“Jesse, you can’t keep running. It’s just as dangerous.”
In my mind, I’m already gone. How far could I get? How long? I could go anywhere, do anything. For the first time in my life, the thought isn’t frightening. It’s liberating.
I think of the couple who wandered into the computer lab. That could be me. I could maybe find someone whose touch I invited, someone who wanted to be with me. Someone I could actually love…
My uncle is gone. I never again have to fear being touched, work hard to parse the meaning of every word and gesture, train my body and face to fake pleasure just to satisfy his warped needs. Could I learn to love? Could I ever be a normal guy, holding a girl’s hand, kissing her lips, inviting her to touch me?
Free. It takes me a few moments to actually identify the feeling that makes me feel light-headed. I’m free.
If I can outrun King. “You said Mom and Janey are safe?”
“Dad said they’re in protective custody.”
“Custody? They didn’t arrest her, did they? She had nothing to do with this—”
“No. Jesse, they have cops protecting your mom and sister…” Her voice fades into the night.
Then I get it. “From me. They think I might hurt them.” Everything I’ve done for the past four years has been to protect them, to save my family after my dad left. But now they’re safer without me. “So, if I keep running, they’ll be protected from King.”
“Yes. No. They’ll be safe, but you won’t.” Urgency fills her voice. “I have a plan.”
“Yeah. One that leaves me behind bars and King out there where he can hurt everyone I care about.” Including Miranda, I realize. She’s trapped, will be at King’s mercy if he ever finds her.
“No. A new plan.” Her breath rustles through the phone, louder than the wind seeping through the broken windows of the car. “But it means not just exposing King to the world. It means telling everyone what he did to us. Both of us. Everything—the whole truth. Let the world see what a monster he is. That’s our best chance of stopping him and saving you.”
The freedom I tasted a few seconds ago turns to ash in my mouth. “My mom would know—”
“Everyone,” she says firmly. “That’s what will happen sooner or later anyway. If they catch you and there’s a trial, they’ll want to know why you wanted to kill your uncle.”
“I can lie. Tell them I just snapped.” Suddenly the car feels too small. Despite the cold, I climb out, fill my lungs with fresh air. The moon has set, leaving a shimmer of stars in its wake. I look down the hill at the shadows cast by the assortment of abandoned junk. I don’t see cars and appliances and farm equipment. I see dragons and winged horses and strange beasts…and griffins.
Could I do it? Tell the truth? Expose myself to the entire world?
It would kill my mom. I could never lead that normal life I fantasized about—not with every pervert out there knowing my face, seeing it all over the news. Who would ever want to be with me after that? Knowing what I let my uncle and King do to me?
“You could lie.” Miranda’s voice is a whisper of hope. “But then your uncle would win. All those perverts King sold your performances to, they’d win. King would win. And if they win, they’ll never stop. They’ll keep doing this to other kids. They’ll think it’s okay to ruin our lives, to hurt us like we’re nothing more than dirt on the bottom of their shoes. Is that what you want?”
“No. Of course not. But my mom—”
“You think she’d feel better believing a lie? How does that help anyone? Wouldn’t she want to know the truth? Not just about her brother but about the kind of son she has, someone willing to sacrifice everything for his family, someone brave enough to stand up and fight for what’s right. Doesn’t she deserve that son instead of a son who lies his way to jail for a crime he didn’t commit and who lets the bad guys walk free?”
I stare at the stars. At the mythical beasts my imagination has conjured from the junk surrounding me. Disposable stuff. No good. Used, abused, and cast aside. Like me.
Like all the other kids King has tormented. How many of us are there? How many more will there be if I—if we—don’t stop him?
“It’s not that easy,” I stammer, telling myself it’s the cold that makes me shiver so hard my teeth knock together.
“I know. I’ll be with you all the way.”
“Right. From your safe little home with both your parents there to protect you.” I hate myself for saying the words, want to take them back, but I can’t. If she wants the truth, maybe we need to start with each other.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Her voice sears my soul; it’s filled with such sorrow and regret. “I can’t be there with you. Maybe you should just run.”
“No. Miranda—” I take a deep breath, air so cold it burns my lungs. “What’s the plan?”
• • •
Miranda climbed off her bed and stood at her window. “Can you see the stars where you are?”
“Yes.” Jesse paused. “The plan isn’t for us to become astronauts and fly away to Mars, is it? Because I’m pretty sure you’d need to leave your home for all that weightlessness training and stuff.”
His tone was both light and concerned at the same time, doubting her sanity. And he hadn’t even heard her plan yet.
“Ha ha, already starting with the agoraphobia jokes.” He had no idea how lucky he was. Even with everything that had happened, at least he had a choice: he could run or he could fight. The only way she could run was—her gaze darted to her journal—the ultimate escape.
Funny, after spending the day—even virtually—with Griffin, with Jesse, suicide just didn’t have the appeal it once had.
“That thing you did this morning, when you imagined a perfect day for me.”
“Yeah?” He sounded embarrassed by it.
“That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Listening to you, painting an entire world just for me with your words, it was…magical. I’ll always treasure that. Always.”
Awkward silence. He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”
She pressed her palm against the window, absorbing the cold. “I just wanted you to know that. No matter what happens.”
“Why are you sounding like this is some kind of good-bye?”
“Not good-bye. I hope not. But if we go through with this, things might get pretty crazy.”
“You haven’t told me yet. What are we going through with?”
“We go public. Not just public. Viral. Use our stories to launch a massive social media campaign targeting King.”
“Cybersmash him? Like he does his victims? Like what he did to you?”
“Worse than cybersmashing. Because we’ll be telling the truth. Starting with the video you recorded.”
“The video of me beating the crap out of my uncle? How’s that going to help?”
“I’ll edit it to stop before that. We’ll just show him confessing. Talking about him and King and what they did to you.”
Another long pause. “And you?”
“I have copies of everything King posted about me…I’ll also tell people about what he did to my mom, tell them about how I tried to kill myself. About how I live now because of him, a prisoner of my own fear. How I plan to kill myself if he’s not stopped.”
She took a deep breath, pressed her palm against the window, but it was no good. She was trapped. Inside a cage of her own making. “How I will kill myself if he’s not caught before my birthday, in twenty-four hours.”
“No. Miranda you can’t. You wouldn’t—”
“I will. This is our chance to stop living a lie.”
“They’ll lock you up, just like they will me if I’m caught.”
“But the truth about King, about your uncle, once that’s out, they can’t put the genie back in the bottle. The truth will spread. More of King’s victims will come forward, tell the truth of what he did to them. We might not be able to save ourselves, but we can save others, stop King from stealing anyone else’s life.”
Silence. Dark and heavy. She bit her lip, counted by threes—a magic number, a safe number—until she became dizzy holding her breath and had to inhale. Her room was quiet, so very quiet.
Finally his voice returned. “Okay. Do it. But, Miranda—”
“Yes?” She could barely get the word out.
“Don’t edit the video. If we’re telling the truth, it should be all of it.”