Can you remember?”
Her hospital sheets felt sticky, like someone had drizzled nacho cheese all over them. Hanna searched her memory, but nothing about an accident was there. The last thing she remembered, before sitting in Ali’s backyard, was receiving the champagne-colored Zac Posen dress for Mona’s birthday party. That had been Friday night, the day before Mona’s celebration. Hanna turned to Mona, who looked both distraught and relieved. Her eyes had huge, kind of ugly purple circles under them, too, as if she hadn’t slept in days. “I didn’t miss your party, did I?”
Lucas made a sniffing noise. Mona’s shoulders tensed. “No…”
“The accident happened afterward,” Lucas said. “You don’t remember?”
Hanna tried to pull the oxygen tube out of her nose—no one looked attractive with something dangling from a nostril—and found that it had been taped down. She closed her eyes and grappled for something, anything, to explain all this. But the only thing she saw was Ali’s face looming over her and whispering something before dissipating into black nothingness.
“No,” Hanna whispered. “I don’t remember any of that at all.”
12
ON THE LAM
Late Monday evening, Emily sat on a faded blue bar stool at the counter of the M&J diner across from the Greyhound station in Akron, Ohio. She hadn’t eaten anything all day and contemplated ordering a piece of nasty-looking cherry pie to go with her metallic-tasting coffee. Next to her, an old man slowly slurped a spoonful of tapioca pudding, and a bowling pin–shaped man and his knitting needle–shaped friend were shoveling down greasy burgers and fries. The jukebox was playing some twangy country song, and the hostess leaned heavily against the register, polishing dust off the Ohio-shaped magnets that were on sale for ninety-nine cents.
“Where you headed?” a voice asked.
Emily looked into the eyes of the diner’s fry cook, a sturdy man who looked like he did a lot of bow hunting when he wasn’t making grilled cheese. Emily searched for a name tag, but he wasn’t wearing one. His red ball cap had a big, singular letter A stitched in the center. She licked her lips, shivering a little. “How do you know I’m headed somewhere?”
He gave her a knowing look. “You’re not from here. And Greyhound’s across the street. And you have a big duffel bag. Clever, aren’t I?”
Emily sighed, staring into her cup of coffee. It had taken her less than twenty minutes to power-walk the mile from Helene’s to the mini mart down the road, even with her heavy duffel in tow. Once there, she’d found a ride to the bus station, and had bought a ticket for the first bus out of Iowa. Unfortunately it had been going to Akron, a place where Emily knew absolutely no one. Worse, the bus smelled like someone had bad gas, and the guy sitting next to her had his iPod cranked up to maximum volume while he sang along to Fall Out Boy, a band she detested. Then, weirdly, when the bus pulled into the Akron station, Emily had discovered a crab scuttling around under her seat. A crab, even though they were nowhere near an ocean. When she’d stumbled into the terminal and noticed that the big departures board said there was a 10 P.M . bus to Philadelphia, an ache had welled up inside her. She’d never missed Pennsylvania as much as she did now.
Emily shut her eyes, finding it hard to believe that she was really, truly running away. There were many times she’d imagined running away before—Ali used to say she’d go with her. Hawaii was one of their top five choices. So was Paris. Ali said they could assume different identities. When Emily protested, saying that sounded difficult, Ali shrugged and said, “Nah. Becoming someone else is probably really easy.” Wherever they chose, they promised to spend tons of uninterrupted time together, and Emily had always secretly hoped that maybe, just maybe, Ali would have realized she loved Emily as much as Emily loved
Her hospital sheets felt sticky, like someone had drizzled nacho cheese all over them. Hanna searched her memory, but nothing about an accident was there. The last thing she remembered, before sitting in Ali’s backyard, was receiving the champagne-colored Zac Posen dress for Mona’s birthday party. That had been Friday night, the day before Mona’s celebration. Hanna turned to Mona, who looked both distraught and relieved. Her eyes had huge, kind of ugly purple circles under them, too, as if she hadn’t slept in days. “I didn’t miss your party, did I?”
Lucas made a sniffing noise. Mona’s shoulders tensed. “No…”
“The accident happened afterward,” Lucas said. “You don’t remember?”
Hanna tried to pull the oxygen tube out of her nose—no one looked attractive with something dangling from a nostril—and found that it had been taped down. She closed her eyes and grappled for something, anything, to explain all this. But the only thing she saw was Ali’s face looming over her and whispering something before dissipating into black nothingness.
“No,” Hanna whispered. “I don’t remember any of that at all.”
12
ON THE LAM
Late Monday evening, Emily sat on a faded blue bar stool at the counter of the M&J diner across from the Greyhound station in Akron, Ohio. She hadn’t eaten anything all day and contemplated ordering a piece of nasty-looking cherry pie to go with her metallic-tasting coffee. Next to her, an old man slowly slurped a spoonful of tapioca pudding, and a bowling pin–shaped man and his knitting needle–shaped friend were shoveling down greasy burgers and fries. The jukebox was playing some twangy country song, and the hostess leaned heavily against the register, polishing dust off the Ohio-shaped magnets that were on sale for ninety-nine cents.
“Where you headed?” a voice asked.
Emily looked into the eyes of the diner’s fry cook, a sturdy man who looked like he did a lot of bow hunting when he wasn’t making grilled cheese. Emily searched for a name tag, but he wasn’t wearing one. His red ball cap had a big, singular letter A stitched in the center. She licked her lips, shivering a little. “How do you know I’m headed somewhere?”
He gave her a knowing look. “You’re not from here. And Greyhound’s across the street. And you have a big duffel bag. Clever, aren’t I?”
Emily sighed, staring into her cup of coffee. It had taken her less than twenty minutes to power-walk the mile from Helene’s to the mini mart down the road, even with her heavy duffel in tow. Once there, she’d found a ride to the bus station, and had bought a ticket for the first bus out of Iowa. Unfortunately it had been going to Akron, a place where Emily knew absolutely no one. Worse, the bus smelled like someone had bad gas, and the guy sitting next to her had his iPod cranked up to maximum volume while he sang along to Fall Out Boy, a band she detested. Then, weirdly, when the bus pulled into the Akron station, Emily had discovered a crab scuttling around under her seat. A crab, even though they were nowhere near an ocean. When she’d stumbled into the terminal and noticed that the big departures board said there was a 10 P.M . bus to Philadelphia, an ache had welled up inside her. She’d never missed Pennsylvania as much as she did now.
Emily shut her eyes, finding it hard to believe that she was really, truly running away. There were many times she’d imagined running away before—Ali used to say she’d go with her. Hawaii was one of their top five choices. So was Paris. Ali said they could assume different identities. When Emily protested, saying that sounded difficult, Ali shrugged and said, “Nah. Becoming someone else is probably really easy.” Wherever they chose, they promised to spend tons of uninterrupted time together, and Emily had always secretly hoped that maybe, just maybe, Ali would have realized she loved Emily as much as Emily loved
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