Track 26

“I Melt With You”

Present Day

The next day at school, I practiced all forms of avoidance behavior just so I didn’t have to lie to anybody about where I was or why I left. I scraped into classes at the last minute and then bolted out as soon as the next bell rang. Ate lunch in my car and pored over newspaper clippings. Wiped mayo off said newspaper clippings. Claimed I had a low battery when a barrage of texts popped up from my friends.

I didn’t have to lie to or avoid Hayden at all, because even if he hadn’t been with me yesterday, he wasn’t in school today. Part of me wondered if he’d lie to me if he was here, about any number of things. I itched to ask him how his family was doing, ask him about his reaction to Jake/Jacob, ask him why the hell he won’t talk to me about those missing hours of our lives.

Jake begged me not to tell Angie that A) we’ve met, B) we’ve made a “date” to meet up again, and C) that he communed with aliens.

“Just don’t mention we know each other at all,” he said before he drove off, his face a picture of torment.

Dad, to my relief, left for the office before I came down for breakfast. I did note, however, that he’d printed my list of potential new treatment centers for Mom. All of them had red lines drawn through them. I made an effort to steel myself then. I was just going to have to continue solving the Jane Flanagan case. That should take enough of the mental strain off my mother that she’ll be well enough to come home.

Simple.

Which brought me here to Half-Mile Lake right after school, where the only other inhabitants are the bugs and the ducks. However, I’m sure the latter will fly south any minute, because it’s forty-two degrees.

In my bag is Mom’s dead MacBook. I might as well be carrying a dead body around, but at this point it’s a sort of talisman. Something tangible to keep me focused on her. Not on aliens or Hayden or Jake.

On a wide wooden bench, I rest the laptop on my knees and set my phone on top of it. The view of the lake is pretty, but I hardly notice it.

At 3:43, Hayden texts me: Can we talk?

Me: Of course. But now’s not good for me.

Hayden: When?

Me: 7:00 at the lake?

Hayden: [Thumbs-up emoji.]

I drop a pin on my location in my navigation app and send it to him.

Hayden: [Thank-you emoji.]

He sends another emoji of a green, gold, and blue flag right after. I wrinkle my nose as I try to figure out which country the emblem signifies and why he sent it. But I soon get engrossed in research.

Eventually, fatigue makes my limbs feel heavy. A pumpkin-colored sun hangs just above the tree line, the blues of the sky darkening to a rich violet hue. The days are getting shorter, but it seems to me like they’re getting longer and full of way too much stuff to do.

And all I have the energy for is a nap. Part of me wonders if I really am up to the task of solving the Jane Flanagan case. If it was too much for Mom, I must be delusional to think I can do it.

But I’m committed now. I have to do it, no matter what.

Finally, the low rumble of an engine breaks into the symphony of insects. The moon is up. My watch tells me it’s almost seven o’clock. I shiver as the weak headlights of Hayden’s truck come around the final bend. If he hadn’t turned up, I probably would’ve slept here all night.

Hayden parks in the lot and gets out. Under a lamppost, he shrugs into a maroon puffer jacket. He sends me a tight smile and a wave. There’s something almost ethereal in the way he moves toward me, even over the rocks and pebbles lining the lakeshore. Like he’s defying gravity. It’s more apparent out here in the open than at school.

Hayden flaps out a familiar-looking colorful blanket. “Hey.”

“Hey! So that’s what your flag emoji was meant to symbolize?” I laugh and set aside Mom’s laptop and other gadgets.

He grins. “The emoji looked like a blanket to me.”

“Are you planning on camping out here?”

“Better than going home.” His dark eyes shutter over almost imperceptibly.

I know that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror every morning for months. “What happened?”

“I just had a disagreement with the parental unit. I won’t bore you with mundane stuff.” After draping the blanket around my shoulders, he points to my bag and tech gear. “Did you need a quiet place to do your homework?”

“Can’t get more peaceful than Half-Mile Lake.”

“I’m sure.” A gentle breeze tousles his hair as he takes in the towering Douglas firs guarding the lake.

