[Anh Ngữ] Forget Me - K. A. Harrington (English)

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON

Genre: Mystery - Thriller

​

Spoiler: Prologue

He lied to me.

That was my first thought when I saw him.

I was alone in my car, on the way to the party where Toni and my other friends were waiting. As I drove down Lincoln Road, my eyes went to the tall chain-link fence that bordered the old amusement park. In the distance, I could almost make out the highest hill of the kiddie coaster and the happy dragon that towered over the bumper cars. But it was dark, so I might have just been seeing what I knew was there.

What I wasn’t expecting to see was my boyfriend, Flynn. The car’s headlights reflected off his pale face, which seemed to almost float in the darkness. Flynn had told me he couldn’t come because he had plans with his parents.

I slammed on my brakes, shifted into reverse, and pulled over. Squinting into the darkness, I hoped the light had played a trick on me. But there he was, leaning against the fence.

Caught, he walked swiftly toward the car, head down. His ratty black trench coat fluttered open in the wind, revealing dark jeans and the vintage U2 T-shirt I’d bought him. He rapped his knuckles on the passenger-side window, and I low- ered it.

He rested his arms on the roof of the car and hung his head low to look in the window. “Hey, Morgan.”

“What are you doing out here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice cool and level.

“Just hanging out, thinking.”

Brooding was Flynn’s natural state, but he seemed even more depressed than usual. Maybe he hadn’t lied after all. Maybe he really did have plans with his family but they’d had a fight or something. And he came out here to get away.

“Did something happen?” I asked. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve picked you up.”

“I know . . .” His voice was strained, different. He had a com- plicated relationship with his parents and hated to talk about them at all. I never forced him to let me in. I figured he would when he was ready. He’d moved to town two months ago, and I was the only one he ever voluntarily talked to. I told myself he just needed more time than most people, that was all.

He straightened to his full height, and I couldn’t see his face through the window anymore. I wanted to look him in the eye. I needed to quiet the uncertainty whispering from the back of my mind. I killed the engine and got out of the car.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“Coming to talk to you.” I walked through the headlights, rested a hand on the warm hood, and stared at him.

But he wouldn’t look at me. His eyes were jittery, nervous. They kept roaming over my shoulder to watch the road, like he was expecting another car.

This end of Lincoln Road was never busy after the amuse- ment park shut down years ago. The only people who used it were those who knew it connected to the back of Meadow Place—the half-empty development of McMansions—where I’d been heading before I saw him. But I was hours late to the party. Everyone was already there. So who was he expecting to come down this deserted road? Was he . . . meeting someone else?

“Flynn . . .” I pushed his name out of my tightened throat. “What are you really doing out here?”
He looked down the street once more, and his expression changed. He seemed to come to some decision. “Get in the car.”

I blinked, confused. “What?”

He opened the passenger door quickly, and motioned for me to get in on the other side. I dashed around and slid into the driver’s seat. He leaned across the space between us and gave me a quick kiss. Like I’d just picked him up for a date, not found him acting shady by the side of the road.

He reached over and started the engine. “Let’s go.”

His sudden change had my head spinning. “What’s the rush?”

“Let’s just get out of here. I want to be with you.” He pointed at the road. “Let’s go somewhere.”

“The party?”

“Anywhere you want.”

I pulled onto the road and drove slowly. This behavior wasn’t entirely surprising. Flynn was normally secretive and moody, regarding most people and things with a quiet disdain. But that’s why he made me feel special. I was the thing he didn’t hate. I was the person who could make him crack a smile by calling him “Mr. Serious.” Just two weeks ago, pressing against a bare-limbed tree on a frosty night, our lips inches apart, he told me I was the only good thing in his life.

But now, he rubbed both hands on his thighs as his left leg bounced up and down. He reminded me of a caged animal, yearning to break out and run free. But no one was making him sit here. I hadn’t forced him to get in the car.

I gave him a playful poke in the side. “Look who it is! It’s Mr.Serious.”

But he didn’t smile this time. Instead, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the dark road behind us. I didn’t speak, hoping the silence would encourage him to tell me what he was thinking. But the more time went on, the more I worried. Im- ages flashed in my mind, of another girl driving this road, look- ing for Flynn at their predetermined meeting spot. She was prettier than me, maybe older, cooler, edgier. She knew bands I’d never heard of. Liked art and philosophical discussions. She had a dark side to her, one that Flynn found very attractive.
I forced the thought out of my head. I was driving myself crazy.

Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe he wasn’t expecting someone else. He was just standing out there at night in the dark because that’s a weird, loner, Flynn thing to do.

He looked in the side-view mirror.

“What’s going on, Flynn?” I asked.

A lock of black hair fell across his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Something’s up with you. Why were you standing out there? Why are you acting nervous? Tell me what’s going on,” I demanded. I never had attitude with him. I always went with the flow, did what he wanted, never questioned his idiosyncra- sies. I never wanted to be that girlfriend. Nagging. Annoying. But tonight was different. I felt different.

He stared at me. I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but I could still feel him looking at me. What was he thinking? I’d have given anything to know.

“You can pull over and let me out here,” he said quietly. “What?” There was nothing but woods surrounding us. He’d have to walk a mile to get to the nearest house. He’d rather do that than talk to me?

“I’m not in the mood to go to one of your friend’s lame parties.”

Holy mood swing. I raised my eyebrows. “Nice, Flynn. Real nice. My friends have been nothing but good to you even though you seem to feel that you’re above them for some reason.”

“I’m not above them. I just have no interest in them. I only want to be with you.”

“Then be with me,” I pleaded. “We can go somewhere and talk.”

But he was already shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk.” “You have to let me in, Flynn. I can’t keep going on like this.”

“Then pull over,” he snapped.

I turned to look at him. His eyes were apprehensive, but his voice was so sure, so filled with venom. He reached for the door handle like he was willing to jump out at thirty miles per hour. The tires squealed as I slammed on the brakes and the car jumped up the curb.

“Why are you doing this?” I yelled. “Why are you acting like this?”

His mouth opened and his eyes flicked around, like they were searching for the answer in the air. “Because I don’t want this,” he said finally. “You, driving around town, checking up on me, making sure I’m where I told you I was.”

“I wasn’t doing that,” I said indignantly. “I was on my way to a party. It’s not my fault you happened to be on the side of the road I was driving on. Excuse me for pulling over to say hi to my boyfriend who was standing alone in the dark like a creep.”

“I have the right to stand wherever and however I want.”

“I never said you didn’t!”

He shook his head. “It’s just . . . I think . . . it’s time for us to be over.”

His words took a moment to sink in. I’d thought we were having our first fight. Apparently it was also our last. “You’re . . . breaking up with me?”

I saw him swallow. Then he nodded, once.

I squared my shoulders. I would not cry. I would not give him one ounce of emotion. “Why?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again.

“I have to go,” he said softly. He pushed open the door and shoved it closed behind him. His coat flapped in the breeze as he walked down the road, into the dark night.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel and tears spilled from my eyes, clouding my vision as I watched him walk away, until he was just a wavy, indistinct form far down the dark road.

I didn’t hear the car, but I saw the headlights come around the bend. Too fast.

My back bolted straight, and my lungs froze. For one long moment, I couldn’t breathe in or release what was held in my chest. I could only watch as Flynn flew through the air, flipping like a tossed doll. Then he crashed back down, his body rolling and scraping across the asphalt.

The SUV kept going.

It barreled past me, a black bullet with tinted windows, too fast for me to catch a look at the plate.
I have no memory of getting out of the car or running to Flynn with the cold air lashing my tear-stained cheeks. I only remember holding his head in my lap. Seeing his blood on the ground. Listening to the 911 operator on my cell telling me to stay calm.

When the ambulance came, my hand was on Flynn’s chest.

His heart was still beating.

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON

Genre: Mystery - Thriller

​

Spoiler: Chapter 1

I lifted the camera to my eye and focused on the lion’s mouth. Click. Born of metal, plastic, and paint, he’d been a happy lion, with rounded teeth and lips curving into a smile. But now the paint was chipped, the plastic cracked, and bits of exposed metal were rusted. Graffiti morphed his happy smile into a sharp-toothed, menacing grin. Larry the Lion once welcomed children to King’s Fantasy World Amusement Park. Now he warned people to stay away.

Inside the park there were many more shots waiting to be taken. The fun house with its broken windows. The thick weeds that climbed the track of the kiddie coaster. The mice that nested in the Skee-Ball holes. But I didn’t climb the fence to enter the park.

Not that the No Trespassing sign intimidated me. Those were posted all over town, and they never stopped anyone. A rule meant nothing if there was no consequence for breaking it. No one was monitoring these places. Maybe at first, five years ago, when everything shut down, officers would swing by in a patrol car. But now . . . no one cared anymore.

The reason I wasn’t going past the fence was that the last time I was inside King’s Fantasy World, I met Flynn. My boy- friend. Who is now dead.

He’d been gone three months, and I still wasn’t ready to re- visit those memories.

I wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

My town, River’s End, had once been a shimmering oasis in our drab, rural area of central Massachusetts. But after the town’s only major employer, Stell Pharmaceuticals, went un- der, several other businesses that relied on Stell soon followed, and River’s End began its steep and sudden decline. Now half the McMansions stood empty. The mall’s doors were shut- tered. Happy Time Mini Golf was overgrown. And, saddest of all the forgotten places, King’s Fantasy World was abandoned and rotting.

What used to be the happiest place in town was now the scariest.

I checked the display on my camera. The focus of that last shot could’ve been better. I adjusted and tried again. Click. Using my hand to shade the viewing screen from the sun, I squinted and then smiled. This one was a keeper. It captured what I was going for. The lion wasn’t evil. He was just . . . lonely.

I packed my camera back into its bag and drove home. It was enough that I’d finally gotten that shot of Larry the Lion. I’d save climbing the fence for some other day.

