Reid was right. I didn’t need him to tell me when it would start. I heard the doors latching softly first, then the light padding of footsteps. Someone tested the handle, gently, but I had locked it. Then someone started knocking. Softly, but frantically. “Help,” they whispered. “Mallory, help!”
I imagined them waiting on the other side of the door, waiting for me. Smiling at each other. Waiting to grab me. Instead I slipped on my sneakers, opened the window, and hopped out. It wasn’t a far drop, but it was hard to judge in the dark, and my ankle rolled. I stretched it out, took a few shaky steps, and started to run.
Dark shapes came into focus against the brick of the building across the quad—Reid’s dorm. Three people, dressed in black, hoods pulled up over their heads. They spread out in front of me, closing in from different angles. I couldn’t tell them apart until Reid let his hood fall back, just a little off his face. I cut to the right, toward him, because I didn’t know what else to do. He caught me around the waist, and we stood that way, both breathing heavy. This was the closest we had been since that day in his room. Closer, actually. But things were simpler in the dark. I couldn’t see his expression and he couldn’t see mine.
Then he said, “Someone tell the girls we have Mallory.”
Reid’s arm was still around my waist until I shook him off. Then he put his hand at the base of my neck. “Okay?” he asked. I didn’t answer, but I didn’t shake him off. “You’re right,” he whispered in my ear, “you’re fast.”
Behind the building, freshmen and the new transfer students were crouched along the base of the wall as Jason paced in front of them. They were wearing pajamas, huddled in dark blankets. Krista and Taryn, also dressed in black, turned the corner with Bree between the two of them. “We do it because we love you,” said Krista. She laughed and deposited Bree with the rest of the new kids. Jason tossed Bree a blanket.
Jason got up in my face and said, “Looks like you skipped the getting-taken part.” He looked at my sneakers, at my sweatshirt over top of my pajamas.
“She ran,” Reid said.
Jason narrowed his eyes at Reid. “Yes, I can see that. Doesn’t seem fair, really.” Jason pointed to everyone else against the wall: barefoot and underdressed for the cold night. He looked at Krista and held his hand out to his side. They shared the same knowing smile before she jogged around the side of the building. She returned with a hose.
“Jason . . . ,” Reid began, before Jason raised his eyebrows at him.
Somebody else mumbled, “Dude, it’s cold.”
“So cold she sleeps in sneakers?” Then he grinned at me. “I am sorry to do this to you.” Then he looked me up and down one last time. “Actually, I’m not.”
I turned my back to him as a cold blast of water hit me between the shoulder blades.
Someone tossed me the same dark blanket—something cheap and feltlike—that everyone else was wrapped in. I wanted to let it fall to the ground, to pretend I wasn’t cold, but I’m pretty sure the shivering gave me away. I wrapped it around my shoulders as they lined us up and marched us silently around the far edge of campus back toward Barringer Hall.
Something was behind me, right at my back, even though I thought I was the last in line. I thought about running. Just . . . running. Off into the woods somewhere. Anywhere but here. I tensed when I felt hands in my hair, twisting the ends around, until I realized it was Reid—that he was wringing out the water.
“I think I made it worse,” he whispered over my shoulder. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders as we walked.
“You think?”
He put his hand on my side. “Just a sec,” he said, as the rest of the line stumbled forward.
He took his sweatshirt off in one swift motion and said, “Here. Switch.” He had a black T-shirt on underneath. I was trying to remember what I had on under mine.
“Mine won’t fit you.”
“Mallory, take the freaking sweatshirt.” He glanced toward the line, moving farther away, and added, “Hurry.”
I dropped my blanket, stripped off my top shirt, and threw on his sweatshirt before either of us had a chance to notice whether the shirt underneath was soaked through. His shirt was twice as long as mine and warm on the inside, and I pulled the sleeves down over my hands. “Think they’ll notice if I skip it?”
He grinned. “They’ll notice. Come on. Don’t worry, it’ll be fun.” We jogged to catch up with the group.
One of the side doors of Barringer Hall was propped open with a brick. We entered and climbed the stairs in silence—but we didn’t stop on the top floor. Jason pushed through the door to the roof and held it open as we all marched silently past him. The others, the initiators, I guess, stood in the doorway. Reid pushed my blanket back into my hands. “Take it,” he said. “Trust me, it gets colder.” He smiled at me.
