The Vanishing Game (2 page)

The drive lasted about ten minutes, but it seemed a whole lot longer. Hiding in the back of a car belonging to a guy I hadn't talked to in nearly five years was way outside my comfort zone. Would he even recognize me? I'd changed a lot. As I listened to the rain, the radio, and the swish of windshield wipers, I tried to think of what to say when we came face-to-face.

“Hi, Noah. Believe it or not it's me, Jocelyn Harte, and I think we really need to talk. I know it's been a while, and we didn't part on the best of terms, since you told me if you ever saw me again you'd kill me, but we were only kids back then and you didn't really mean it, did you?”

Sure. That would work.

We left the center of Watertown and drove along Woodard Hill Road, which ran beside the Black River. I should have felt relieved, knowing I was safe from my pursuer, but I didn't. Instead, I worried about how alone I was. No, not alone. Worse. Dependent on a guy who had no idea I was hiding in the back of his car.

In time the Jeep slowed and swung left, and after a few more minutes we turned onto a driveway and came to a slow stop. I heard the garage door slide up; then we pulled forward. The droning rain suddenly stopped, and the inside of the car was lit by the glaring overhead bulb. The garage door closed behind us. Noah turned off the engine and the radio fell silent. I kept very still, lying low and pressing against the back of the seat. I analyzed each noise.

The driver's door opened. Noah got out and slammed it shut. I heard his feet crunching on gritty concrete and my ears strained for every sound. I knew it would be much smarter for me to wait until he was inside before approaching him. I wouldn't dare knock on the door leading from the garage into his half of the duplex, but I could slip outside, go around to the front, and ring the bell.

He walked away from the Jeep. I heard a door open and close. For a few seconds I breathed a little easier, though my heart was still pounding. I crawled to my knees and peered out the window. I was alone. The hatchback couldn't be opened from the inside, so I climbed over the backseat and got out. I scanned the garage and saw two doors. One led inside, the other to the backyard. That was where I needed to go, but I'd have to be quiet so he didn't hear me. I knew from spying on him that the other half of the duplex was empty. At least there wouldn't be the problem of avoiding nosy neighbors.

I'd taken only a few steps when the soft sound of grit crunching on cement startled me. Spinning around, I saw
Noah's large frame half a second before he slammed into me, knocking me back against his Jeep. The jolt sent a crack of pain up my neck and I cried out. He squelched the sound by wrapping his hands around my throat. I struggled against him, but he had the arms of an orangutan. I couldn't reach him with my blows and he easily avoided my kicks. Fighting him didn't work, so I desperately tried to explain, but his hands gripped harder until only a few grunts and gasps escaped me as my body fought for air. He had me. There was nothing I could do.

Frantic, I dug my fingers into his hands, but with no result. I couldn't think of anything else to do but offer him the name that might set me free. I looked into his angry face and began to repeat two important words over and over again. No sound came out, and I probably looked like a grounded fish with its mouth flopping open and closed, but I kept trying. I repeatedly mouthed the two words as clearly as I could, looking up at him with wild eyes.

Why didn't he get it? I was inches from his face! Couldn't the idiot read lips? Blood was now pounding in my ears like some roaring surf, and my face felt swollen and hot. A dim haze began to cross my eyes. He was going to kill me!

I dropped my hands and stopped struggling, staring up at him in one last effort before unconsciousness settled in. I begged him with my eyes, but it didn't work. Pleading for help was something I'd never been good at. Besides, it was hard to come across as helpless when I was pushing six feet and staring into the eyes of a guy who barely had two inches on me.

The iron grip around my throat eased just enough for me to pull in a couple of breaths. His face moved closer to mine. “You have two seconds to explain.”

I opened my lips to speak, horrified when no sound made its way out of my windpipe. His fingers began to tighten again. I salvaged every last bit of strength I had and croaked, “Third freak!”

Noah dropped his hands like I was made of hot coals. He stepped back and stared. Several expressions crossed his face: astonishment, doubt, and then anger. I didn't pay much attention, though, because my body was too busy gulping in air with delirious greed. My limbs were trembling, and I felt myself start to slide down the side of the Jeep. He leaped forward to catch me, but I swung my fist up with all the strength I could find. It contacted him quite hard in a rather sensitive area and he doubled over, landing on his knees with a groan.

We sat that way for a while, my back against the tire and my rear on the cold concrete floor and him slumped nearby. We stared at each other, but neither of us said a word.

I was grateful for the heat coming from the gas fireplace as I sat on the raised hearth, drying my hair with a small towel. Except for one dim lamp, the flames gave off the only light. Shadows hovered in the corners of the room and bumped their heads on the ceiling.

Glancing around, I saw that Noah's half of this older duplex had worn carpet, walls in need of paint, and windows with cheap aluminum casings. A shabby bookcase was against one wall, crammed with paperbacks, and the furniture looked a bit beat up. Despite all that, everything was orderly.

From what my brother, Jack, had told me, I knew that Noah used to share this place with a roommate until the guy moved in with a girlfriend. Noah got stuck with the lease but had enough money to get by.

Jack and Noah had been best friends since we were
kids. They were a couple of computer geniuses who ended up making a security program together. It was bought out by a company that also hired them as part-time programmers.

Thinking about Jack caused an uproar of emotions inside me. For three weeks now I'd lived with the grief of losing him, and it was like having my heart crushed beneath a heavy stone. Until the envelope came.

“So what the hell happened to you?” Noah asked from the corner of the couch.

“Please don't swear.”