I pulled my car into our empty driveway, not surprised that my parents were out. They used Saturdays to catch up on all the things they couldn’t do during the week: grocery shopping, the post office, the bank, the pharmacy. A never-ending list of errands.

My parents had both been biochemists for Stell. Great jobs, great money. But then people started dying from Stell’s most popular product, a migraine pill. The company shut down and everyone lost their jobs. Even people who didn’t directly work for Stell but depended on Stell employees to spend their money in town—at restaurants, retail stores—were out of work. Some businesses hung on longer than others, but eventually most had to give up and close their doors.

Now Dad took the train into Boston for work, a two-hour commute each way. Mom worked here in town but needed two jobs to earn anywhere near what she used to make at her pre- vious job. But at least they had work. Not everyone in town was so lucky.

I swung the camera bag over my shoulder and closed the car door with my hip. I smirked as I spied Toni sitting on the front steps. Toni Klane was my best friend and had been since we were little. Her house was one street over, but lately it seemed like she lived with me.

She visibly shivered as she stood up. It was the end of March. That week that always seemed like such a tease. It was still cold, but spring was so close, you could almost smell it in the air. Toni wore jeans and a scoop-neck T-shirt, her arms wrapped around her abdomen. I’m sure she didn’t mean to for- get a sweatshirt or a coat. Sometimes she just had to leave her house in a hurry.

“Morgan Tulley, where have you been?” she said, tapping her foot in mock impatience. “Out snapping photos of creepy things?”

“Nope. Flowers,” I deadpanned.

Her face brightened momentarily and then shut back down. “You’re joking.”

“Of course I am.”

She smacked my arm.

I unlocked the front door and we hurried inside, the warm air a welcome greeting. I didn’t have to ask why she’d come over without texting or calling first. Why she was sitting on my front steps for who knows how long, shivering in the cold, waiting for me. If she wanted to talk about the Fight of the Day, she would. Most days, she’d rather not.

Toni’s parents were having more trouble than most. The unemployment money was about to run dry, but the liquor was overflowing. Her family was exploding, and if Toni hung around the house all day, she’d be sliced by shrapnel. Collateral damage. So when she showed up here, I never turned her away.

I grabbed some sodas and a bag of Doritos from the kitchen. I wasn’t hungry, but I knew Toni probably was, and she’d never help herself no matter how many times I told her it was okay. We climbed the stairs to the second floor and went into my room: our sanctuary. It had all white furniture and bright, lime-green walls. I used to think it looked like the happiest room in the world, but now it felt like it was just pretending to be happy. If a room could feign emotion.

While Toni flopped onto the bed and opened the chips, I sat at my desk and uploaded the photos I’d taken to my laptop.

“Larry the Lion, huh?” Toni said between crunches. “Yeah. I finally got that shot I’ve been trying for.”

“The one that makes him look lonely and not like a jacked-up plastic lion that wants to eat your face?”

“Exactly.” Even though my back was to her, I smiled. It was nice to know someone listened to me when I babbled about my photography.

“Are you going to submit it now?” she asked through a mouthful of chips.

I’d been building my portfolio to apply for a summer course at the local college. It was a small class and highly selective. “Nah. It’s not ready.”

“You won’t ever think it’s ready,” Toni huffed. “Then you won’t have to apply and risk being rejected.”

Toni’s favorite hobby was psychoanalyzing me. I cast a look at her over my shoulder. “I’ll apply. Just not yet.”

She pointed a chip at me. “No offense, Morgan, but you’ve always been the kind of girl who sits back and lets things hap- pen to her.”

I resisted an eye roll. “And who should I be?”

“The kind of girl who goes out and makes things happen.”

I saved the photos and shut my laptop. “Believe me. I want to be in this program. That’s why I’m taking my time. My port- folio has to be perfect.” I was a little aggravated, but knew her nagging came from a good place. I playfully stuck my tongue out. “So stop pressuring me.”

She made a face right back. “I’m your best friend, that’s my job.” She paused, and her casual tone turned serious. “So did you go . . . into the park?”

I shook my head. “Not today.”

“How are you doing . . . today?” She emphasized the last word.

I should’ve known she’d remember the date. Three months ago today Flynn was killed in a hit-and-run accident. I hadn’t gotten any messages or calls from my other friends. My par- ents never mentioned Flynn much after his death. They were raised in the school of “the problem doesn’t exist if you don’t talk about it.”

But Toni remembered. She knew today would be hard on me. That’s what I loved about her. Her world was chaos back home, but she still worried about me.

I opened my laptop and pretended to be doing something important. “I’m all right.”

“Look at me,” she demanded.

I twisted around to face her.

“He’s been gone now longer than you were together,” she said, meeting my eyes.

Technically, she was right. We’d only dated for two months, and he’d been dead for three, but that didn’t make it okay. It wasn’t like there was some grief formula. If you knew someone for X amount of time and he’d been dead for Y amount of time, you will be over the whole thing in X plus Y divided by Z.

I wish it were that simple.

“I just hate to see you so sad,” she said.

“Lots of people in the world are sad,” I countered.

“But they’re not my best friend. Who cares about those los- ers?” She cracked a smile, and I mirrored it.

“I get what you’re saying,” I said and gave a little shrug. “But I can’t just magically shut the feelings off, you know?”

She sat up straighter on the bed and folded her legs under- neath her. “What if we nudged it along?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the three-month anniversary of Flynn’s death. Maybe you should do something closure-y.”

“I love the way you make up words by putting a y at the end of them.”

“I love the way you avoid a conversation you don’t want to have by making an astute observation about me.”

“Don’t you mean astute-y?” “Morgan.”

“Okay, okay. What would you like me to do?”

“Just some kind of closure.”

I leaned back in the chair and racked my brain. “Like . . . toss a wreath into the river to symbolize how he’s drifted away from me?”
Toni rolled her eyes. “Nothing that cheesy. We can start with something simple like . . .” She chewed on the ends of her sandy-blond hair for a moment. “I’ve got it. Upload a pic of him to FriendShare with a good-bye message.”

“How is that any form of closure?” I asked.

“It’s public. It’s showing your friends—who are worried about you, by the way—that you’re starting to heal and move on. Having the balls to say something publicly makes it mean more.”

“I don’t have balls. I have girly parts.”

She threw a Dorito at me, but it wasn’t very aerodynamic and landed on the floor halfway between us. “Take this seri- ously, please.”

“Flynn hated FriendShare,” I pointed out.

“No offense, hon, but that boy hated everything except you.”

I shrugged. “He was just private. People have the right to be private.”

Toni placed a finger in her open mouth and pretended to gag. “He refused to talk about himself. He never invited you to his house.”

“He had family issues,” I said.

“He had issues, all right.”

I didn’t want to get into this. I had always known Toni didn’t like Flynn. And he hadn’t exactly made an effort to be likable to her, either. I’d found his private nature mysterious and sexy. She’d found it “douchey.” But she never told me to break up with him and hardly ever complained. If the roles had been reversed and she’d been dating a boy I hated, I would’ve nagged her a lot more.

I searched her dark eyes. This small act of closure seemed important to her. And what did I have to lose? Maybe it would make me feel a little better.

“Fine,” I said, giving in. “I’ll do it.”

She clapped and beamed like the proud parent of a child who’d made the right choice.

I logged in to FriendShare. My profile picture came up, an old photo of Toni and me taken last year. We had our arms around each other’s shoulders, which was a little awkward since I was so much taller than her. I glanced in the mirror resting on my desk and then back at the picture. It’s amazing how a photo can tell you so much about a person in one quick glance. In the picture, my blue eyes were brighter, my black hair shinier. I glowed. Everything about me in the mirror now seemed dulled in comparison.

This was the right thing to do. I had to get on the “path of healing” (to quote one of Toni’s well-meaning speeches).

I paused with my hands over the keys, then typed: Gone, but not forgotten.

“Good,” Toni said from over my shoulder. “That’s good.”

Then I clicked to upload the only picture I had of Flynn. One that he hadn’t even known I’d taken. I took it the first day I met him, in King’s Fantasy World. I went into the park to get shots for my portfolio and stumbled upon this mysterious boy, all alone, and it was like my camera had a mind of its own.

The icon in the center of the application swirled for a mo- ment as the photo loaded. Then Flynn’s face filled the screen. My chest squeezed as I fought off the urge to cry. Even in this innocuous photo, he seemed like a tragic figure. Leaning against the wall of the fun house, full lips slightly parted, his face tilted just a degree as his steely-gray eyes searched for the source of the sound in the abandoned park. The sound had been me.

The outline of a box opened around his head as Friend- Share’s facial recognition software attempted to tag him with a name. It was a handy application if you were uploading a big group picture or a bunch of photos that you wanted done quickly. But I knew it was a waste of time for this picture. Flynn had never been on FriendShare. He thought it was “weird” and “intrusive.” Which was an observation I found poignant and smart, and Toni again found douchey.

But the operation ended and a message read

Is this Evan Murphy? YES. NO. DONE TAGGING.

“What the hell?” I said.

Toni brought her face closer to the screen. “Who’s Evan Murphy?”

I leaned closer to the screen. “I don’t know, but FriendShare seems to think he’s my dead boyfriend.”

She shook her head. “Stupid website. It’s probably glitchy or something. Just say ‘no’ and then hit ‘post.’”

My finger hovered over the mouse, but I didn’t click “no.” My muscles tightened into steel coils. It was probably nothing. It had to be nothing. But I needed to see.

With a trembling hand, I clicked on Evan’s name.

“What are you doing?” Toni asked.

“I just want to see who he is,” I said. “Now I’m curious.”
“You’re postponing the closure. I knew you’d chicken out. You need to do this!”

She continued to lovingly lecture me, but I couldn’t hear her anymore. All I heard was the rush of blood through my head and the ragged, sharp intakes of my own breath.

Because the page had loaded. Evan Murphy lived a few towns away and looked exactly like Flynn. Except he was very much alive.