I didn’t smile back. But I took the blanket.
The roof was framed with a brick wall, about waist level. “Every one of us here has spent the night on the roof of Barringer Hall. Some, more than once.” Jason smiled wide, and a few people snickered. “But it wasn’t always this way. Initiations used to be held in the woods, until poor Jack Danvers wandered off and never returned. Which brings us to the rules. There’s only one, really. Stay with the group. Unless you want a dorm named after you.” Obnoxious grin.
The initiators started filing out the door, back down the steps. “Enjoy the sunrise, kids. Oh, and don’t jump.” Jason closed the door behind him, and everyone stood in silence, staring at it.
A freshman guy immediately started pulling on the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. A girl joined him and ran her fingers along the seams. “No hinges, either,” she said.
“Son of a . . .”
A girl who looked way too young to be on a roof in the middle of the night said, “We could scream.”
The freshman guy who’d been pulling on the door said, “Don’t be stupid. If we get caught, they get in trouble, and then what? We’re stuck with them for the rest of the school year. You want to be on their bad side? ’Cause I don’t.”
And with that sentiment, everyone settled into complacency. Some curled up around the edges under the bricks. Bree folded her hands behind her head and closed her eyes. Like it was no big deal she was stuck on a roof for the foreseeable future. And some people took the opportunity to gossip, like it was some planned slumber party or something. Not like we were herded like animals, marched up here, and locked on the roof against our will.
I was surrounded by people who never worried, it seemed. Who never checked to see where the closest exits were or what they could use for a weapon if they had to. People who didn’t worry about killing or being killed.
I walked the perimeter of the roof, stepping over a few freshman along the way. I peered over the edge every few steps. “Hey,” I said. “There’s a ladder.” A few people rose to look over the edge with me. They leaned forward, ever so slightly, and peered down the three stories below.
“It stops, see?” one guy said. He was right. It stopped right at the next floor, like there used to be some sort of fire escape, but it had since been torn down. They all went back to doing nothing, but I kept walking and peering over the edge. On the opposite side of the roof, behind some chimney-looking thing, there was another ladder. This one stopped as well, but it ended right beside a classroom window. We were three floors up—not twelve or anything—so I carefully eased myself over the edge to investigate.
When I reached the bottom rung, I pushed on the window with my foot, and it creaked open. No need for locks when the windows were so high. I pushed it farther, so it sat at a ninety-degree angle, and then I swung one leg into the building, eased myself from the bottom rung until I was safely straddling the sill, and then tilted my weight so I fell inward.
I was in a math classroom. Inside. On the floor. And I couldn’t stop laughing. It sounded hollow and unfamiliar in the empty room. I stood up, brushed my pants off, and let out one last laugh. Then I listened to the silence buzzing in my ears.
The chairs, wedged up against each desk. Half a math problem on the white board. Unfinished.
Boom, boom, boom. In the distance, coming closer. I should’ve stayed up on the roof with everyone else.
Mallory. I should’ve stayed up there, with the things that were real.
Wait, it whispered, sounding way too close. I felt something, just out of sight, hovering behind me, and I didn’t wait. I ran out of the room, down the hall, down the staircase to the lower level, where the door had been left ajar. I ran across the quad as fast as I possibly could. Faster even than I thought I could. I didn’t stop.
I had been too pumped up to sleep by the time I crawled my way back through my dorm-room window, and it had been too close to morning to take a sleeping pill. But now, three minutes before English class was about to start, I couldn’t keep my head off the desk.
Just as I was starting to doze, Chloe dropped her notebook next to my head. “How did you do it?” she said, leaning closer.
I sat up and rubbed at my face. “What?”
“You weren’t on the roof when they went back. Everyone was freaking out. I heard they even checked the bushes.”
“They thought I fell?”
“Or . . . Well, let’s just say you gave everyone a freaking heart attack until Taryn saw you getting ready this morning. So how did you—”
“Ms. Murphy.” Mr. Durham was standing over us. He placed my quiz, F, as expected, face up on the table. “Less talking, more reading.”
Everyone stared at me for the rest of class. But this wasn’t the type of stare I’d grown used to over the past two months. This was something else entirely.
Reid was waiting in the hall after class, and he looked angry. He gripped me by the elbow, so unlike last night. I ripped my arm away from him. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said.
