“Hello, Emma,” she said.
Emma’s mouth dropped open. She took a staggering step back, blood rushing in her ears.
The room started to spin around me, too. Usually it was some sound or image that triggered one of my memories, a flash of light or the sound of a train whistle snapping me back to the last days of my life. This time, though, the same tremulous vibration I’d felt since stepping into the ward grew louder and louder, until it became a rushing, violent ache in my ears. I knew now what that sound was—it was the sound of madness, and my mother’s was the loudest of all. It attacked me like a swarm of bats, sweeping me under and pulling me down until all I saw was the darkness of my past.
7
STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT
The sound of my father’s SUV fades into the distance. No, not my father. My grandfather. The thought makes my fingers curl into fists, my nails pressing into my palms until they draw blood. I wipe the tears and grime from my face and sit still until the sound of his motor dies away.
What began as a date with Thayer, the only boy I’ve ever really loved, has ended with him speeding toward the hospital in my sister’s car, leaving me alone in the mountains with the knowledge that my entire life has been a lie. I’ve always known I was adopted—but until tonight, I never knew the people who’d raised me were actually related to me by blood.
The moon hides behind a cloud, and the canyon goes even darker than before. My hands start to shake, the adrenaline turning sour in my blood. What have I done? I said horrible things to the man I considered my father, then sprinted away. I feel like I’m going to puke.
Across the street from the canyon is a suburban neighborhood, all the houses arranged on a horseshoe of streets. Porch lights float in the darkness like fireflies. I see Nisha Banerjee’s house, the pool glittering in the backyard, the street lined with cars. If I hold my breath, I can hear the bass thumping in the backyard. That’s where I’m supposed to be tonight, at the tennis sleepover. Maybe I should go over there. At least some of my friends will be there—I need to be around happy faces right now, people who care about me. Nisha’s a pain in the ass, but she’s easy enough to ignore.
I pull out my phone as I cross the street to her house. Six missed calls, all of them from Mads. Maybe the ER called her about Thayer. I try to call her but it goes straight to voicemail. I hang up before the beep, not trusting myself to speak to a recording.
I’m almost at Nisha’s driveway when a creak from the house next door startles me. It’s Ethan Landry’s house, but I don’t see any sign of him, only a big telescope on the front porch pointed at the sky. Weirdo. Any other guy would point it toward Nisha’s, hoping to get a glimpse of a sexy pillow fight.
My hand is on the gate to Nisha’s backyard when I hear the phone ringing inside her house. “Hello?” Nisha’s voice answers. “Oh, hi, Mr. Mercer,” she chirps. “No, he’s not here right now. Can I take a message?”
I shift my weight. Why would my dad be calling for Dr. Banerjee? They both work at the same hospital, but as far as I know they don’t interact—my dad’s in orthopedics, Nisha’s dad is in psychiatrics. Maybe he’s calling to ask Nisha’s father to keep an eye out for me. Maybe he’s trying to round up some kind of dad posse.
Someone in the backyard shrieks, “Marco!” I hear a splash and then giggles. They sound so young, their voices so high and innocent, like they’ve never had to face anything heartbreaking or real. Suddenly all of the energy drains out of me at once, a dull ache pulling at my limbs. I can’t be here right now; I can’t paint a bubbly smile on my face and pretend everything’s all right.
Exhausted, I walk back across the road to the canyon and plop down on a park bench, figuring I’ll call a cab. Who knows where my car is after that freak drove off with it. Maybe my dad will cover for me. It’s basically his fault this happened, after all.
Thinking about my parents’ lies enrages me all over again. Why would they keep a secret like that from me? Was it so hard to admit that we were all related by blood? Maybe they were ashamed of me. Maybe they just wanted to make sure everyone knew the way I was wasn’t their fault, that I was a bad seed from who knew where—not some monster they created. Angry tears pool in my eyes and I quickly brush them away.
The snap of a breaking branch cuts through the darkness. As I turn, I suddenly realize the crickets have gone silent. I stare into the darkness, but I can’t see a damn thing.
What the hell am I doing here? A few years ago a woman got mauled while jogging through the canyon at dusk. She was training for a marathon. The authorities said she probably never even saw the mountain lion—the cats move so stealthily most people don’t know they’re being stalked until it’s too late. After that happened, you couldn’t turn on the TV without seeing a PSA warning people to hike in groups of two or more. Remember, there’s safety in numbers! Don’t go hiking alone in Pima County.
Don’t run away from your ride when you’re stuck in the wilderness at midnight, I think. The hair on the back of my neck tingles.
It could be a wild animal. Or it could be the maniac who stole my Volvo and ran down Thayer. He could be back for more.
I hold my breath and listen. Far away, a police siren wails.
Then, there it is again, the same sound I heard before: leaves stirring, crunching underfoot. I stand up slowly, my heart in my throat. Carefully, I step toward the path that will lead me back to the park’s entrance.
That’s when my eyes catch movement in the trees. Something rushes toward me. I turn on my heel and sprint up the path before I can see what it is. My body is sore from everything that’s happened during this long, awful night. I can hear my pursuer behind me, crashing through the bushes. My shin slams straight into something—I don’t see what—and I fall on my hands and knees. I scrabble at the dirt feebly, trying to get back to my feet. But behind me I can hear my pursuer getting closer. I roll over just in time to see someone detach from the shadows and step into view.