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON

Genre: Mystery - Thriller

​

Spoiler: Chapter 2

Doritos hit the floor as the open bag fell from Toni’s hand. “Whoa . . .”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

“What? Who?”

Toni continued her one-word questions as I clicked around, trying to access anything else on Evan Murphy’s page. But he had a good amount of privacy settings on, and the only thing I could see was that one small profile picture and his town name—Littlefield—only fifteen minutes away.

Toni jabbed a finger at the photo. “It’s Flynn. I mean, it is him, right?”

“It can’t be,” I said. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Toni screeched. “FriendShare matched his face to this guy. It’s him! Look!”

I didn’t know how I was staying so calm. Toni was clearly going bananas. But it was like my brain had shut off all emotion so it could focus. I clicked on the photo in an attempt to enlarge it, but the resolution was terrible when I tried to zoom in. The face was Flynn’s face. Those steely-gray eyes that were so hard to ignore. The slope of his jaw. The sly, one-sided grin.

But it couldn’t be him. I searched for something sane to grasp on to.

“He’s wearing a baseball hat,” I said quickly. “Flynn never wore hats.”

“He also never said his name was Evan Murphy and he lived in Littlefield. Being an undercover hat lover obviously wasn’t his biggest secret.”

I needed to get away from the computer, from the familiar face smiling at me on the screen. I pushed the chair back and stood up. “It’s just someone who looks eerily like him.”

“Not eerily,” Toni said. “Exactly.”

I pulled my hair back and held it at the nape of my neck. “Could he, like, have a twin living in another town with a different last name?” I said, thinking out loud. “I know it’s crazy, but what else could it be?”

“He could be alive,” Toni said.

I sank down onto the edge of my bed as a wave of nausea washed over me. I put my face in my hands and rubbed circles on my forehead. Could Flynn really be alive? How would that be possible? And . . . he let me think he was dead? Would he do that? How could he do that?

I dropped my hands and looked up at Toni. She was staring at me with a wary expression, probably waiting for me to lose it.

“It’s impossible,” I said.

“There was no funeral,” she countered.

That was true. I’d never met Flynn’s parents. He never wanted to talk about them, and I assumed he never told them about me. I never got word about a wake or funeral, and it wasn’t printed in the paper. Flynn had lived in town only a cou- ple of months, and he didn’t even go to our school. He went to St. Pelagius. He didn’t know anyone in town. I always assumed his family had a memorial service back where they’d come from. Somewhere in New Hampshire.

But now my brain was going haywire. No one I knew had seen his body. So how did I really know he was dead?

“The last time you saw him,” Toni said gently, “he was still alive.”

“Yeah, but a nurse at the hospital told me he didn’t make it.” Toni shrugged. “Maybe she was wrong. The hospital has a gazillion patients. She could’ve mixed things up, thought you were asking about someone else.”

I paused. That night was such a blur, especially in the hospital. I hadn’t been allowed past the waiting area. I called my parents. I was hysterical, to the point where a doctor prescribed a sedative, which my mom gave me when they forced me to go home. It wasn’t until the next morning, when I woke and called the hospital, that I found out Flynn was dead.

“But the cops came and took a statement,” I said. As useless as it had been. All I’d seen was a black SUV. I hadn’t seen the plate. I couldn’t even accurately pick out the make or model from the book they’d shown me.

“Did the cops say he was dead?” Toni asked.

I searched my fuzzy memory. “I don’t think so. I just remember them asking me to describe the vehicle.”

Toni sat beside me on the bed and ran her hand over the goose bumps on my forearm. “A hit-and-run doesn’t have to end in death to be a crime,” she said. “The police would still come investigate.”

I shook my head until my neck felt sore. This was crazy. Crazier than crazy. To even entertain the slight possibility that Flynn could be alive . . . it was nuts.

“Just think it through,” Toni said anxiously. “What evidence do you have of his death? He was alive when they put him in the ambulance. The only person who ever told you he was dead was a nurse, who could’ve been talking about the wrong patient.”

What if he didn’t die? And then he, what? Just . . . slipped away? Became someone else?

No. I wasn’t going to be lured by Toni’s crazy-talk. She was notorious for jumping to the wildest conclusions. A neighbor talked too long to the mailman—affair! Birds fell from the sky in Guatemala—aliens! I usually rolled my eyes and ignored her insanity. But I had to admit, this time, as ridiculous as it sounded, it held a kernel of possibility.

Or maybe I just wanted it to be true.

Toni walked over to my desk and put her hand on the mouse. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Sending him a friend request.”

In one swift motion, I rose and pulled her hand away. “No, don’t.”

“Why not?”

“If he’s not Flynn, what would we even say? ‘Hey, don’t mind us, you just look exactly like this dead kid.’”

Toni’s eyes traveled back to the photo. “And if it is Flynn?” “Then I don’t want to scare him away. I don’t want him to know I found him. Not yet.”

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON

Genre: Mystery - Thriller

​

Spoiler: Chapter 3

The next morning I got ready for school on autopilot. I showered, dressed, and headed downstairs for breakfast. I passed the long mahogany table in the dining room that we only used on holidays when my grandparents came to visit from Florida. Day to day we ate casually, at a small round table in the nook of the kitchen, perfect for three. Or two. Or sometimes, just me.

I ate a bowl of cereal, the clinking of the spoon echoing in the quiet, my mind drifting. I snapped out of my trance when
Mom bounded into the kitchen.

“I’m heading to work,” she said, kissing my cheek as I rinsed my bowl in the sink. A line of gray shimmered from the part in her hair, a reminder of the extra time and money she no longer had available to spend at the salon. “I made you lunch. It’s in the fridge.”

“You didn’t have to make me lunch, Mom.” She got up at some ungodly hour every morning to get things done—laun- dry, bill paying, ironing Dad’s shirts before he left for work, etc. Juggling two jobs, she had to find the time where she could. “I can do it myself. I know you’re rushing.”

She gave me a little smile, but it barely disguised her ex- haustion. That’s how my family operated. Always polite and pleasant, never acknowledging the real feelings beneath the perma-smiles. Even I played along. Whenever college came up, I always told my parents I was only a junior and I’d worry about it next year. But the truth was, I worried about it now. A lot. Thoughts of choices and applications and financial aid sometimes kept me up at night. But I didn’t want to add more to their stack of Things to Worry About. For all I knew, that could be the thing to finally bring the pile crashing down. I preferred our tradition of pleasant denial.

Mom reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m working double shifts today, so I won’t be home for dinner. And Dad . . . well, you know his hours. So making your lunch was the least I could do.”

She picked at a fingernail and forced a smile, but I knew she felt guilty. She hated that I was here alone so much.

“Don’t worry about dinner,” I said, grabbing the paper sack from the fridge. “Toni and I have plans anyway.”

Lies flowed easily from me when I thought they’d make people feel better. Maybe I’d ask Toni to go out for pizza to turn it into a truth.

“Great,” Mom said cheerily. “You girls have fun!”

I kept the perma-smile on until she walked out the door.


River’s End High School was built when the town was thriving. As things went downhill and people moved away, our schools thinned out. Teachers were laid off. Classrooms were closed and locked, their heating vents shut off to save money. Some- times I found myself drawn to these unused rooms, with their empty desks and blank boards, feeling the draft of cold air seeping out from under the crack of the door.

This morning I went right to my locker. I was there for only thirty seconds before Toni appeared, from out of nowhere. She had this way of moving silently, like a ninja.

She leaned into me and whispered, “How are you doing . . . ?”

I took a deep breath. “It’s all I can think about, but I don’t know what to do. The first step would be figuring out if Evan is a real person. It could be a fake profile page or something. If only I had a mutual friend in common, I could try to find out
more, but I don’t.”

Toni smiled. “I do.” “What?”

“Last night, I logged in to my account at home and brought up Evan’s page. We have one mutual friend.”

I closed my locker and held my books to my chest. “Who?”

She grimaced like she’d just taken a bite of something bitter. “Reece Childs.”

Ugh. I rolled my eyes. “Too Cool Reece?”

“He’s worth talking to for five minutes if we can find out who Evan is.”

Reece was the party king and walked the halls with an over- confident swagger, flirting with girls and calling out to his “bros.” He was one of the fakest people in our grade. A douche of the highest order. Toni and I had nicknamed him “Too Cool Reece.” Online he friended anyone he’d ever met and even some people he hadn’t. He sent me a friend request once, and I ignored it. I was picky about who I approved. Meanwhile, Reece had thousands on his list.

But apparently one of them was Evan Murphy.

I drew my lips tight, determined. “Fine. When are we doing this?”

Toni motioned over my shoulder. “How about now?”

I turned around and, sure enough, there was Too Cool Reece taking a gulp of water from the fountain. He dried his mouth with the back of his hand and started to walk away.

“Hey, Reece, wait up,” I called.

He looked at us over the top of his Aviator sunglasses. Se- riously. It was cloudy out, not summer, and he was inside. “What’s up, ladies?” He stretched out the last syllable like it contained ten zs.

“Do you know Evan Murphy?” I asked, getting right to the point.

He scrunched his face up as he thought. “Sounds familiar . . .”

“You’re friends with him on FriendShare,” I added.

He wagged his eyebrows. “You hunting for a new boyfriend, Morgan?”

Toni had been fiddling with her phone and now she held it up. “This guy. You know him?”

Reece bent down to make up for the height difference. “I can’t really—”

Toni let out an aggravated sigh. “Take the glasses off, cool guy. Come on.”

He pulled his sunglasses off and hung them on the collar of his tight V-neck. He took Toni’s phone and stared at Evan’s profile photo. “Oh yeah. We played in the same summer base- ball league a couple years back. Cool guy. Power hitter. Lives in Littlefield.”

Flynn had an athletic frame but never mentioned any inter- est in sports. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, though.

Reece started typing something into Toni’s phone. “Um, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Just giving you my digits.”

Toni grabbed the phone out of his hands.

“So the guy’s name is really Evan?” I asked.