“I’m, uh, working on a secret project, if you must know. I even conducted my very first interview for it.” I bounce on my toes with pride.

“I must know,” he says, crossing arms in faux indignation. “You can’t drop something like that on me and not give me juicy details.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I say, “It’s the Jane Flanagan case.”

Hayden looks at me, his face blank. “Who’s Jane Flanagan?”

“Are you kidding right now? It was only the most high-profile missing person case since Jimmy Hoffa. She was kidnapped right under the noses of the Secret Service.” I give him a brief history of the case.

“Oh, that Jane Flanagan,” he says when I finish, nodding soberly.

“Yes. My mom was working on a book about the disappearance. She never got to finish it because…” It drove her to a breakdown.

“Because of her health issues,” Hayden finishes when he realizes I’m choking up. “So…you want to pick up where she left off.”

“I’m convinced it’s what she needs to get better.” I pause. “Please don’t tell me I’m being too simplistic.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he says, his dark eyes soft. “I can’t think of a better reason than to help your mom recover. Aside from giving the Flanagan family some peace.”

“Exactly,” I say, feeling a rush of relief now that I know Hayden really gets what I’m trying to achieve. “Mom herself said it was too dangerous. Not in so many words, but I know that’s what she meant.”

“But you’re not convinced?” He shoots me a worried look. “Cassidy, what if she’s right? What if the person who did it is still a threat?”

“I’ve thought about that. Jane was kidnapped in 1985. Chances are they’re not in a position to do any more harm. You know, because they’re presumably ancient. Or dead.”

Hayden’s lips wiggle. He doesn’t look convinced. “I wish I could help.”

“You’ve got your own life stuff to deal with. Not to mention your new job. The boss can be really demanding.”

“I know. So can the boss’s daughter,” he says with a wink. He grows serious again, gazing at the laptop with so much concentration I have to wonder if he’s trying to view the contents with X-ray vision. “I’ll do whatever you want. Make calls. Do letterbox drops. Kick down doors. You name it.”

“You’re serious?”

“About kicking down doors? Deadly.”

Before we started hanging out together, I never would have guessed he had such a fun side to him.

“That’s so sweet,” I say, picturing those long limbs thrusting out and breaking into dingy lairs. We could both kick down doors and save the day. And Jane. “I thought I’d be able to use Mom’s research, but her laptop is fried. I had a tech genius try to fix it, but he said it was beyond saving.”

He nods at the laptop lying closed on the bench. “Is that it? I can check it out.”

“You’re a computer geek?” Of course he is, he’s a sci-fi fanatic. I should have guessed.

“Yep, I’m all kinds of geek,” Hayden confirms. He picks the laptop up and puts his palm on the lid. He nods. “I can give it a shot. Leave it with me.”

“Thank you.” My heart flops with gratitude. There’s nothing like a geek in shining armor.

He sets the laptop down gently as if it’s made of delicate glass, then gazes around the lake. In the distance is a rotting wooden dock. At the end of it, the bow of a partially submerged rowboat peeks above the rippling water. He points. “What’s that over there?”

“Just an old boat dock.” I’m about to ask him if he can rub two sticks together to build a fire, but he starts walking. “Oh, you want to continue your tour of Dawson? Sure.”

I leave my belongings on the bench and draw the blanket tighter around my body. By the time we reach the dock, the stars are all putting on a show. Most of the structure’s planks were lost to the lake years ago. Those that remain are slippery with moss. Somehow, the thick pylons are still standing.

Putting on my best tour guide voice, I say, “Okay, so you may think this is just an old dock, but to the people of Dawson it is a monument to our proud past. It was built over a hundred years ago by the women who were left here when their brothers, sweethearts, husbands, and sons went to war.”

“Wow.” Hayden crouches and touches a plank as if he’s trying to extract the blood, sweat, and tears of the women who worked on the dock. Eventually, he stands, a frown scored on his brow. “If it’s so important to the town, why does it look like it’s about to collapse?”

“No one can decide whether to pull it down completely, thus destroying the monument, or try to shore it up,” I say, leading him onto the jetty. “What about you, newcomer? What would you do about it?”

