Point Horror: Identity Theft Part 20

"An honor," one man said, reaching out to enthusiastically pump my hand. His arms seemed too long for his body, reminding me of a scarecrow.

"Thank you, sir," I said.

"Now, the hot seat is all yours!" The other man laughed, not even bothering to make eye contact as he reached forward with his doughy hand and grabbed one of the m.u.f.fins. Ignoring the napkins, he bit into it, the crumbs scattering down his pants.

"Are you ready?" the woman asked sharply. Or, really, she was a girl, just a few years older than me. Her long dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. A smattering of freckles dusted her heart-shaped face. She wore a black suit and a silver heart necklace that landed at the notch of her collarbone. She was how I used to imagine myself.

I perched on the edge of the chair and half listened as they made introductions. The Scarecrow was Professor Doyle from the psych department at the U. The m.u.f.fin-loving man was a former dean from Yale. And the girl was Amanda Chang, an Ainsworth winner four years ago and current college senior, double majoring in economics and political science and applying to law school.

But I didn't care about them. I was thinking of Mom. And Miss Marsted. And Adam. I wanted them so badly it hurt my heart. Normally, when I wanted something - like the Ainsworth - I felt the desire creep up my spine and the adrenaline rush my veins. Now, I just felt a dull ache, starting at my temples and entering my heart.

"Tell us a little bit about why you want the Ainsworth," Amanda asked, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

"Hayley?" she prompted. I knew that tone. It was the one I'd used at Yearbook. In cla.s.s. The one that said I know you aren't prepared.

Well, she was right. I wasn't.

"I've always cared about learning," I began, knowing how cliche it sounded, knowing she was mentally writing me off, because that's what I would have done. I traced through my research interests, how I wanted to connect technology and poetry, how I could see myself making a positive difference in the world, exactly like what they were looking for in a candidate. At this point, I could do it in my sleep. Scarecrow nodded approvingly, so I kept going. But the girl - Future Me - seemed skeptical.

"And what are the challenges facing scholars today?" She asked the question in a way that made it clear she didn't think I was a scholar.

I paused. I knew what I should say: something about how rapid advances in technology made it nearly impossible for anyone to be an expert at anything. I opened my mouth.

"I think it's actually realizing what's really important," I started.

"So, what's important to Hayley Westin?" Future Me asked, barely concealing the sneering tone in her voice.

"If you'd asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said success. And don't get me wrong, it still is. But -" I broke off as a sob formed in my throat. "I need to leave."

I ran out the door and hurtled down the stairs. It hadn't even occurred to me to miss the interview. What had I been thinking? I didn't want the Ainsworth. I wanted my life back. All I wanted was Mom and Adam and the Ugly Mug and Sadie sleeping on my bed and conversations with Keely about gun-metal gray versus heather gray.

I clattered down the stairs as the tears rolled down my cheeks and my heart hammered in my chest - and then found myself face-to-face with Dr. Dunphy.

"Are you all right, dear?" Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

I shook my head. "No. Do you have a phone?" I asked in a small voice. I couldn't do this on my own. But as she fumbled through her bag to find her phone I saw something that made my blood run cold.

It was my car, parked in the visitors' parking lot. Jamie was leaning against it, talking to Adam. Adam clutched a bakery bag in his hands. And then, Jamie turned toward me.

She shook her head slightly, raising an eyebrow.

You were warned.

The words came from my own head, but they might as well have come from hers. She'd given me a chance. She'd known I wasn't following directions.

"You need my phone?" Dr. Dunphy held hers out to me.

"Call the police. Please!" I saw Jamie open the car door, then Adam open the pa.s.senger side door. Around me, students were stumbling across campus in their sweats, heading to the dining hall for breakfast, bleary-eyed from a night of partying. No one noticed anything was wrong.

"Stop!" I called. The wind whipped in my face, though, and I knew Adam hadn't heard me. He'd accepted a ride. And once he and Jamie were alone ... she'd kill him. Of course she would. One fewer Ainsworth contestant, one more way to hurt me.

"The police?" Dr. Dunphy c.o.c.ked her head in concern.

I didn't have time. I hurtled toward the parking lot just as Adam slid into the pa.s.senger seat. A few s.p.a.ces away, a guy was unlocking his Jeep, a backpack and guitar slung over his shoulder.

