Deadly Little Lessons by Laurie Faria Stolarz Page B

me to see inside the room. The walls are yellow. There’s a dresser with a mirror positioned over it, with what appear to be snapshots or cards of some sort tacked around the glass. It’s Sasha’s room; I’m sure of it.
    The crying in my head gets louder, telling me that I need to go inside, but first I need a plan. A woman in the house crosses in front of the window. She doesn’t seem to notice I’m there. Her hair is tied back, but I’d recognize her anywhere—Sasha’s mother.
    She moves in front of the window again, but this time she stops and looks out. Straight at me. My heart pounding, I scramble to get back behind the wheel and speed away as fast as I can.

I RAP LIGHTLY on Wes’s door and he answers with his hand extended.
    “Thanks for your keys,” I whisper, depositing them into his palm. “I’m sorry again for taking them.” I start to walk back down the hall, but he stops me.
    “Hold on,” he orders, stepping out into the hallway. “You don’t seriously think you’re going to wake me up in the middle of the night, steal my keys, and not give me details, do you?”
    “It was kind of a bust, but I suppose that’s what I get for not thinking things through.”
    “Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?”
    I shrug and turn away, wishing that I’d just listened to him in the first place and gone back to my room. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
    Even though it’s four a.m., there’s no way I can fall asleep. Back in my room, I bring my laptop over to my bed to check my e-mail. I scroll down past at least a dozen junk-mail messages until I find the message I was hoping would be there.
Dear Camelia,
    I can’t sleep tonight, can’t get my brain to shut off. Sometimes I wish I could pick up the phone and call you, but I think that would make things confusing, and you don’t need to be confused. Anyway, I hope all is well and that you’re happy. You deserve all the happiness that life can bring you.
    I’ll be busy over the next few days, but I’ll write again when I can.
    Love,
    Ben
    I read his e-mail over and over and over again until my vision becomes slightly blurred. He sent the message less than thirty minutes ago, meaning he could still be awake.
    I grab my cell phone, noticing that I have three missed calls—two from my parents, one from Adam—as well as a text from Kimmie ordering me to call her just as soon as I’ve settled in.
    I search my phone’s address book for Ben’s number. My thumb hovers over the dial button for several seconds before I finally have the nerve to press it. After five rings, I assume my call will go to voice mail.
    But then he actually answers: “Camelia.”
    The sound of his voice makes my whole world spin. “Were you sleeping?” I ask him.
    “I wish.”
    “I got your e-mail.”
    “Sorry about that.” He lets out a sigh. “After I hit SEND I wished that I could take it back. I don’t want you worrying about my lack of sleep.”
    “I can’t sleep, either,” I tell him. “I mean, obviously, right?”
    “Is there something on your mind?”
    I pull the covers over me and stretch from head to toe, relishing the comfort of his voice. “I’m too restless, I suppose,” I say, deciding not to tell him where I am.
    “Yeah, I guess I’m feeling restless, too.”
    There’s silence between us for several seconds—no doubt because neither one of us wants to reveal too much and become too vulnerable.
    “Where are you, by the way?” I ask, wondering if he can hear the anguish in my voice.
    “Not so far from home, actually.”
    “Are you headed back to Freetown?”
    “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
    “Even though you sounded so happy on the road?”
    “I guess I could use a little break from traveling. How’s everything going with Adam, by the way?”
    “Do you and he still keep in touch?”
    “I talk to him,” he says. “All the time.” The tone of his voice is strong and emphatic, as if he wants to drive the point home and have me