He stops and studies the roughened handrail. “Hmm, I would source some reclaimed timber and…”

“Okay, good start,” I say when it’s clear he’s lost his train of thought. “And what?”

“And…” Hayden takes his hand off the handrail as if it has suddenly become as hot as lava. “I shouldn’t interfere more than I have already. I can’t.”

A twinge of sympathy hits my gut. He’s obviously not quite at home in his new town. Even hypothetical questions make him uneasy. “It’s not interfering. You live here now. You get a say in how things work. Or should work, anyway.”

“We’ll see.” He glances skyward. Maybe for divine guidance, I don’t know.

Carefully, we continue navigating over broken and missing boards. Our hands clash together, sending tiny bursts of energy jolting through me. My breath skitters, but I try to stay cool. Because looking at Hayden, it seems he’s totally not feeling any kind of internal fireworks.

In a light tone, I say, “If we survive this tour of the dock, then I’d be more than happy to keep being your guide around town. And soon enough, you’ll be the one giving tours to unsuspecting new citizens.”

That earns a decent chuckle out of him at last. The sound of his laugh makes my insides warm up.

When I slip, Hayden grabs my elbow and this time the jolt is more like a lightning bolt. And since we’re already in a precarious position, I quickly slide out of his grip and watch where I’m walking. The quarter-moon, hidden by thin clouds, isn’t up to the task of illumination.

“It’s kind of an obstacle course, right?” I laugh to hide the nervousness that has attacked me out of the blue.

“Nothing you can’t handle,” he says. His tone is so full of certainty that I take my eyes off the slippery, mossy planks and check to see if he’s kidding. I mean, he’s known me all of five minutes. He can’t possibly know what I can and can’t handle. But I like his vote of confidence in me.

We finally make it to the end of the dock without putting a foot through the boards. Gingerly, we sit down, letting our legs dangle over the edge. It may be shallow here, but out in the middle of the lake, dive as far as you can, and you can’t see the bottom, let alone touch it.

It grows so quiet that the sound of water lapping against the dock and Hayden’s breathing have a hypnotic effect on me. My worries about Mom seem to fade. She’s still in the front of my mind, but I’m somehow a lot calmer.

Hayden kicks his sneaker against the boat. It rocks and lurches. “What happened here? Did this thing hit an iceberg?”

I laugh and peer down at the bow. All that remains of its livery is flaked paint that might’ve been an arctic white in days gone by. “Nobody knows for sure. It’s been here for as long as anyone can remember. The lake owns it now. It won’t let go.”

“What do you mean?

“There’s something anchoring the anchor,” I tell him. “Scuba divers have tried everything to get it out over the decades. They say it’s buried into rock. Like Excalibur. There’s a rumor that the anchor is solid gold. You know, because this used to be a mining town.”

He squints into the water. “So if I used my otherworldly strength and wrenched it out, would that mean I’d be allowed to join the round table at Goldie’s Diner?”

“Absolutely, Sir Hayden. That’d be some kind of magic.” Parting clouds reveal more of the moon. The lake shimmers with silver-gray light. Talk about magical. “You wanna give it a shot? Right now?”

“Let me bulk up a little more and I’ll give it a try. Next summer,” he says. I wonder if the hearts of Dawson High could take it if he piled on more muscles. Mine would probably burst. “Why doesn’t anybody just cut the anchor chain?”

“Believe me, people have tried everything. No dice. It’s a mystery.” I look at him out of the corner of my eye and inhale. “Speaking of mysteries… We’ve skirted around the topic long enough.”

Hayden cocks his head sideways like I suddenly slipped into speaking an obscure Indonesian dialect.

The weathered planks beneath me creak as I shift. Watching his face carefully, I say, “UFOs? The meeting? It makes sense, right? We were abducted by aliens the night before last. Together.”

He stares into my eyes like he’s searching for the meaning of life. “To be honest, I really don’t have a clue what’s going on,” he says finally, sounding genuinely confused.

“It is a lot to take in. I can’t even believe it myself.” I shake my head ruefully.

“But you kind of do. Almost.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “Why?”