Reece gave me a strange look. “What else would it be?” Toni and I exchanged a glance. “Did you ever meet Flynn,
my boyfriend?” I asked.

“Nah. I heard about the car thing, though. Sorry.”

Not exactly the most delicate way to say it, but the thought was there. “Um, yeah. Thanks.”

“Is that all?” Reece said, staring at Toni like he hoped we weren’t done with him.

“Yeah,” I muttered.

He looked Toni up and down. “If you ever want to hang out . . .” He made the “call me” sign with a hand up to his ear, then turned around and joined the masses.

“Gross.” Toni crossed her arms. “What a toolbag.”

I let out a long breath. “Well, now we know that Evan exists. He’s a real person and has been for at least two years. And he lives in Littlefield just like his profile says.”

“But that still doesn’t rule out the chance that Flynn is him,” Toni said.

I slid my books into the crook of my arm. “How so?”

“You never went to Flynn’s house. Flynn didn’t go to our school. How do you know Flynn wasn’t Evan the whole time? Playing some game, telling you lies.”

My heart sank at the thought. “Why would a guy do that? To anonymously hook up? Believe me, he didn’t get far.”

“Maybe he wasn’t happy with his life in Littlefield. Maybe he just wanted to feel like someone else for a while. Even if it was only a few hours a week.” The way she said it made it sound like something she’d consider.

I took a moment to play with the idea, think about how it could’ve happened. The day we met, Flynn was alone in King’s Fantasy World. I went there to take some pictures and found him hanging out around the fun house. He didn’t know me, I didn’t know him, so maybe he thought it would be fun to try out a new name, a new identity. We hit it off. We met again and again, and the lies built up. Until the night that he decided he didn’t want to be Flynn Parkman anymore. Maybe living a double life was fun at first, but then it got tiring.

Maybe that’s why he wanted to break up with me.

And then a car hit him. But he survived. His parents brought him home from the hospital, and all he had to do to make Flynn go away was to never step foot in River’s End again. Never see me again. And, just like that, Flynn would no longer exist. Problem solved.

When I thought about it that way, it was pretty easy.

I started to feel dizzy and was dimly aware of the fact that my breathing sounded like a marathon runner’s. I leaned against the wall for support. The conversations passing us in the hall blurred together.

Toni took my books from me. “Are you okay? Do you want to go to the nurse?”

“No,” I said, though my voice sounded far away. “I’m fine.”

There was a small possibility that Flynn was alive. Out there. Living another life. With a jolt, my ears cleared, and the tunnel vision relaxed. The fog in my brain was replaced with a burning need for answers.

I would not be satisfied until I knew the truth.

Toni’s eyes were lined with concern. “What do you want to do?”

I pushed myself off the wall and took my books back from her. “I want to find out if my ex-boyfriend was a liar.”

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON

Genre: Mystery - Thriller​

Spoiler: Chapter 4

After school, Toni and I got into my little Civic, tossing our bags into the backseat. The engine turned over with a cough, and I joined the line of cars exiting the parking lot.

“So what’s the plan?” Toni asked.

We hadn’t discussed it in lunch or during classes because I didn’t want to talk about the whole Evan/Flynn thing with anyone else. I had other friends, but they were surface friends. I wasn’t as close to any of them as I was to Toni. And, maybe Flynn had rubbed off on me, but I was feeling private at the moment.

“I guess we’ll just go to my house and try to dig up more online,” I said. I slowed the car to a stop at the red light. “I’ll just . . . start Googling and figure something out.”

“Take a right here,” Toni said, pointing toward the center of town.

“Why?” I asked.

“We’ll stop by Town Hall. Cooper will know what to do.”

Cooper was Toni’s older brother. He was a senior at our school, super smart and cute. Though—much to the dismay of every girl in town—very taken. Diana, his longtime girl- friend, was a year older and a freshman at Harvard. He would be joining her in the fall if his financial aid came through. After college they’d get married and have beautiful, valedictorian, Harvard-bound babies.

But Toni was right. If anyone knew how to research, it was Cooper. He could write a term paper in his sleep.

When we were little, Toni and Cooper used to hate each other. It seemed like their main mission in life was to get the other in trouble, and they fought about every single thing, down to who should hold the remote control. It made me glad I was an only child. But since Stell went out of business, their parents lost their jobs, and everything went to hell, there had been a sort of cease-fire. They never actually talked about it, but I’m guessing once the family began to have real problems, Toni and Cooper started to rely on each other more and fight less.

I parked in front of the redbrick building. We climbed the concrete stairs and opened the heavy door. The Town Hall was one of the oldest buildings in River’s End, and it felt like it— drafty walls, tall ceilings, elaborate wood moldings. I’d never visited Cooper at work, but Toni obviously had. She marched down the main hallway like she belonged there.

“Got a sec?” she called into the second room on the right.

I looked in. Cooper was hunched over a copier that was making grinding noises as papers flew out of the end.

“Yeah, meet me out back by the benches. I’m due for a break.” He didn’t even look up, just knew his sister’s voice.

I followed Toni out the back door and into a miniature courtyard. A few park benches circled a dried-up fountain. I shivered as the cold from the aluminum seat seeped through my jeans.

A couple of minutes later the door opened and Cooper sauntered out, carrying a Styrofoam coffee cup. He had Toni’s sandy-blond hair, but was a full foot taller than her. His eye- brows rose at the sight of me. He hadn’t realized I was with her.

“Sorry. I should’ve brought out drinks for you guys, too.” He sat between us and tipped the cup in an offer to share.

I shook my head no.

Toni grimaced. “You smell like a metal fish.”

“It’s that old copy machine. It’s nasty, and the room has no ventilation.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Toni teased.

“Plus Mrs. Willis came in today ranting and raving again.”

“Man.” Toni shook her head.

“Who’s Mrs. Willis?” I asked.

Toni stopped laughing and explained. “Mrs. Willis used to have Cooper’s job. She was a full-timer and had worked here for, like, thirty years. They laid her off, changed the job title, and made it part time. Then they hired a high school kid for minimum wage.”

“I jumped at the chance,” Cooper said. “You know how many of my friends can’t even find a part-time job? It’s only copying, filing, answering phones. Easy stuff. But I had no idea what they’d done to this lady, and now she comes in and yells at me that I stole her job. Like I’m personally responsible.”

I held back a smile, picturing some little old lady pointing her finger up at Cooper’s face. “It’s better than mowing lawns,” I said, which was Cooper’s previous gig.

He gave me a little elbow jab. “Easy for you to say. You have a cool job.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew how much they pay me.” The local paper had cut their staff photographers a while back and hired freelancers now. I took photos at sports games and school events, and sometimes crime scenes—like when someone toppled some headstones in the cemetery. I submitted photos to my editor. For any shot they used, I got ten bucks. Terrible money, but at least I was doing something I liked. And I didn’t have a Mrs. Willis yelling at me.

“So what are you two bums doing following me to work?” Cooper asked. Toni jutted her chin toward me, and he followed with his eyes. “Morgan?”

I suddenly felt tongue-tied. “Um . . . you remember my boy- friend, Flynn Parkman?”

“Yeah, of course. I met him once when you guys came to pick up Toni. Before he . . . before . . . that night,” he said with a familiar look of pity.

“I want to find out more about him. I never got to speak to his parents after he died. I just wanted to, get more details, I guess.” I knew I was barely making sense.

Toni piped up, “She thinks he may have lied about something.”

Cooper turned serious. “Why would that matter now?”

Toni looked at me. She had no problem keeping secrets from her brother. They weren’t the kind of siblings who told each other everything, so I didn’t feel guilty involving her in my lie.

“Just closure, I guess,” I said flatly. “Will you help?”

I knew he’d say yes, but he left me hanging for a moment. The corner of his mouth lifted up. “What do I get in return?”

“Free pizza,” I said.

“Deal. Pick me up at five.”


Sal brought the large pie to our booth and wordlessly dropped it on the end of the table. I used the tips of my fingers to push it more toward the center, but the silver plate was scorching.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch,” I muttered.

“It’s not really the food I come for,” Cooper said from across the table. “It’s the customer service.”

Sal’s wasn’t what you’d call fantastic, but it was the only pizza place left in town. Sal and his daughter Ronnie—who looked like a thirty-year-old version of Sal with long hair—ran the place. They worked every day, every position. They made the pizzas, served the pizzas, answered the phones, rang the register.

The floors were black-and-white checkerboard, and the dark brown paneling had been on the walls for so long, they probably permanently smelled of pizza. No matter how much River’s End disintegrated, Sal’s stayed the same. I had the feel- ing that everyone could move away and Sal would stay, still making his pizzas. At least we always had that one constant.

I slid a slice onto my paper plate and patted it with a handful of napkins. Within seconds the napkins were soaked in grease.

Next to me in the booth, Toni had dumped a truckload of red hot pepper flakes on her slice, folded it in half, and take a huge bite.

“Dainty,” Cooper said.

“Shut it,” she replied through a mouthful.

I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted to know what Cooper had found out. “So . . . ,” I began.

He dropped his slice and rubbed his hands on a napkin. “I found out a lot and . . . not so much.”

I made a “go on” motion with my hand.

“First off,” he said, “Flynn didn’t go to St. Pelagius.”

I’d already felt this in my gut, but hearing it confirmed was like a lance to the heart. Lie number one. How many more would there be?

“I called a friend of a friend who’s a senior there. No one by that name went to the school. So, maybe he went somewhere else or was homeschooled. Or maybe he’d already graduated. He looked like he could have been about eighteen.”

I took a moment to absorb that info. Flynn had told me he was a senior. And I saw him plenty of times with a beat-up- looking notebook. But anytime I asked how school was, he’d just answer with some noncommittal “the usual” or “sucks.” No elaborate lies about classes and tests, but still. It stung just the same. Why not just tell me the truth? Whatever that was.

After chewing another bite, Cooper said, “It gets even more interesting from there. He told you he lived on Elm, right?”