Jamie was backing out of the parking lot. I could either try to confront her directly, hoping she didn't run me over or kill Adam, or I could follow her.

I glanced back to the guy with the Jeep.

I needed his car.

I ran toward him.

"I need your car!" I yelled. "Now!"

"Yo, you need a ride? I'm running late, but ..." he said dubiously, staring me up and down.

I lunged toward him and roughly pushed his shoulders. Since he was already off balance from his backpack and guitar case, the keys clattered to the ground with a thud.

I picked them up, slid into the driver's seat, and pressed on the accelerator. By the time I reached the tree-lined exit of the U, one car was between us.

Jamie turned right, away from Main Street. So did the other car. I followed, heart hammering. At the outskirts of town, the car turned. It was just the two of us.

Jamie glanced in the rearview mirror. A glimmer of surprise crossed her face, only to be replaced by a slight smile.

It confirmed my worst fears. Jamie was determined to kill Adam. It was a fact. I felt it in my bones, in my heart. And I knew I would do anything to save him.

She sped up. So did I. The Jeep was far more powerful than my car, and I knew I could catch up to her. I needed to stop her. No matter what. And if I continued to stay as close as possible to her b.u.mper, at some point, someone would see us. Someone would stop us. There weren't car chases in Bainbridge.

The car swerved sharply, left, then right. And I realized that Jamie didn't have control of the car anymore. Adam did.

The car took a sharp left, smas.h.i.+ng through a fence and causing cows to scatter.

It stopped for a second. I slammed on the brakes, heart thudding, expecting Adam to emerge.

Smoke rose from the hood, making it impossible to see. But then, the car started again, going faster than I'd thought possible, heading toward a pond on the far end of the field. I couldn't tell who was driving anymore, only that it was going in a straight line toward the lake.

Jamie had to be driving. So where was Adam?

I thought of the butcher knife Jamie had held. Could she have used it while he was driving? It was very possible. What did she have to lose? The idea of Adam, bleeding in the car, maybe alive but definitely not okay, was too much.

I needed to stop her. Now.

I closed my eyes and floored the accelerator, focusing only on the car right ahead of me. My goal was just to stop it in any way possible. All I saw in front of me was a brilliant kaleidoscope of blues and greens and browns. So this was how it would end.

I pushed my foot down even harder on the accelerator. One second, two seconds, and then, a thunderlike crash and the feeling of flying.

And then nothing.

If this was death, then it was quiet. At least, that's what I thought at first. And then, my ears began to pick out and separate sounds. The chirping of birds. The lapping of water against the sh.o.r.e. And then a word, so quiet I thought it was in my imagination.

"Hayley?"

I pressed my ear to the ground. I didn't want to move, not yet. I felt like pain surrounded my whole body, but from a distance, as if it hadn't sunk in. If I moved, it would hurt. I felt liquid trickle down my face and knew it was blood.

"Hayley?" The voice was stronger this time. More real. Who was it? Who could want me right now? I knew it was someone important, but everything just seemed a little bit beyond reach. It was as if all I could process were the physical sensations I was slowly regaining.

Slowly, I sat up and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, unleas.h.i.+ng a deluge of blood down my face. That was why I hadn't been able to see. Blinking, I realized my sight wasn't damaged, it had just been obscured by the blood. Right in front of me, smoke was rising from the pile of metal only feet from me that had once been the two cars. Flames sputtered around the wreckage as if it were a macabre bonfire.

And then, everything came flooding back.

"Adam!" I shrieked, scrambling to my feet. My knee buckled, and I fell. And suddenly, the pain was everywhere.

"Hayley!" The voice was real, but I didn't want to open my eyes again. I was too afraid of what I'd see. My face felt wet, and I knew I was crying.

"Hayley, are you okay? It's me. It's me. Adam. Please."

I felt pressure on my shoulders, felt a hand brush away the wetness from my forehead.

"Hayley? Please. Please ..."

"Adam?" My voice was garbled and unfamiliar; I hadn't said the d properly. "Adam." I said again.

"Shhh." I felt him pull me into a hug. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. But why? And why had I been so scared before? The answers were somewhere close. I knew that, but I didn't want to look. "Shhh," he said again.

