Chapter 17 Now
Now
The book fell, smacking me in the face. “Ouch.” I lifted it off of me and set it aside.
“Did you fall asleep?” Beau asked from his spot on the counter. I wondered if his butt was numb from sitting up there for so long.
“I’m tired,” I said. “What time do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. Nine-ish? Ten-ish?”
I sat up and rubbed my hands up and down my face. Then I took out the earbud and walked it over to him. He took his out as well and stuck them both in his pocket.
“You can listen,” I said.
“I’m guessing their battery is almost dead. I haven’t charged them since yesterday.”
I paced the bathroom, doing high-knee walks, trying to wake myself up. “You can read the book if you want.”
He nodded but just stared at it lying there on the floor.
“Did you ever read that mystery series Harper gave you?” I asked.
“I did. It was bad.” He was silent for a minute. “She never read the series I gave her. She still has them.”
“She never gave them back? Not even after…” you broke up. I couldn’t say those words. I’d already said them once in this bathroom. We already both knew who was to blame.
“Nope,” he said.
“That sucks.”
“It was my favorite. And they were signed.”
I cringed. That was my fault too. Her borrowing that particular series. But he could’ve said no. He should’ve said no. “Never loan out your favorite things,” I said, which was a bratty thing to say.
He watched me pace for a few minutes, then his eyes went back to the book on the floor. “Why did you check out that book?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You don’t know?”
“Maybe the same reason you’re listening to my playlist,” I said.
His eyes locked on mine.
“It looked good,” I said, which was basically the reason he’d used for listening to my music.
“Right,” he said, and went back to writing in the binder.
“It was due like two months ago. I wonder what my late fee is.”
“Ms. Garcia is cool. Just tell her you forgot.”
“No teacher is cool to me anymore,” I said. That’s what happened when you talked back more and stopped getting good grades.
He gave a tight nod.
“Seriously, you can read it. It’s making me sleepy.”
“You don’t want to be tired?” he asked. “Why don’t you sleep?”
“It’s too early.” And I hadn’t had the nightmare in a while, the one where black-clad men broke down my door and surrounded me.
The one that always made me wake up in a cold sweat.
But knowing my luck, I’d have it here when Beau was wide awake, observing me.
If I was going to sleep in this bathroom, which was a big if, we’d be sleeping at the same time.
“Maybe it’s not early,” he said. “It could be one o’clock in the morning for all we know.”
“I don’t think it is.” I couldn’t explain why, but it didn’t feel that late. The air coming in through the still-open window wasn’t cold enough or something. I did some more high-knee walks.
“Neither do I.” He looked toward the door. “I can’t believe nobody is coming for us.”
“Do you share your location with anyone?” I asked.
“My parents, but they won’t look. They rarely wait up for me.”
“So in the morning? When they realize you’re not home?”
“More like in the afternoon. They’ll think I’m sleeping in.”
“You don’t sleep in.”
“Sometimes I do. And Brady probably has baseball practice in the morning anyway, so they won’t look.”
“I thought your mom made you get up no later than nine and do your chores and be ready for the day.”
“She’s compromised for Saturdays.”
Mrs. Eubanks, letting go of some control. Surprising. “Bad timing,” I said.
But that meant we could be here until tomorrow afternoon?
No, we couldn’t be here until tomorrow afternoon.
Tomorrow afternoon would be too late. My mom needed my letter tonight.
Tomorrow morning at the very latest. Then why aren’t you writing it, Indy?
Why did you trade the binder for the book?
Because I couldn’t think of anything to write.
And I didn’t want to admit what that meant.
It meant nothing. I was going to write it. I had all night.
My stomach let out a loud growl and I covered it with my hands.
“Should we split a protein bar?” he asked.
“Should we eat one now? Do we need to save them? You think we’ll be out by tomorrow for sure, right?
Someone will notice by tomorrow.” I wasn’t sure if it was all the high-knee walks I was doing that had raised my heart rate or the thought that we could be stuck here all weekend.
We couldn’t be stuck here. I hadn’t been the best daughter lately, but I was planning to be there tomorrow.
I walked to the sink, filled up our shared water jar, and took another long drink, water dribbling out of the sides of my mouth and down my chin. I set the jar down and wiped my face with the back of my hand. That didn’t calm my racing heart.
“Are you panicking?” he asked. “You’re usually the laid-back one.”
I couldn’t remember the last time my life felt laid-back. Maybe that Halloween party, looking at the stars.
Maybe I was panicking, because instead of slowing down as I leaned into my hands on the counter, my heart seemed to double in speed. I put my elbows on the counter and took deep breaths. It wasn’t working; I was hyperventilating instead.
“Indy,” Beau said. He sounded far away. “It’s going to be okay.” Then I felt his hand on my back.
I jerked away, knocking my elbow into his arm as I did. “Don’t touch me.” I backed into the side of the stall. Pressed against my left shoulder was the paper towel dispenser. And against my right hip, the counter. He stood in front of me, both hands in the air in surrender.
“I’m stuck,” I said. “I’m trapped. I need to get out of here. I need my phone back. My life back.”
He took several steps back, his brows low in concern. “We’ll get out. We won’t be in here forever. And you’re not trapped. You have the whole bathroom.”
The bathroom wasn’t that big, and all the walls felt like they were closing in on me.
I rushed forward, brushing by him to the door. I tugged on the handle. I twisted the lock ten or twenty or thirty times. I tugged on the handle again. I looked at the brick, wondering if I could break off the handle with it. Behind me there was noise, followed by the water running.
“Indy.” Beau’s voice approached. “Here. Put this wet paper towel on the back of your neck.”
I spun around, pressing my back into the door. “Why?”
His eyes were soft, worried. “Because you’re having a panic attack. It might help.”
“I’m not,” I said, even though my heart was racing and my face felt numb and my breathing was too fast.
“Rule number two,” he said.
“What?”
“We accept help from the other person if we need it.” He took a step forward, eyes wide in a question.
“Okay.”
Relief changed his expression as he took several more steps forward. He held out the paper towel and instead of taking it from him, I lifted the hair off my neck.
“May I approach?” he teased.
I nodded and he did. He threaded the paper towel through my lifted arm and around my neck.
There he pressed it against my skin. Water dripped down my back.
We met eyes and held them for several breaths.
I dropped my hair, letting my hands fall back to my sides.
His hand was still cupping my neck, my hair now over his hand.
“Better?” he asked. He was so close.
My heart was racing, but my breathing had evened out and feeling was returning to my cheeks. “Yes, thank you,” I said, but neither of us moved.
He seemed to be staring straight into my soul. I had no idea what he was thinking. My eyes stung with emotion. I had no idea what I was thinking.
“I miss you so much, Indy,” he whispered.