Flynn had referred to home as “one of those little houses on Elm.” At first I thought he’d been embarrassed to have me over because my house was bigger and nicer. But then, after some pushing, he’d told me he had family issues and didn’t want me to become a part of it. From the expectant look on Cooper’s face, there was more to it than that.

I nodded. “That’s what he said, yeah.”

“Well, he didn’t live on Elm. Actually, I couldn’t find a re- cord of his family living anywhere in River’s End. There’s no public listing for that last name in town. I even checked the private listings and voter registrations. No Parkmans.”

My breath hitched. I didn’t know whether I should feel cu- rious, sad, betrayed, angry. I settled on nauseated. I pushed my plate of grease to the side. Thinking out loud, I asked, “Then where did they live?”

Cooper shrugged. “Maybe they were squatters.”

“Eww,” Toni said. “That sounds gross.”

Cooper ignored her. “Squatters are people who occupy abandoned buildings or houses. They basically live in them for free, without permission, until they’re caught. With the num- ber of foreclosed homes in town, we’ve had a squatter problem the last few years. The police do their best, but they can’t catch them all. Especially if they’re quiet and don’t draw attention to themselves.”

An emptiness gnawed at me from deep inside. Flynn had been my boyfriend. He’d kissed my lips, held my hand, listened to me spill my feelings. But he was a walking lie. I didn’t know where he’d lived, where he’d gone to school, nothing.

Even if he was dead, it was like he’d been a ghost from day one.

Toni was staring at me, and I could practically read her mind. This development certainly fanned the flames of her theory. Evan was a dead ringer for Flynn. And if Flynn lied about where he lived and where he went to school . . . what else had he lied about?

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON

Genre: Mystery - Thriller​

Spoiler: Chapter 5

“Do you have to head right home?” Toni asked, zipping up her hoodie. The sun was setting, and a bitter wind had taken its place. Dinner ended quickly. I’d lost my appetite after find- ing out that my dead(?) ex-boyfriend had been promoted from possible creep to pants-on-fire liar. Cooper opted to walk the couple of blocks back to his car at the Town Hall, but Toni stayed with me.

Even though she usually only avoided her house when Coo- per was out, she clearly wasn’t ready to go home. I mentally calculated the homework I had waiting for me.

“I can stay out a bit longer,” I said. “Where do you want to go?”

She flashed a wicked smile. “It’s a surprise. Can I drive?”

I tossed her the keys. “As long as you don’t crash or dust up my new paint job.”

Toni laughed. My car was twelve years old, and the only new thing on it was the rust that had started to grow along the wheel wells. I got in the passenger side as Toni pulled my driver’s-side seat forward a couple of inches.

“Great,” I joked. “Now my adjustments are all off.”

“It’s not my fault I’m height impaired. Just for that, I’m moving your mirrors, too.”

She pulled into traffic and I turned my gaze to the window. My breath fogged the glass as I watched our town glide by. Not many outsiders wanted to move into River’s End, and I under- stood why. The rotting, empty buildings definitely gave off a sad vibe. But I’d spent my whole life here. The town had seeped into my bones and become part of who I was.

Every intersection held a memory. The bowling alley where I’d had a few birthday parties was now boarded up, a faded For Sale Commercial Property sign tacked to the wood. Happy Time Mini Golf was overgrown, the paint on the small club- house peeling. I couldn’t even count how many summer af- ternoons I’d spent there, holding my club tightly, hoping for a hole-in-one, my hands sticky from a fast-melting ice cream cone.

Before I knew it, I’d reminisced myself out of town, through the next town, and then found myself glancing at an unfamiliar open field as we passed.

“Where are we going?” I asked, coming out of my trance.

Toni kept her voice light. “Littlefield.”

I snapped my head toward her. “What?”

“I just want to drive by Evan Murphy’s house. See where he lives. No pressure to knock or anything.”

My heart skipped a beat. “How did you get his address?”

“You think my brother’s the only one with skills?” She gasped in mock indignation.

“He was publicly listed?” I guessed.

She grinned. “Yeah.”

“Thanks.” Okay, granted, all she did was type Murphy and Littlefield, MA, into her phone. But she did it for me. She took charge and drove because she knew I needed answers.

“Don’t thank me yet. Let’s see what we find out.”

The prospect of coming face-to-face with Evan and/or Flynn turned me into a giant rubber-band ball of stress. I’m not a spontaneous person. I like to think things through, plan every angle. Toni was my opposite in that regard, but it was probably why our friendship worked so well. We balanced each other out. Without her, I’d never leave the house. Without me, she’d have jumped off a bridge because she heard that someone else had done it.

“I don’t know about this,” I said. “Maybe we should wait.”

“We’re not doing anything,” she insisted. “Just driving by.”

But I knew her. She’d never be satisfied with “just” driving by. She was only saying that so I wouldn’t chicken out. My fin- gers started to tremble as we turned left onto a residential road.

I put my hands under my thighs. “How much longer?”

Toni peeked at the GPS app on her phone. “We’re here.”

I swallowed hard as the car rolled to a stop. My eyes traveled up a long driveway to a magnificent white house with three pillars at the center. My breath caught in my throat. Flynn—of the ratty trench coat and beat-up jeans—and this place? The two did not match.

“It looks like your not-so-dead boyfriend is loaded,” Toni said.

“Evan and Flynn are probably two different people,” I said quickly. “We don’t know.”

She grinned mischievously. “There’s only one way to find out . . .”

My stomach turned. I imagined myself strutting up to the door and banging my fist. What if his parents opened it? What if Evan was Flynn? What if he wasn’t? I wasn’t ready for this. I had to have a plan in case the boys were one and the same. And I needed a fake reason to talk to Evan in case they weren’t. This was moving too fast.

But here was an opportunity, staring me in the face. Should I really pass it up to wait for a more perfect moment?

I turned away from the house and rubbed my temples.

Toni craned her neck. “The property is gated, but it looks like there’s an intercom button. We could pretend to be someone else.”

She was already thinking logistics while I was still trying to talk myself into it.

She let out a grunt of annoyance. “There’s no way to see if anyone’s home or not. There’s nothing in the driveway, but they have a three-car garage. Wait . . . someone’s coming down the street . . .”

I looked up and saw another vehicle coming from the op- posite direction. It rolled to an almost-stop, like they, too, were spying on the big house. Time seemed to slow. And then, af- ter a moment’s hesitation, the engine roared back to life and it sped on.

“That was weird,” Toni said.

But I couldn’t respond. A trembling spread from my hands through my entire body.

It was a black SUV. Exactly like the one that had killed Flynn.

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON
Genre: Mystery - Thriller

Chapter 6
​

Spoiler: Welcome!

“So I realize I may have pushed you too much yesterday,” Toni said at lunch the next day.

We sat at our usual table, the long one by the back wall, as far from the stench of steamed hot dogs as we could get. The same fading posters had hung on the wall for years, featuring past-their-prime celebrities reminding us to drink our milk. And a fluorescent light flickered and buzzed above us in its final death throes before burnout.

I stabbed my salad with a plastic fork. “Whatever gave you that idea? My near panic attack?”

“Yeah, green’s not your color, girl.” Her voice softened. “Are you feeling better today?”

After I’d seen the black SUV, I’d had a minor freakout and demanded that Toni drive us home. Along the way I explained why, shuddering at the memory of Flynn’s body in the road. She listened and sympathized, but also tried to talk some sense into me. Black SUVs were everywhere. Just because one slowed down in front of Evan/Flynn’s house, that didn’t mean anything.

“I’m fine,” I said to her now. “Thanks to you, Miss Voice of Reason.”

Brigid sat down beside me and ripped the top off her yogurt. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Toni accused of being a voice of reason before. Do tell.”

I froze. I still wasn’t ready to explain any of this to our other friends.

“It’s only for a history project,” Toni said. “Nothing exciting. And I’m sure Morgan will never use such slanderous words in reference to me again.”

I forced a laugh. “So, Brigid. It’s Friday. Tell us what’s going on this weekend.” I figured if anything could slide Brigid to- ward a different conversation, it would be an offer to plan my social calendar.

Predictably, she brightened. “Reece is having another flash- light party tomorrow night! We should go.”

The last place I wanted to go was a party. I wanted to sit at home with my friend Google and try to figure this thing out.

But Toni shot up straight in her seat. “Yes! Morgan, we should totally go to Reece’s party. He has cute friends.”

Cute friends? What was she . . . Oh
.
“Hey, Morgan.” Jennifer tapped me on the shoulder. She had a checklist in her hand. This usually meant work, but I had nowhere to hide.

“What’s up, Jennifer?” I asked.

“Do you have all the team photos shot yet? We’re about to hit our deadline.”

Jennifer was the editor in chief of our school yearbook. I took a lot of photos for them. Even though it didn’t pay, it was something I could put on my college applications.

“I did all the teams except baseball,” I said. Brigid snorted, and Toni burst into laughter.

“Really, guys?” I said, though I was giggling, too. “Get your minds out of the gutter.”

Jennifer tapped her list impatiently. “Can you do the base- ball team this afternoon?”

Toni nearly fell off her chair.

“Yes, I will take a team photo of the baseball guys after school,” I said, glaring at Toni.

Jennifer left to bug the next person on her list. I was expect- ing another joke from Toni, but she’d turned serious.

“Reece is on the baseball team,” she said. “So?” Brigid asked.

Toni looked right at me. “So Morgan could find out if any of his cute friends are coming to the party . . .”


Luckily, the baseball team had a home game that afternoon, so they were in their uniforms. The coach told me I had five minutes to assemble them and get my picture before they had to be on the field. But it was like trying to round up bees. One would get a call on his cell and then two more would wander off in conversation.

“Guys!” I yelled. “Come on. Just give me ten seconds and then you can go.”

I tried to corral them in some kind of order—tallest stand- ing in the back, shortest in the middle row, late people on their knees in the front. I took another step back to fit everyone in the frame. Perfect. Click.

“Wait!” Another straggler ran up.

