Chapter 21

An impressive number of emergency vehicles surround my house; red-and-blue lights splash across the lawn and down the street. It’s nearly midnight. My parents’ humiliation at this very public display must be gnawing at them like a vulture picking flesh off bone. As Phil pulls up to the driveway, the cadre of cops parts, letting us through. My mom bursts out of the house, running at full speed toward us, her unbraided hair wild in the breeze. I’ve barely stepped out of the car when my mother throws her arms around me, crushing me against her chest.

“Thank God. Thank God,” she repeats, tears running down her cheeks.

“Mom . . . my arm . . . remember?”

She steps back, blinking, and then a blast of words explodes from her lips at full volume. “What were you thinking? How could you? We were worried sick. We thought . . . we thought you were dead.”

“Mom . . . I’m sorry, please . . . I’m sorry. I know you were worried.”

She walks away, fuming. I edge my way to the front of the car, closer to my father and Chief Wickham—and Phil, who is explaining where he found me. The censored version.

I get the death stare from my dad. He doesn’t make a single gesture toward me. I was prepared for his wrath, but the cold shoulder stings more.

“Maya,” he begins in a formal tone, “why would you run away? You nearly killed your mother with worry, and half the police department was searching for you. You owe the chief an explanation and an apology after everything they’ve done for us.”

I look up at their inquisitive faces. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me . . . I know I caused a lot of trouble. It’s that . . . I was scared.” The excuse slips off my tongue almost before I’m aware of it. Obviously, I can’t tell the whole truth, so I go with it. “I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid that Brian was going to try and hurt me again. Or would do something to you guys.”

My dad’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. No idea if he is buying this explanation, but the chief nods along. And in a way, what I’m saying is true. Sort of.

“Did any of those boys threaten you again?”

“No, Chief. It wasn’t that . . . I basically wigged out. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me or your mother that you were scared? Your mom wanted to stay home with you.”

I wanted to tell you. But I was afraid. You and mom were too blinded by your own fear to see me standing in front of you, almost broken. That’s what I want to say. That’s what I should say. But I don’t.

“You’re right, Dad. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t smart of me. It all feels so . . . hazy.”

Chief Wickham nods like he understands me, but Dad just gives me a slow, judgmental shake of the head. He turns away to escort the chief back to his patrol car, no doubt apologizing for the public spectacle I’ve caused.

I only now notice that Hina is here. She helps my mom back into the house. I wave at my aunt; she gives me an encouraging smile.

“Are you going to be okay?” Phil asks.

Suddenly we’re alone in the center of the driveway.

“They’ll probably want to send me to a boarding school in India, but I’ll manage.” I want to kiss him. I inch closer, and Phil raises his hands to grasp my arms and then pulls them away. I smile again, for real. “Thanks again for talking to my dad.”

“I gave him the G-rated version of finding you.”

“Which is why you and I are both still standing right now.”

“This . . . us . . . isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

“No. But I’ve gotten pretty good at sneaking out, and since I’m probably grounded for life, that skill is going to come in handy.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I wish you didn’t have to leave. I wish I could leave with you.”

“Me, too, but under the present circumstances—”

I hug Phil. I don’t care if my parents see us. I’m tired of hiding all the important parts of myself.

My father walks back up the driveway after the last of the police cars have pulled away. He extends his right hand to Phil. “Thank you for bringing Maya back home. And for helping her. We are indebted to you.”

“Sir, it was nothing. I’m glad Maya’s safe.”

My dad nods at Phil and then walks past. He pauses and turns his head back. “Maya, it’s very late. You should come inside.”

“I’ll be there in a second, Dad.”

Phil waits for the front door to shut. “I don’t suppose I can kiss you now?”

“I guarantee it’s a drive-in movie at my front window.”

“I’ll take a rain check, then.”

Phil gets into his car and eases out of the driveway, waving as he pulls away. I try to shake the foreboding sense that this is the end of something instead of the beginning. I try to grasp at the spark of optimism I felt at the amusement park before Brian attacked me. But it feels beyond reach, and that makes me more anxious. I walk into the house, steeling myself for the inquisition.

My aunt is alone at the kitchen table. Hina rises to hug me and says, “Your mom is in bed. Your father is with her. It’s been . . . a lot.”

I begin to open my mouth to respond, but Hina puts her hand on my arm and says, “It’s late, and everyone is tired. Let’s talk about this tomorrow?”

Guilt surges through my body as my aunt speaks, but so does defiance. “They’re forcing their fears on me.”

“Running away didn’t exactly assuage their concerns.”

“I know. It was stupid. But I was going to explode if I stayed here one more minute.”

Hina smiles and cups my cheek in her hand. It’s a maternal gesture that I’m much more willing to receive from her than my actual mother. I know I should want this comfort from my mom, and sometimes I do. If I’m being honest, I know I push her away because I can’t be the daughter she expects me to be and still be what I want to be at the same time. On some level, I know she’s listened to me, but she never really heard what I was trying to tell her. Maybe there’s more to it than that, but that’s all the truth I’m willing to face right now.

“So this Phil seems . . . like a lucky young man.” As always, Hina knows when to change the subject

“Is he? It’s like I’m watching my life through a double fog filter. Nothing is clear.”

She laughs softly. “Knowing you, I doubt that. Maybe you know what you want to do, but you’re scared to do it. Isn’t that why you ran away—to clear your head? To figure it all out?”

I pause. Hina is right. The choice is my dreams or theirs. In that way, it’s not a real choice at all. It’s an imperative.