“Still a prude, huh?” When I didn't answer he added, “Hell is technically a place, not a swear word.”

It was an old debate. I sat in silence, my neck still throbbing from the brutal squeeze he'd given it. My voice was now throaty in a semi-sexy way that bothered me. I didn't look at Noah but felt his eyes drilling a hole through me.

“Okay, so what the
heck
happened to you?”

I ran my fingers through my soaked hair. “It's been a rough day.”

“That's not what I mean, Jocey,” he said, calling me by my childhood nickname. “You don't look anything like you did. What's with all the makeup and blond hair?”

“I grew up! What'd you think? That I'd stay a dorky kid forever?” My eyes flitted to the nighttime windows that were weepy with rain. “Close the curtains, will you?”

Noah paused a few seconds before giving in. He jerked
the drapes shut and sat back down. “I wouldn't have even believed it was you if it wasn't for those two little moles on your neck. They look like a vampire bite. I used to sit and stare at them, you know, and fantasize about biting you there.”

A memory came to mind—the first time Jack and I saw Noah. It was in the boys' bedroom at our new foster home, Seale House. He was kneeling beside a black garbage bag cut open into a large rectangle. Using clear packing tape, he'd been meticulously pleating it into a cape. All these years later, sitting by his fireplace, I couldn't remember how long his Dracula phase had lasted. Eventually it was replaced by the Darth Vader—Luke Skywalker combo, and later by a black ninja.

My fingers fluttered up to my neck. “I never knew that.”

He smiled, though it wasn't a pleasant let's-renew-our-friendship sort of grin. If anything, it made me uneasy. I tossed aside the towel I'd been drying my hair with. The heat from the fire was comforting since my clothes were still damp.

“I'm surprised you came back here. You hate this town.”

“I didn't plan to. But then, after the accident …” My voice trailed off and I couldn't finish. I listened to the quiet murmur of the rain.

“Jocelyn, I'm sorry about Jack. Really sorry.”

A painful lump tightened my throat. I nodded, biting my lower lip.

“When Jack and I were chatting online,” Noah added, “he told me that a year after you two left Watertown, you ended up in foster care again. And that's where you've stayed.”

“The Habertons are good people, and their home is nothing like Seale House. They're a large Catholic family and we live in Troy, just outside Albany. Brent is a doctor at the hospital there. Marilyn is the mom, and she's great. They both are.”

“You call them by their first names?”

“Yes. They suggested it, since we were so much older than their other kids. They've done a lot for us. Even got me and Jack into a private tech school, so he could be a programmer and I could focus on digital art. I took classes in the morning and did an internship in the afternoon. My hours were completed two weeks ago, though. I'm back to a regular school schedule now.”

“Were you doing graphic design?”

I nodded. “Jack did the same kind of internship, but of course he was programming for ISI.”

“He told me a little about your high school and your foster parents. So do they know you're here?”

“No. It's spring break. I was going camping with friends but decided to cancel and drive up here instead.”

“So why'd you come back to Watertown, Jocelyn? And why'd you do a crazy thing like hide in the back of my car?”

His voice sounded wary, and silence hung between us
again. Unsure about telling him my reasons, instead I said, “Are you still mad about what happened the night I left Seale House? I was just a kid, you know.” He looked away and I stood. “This was a mistake.”

“Sit down. We're not done yet.”

I hesitated, studying him with apprehension. He added, “Why are you so jumpy? I'm not going to hurt you.”

Unexpected tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision the way the rain had done earlier. It both horrified and humiliated me, and I turned into the shadows to hide. He got up from the couch and came over, standing next to me. I didn't look at him but felt his nearness the way I felt the heat from the fire.

“You never cry.” His voice sounded unnerved.

“I'm not crying,” I lied. He was right, though. I'd never been a crybaby. But three weeks ago when I got the news that Jack was dead, I'd been heartbroken. Then yesterday, when I'd found that envelope, hope had soared like a sparrow winging its way to the sun. Going from such despair to that teetering height had left me dizzy. It also threw me into a panic. I was desperate to get to Jack and find out what had happened to him. I drove up to Watertown and started spying on Noah, believing my brother would come to the one guy he'd always trusted. But when he didn't show up, my world felt like it was sinking into a chasm. That was why it didn't take much for the tears to start coming.

Noah caught my jaw in his fingers and turned my face
to him. I saw his lean features swimming through the wet blur and jerked away, which freed a tear to spill down my cheek. I brushed it off. He put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me down onto the hearth. This time he sat next to me.

“You don't need to worry. A lot has happened since those days, and I'm not that boy anymore.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Once upon a time there was a boy called
Freak
who became my hero.”

He shook his head. “Don't, Jocey.”

“I remember my first night in Seale House. Hazel Frey put Jack and me down in the cellar. We were so afraid. Jack usually tried to tell me everything was going to work out. But he was quiet. Miserable, like me. You're right, I don't cry, but that night I did.”

“Kids were always terrified of the cellar.”

“It wasn't just about being scared. It was more about hope being squashed like a spider under a shoe. Seale House seemed so big and impressive. For the first time in a long time there was a little bit of hope. But when Hazel locked us in the cellar, we knew what she was going to be like.”

The large house had grown quiet. Jack and I were sitting together in the dark when we heard the lock turn. The door at the top of the
stairs opened and a little light came through. Then a boy we'd seen before came creeping down the steps in a Dracula cape. He had a flashlight
.

“Here,” he said in a low voice, handing us paper plates filled with cold roast beef and dinner rolls
.