I didn’t even try to hide my sigh of aggravation. “Kneel down in the front row.”

I refocused and tried again. Click, click, click.

I looked down at the display. New Guy had dropped his equipment bag on the ground, and part of it was in the shot. “One more,” I said.

“Enough!” the coach growled. “We have to warm up for the game. Now.”

I took a deep breath. In most areas of my life I was far from a perfectionist, but I took my photographs seriously. Especially the ones I took on my own, for my abandoned-places series. The yearbook photos didn’t have soul, but that didn’t mean I wanted them to look sloppy.

It seemed I had no choice, though. I had only one minute left as the team grabbed their equipment, and I knew how I had to spend it.

“Reece!” I called, jogging up to him.

He pulled a brown leather baseball glove out of his bag and straightened. “Yeah?”

I lowered my voice. “You’re having another flashlight party Saturday night?”

He smiled as he glanced left and right. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ll send out a text chain with the address around eight that night. Are you and Toni coming?”

I noticed the hopeful edge to his question. “That depends,” I answered.

He gave me a wary look. “On what?”

“Can you get your friend Evan Murphy to come?”

“Does Morgan have an online crush?” he teased with a wry smirk.

I crossed my arms. “Can you get him to come or not?” He sighed. “I haven’t seen that guy in two years.”

“So it’s time to catch up,” I suggested.

Reece shook his head. “I don’t usually invite random dudes on FriendShare to my parties.” But then he paused. “How about a trade? I’ll get Evan to come to the party . . . if you get Toni to go on a date with me.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Well, um, yeah, you can hang with her at the party.”

“No. A date.”

“I don’t think she’d be interested,” I said quickly. “Just dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Reece. I think you’re out of luck.” He shrugged. “Then so are you.”

“I’m not a prostitute!” Toni yelled. We were sitting in my room later that afternoon, listening to music, our books spread out on the floor around us.

“It’s just dinner,” I said. “He’ll take you to Macaroni’s. You could get your favorite chicken parm.”

“I’m not a chicken parm prostitute either!”

“Please. I’ll . . . I’ll even come with you. We’ll negotiate that into the deal.” I pressed my hands together and gave her a piti- fully desperate look. “I just really need Reece to get Evan to this party. I need to see him with my own eyes.”

Toni groaned and tossed an eraser at my face. “I’m the best- est best friend you’ll ever have. Better than best.”

“You are.”

“And I’m getting dessert.” “Two if you like.”

“And I now have a ‘you owe me one’ that will never expire to use at my discretion.”

“Okay, maybe I’m starting to regret this.” She launched a notebook at my head.


The houses on my road were all the same—medium-sized co- lonials, in shades of white and beige, with attached one-car garages. When giving directions, we clung to whatever identi- fying characteristics we could. The one after the one with the basketball hoop in the driveway. The one with the rosebush by the front door.

I kind of preferred Toni’s street. The houses weren’t all built at the same time and the styles varied. There was a split-level next to a sprawling ranch next to a Victorian. Toni’s house was a pretty ranch with an in-ground pool and a huge backyard. Toni, Cooper, and I had spent so many summer afternoons playing wiffle ball in that yard, until we were covered in sweat, and then cannonballing into the pool, squealing and laughing. But last summer the pool needed a repair, and that particular expense was not high on the priority list. The cover stayed on, collecting leaves and small puddles of dirty water.

I got to Toni’s house after dinner Saturday, with plenty of time to get ready for the party together. I parked in the drive- way and walked toward the front door. A weather-beaten For Sale sign stood crookedly in their front yard, the same place it had been for the past year. But Toni said it was hopeless. The house was worth only half what her parents had paid for it. So even if someone actually wanted to move into River’s End, their offer would never be enough for her parents to pay off the loan and get a new place somewhere else. Plus, there were always more than fifty other houses for sale in town as well. At first, Toni had been worried about moving to another town. Now she worried about worse things—like the bank taking the house.

I raised my hand to knock, but before I had a chance, the door whipped open. I backed up a step, my fist still in the air. Cooper, holding a finger to his lips, pulled me inside and closed the door behind us. My eyes took in the mess of the living room. Papers were tossed on the floor. Mr. Klane was asleep on the sofa, one hand dangling off the cushion. A short glass sat on the coffee table, filled with something that looked like apple juice but surely wasn’t. A smash came from the kitchen.

“Mom’s still pissed about a fight they had earlier,” Cooper whispered. “Can you drive to the party? I don’t want to leave a car there. Diana’s coming, and we’re going to spend the night back at her dorm.”

“She’s coming to the party?” I asked, surprised. Ever since she graduated, Cooper’s girlfriend acted like she was too good for River’s End.

“Of course not,” Cooper said. “She’s picking me up.” That made more sense.

“It hasn’t been the best day here. Um, can you make sure Toni . . .” He looked around, like he didn’t want anyone to hear.

“I’ll have her sleep at my house tonight.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

My heart went out to him. He was so protective of his little sister. He never wanted to leave her home alone when things were exploding between their parents. I often wondered what would happen in the fall when he was gone for good.

A shuffling of footsteps came from the kitchen. “Oh, it’s you,” Mrs. Klane said. There was a strange edge to her tone. She leaned against the doorway, looking me over. “How are your parents?”

The question was innocent enough, but there was an under- current to it that made me uncomfortable. “They’re fine,” I said. “Thanks for asking.”

She wordlessly returned to the kitchen and loudly threw something into the sink.

When Toni and I were little, our parents were coworkers and best friends. After Stell went down, so did their friendship. At first, things drifted to a polite civility when dropping Toni off, or vice versa. Then, when Toni and I were old enough to ar- range our own playdates, our families just ignored each other. My parents seemed wary of Toni’s. I knew it was the alcohol. They mentioned that they didn’t like me “in that environment.” And it was obvious that Toni’s parents held some bitterness against mine as well. Maybe because my family still had our heads above water?

Cooper led me down the hallway toward Toni’s room.

Toni’s door cracked open, and she poked her face out. “I thought I heard you,” she said, and waved me inside.

I glanced over my shoulder as Cooper retreated into his bedroom.

Toni closed the door behind us. Her room smelled like nail polish and perfume. As usual, her bed was made, her desk chair pushed in, books neatly stacked. Even her shoes were perfectly lined up at the bottom of her closet, two by two. Her room was always clean and organized, in stark contrast to the rest of the house.

She pressed a button on the speaker and turned on some music, an old Florence + The Machine song. She bopped around the room, singing the lyrics. Her dad was passed out on the couch and her mom was smashing things in the kitchen, but apparently she didn’t want to talk about it. And that was fine.

I glanced down at my phone and scrolled through the text messages. No address for the party yet.

“How do The Pointer Sisters look?” Toni asked.

That was what Toni lovingly called her boobs. Toni wasn’t just petite, she was small in every way. She needed a size A-mi- nus bra, but since they didn’t make those, she just bought the kind that pushes what little you have up and together.

“They look great,” I said, keeping my eyes on my phone. “You didn’t even look.”

I glanced up. Toni had her hands on her hips, pouting. She wore black pants, a tight red top, and heels that brought her up to five foot three.

“They look fantastic. Boobalicious.” “What are you wearing?” she asked.

I slid the phone into my back pocket and struck a model pose. “This.”

Toni looked at me like one of my limbs had just fallen off. “You can’t be serious.”

I looked down at my jeans and hoodie ensemble. “I’m not going to this party to pick up a new guy. I’m going so I can find out if my old one is actually dead.”

“And don’t you want to look your best in that ‘gotcha’ moment?”

She had a point. What I’d pictured in my head was me screaming at Flynn, “How could you do this? How could you let me go on thinking you were dead?” But it couldn’t hurt to make him wince at what he’d left behind.

She saw my change in expression and said, “Leave it up to me.”

After tossing her closet like she had a search warrant, Toni finally picked out an outfit and laid it on the bed.

“That’s for me?” I asked. “Yep!”

“Nope.” I shook my head. Toni scowled. “You agreed.”

I picked up the tight black skirt and held it over my jeans. “I think you’re forgetting about our height difference. This is a mini on you. It’ll be illegal on me.”

“How about just the tank?” She held up a shimmering violet tank top. “It’ll look great with your jeans.”

“Deal.” I’d have preferred something warmer, but it was best to quit while I was ahead.

I put the tank on, and my phone buzzed.

14 Meadow Place.

I drew in a shaky breath. “Here we go.”

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON
Genre: Mystery - Thriller

Chapter 7
​

Spoiler: Welcome!

I never told anyone that Flynn broke up with me the night he was killed. Not even Toni. I couldn’t count how many timesI’d rerun that night in my head. If I’d changed only one thing, Flynn would be alive. If I’d stayed home. If I hadn’t seen him on the way to the party and pulled over. If we hadn’t fought in the car. If he hadn’t dumped me and started walking. If I’d driven slower or faster. Any one of these things and the black SUV would’ve raced down the street without barreling into him.

But I never shared those feelings with anyone. Toni would just yell at me and say I shouldn’t feel guilty. But just because I shouldn’t didn’t mean I wouldn’t.

As I drove toward Meadow Place with Toni riding shotgunand Cooper in the back, I thought about what I wanted to hap- pen at this party. Did I want Evan to be Flynn? If he was, then that meant he’d let me believe he was dead. He’d done this cruel thing without even a thought to how much it would hurt me. But if Evan wasn’t Flynn . . . then Flynn was still dead. And I’d spend more hours lying awake, changing minute details of thatnight in a futile attempt to save Flynn’s life, if only in my mind.

There was no positive outcome.

And, even though Reece invited him, there was no guaran- tee that the kid would even show up. If he was Flynn, he might be worried that I’d be at the party. Or Toni, or one or two of my other friends who’d met him while we were dating. I could be doing all this worrying and he might not even come. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

“Why are you guys so quiet?” Cooper called out from the back.

“I just love this song,” I said, turning up the volume. I didn’t even know the song. I just couldn’t make small talk while my mind was racing.