“You locked me on the goddamn roof.” We weren’t whispering. Actually, we were making a scene.
“We locked everyone on the goddamn roof,” he said, remembering to lower his voice. “And we came back for them a few hours before class. You weren’t there!”
To everyone else, it might not have been a big deal. But he didn’t get how much I feared the very idea of being trapped. “Yeah, well, excuse me for not wanting to spend the night freezing my ass off with a bunch of people I don’t know.”
“That’s the point of it, Mallory. To get to know everyone. It’s like a bonding thing. It’s supposed to be fun. Or, at least, it was for us.”
“Who should I be bonding with? Let’s see, there’s the girl who moved out of our room the first day I was here, a bunch of scared little freshmen, people who talk about me behind my—”
Jason was suddenly between us. “Impressive, Mallory.” Then he turned to Reid. “See? Told you she was fine.” He turned back toward me again. “He was convinced you fell or something. So tell us. How’d you do it?”
But I was looking past him, at Reid, at his expression. Because I suddenly remembered how his father had died. A freak accident—he was chipping the ice off the roof because there’d been a leak underneath, and he slipped. Broke his neck. Not a fall that should kill you, but it did.
Of course he’d be thinking of that when I went missing. I guess he saw the realization on my face, because he turned around and left.
“I clicked my heels together three times,” I told Jason, “and said, ‘There’s no place like home.’ ”
Home. I should’ve stayed home.
I shouldn’t have gone to Brian’s party. Shouldn’t have left my house. As soon as I walked in, I felt the urge to leave. To click my heels together three times and magically transport myself home. We’d been late—so late—and things had already slid past the point of controlled or predictable.
Brian’s house didn’t look white or open or airy at night, filled with people and music and sweat. Colleen stood in the foyer and scanned the room. Cody was standing in the hallway, very tall and very dark and very worth sneaking out of the house for. His head was back against the wall, and Colleen walked straight for him.
She tossed a look over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised at me, before she reached him. I nodded. I didn’t need a babysitter.
Brian’s voice echoed down the hallway, like the blender that day with his mom, churning away above all the rest of the sound. I looked down the hall toward the kitchen and saw him pass across the doorway a few times. He was doing some routine, some reenactment, and everyone was laughing at him.
“Don’t.”
I spun around to find Dylan sprawled on the couch in the room beside the foyer. He had a red plastic cup in his hands and his feet were propped on the table, littered with discarded cups. Someone was unconscious on the couch across from him. And Dylan was looking at me with these alcohol-dazed eyes.
“I broke up with Danielle,” he said.
“I know.” I looked back down the hall and bit my lower lip.
“Please don’t go down there.”
I wanted him to understand. Because I understood. “You didn’t dump her for me.”
“I did.”
“No,” I said, more sure of myself. “No. You would’ve done it before. A long time before I was . . . with Brian.”
Dylan chugged whatever was left in his cup and tossed it onto the coffee table. “Come on, Mallory. Brian isn’t with people. He’s not with you. You’re just today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not.”
If he was trying to hurt me, to hurt me like I had hurt him, he was doing a damn good job of it. Because inside, I had this inkling, this tiny feeling that he was right. That that’s what had been holding me back, keeping me at a distance.
I looked at Dylan on the couch. He liked me and I liked him and, God, if he would just say the right thing, I’d change my mind right then. But he was making it so hard. He was being such an ass. And he wasn’t saying the right thing. Probably because he didn’t mean the right thing. And Brian was in the kitchen, larger than life—like Colleen—pulling me along in orbit. I could just let go, and I’d be swept along.
Neither was the right reason. “I kissed you,” I said.
“I know. It’s just that . . . we were together a long time. I was confused, you know?”
“It’s not that complicated,” I said. I held my breath and thought, Tell me you like me, tell me you liked me, tell me it was a mistake, that you should’ve picked me, that you want to take it all back.
“Today’s my birthday,” Dylan said. What did that mean? Like I owed him something? Like I shouldn’t be with his brother because it was his birthday? Definitely not the right thing to say. I felt pathetic, sick, and I realized there was a third option.
I backed down the hall, let myself out the front door, maneuvered around the partially conscious bodies on the front steps, and left.
I folded my arms across my chest and kept my head down as I walked back toward the dark alley. The air was thick with the possibility of a storm. The night, about to break open.
