An exasperated laugh shot out of Wendy. Jordan had no idea.
“The good news is you get to run away—both of us do,” Jordan went on, slapping her thighs. “To college! It’s not a magical island in the stars, but there is gross dorm food, Olympic-sized pools, and lots of hot college guys.” Jordan smiled, but Wendy could only manage a small tip of her lips. “We’ll get to decorate our dorm rooms, stay up way too late, and drink heaps of coffee as we get ready for med school—”
“Nursing school,” Wendy corrected her. Jordan had been trying to talk her into medical school for the last two years, but Wendy wanted to be a nurse. She wanted to help people, but the idea of being a doctor and saving people’s lives was way more than she could handle.
Jordan ignored the rebuttal. “The point is, we can do whatever we want. We get to start over. We just need to get through the next few months.” She squeezed Wendy’s arms tight. “Okay?”
College. She kept reminding herself that it was the beacon, the light at the end of the tunnel. She just needed to get through it—get through this—and she could be free of everything. But what about now?
“None of this stuff happening is going to change that,” Jordan reassured her, as if reading Wendy’s mind.
“People like me don’t get to live normal lives, Jordan.” It was a mantra that repeated itself in Wendy’s mind all the time, cycling over and over again. But this was the first time she had actually said it out loud. She knew she was generalizing and not being fair, but this town made her feel like there was something wrong with her. And, whatever it was, it was contagious.
Wendy looked away from Jordan as pity threatened to overtake her best friend’s features. Jordan was usually so good at hiding it.
“Everything is going to be okay.” She was so sure of herself.
Wendy shrugged. She didn’t believe it, but this was the best she had felt since careening her truck off the road last night.
“Are you hungry? There’s some cold, half-eaten toast I would be willing to share with you,” Jordan offered with fake sincerity.
Wendy rolled her eyes, trying to laugh even though she felt weighed down. Smiling just took too much energy. “You’re disgusting,” she said, shoving Jordan’s shoulder.
Jordan laughed and affectionately tugged a lock of Wendy’s hair. “The sky’s the limit for you, Wendy, okay?”
“Right.”
CHAPTER 6
Dreams
They managed to kill most of the day at Jordan’s house. Jordan was good at filling empty spaces and providing distractions. They talked about college and summer plans. When Wendy got quiet and stuck in her own head, Jordan coaxed her back. They’d even made muffins with fresh marionberries from Jordan’s backyard. Later, Jordan gave Wendy a ride to the hospital after texting her dad for permission, since Wendy needed to pick up her truck.
Now home, Wendy slipped her sandals off by the door. The threadbare brown carpet was a disappointing contrast to the plush beige one at Jordan’s house.
Her father sat at the dining table, his back to her. The news was on the television in the living room. A reporter was speaking off to the side, but the volume was too low for her to make out.
Ashley Ford’s and Benjamin Lane’s faces were front and center. Wendy got nauseated looking at their smiling pictures. She vividly remembered the school photos they’d used for her and her brothers when they went missing. Wendy was in a white blouse with blue flowers. John had on a white collared shirt, his hair perfectly swept to the side, his glasses making his eyes look huge. Michael, on the other hand, was a rumpled mess. His shirt was untucked and he’d missed a button.
Even after she had been found, they continued to run her picture along with John’s and Michael’s, explaining the details, what they did and didn’t know. At thirteen she hadn’t been able to handle seeing her brothers like that. After the first couple of times she had broken down in uncontrollable tears, her parents banned news from the television. Sometimes, though, her mother wouldn’t hear her come downstairs and Wendy caught a glimpse of the news before she quickly changed the channel.
Wendy tore her eyes from the screen.
She turned to her father and inwardly sighed. She really didn’t want to get yelled at, or lectured, or whatever else the hard set of his shoulders foretold. Well, the sooner she got it over with, the sooner she could go to her room. She steeled herself and walked up to his side.
Mr. Darling sat clutching a mug. It had a faded blue logo of his bank on the side, and it was half full of black coffee.