I slowed as we got near the road. Right before Stell had gone under, the plan for Meadow Place had been another develop- ment of McMansions. The developer stopped building after people stopped buying. A few lots only had foundations filled. A couple had frames. And the rest were almost finished—some even had their walls painted and hardwood floors inserted. But none of them ever sold, and they weren’t even really for sale now, so they didn’t have electricity or heat turned on.

When Reece organized these parties, he did his best to keep them under the radar. He never allowed people to trash the places and always cleaned up afterward. He cased empty houses, found one that had an unlocked window or an easy- to-pick lock, and started planning. He released the address toothers at party time. It spread out in a text chain, and within minutes everyone knew where to go. Even though the neigh- borhood was deserted, Reece always hung light-blocking cur- tains in any windows, and we parked on an adjacent road so the cars wouldn’t attract attention.

I parked on a quiet side street behind some other cars I recognized from school. We each grabbed a flashlight, but kept them off. The rule was no lights until we were inside. We walked up to house fourteen, a large cream-colored colonial. I couldn’t even hear the music until we were at the front door.

This was really happening. A drop of cold sweat trickled down my back. I’d wanted to have a speech ready. A great one- liner to throw in his face. Something that told him how angry I was, how hurt I felt. I needed to know how he could’ve done something so awful. But the words wouldn’t arrange them- selves in my head.

“What are you waiting for?” Cooper asked, then reached around me and pushed the door open.

Toni pulled me inside and closed the door behind us. The house had finished walls and hardwoods, plus an open floor plan from what would’ve been a kitchen into the dining and living rooms. A few battery-operated camping lanterns were placed strategically throughout. And, in addition, almost everyone had their own flashlight. I’d been to only a couple of these parties, but they were all the same. In the early hours people mostly stood around and talked. But by the end, peoplelost themselves in the music and the dancing lights.

We worked our way through the kitchen first. The house had no furniture. Counter space was premium seating. If you were lucky enough to grab a spot, you didn’t dare take a bath- room break, because it would be taken by the time you got back. A couple of groups were sitting on the floor in the large living room, but most people stood. No dancing yet.

“See him?” Toni whispered into my ear.

I squinted at the crowd. “No. But the light is so dim. I need to find Reece. He’ll know if he’s here.”

“I’ll walk around, do some reconnaissance,” she said, wag- ging her eyebrows.

“Want a drink?” Cooper yelled over the music.

“No, thanks,” I said, watching Toni disappear into the crowd.

A senior I recognized leaned toward Cooper. “Hey, who’s the blond shortie?”

“My sister,” Cooper growled. “And if you even think about her, I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

The guy backed off, hands held up. “All right then.”

I snickered. Toni would kill Cooper if she knew how often he did that. But I’d never tell.

I recognized Reece’s overstyled hair as he walked by. I tapped his shoulder. “Hey, is Evan here?”

He whistled. “Wow, you just get right down to it, huh? All this from a FriendShare photo? I mean, he’s a good enough looking guy, but—”

“Reece,” I interrupted. “Is he here or not?”

He scanned the room for a moment. “I don’t think he’s here yet.”

I gritted my teeth. “You promised.”

“Relax.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “He’ll show. Go have a good time.”

I wandered into the living room. Electronic music pumped from a speaker and a few people had started to dance, waving their flashlights above their heads. I leaned my back against the nearest wall and watched the dizzying patterns of lights on the ceiling. They seemed to pulse with the music.

Even with no heat, the air in the house felt humid. I was glad Toni had made me wear the tank top after all. After a few minutes, she rejoined me.

“Having fun holding up this wall?” she teased.

“I can’t just walk around and make small talk,” I said. “Not when he could come in that door at any moment.”

“How about I talk to keep your mind off it? Would that help?”

I nodded, but my eyes were still scanning the crowd.

Toni examined her manicure. “Let’s see. Well, Reece told me how much he was looking forward to our date, and I asked him if he’d mind wearing a paper bag over his head with a pic- ture of Ian Somerhalder glued onto it. Amy is making out with Jacob in the corner, so I guess they didn’t stay broken up for long. Diana is coming to get Cooper from the party, but shewon’t deign to come inside, so she’s going to text him when she’s here. How obnoxious is that? I mean, she only graduated a few months ago. She couldn’t come in for one second?”

“Totally agree,” I said.

The front door opened, and my breath caught in my throat. But it was only Nikki Trotto. She did a slow walk through the room. “Hey, girls,” she said, looking us up and down in her pinched-nose judgy way.

“Hey, Nikki,” Toni unenthusiastically replied.

Modeling herself after reality-show girls, Nikki had adopted a nickname. She told everyone that people called her Sikki because her body was so “sick.” But we all knew she gave the nickname to herself. And she looked like she’d taken a bath in Cheetos.

“Bronzer much?” Toni whispered, and I held back a laugh.

I had to admit, Toni’s mindless gossip was actually helping to calm me down. I could already feel some of the tension re- lease from my shoulders. I closed my eyes and did a slow neck roll.

“Boo,” someone said in my ear. My eyes snapped open, but a blinding light forced them closed again.

“Stop it,” Toni said, and then I heard a smacking sound. After a moment, I could see again. It was Reece. Though

Toni had wrestled away his flashlight.

“I’m only fooling around,” he said, sounding sufficiently chastised.

“What do you want?” I said.

He pointed toward the kitchen. “He’s here.” My lungs seized.

I followed the line of his finger to a tall guy standing alone against a wall. He wore a red baseball hat, same as in his Friend- Share profile, but the bill hung low over his face. I couldn’t see his features from this distance.

Reece grabbed his flashlight back and wandered into the crowd.

“Want me to walk by first?” Toni asked. “Get a look?” I nodded, barely able to get a word out.

Toni sauntered by him and giggled as she playfully grabbed the hat off his head. Then she disappeared around the corner. I watched as he raised his hands in the air, wondering what had just happened. Within seconds Toni snuck up behind me.

Like I said. Ninja.

“I think it’s Flynn,” she breathed at my back. “It’s almost him . . . but I don’t know.” She paused. “You would know better than me.”

I had to approach him. This was the moment. I took a deep breath and silently told my nerves to calm the hell down. I couldn’t freak out and blow it now.

I pushed my way through the crowd, my eyes never leaving the back of his head. I crept up behind him. His frame was the same—the broad shoulders, the height. I reached my hand out and held it in the air above his shoulder. So close. All I had todo was touch him and he’d turn around.

But suddenly I had a better idea. Thanks to Reece.

I quickly spun around to his front and held my flashlight up to his face, so I could examine him but he couldn’t see me. His hair was short, brown rather than black, but that could’ve been easily changed with nine bucks and a box of dye. I searched his face and immediately recognized features. Those gray eyes, pale as ice, his strong nose, the jawline I’d laid a trail of kisses along.

My heart hammered in my chest.

He winced. “What’s with the light in the eyes?” he said, and let out a nervous laugh.

And that’s when I saw it.

As he smiled, a dimple formed in his left cheek. It was a great smile—half cocky, half adorable—but it wasn’t Flynn’s. You can’t hide a dimple, and I’d seen Flynn smile enough times to know he didn’t have one.

Evan looked a hell of a lot like Flynn, but he wasn’t him.

I brought the flashlight back down to my side. Evan blinked quickly as his eyes readjusted. And then he saw me for the first time.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. His eyes flashed with what looked like recognition and then widened with something unexpected. Fear.

He mumbled something I couldn’t hear and walked away. I stood for a moment, stunned. He wasn’t Flynn. I was sure ofthat. I didn’t know this boy.

But he knew me.

With a jolt, I regained the use of my muscles. I dashed into the living room, but everyone was dancing now, and the spin- ning flashlights made it impossible for me to pick out his face. I ran down the hall and checked the bathroom—empty. I circled back to the kitchen and frantically looked from tall guy to tall guy.

Someone grabbed my arm.

“Hey,” Reece said. “What did you say to Evan?” “I didn’t say anything. Why?”

Reece let me go and gave me a skeptical look. “It was weird. He ran up to me, pointed you out, and asked who you were. I told him your name and he took off. What the hell did you do? Try to jump him? Down, girl,” he said, laughing.

I groaned and shook my head. “So he just . . . left?”

“Yeah.” Reece turned uncharacteristically serious for a mo- ment. “Morgan, he seemed . . . spooked. Why would he be scared of you?”

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON
Genre: Mystery - Thriller

Chapter 8
​

Spoiler: Welcome!

“Thanks for leaving early with me,” I said to Toni later that night in my bedroom. I’d changed into my pajamas and washedmy face, though I was nowhere near ready for sleep. My mind was still racing.

Toni had changed, too, and was now sitting up in bed scroll- ing through FriendShare on her phone. “No problem,” she said, dropping the phone onto her lap. “I mean, I would’ve been freaked out, too.”

I slumped into my desk chair. “What do you think it means, that he knows me?”

“He didn’t know you,” Toni said. “He asked Reece who you were.”

“Yeah, but he recognized me. I saw it in his face. And Reece said he seemed afraid of me.”

Toni gave me a look. “Well, you did ambush him and blast your flashlight in his eyes. And some other girl had just stolen his hat.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. Was it possible that he hadn’t recognized me at all? He was just . . . wigged out? There he was, at a party where he didn’t know anyone but some random dude from FriendShare, then one girl runs off with his hat and another blinds him with a flashlight. Maybe he was just annoyed and left. Maybe the rest was all in my head.

“How do you feel about scrounging up some snackage for us?” Toni asked.

That was the least I could do after freaking out. “Salty or sweet?”

“Surprise me!”

I tossed her the remote for the small television that sat on top of my dresser. “Your job is to find something good for us to watch.”

I tiptoed downstairs, the plush carpet scuffing against my slippers. My parents were awake when we got home, but they’d be asleep by now. As I got to the bottom step, though, I paused. There were voices in the kitchen.