Colleen picked up half a ring before the answering machine would have. I’d cashed in all my singles to get change for the hall pay phone and called during the hour between Colleen getting home from school and her mom getting back from work. She didn’t sound out of breath, though. Not like she’d been racing to the phone. More like she’d been sitting there next to it the entire time. Debating.
“What’s up?”
I imagined her staring at her nails. Resting the phone against her shoulder. Slouching into the corner of her couch. “General boredom. What’s up with you, New Hampshire?”
“You didn’t write back.”
There was a pause, and I imagined her moving the phone from one shoulder to the other. “Is that the only reason you called? Geez, I only just got it. What, you think I sit around all day staring at the computer just in case you happen to send an e-mail?”
“No, I don’t think—”
“And besides, it didn’t even say anything. It said you were done with the day. That’s it. Wow. Excuse me for not being inspired to respond.”
“You’re mad at me.”
Silence. And then, “No, you asshole. I’m not mad at you.” She sighed into the phone, and I felt it, I swear. And I wanted to reach through the phone. Sit cross-legged on the couch beside her while she painted my nails dark gray or hot pink or midnight blue. I ran my fingers against the silver cord of the phone, searching for words.
“To continue this call . . .” An automated voice broke the silence, jarring me back to here.
“I’m out of money . . .”
“I’ve got an end date: two weeks. Can’t have your number showing up on the phone bill. Sorry.”
“Colleen?” I thought of words, but they weren’t the right ones. “I hate it here.”
“I—” And then there was a dial tone. What? I thought. I what? I miss you or I’m hungry or I want to drop a penny from the top of the Eiffel Tower? What?
Reid didn’t show up during study hall. And really, why would he? He’d already told me what he had to say, and I thanked him by simultaneously scaring the shit out of him and insulting him. I wanted to send him an e-mail, tell him how I got off the roof. That it was safe, that I would’ve told him, if he asked. But he didn’t ask. I also remembered that email wasn’t necessarily private here.
Ugh. I shoved my work—and his sweatshirt—into a backpack and walked down the hall.
“Where to, Ms. Murphy?” Ms. Perkins tore a slip of paper off her permission pad.
Krista stood behind me, tapping her foot. “Danvers West,” I said. And suddenly Jason’s words from the night before made sense. Danvers. You disappear, you get a dorm named after you.
Ms. Perkins was still waiting. I cleared my throat. “Reid Carlson.”
She tore the paper off the pad, but before handing it to me, she said, “Krista? Same?”
“Yep. Danvers West. Jason Dorchester.”
Ms. Perkins handed us our slips of paper together, and I didn’t really have any choice but to walk beside Krista.
Once we were outside, she spoke. “You shouldn’t have left, you know. It’s initiation. And you haven’t been properly initiated yet.”
“What, hosing me down with water doesn’t count?”
“Oh, not hardly,” she said. We walked across the rest of the quad in silence, and she entered the dorm in front of me.
Mr. Durham took our permission slips in the lounge. The dorm was the mirror image of mine, but the furniture was more worn, and the whole place smelled a little more like musk and sweat, like boys. Krista took off down the hall, but I stayed at Mr. Durham’s makeshift desk.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know the room number.”
He grinned at me. “You’re showing up uninvited?”
“No,” I said. “He’s expecting me.” At least I hoped he was. “I just forgot to write it down.”
“Right. Room 203.”
The door to his room was open, and there were other voices coming from inside. By the time I realized that, though, he had already seen me and it was too late to turn around. Reid cocked his head to the side as I stepped into his room.
He was sitting on the black rug on his floor, surrounded by three other students from his grade. “This is Amy,” he said, pointing to the redhead with freckles next to him. “Nick”—he pointed to the boy closest to me—“and Landon.”
“And this must be Mallory,” Landon said, standing. “Tell us how you did it.”
I locked eyes with Reid, who was still on the floor, not smiling, and he raised his eyebrows. I pulled his sweatshirt out of my bag and tossed it to him.
“Thanks,” he said.
I looked at the floor. “You too.”
Nick cleared his throat and stood up. “Ohhh-kay.” He motioned for Amy to follow him. “Relocating to my room when you’re ready, Reid.”
“Aw, man,” Landon said. “But it’s getting exciting.”
He left anyway, waving at me as he passed.
“I actually need to do that work,” Reid said.
