me and the window rolls down.

“Are you walking home?”

I don’t answer.

“It’s too cold to walk.”

No shit. “I’m fine. It’s not far.” I pick up my pace. A loud noise from the bushes almost brings me to the ground. My heart’s in my throat until I see a little squirrel dart from the shrubbery. Dad’s paranoia is definitely rubbing off on me.

“Meg, let me take you home.”

God, I probably look like an idiot. The fumes from his exhaust fill the air around me. There are still two and a half blocks to go, and I’m freezing. The wind is whipping right through my hoodie and my teeth are chattering. I jump in his truck and point up the road. “I live in one of the little cottages up there.”

We pull into the driveway and he leans back in his seat. My

playful attitude turned considerably frosty and I’m sure he’s trying to figure out why. I jump out of the truck before he can say anything else and don’t look back. I don’t hear the truck drive away until I shut the front door.

—S

—N

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RULES FOR DISAPPEARING

BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:

Only use public transportation. It’s the one true way to look completely uninteresting. That is, unless, you have a hideous wood-paneled station wagon. That’ll work, too.

Iwake up in a cold sweat. The room is dark but I can make out

Teeny’s sleeping form in the twin bed next to me. My T-shirt is wet and my hair is plastered to my head. I can’t catch my breath.
It was
a dream
, I repeat over and over in my head. It’s the same dream that has haunted me for months where I’m stuck in this room, and I’m scared to death. There are people in the room, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s been weeks since I’ve had this dream, but that doesn’t make it any better when it does show up.

My legs get tangled in the sheets and I end up falling out of the bed. I grab the journal from my bag and start to write.

Flashing lights. I’m trapped. I’m scared. I can’t

breathe. It’s like I’m drowning.

I’m hoping this will help me make some sense out of the night-

S—

mares but all I can pull out of them are the flashing lights and the N—

feeling of being trapped, which isn’t surprising since that’s exactly 44

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what Witness Protection feels like. As soon as I wake up, the images evaporate.

My throat’s on fire. I run to the kitchen for some water and

drink a glassful in seconds. It isn’t until I fill the glass for the second time that a movement catches my attention.

The glass slips and shatters on the floor. Mom is hunched

over the kitchen table. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Her words are slurred.

“Mom, what are you doing up?” I glance at the clock on the

oven. “It’s two in the morning.” Tiptoeing around the shards of glass, I get the broom and dust pan from the small closet.

“Can’t sleep. Miss my bed at home. Not the same here.”

No kidding. “Mom, you need to get to bed.”

“I have failed you girls. I can’t even remember the names they gave you.” She puts her head on the table and sobs.

How many times have we sat in the dark like this? I want to feel sorry for her but I’m tapped out. I run my hand through her messy hair, trying to untangle a few of the knots. If her face didn’t show the damage from all the alcohol, she would be beautiful. The darker hair looks so much better than the fake blond did.

“It’s Meg and Mary. I’m Meg. Meg Jones. You are Emily Jones.

Dad is Bill Jones. We’re in Louisiana.” Hearing all of the basic facts of our new life here seems to calm her down just as it did for Teeny this morning. “C’mon, Mom.”

Mom gets up from the table and I put an arm around her waist.

She’s leaning against me, and it’s a struggle to get her down the hall.

She points a finger toward the kitchen as we pass it. “We don’t

—S

even have food here. I never would have had an empty refrigerator.”

—N

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“I know, Mom. I’ll go to the store tomorrow. Keep walking,

we’re almost there.”

We both stumble into her room. I’m sure Dad’s aware of what’s

happening, but he doesn’t move or say a word. I should’ve turned the lights on and made him deal with this. Mom snores softly before I even get the covers over her.

Mom made an appearance this morning, eyes red and puffy, but

made no mention of our early morning conversation. Dad left an envelope in my room with money for food before he left. I’m sure he didn’t trust Mom with it. Let me add
find a way to get to the grocery
store before work and do all the shopping
to my to-do list. And then again, there’s always pizza.

I step off the bus in front of school. It’s humiliating to show up your senior year on a school bus. My old friends back home, especially Elle and Laura, would have a field day if they could see me now. As soon as the thought seeps into my brain, I push it back out.

Just thinking about them makes my stomach hurt. How can I want to go back home more than anything and at the same time never

want to see my two best friends ever again?

I can’t think about them right now.

I join the sea of people wandering through the front doors. I’m so nervous and it’s totally Ethan’s fault. I took extra time with my hair this morning in the hopes that I won’t look like a boy by the end of the day. This goes totally against The Plan, I know. There’s no reason to look cute for a boy you’re desperately trying to ignore.

S—

His locker is close to mine, so I peek past the metal door to spy on N—

him. He’s easy to spot, leaning against the wall near the bathrooms, 46

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talking to a small group of people. I grab my books and sneak into my classroom.

My seat in the back is still available so I slide in. Before I can turn on my music, the guy in front of me turns around. It’s the jock that fought with Ethan. His eye is an array of disgusting colors and almost swollen shut.

“I didn’t catch your name yesterday, new girl.”

“Meg Jones.”

“Well, hey, Meg. I’m Ben Dufrene.”

I don’t answer, just crank the volume up.

Ben takes the hint and doesn’t try to talk to me again.

After sitting through my first two classes, I’ve decided it takes a lot of effort to be a loner. In the other schools, I worked hard to fit in, but a few hours into my second day here and I’m physically exhausted from not making eye contact or initiating conversation.

Third period begins and my teacher turns the class into a study hall and runs out of the room in tears. Bits of gossip throughout the room suggest that she was having an affair with one of the coaches and he broke it off with her this morning. Classy.

But it’s fine by me. One less class I have to worry about. The room is broken up into little groups, everyone enjoying this unexpected hour of freedom, but I sit all alone. Busy doesn’t look as pathetic, so I pull out the journal and put in my earbuds. About halfway through the hour, a girl drops down in a desk near mine.

Her eyes peek to the page I’m writing on, so I close the book.

I recognize her as the cheerleader that was front and center

for Teeny’s meltdown yesterday. A group of her minions watch and

—S

giggle from across the room.

—N

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From the expressions on their faces, this probably won’t be

good. Elle used to do this same crap to Nicole Payne. That girl made Elle look stupid during a mock debate in Speech and Elle has been after her ever since. I’d sit back and watch, just like this cheerleader’s friends are doing now and I can still remember that feeling of nervousness mixed with excitement when I saw Elle move in. I pop the earbuds out and try to prepare for what’s coming.