I held my breath and listened. I stood still and tried to make out some of the words. I didn’t usually sneak around eaves- dropping on my parents, but something about their tone made me hesitate. It was hushed. Secretive. They wouldn’t be wor- ried about waking me and Toni up. They knew we stayed up half the night when we were together. So the only other answerwas that they were talking about something they didn’t want me to overhear.

I crept along the wall and moved silently through the liv- ing room, avoiding the open doorway that led to the kitchen. Closer now, I could hear them better.

“I just don’t think the time is right,” my dad said.

“Noah, I’m starting to think you’ll never find a right time,” my mom snapped.

Her tone shocked me. Just because my parents never fought in front of me, I wasn’t naïve enough to think that they never fought at all. But still, it was shocking to hear them talk to each other this way.

“Consider that for a moment,” Dad said. “Consider what?”

“That maybe she doesn’t ever need to know.”

She? She who? Me? I slid along the wall, trying to get as close as I could to the doorway.

“But what if she finds out from someone else?” Mom said. “Have you thought through the repercussions of that? I think it should come from us.”

I strained to listen. I was barely breathing. If I could’ve momentarily stopped my heart from beating to hear better, I would have. I took one more step and put my hand up against the wall for balance. But it wasn’t the wall, it was the light switch. And apparently my flannel pjs, slippers, and slow shuf- fle across the carpet had created a perfect storm. The biggeststatic electricity shock I’d ever gotten shot out from the light switch to my hand. I saw blue.

And . . . I yelled.

Chairs screeched as both my parents jumped up from the kitchen table. They appeared in the doorway a moment later, looking concerned as I cradled my electrocuted hand.

“What happened?” Mom asked.

“Um, I came down for some snacks, and I went to hit the light switch and got shocked.”

Now that it was clear I wasn’t really hurt, my dad laughed. “It’s those stupid slippers.” He pointed down at my favorite bunny slippers. They were so old, the bottoms were nearly worn through. “You have to throw those things out.”

“Never!” I battle-cried and shuffled forward on the carpet to recharge. Then I reached out my hand like a weapon.

He backed up a step, and I swiped at the air. “Missed me!” he called, and then ran up the stairs like a kid.

I smiled. Dad and I had waged static electricity wars before. Neither of us had outgrown them yet, obviously. It had even almost made me forget the conversation I’d walked in on. Al- most, but not quite.

Mom went into the kitchen and took two mugs off the table and placed them in the sink.

“You guys are up late,” I pointed out, eyeing the cups.

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and smiled. “Heading up now.”

I hesitated for a moment. “What were you talking about?” Her smile faltered. “A lot of things. Why?”

It felt like we were playing a game. And for some reason I didn’t want to show all my cards. “I thought I heard something about me, maybe.”

She turned away and opened a cabinet. She pulled out a yel- low bag and pressed it into my hands. “Sour Patch Kids,” she said. “Toni’s favorite, right?”

I nodded and kneaded the bag of candy with my fingers. Whatever the conversation had been about, Mom wanted me to let it go. But I couldn’t. I had to try one more time. I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. “Is there some- thing I need to know, Mom?”

Her eyes darted to the doorway and back at me. “You were at Toni’s house earlier tonight, right?”

“Yeah. We got ready for the party there.”

“I’d prefer it if you did that here,” she said matter-of-factly. I gave her a questioning look. “Huh?”

Mom lowered her voice. “The Klanes are kind of a mess right now. I’m sure you know that. And your father and I just . . . don’t want you in that environment.”

She reached out and gently tucked a strand of my hair be- hind my ear. “You know we love Toni,” she said. “She’s welcome here anytime.”

Before I could formulate any follow-up questions, Mombrushed by me and went upstairs. Clutching the bag of candy in my hand, I thought about her explanation. Could that be it? They’d only been talking about not wanting me at Toni’s house? That wasn’t exactly a big secret.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more.

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

FORGET ME
by K. A. HARRINGTON
Genre: Mystery - Thriller

Chapter 9
​

Spoiler: Welcome!

“I’m going to kill you.”

I closed my locker door Monday afternoon and found Toni standing beside me. Even with her arms crossed and an angry scowl on her face, she wasn’t intimidating. I think there’s a rule that you have to be over five feet tall to be intimidating.

“You know how many times Reece has mentioned our ‘date’ today?” She used finger-quotes as she said the word.

“Two?” I said hopefully.

“Try six. Plus he told the entire school. I’ve had people com- ing up to me all day asking about it.”

I smiled sheepishly. “Did you use a different shampoo to- day? Your hair looks even shinier than normal. And you smell pretty.”

She put her hand up. “There aren’t enough fake compli- ments in the world, Morgan.”

I batted my eyelashes and made a pouty face. “How can I make it up to you?”

“You can—and will—come with me on this godforsakendate from hell. And you won’t complain about whichever tool friend of his you get stuck with.”

A double date was the last thing I wanted to do. But I had no plans Friday, no excuse, and I owed it to her. “Deal.”

“You’re damn right,” she said, and sashayed away.


I had just finished packing up my equipment from Photogra- phy Club after school on Wednesday when Reece strolled in.

“Morgan Tulley. What. Issss. Uuuup.”

He couldn’t just say hi. He had to talk like a DJ who’d had one too many Red Bulls. “Hey, Reece.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Photography Club just let out. I’m organizing my files.” I clicked to close my photo of a vandalized wall, then closed my folder.

“Any nude selfies in there?”

I let out an annoyed sigh. “Really, Reece?”

He laughed. “Come on. You know I’m just joking around.” He settled into the seat beside me. “So what does the Photog- raphy Club do?”

I raised an eyebrow. Surely he wasn’t here for small talk, but I humored him. “Sometimes we have a prompt and we take photos based on that. Sometimes Mr. Durant, our adviser, works with us on the technicals. Sometimes we work on a con- cept. We critique each other.” I shrugged. “Lots of stuff.”

He gestured toward the now dark screen of the monitor.

“Are you compiling your pics to enter them in a contest or something?”

“I’m working on my portfolio.”

“Do you specialize in anything? Faces . . . bowls of fruit . . . your friends modeling naked . . .”

I pulled my backpack up onto my lap. A blatant hint that I was ready for this awkward conversation to end. “Abandoned places.”

He gave me a mysterious smile. “Like Happy Time Mini Golf?”

“Yeah . . . ,” I said warily. “I haven’t shot there yet, but I’m planning to, actually.”

“Hmm.” He tapped on his chin.

I narrowed my eyes. “Reece, what do you really want?” “Okay, so you know I’m taking Toni out on a date Fridaynight?”

“Right . . .”

He rubbed his palms together, apparently nearing the point of all of this. “Do you have any, like, tips?”

“On what?” “Impressing Toni.”

I burst out laughing. “Reece, I’m not going to try to help you get into my best friend’s pants.”

He groaned. “It’s not like that, Morgan. I really like her. She’s different.”

“You’re just interested because she’s the only girl whodoesn’t fall for your cool guy act.”

“Not true. You don’t buy my shit either, but I’m not afteryou.”

My mouth opened.

He held his hands up. “Sorry. No offense.”

“None taken. Listen, Reece. You’re just not her type.”

“So help me become her type. I’ve had a mad crush on the girl since the fourth grade. She’s just so cute and funny and—” He stopped, looking embarrassed. “I know she’s not taking this date thing seriously, but I want her to give me a chance. A real one. Come on. Help a bro out.”

His eyes were so sincere that I actually felt bad for him. “Tips. Okay.”

“Be totally honest.”

Well, he asked for it. “Okay, first off,” I said, “don’t dress like a doucheface.”

His mouth dropped open. “What does that even mean?” “She doesn’t like guys who dress like they’re going to a club.

Leave the tight shirts at home.”

He nodded. “Okay, that’s a good tip. What else?” “Don’t be yourself.”

He balked. “What the hell, Morgan?” “You told me to be honest!”

“Fine. Fine.” He ran a hand through his spiky hair. “Explain.” “You know how you are . . . with the swagger and the over-confidence. Just stop. Be a regular person.”

“Like . . . a nice guy?” He said it like it was a fatal diagnosis. “Yes. Some girls like nice guys. You’d be surprised.”

He took a deep breath. “Anything else?”

“That’s a good enough start. Also, don’t douse yourself in cologne.”

“I get it. I get it. Sheesh.”

“You wanted to know,” I said, standing up.

He stopped me. “Wait, there’s one more thing.” He had this silly grin on his face that filled me with suspicion. “Toni said you wanted to come along, too. Make it a double-date thing.”

“Want isn’t the word I would’ve used.”

He let out a giant sigh. “She’s forcing you. I figured that much out. But it actually works out well.”

“Why is that?”

“Turns out the guy I’m helping you stalk is interested right back.”

I shook my head quickly. “What are you talking about?” “Evan.”

Evan was . . . interested? A thousand questions churned in my head. “Did he contact you?”

“Yeah. He wanted to know more about you.” He whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him you were a crazy stalker.”

“I’m not!”

Reece waved his hand. “Whatever. I didn’t tell him anything about you making sure he was at the party and all that.”

Well, that was good, but . . . “What did you tell him?”

He shrugged. “That you’re a cool chick and that you’re single.”

“And what did he say?”

“He wanted to know if I could arrange a way for you to end up in the same place together. So he could get to know you better. So I invited him along Friday night.”

I stared at a poster on the wall, just over Reece’s shoulder. But I wasn’t really seeing it. I was trying to figure this out in my head. It made no sense. Were my initial instincts correct after all? Did Evan know me? If so, how? And why did he have such a weird first reaction?

“Morgan!” Reece snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Do you get what I’m saying? Dreamboy Evan is your date Fri- day night. Aren’t you happy?”

I forced my mouth to work. “Yeah. I am. Thanks.”

He smiled as he stood to leave. “It was so strange. I was thinking, you know, first you ask me to secretly hook you up with Evan. And then Evan asks me to hook him up with you. Not sure how I wound up being the middleman, but it’s like you guys are weirdly meant to be.”