I dropped my bag at the foot of his desk and sat in the chair beside it. I looked at his walls, with posters of bands I didn’t know. And at his black-and-gray-striped comforter, thrown haphazardly over his bed. With everyone gone, I noticed there was music playing softly as well.
“There’s a ladder,” I said. “On the roof.”
“No there isn’t.”
“Yes. There is. From when there were fire escapes, I guess. Really obvious, if you’re looking for it. I mean, if you want to leave, you can.”
“I’ve never seen a ladder.”
“Well, it doesn’t go all the way down. It’s just half a ladder. A third of a ladder.”
“A third of a ladder? And what about the missing two-thirds?”
“It ended right next to a window. A math room. And you know how those windows tilt to open? I tilted it. And that’s that.” Which sounded much more dangerous than it actually was.
He narrowed his eyes and spoke slowly. “You took a ladder and climbed through a window on the third floor? Of course you did. I can’t decide whether you’re brave or reckless.”
I wasn’t either of those things. I was anxious and unsettled and I wanted the hell off the roof. That’s all. “No, I’m not—”
“Yeah, you are. You always were.”
“Always? Reid, we saw each other three times a year, tops. You barely knew me.”
“Right.” He looked like he was trying not to smile. I was trying not to smile too.
“Hey, so, I’m gonna go back. I just wanted you to know . . . I mean, not like you asked or anything, but . . .”
Reid kept waiting, like he thought I was going to spell it all out for him. And when he finally realized I was done, he said, “Is that your apology?”
“Is this yours?” I asked, and this time I couldn’t really stop the smile.
He stood up so he was taller than me, and I rolled his chair back a little farther, until it was pressed up against his desk. He stuck his hand out. “Friends?”
He didn’t lower his hand just because I kept staring at it. Not like when he found me at the old student center. He held out his hand like we had no history. Like we were starting over. Which was really the entire point of my coming here after all.
I stood up and put my hand in his. I expected us to shake, but neither of us did. We just held on for a few seconds until I pulled my hand back.
I slung my bag over my shoulder.
“Are you coming to our game Saturday?”
“Um, not really my thing,” I said, moving toward the door.
“What’s not your thing? Soccer? Or me?”
I paused because there was really no right answer to that question. “Sitting on the bleachers.”
He smiled. “Fair enough.” I walked out the doorway, and when I was in the hall, he said, “So what is your thing?”
I thought of Colleen and the boardwalk, the beach and the sun, none of which were here, and I kept moving, because the truth was, without her, I had no idea.
After study hall I took a sleeping pill and raced the feeling to sleep. I wasn’t fast enough. Like running away last night had flipped some switch. Almost as soon as I swallowed, I heard the noise. The boom, boom, boom coming closer. I closed my eyes, but I heard the voice. Mallory, it whispered. Wait.
And that’s when the hand reached out and grabbed me.
Then came the dream, same as every night. I saw the choice, like the very first time: the knife, the door. Life, death. Choose. Choose different. But I didn’t. I made the same choice every time. Even in my dream.
Reid fell into stride with me on the way to science class. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said. “Were you waiting for me?” Bold.
“Just heading in the same direction.” Half-truth.
“I didn’t know you had science this period.” Lie.
Silence as we weaved through the crowded hall.
“Word on the street is that you slid down the downspout.”
“No!”
“There’s a smaller faction who say you crawled through the ventilation shaft, but my class knows that’s not possible.”
“How do they know?”
“We tried that my year.”
I stopped walking. “Hey, I thought you said being locked on the roof was fun?”
“It was fun trying to escape together.” He smiled and shook his head to himself, then put a hand on my back for half a second as he started walking again. “Turns out ventilation shafts aren’t big like they seem in movies. Or sturdy. At all. Jason got both his legs stuck. The orientation group had to get oil to get him unstuck. Almost got caught because of it . . .”
I stopped just inside the Science Center, leaning toward him to hear more. The warning bell chimed. “I have to go,” I said.
He stepped closer, and people brushed past us, rushing to beat the bell. “So do I,” he said. Then he raised his hand almost to my face, then dropped it to my shoulder instead, like he had patted his friend on the shoulder as they parted a few mornings ago. I winced.
He pulled back his hand and stared at it, like he didn’t know what it was capable of. “What?” he asked. “I hurt you?”
“No, it’s my shoulder . . . I don’t know . . .” And I pressed myself farther into the wall.