I pull the blanket closer and chew my lip. “It’s a combination of things. Those people in the support group and their stories… When they spoke, I felt something on a cellular level, I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

Hayden changes position again. I’m not totally sure, but I think he moved farther away. “It’s one thing to read those reports that Carole found, but to hear them in person, it’s very hard-hitting.”

“There’s something else that made me think…maybe,” I begin, swallowing a lump of emotion, “when I blanked out during the meeting.”

“I noticed something was up with you then.” His voice is low and edgy. Hayden’s hand finds its way to my knee. Despite the thick denim of my jeans, his touch is searing. I can’t move. Don’t want to. “What happened?”

A few seconds—more—pass before I can answer. Images flash in my mind, sending chills through every corner of my body. Needles. Burning pain. I pull my sleeve up and check the faded insect bite. “I had a…a vision of being injected.”

Hayden’s expression freezes, like someone pressed a button on a video. “Oh.”

Somehow, that one syllable conveys much more than he probably intended.

Narrowing my gaze, I say, “You had the same vision, didn’t you?”

He gulps like he’s trying to swallow a whole watermelon in one hit. “Not exactly.”

I close my eyes, urging the images to come forward in my mind once again. They come to me in pieces, like bits of a dream. “I think the vision wasn’t actually a vision. It was a memory. Of what happened to us on Saddleback Ridge.”

His jaw takes on a stubborn hardness. “Nothing happened that night. We were not abducted by aliens.”

“But you said it yourself. You don’t remember.” I grab his arm and squeeze hard through a slippery, puffy sleeve. “So how the hell would you know what happened or what didn’t?”

“Because if aliens took us, more than anyone, I would know,” he says harshly, his face inches from mine. His words echo around the lake, bouncing off trees, and stunning the insect choir into silence. Instantly, he’s contrite, like the sound of his own voice shocked him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

My pulse races like a runaway stallion, not in the least because Hayden lost control for two seconds. I don’t care that he got upset. I care more about why he got upset. “How would you know? Wh-what are you saying? You’ve had a close encounter? For real?”

Hayden’s chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to pull himself together. More puzzle pieces slot into space. This explains so much about him. His edginess. His reluctance to get too close to people. To me. He’s traumatized and he has no one to turn to. No one who’d believe him.

Tentatively, I slide over the splintered planks and drape the blanket so it covers his shoulders, too. I put a hand on his. This time, I don’t squeeze so hard. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I can’t. Not to you.” He looks away. The pain in his voice puts a tiny fracture in my heart.

“Hayden, we’re friends now, right?” I say gently. “You can tell me anything.”

Instead of letting a flood of confessions loose, Hayden gives me one of those long, searching looks again. We stare at each other and time seems suspended. He strokes my cheek, just like he did when I had the micro-blank at the support group. Heat radiates from his touch, but before I can melt into it, he pulls away.

But even in the space he created, there’s a palpable energy between us. A connection I can’t deny. Then again, has my mind been playing tricks on me? Not just about aliens, but about Hayden? Sleep disorders can wreck a person’s perspective on reality.

Following his lead, I put a little more distance between us. “You don’t have to convince me that aliens exist. I won’t think any less of you.”

Hayden smiles weakly. “You needed a lot of convincing when you read those tabloid articles.”

“Keyword—tabloid. It’s not news. It’s entertainment,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But when you get new information, new facts, you’re allowed to change your mind. So let’s look at the facts. One, both of us agree that there are almost three hours of our lives we can’t account for.”

“Yes.”

“We don’t remember anyone flagging us down on the road.”

“Nope.”

“We didn’t see any spaceships or aliens.”

“That’s right.” He folds his arms. “It’s not looking good for the alien abduction theory this time, is it?”

“On the face of things, no.” My mouth wobbles. “Should we call the cops? The FBI?”

“What? No way. We can’t give them any useful information. No description of a vehicle. No lasting injuries. No evidence. No witnesses. Nothing.”

I clasp and unclasp my hands. He’s right. Whether a UFO really did suck us up into its bowels or…who knows what else it might have been, the police aren’t going to take us seriously without concrete evidence.

So I’ll just have to figure out how to get it.