He leaned closer, put his fingers on the collar of my shirt, like he was waiting for some sign from me before he pulled it aside. And I felt hot and cold at once, yes and no, trapping me in indecision.
“Ho-ly shit.”
Reid dropped his hand and I stepped back.
Jason stood in the middle of the hall, half a grin on his face. He stood too close to Bree, but Bree didn’t seem to mind. And Krista just looked, unblinking. Jason shook his head and smirked. “Always with the rebounds, Reid.” Then he looked to me. “It’s his thing. Go for the girl when she’s down. Makes you feel special, doesn’t it?”
I looked to Reid for explanation, but I couldn’t see anything under the anger. But before Reid could even open his mouth, Krista put her hands up, palm out. “Well, boys, this sure has been enlightening. But I believe we’re all late for class.”
The overhead speakers buzzed and Krista and Bree slipped into the classroom.
Jason smirked again and took off running for the end of the hall. And I stood there, feeling like I was missing the pieces to some puzzle—like I could only see the upper corner and had no idea what pieces I even needed to complete the rest of the picture.
“I’m late,” Reid said.
“Me too.” I stepped toward the doorway of the classroom and heard Reid’s footsteps echo down the hall. My shoulder throbbed every time I moved it.
“Ms. Murphy.” Dr. Arnold raised her pen into the air and jabbed it in my direction. “Are you planning to join us this morning?”
I felt the throb in my shoulder again, and the blood draining from my face. “Mallory? Are you okay?”
“I’m going to be sick,” I said, bracing myself against the door frame.
“Go,” she said.
I backed out of the doorway and ran down the hall toward the bathroom. I leaned over the sink and pulled my shirt down over my left shoulder, where Reid had touched me. Underneath, the faint red marks had turned dark. Bruised. I turned around and looked at my back. There was another bruise, like from a thumb.
I squeezed my eyes shut and thought it’s only real if I let it be.
I opened my eyes, but the marks were still there. I really was going to be sick. Air. I needed air. I ran down the empty hallway, out into the bright late-morning sun, and took a deep breath. Two teachers were walking up the path from the other direction—they’d see me any second, so I kept moving. I ran through campus, out the side gate, across the street, down the path. To the old student center, where there was nothing but the remains of what used to be.
I sat on a half-wall, trying to think of nothing, and listened to the wind. I watched the leaves move with the breeze.
Everything shifted a little to the left with a strong gust. And I saw something past the student center, farther into the woods. A path. This wasn’t the end of campus. I stood, brushed the dirt from my khaki pants, and crept over the bricks to the far corner. The path was narrow, but it was a definite path. It wound through the trunks, and as I followed, it narrowed.
A pile of rocks stood just off the side of the path with a small wooden cross standing in the middle, nearly overgrown with weeds now. There was something carved into the wood, in boxy letters. I pushed the weeds down. danvers jack. gone but not forgotten. The cross split under the weight of my hands, bringing ruin, like usual. I tried to prop it back up, and I felt an engraving on the other side. I flipped the piece over and read the other side, jagged letters etched into the rotting wood. forgotten but not gone.
Wind rustled the leaves, and a few scattered down to the ground, a burnt orange, turning early. I wondered if Jack Danvers or Danvers Jack or whatever his name was haunted these woods. If he was tied to them now. If others could feel him, if they believed he wasn’t truly gone.
I stood up and walked farther down the path, weeds popping up with more frequency, until I wasn’t sure I was on the path anymore.
I spun around, and all I saw were trees. My breath caught, and I spun around in a full circle. The ground all looked the same, clusters of weeds breaking up the rocks and dirt. Trees everywhere. I put my hand on the nearest trunk, the one I had stopped at, and oriented myself in the direction I had been walking, then took two huge, deliberate steps backward. I looked down and saw the difference. A faint path, a little more worn than where I had just been. I stepped backward again. Then I turned around, kept my eyes down on the ground, and started moving, following the weeds as they became sparser and sparser and I was back on the path again. Until I was next to the broken cross.
My heart beat fast. I had almost gotten lost. I saw how the woods could’ve swallowed him up so easily. They could’ve swallowed me up like that. I wondered how long it would be before someone would’ve noticed I was missing and come looking. How long it would take for me to go from Gone but not forgotten to Forgotten but not gone.