And then, a new sound reached my ears: wailing sirens. I opened my mouth and joined their cries, the whole time being rocked by strong arms that kept making me feel safe.

I tossed and turned, falling through s.p.a.ce. Although not falling, more like flying, as though I were a puppet on a string, being manipulated by an unseen puppeteer. Everything was dark, and yet I knew my enemy was close by. And I knew her name was Jamie, although I didn't know how I knew it.

"Jamie!" I yelled raggedly, the word echoing again and again and again. Jamie. It was more than a name.

The word was still echoing as a figure emerged from the darkness - shadowy at first, and then more and more solid. Both of us faced each other. Her eyes were large and dark, the pupils practically disappearing into the dark irises. She was my shadow. She was my twin. I knew that now. I'd always known, no matter how much I'd pushed the thought back into my subconscious. We were born together.

We stared at each other. There was no other noise. I held my hand up to her and she did the same, mirror images of each other.

I broke the silence. "We're dead." It was a fitting end. The two of us had entered the world together. Why wouldn't we leave the world together as well?

She shook her head, imperceptibly at first, and then more and more violently. As she did, her body became less and less solid, more and more shadowy. I watched, horrified, entranced. And then I realized that as she was evaporating, I was breathing. I put my hand against my heart, feeling it beat: strong, steady, singular.

"She's going to be a little groggy. We've got her on a few painkillers for her arm and for the knee. And she'll have a headache for a few days. It was a nasty concussion. But other than that, she'll be fine."

I blinked. Circular, white orbs hung above me like stars. I blinked again, attempting to focus, but the orbs above me just swam in and out of my vision.

"Hayley?" a loud voice, inches from my ear, asked. I flinched. I wanted to turn my head away from the source of the noise, but I couldn't. "Hayley," the voice said again.

I breathed in sharply, laughing to myself as I heard it. I was alive. I had a heartbeat and I could breathe.

"See, the painkillers give vivid dreams. Especially coupled with the trauma ... I'd have someone watch her while she's sleeping for a while."

"Shh, she's coming to. Let me see if she's responsive. She's not sleeping."

I turned, just wanting to be left alone. But the voice was relentless. "Don't move. You're in the hospital. You were in an accident, and you fractured your arm and got a few b.u.mps and bruises, but you're going to be fine. You're safe."

That wasn't correct. I'd never feel safe.

"Hayley, you're in the hospital. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah." I struggled to sit up.

"Take your time." The scrubs wearer swam into focus. Unlike the nurses at Serenity, she had no makeup and a short brown ponytail. She smiled at me. "Good girl," she murmured. I blinked, realizing I had a hospital ID on my wrist, stamped HAYLEY KATHRYN WESTIN in large letters.

"Looks like you're awake," the nurse said fondly. "And we have some people to see you."

I shook my head. I didn't want to see anyone. Not yet. Not like this.

But it was too late.

"Is she okay?" I recognized that voice.

"Mom!" I brushed away the tube from my nose; I didn't want her to see me like this.

"Shh, leave that in. It's just oxygen. It's good for you." The nurse readjusted the tube as Mom ran to the side of the bed.

"Oh, Bunny." Mom's eyes were red and there were dark circles under them. At the foot of the bed was James. I blinked at him. He sighed shakily.

"I don't think I can do this," he said in a thick voice. He turned toward Mom.

"That's all right. She'll talk to you later. When you both feel stronger." Mom's voice was steady and calm. James nodded, relieved, and left the room so it was just the two of us.

"Hayley. Hayley, I am so, so sorry." Mom gently swept my tangled bangs from my forehead.

I winced at the touch, even though it was gentle. My head pounded, and I remembered the last image: me, flying toward the winds.h.i.+eld. Adam saving me. The smoke rising from the wreckage of my car as though it were a pyrotechnic display.

"I'm sorry, baby," Mom said, pulling her hand back. Her eyes were wet with tears. "Jamie ..."

"Is dead." I finished the sentence.

Mom nodded.

"She is. They brought her in, but she didn't make it. I'm sorry. And James came, of course, and his wife is here. I just wish ..."

I shook my head. "Please don't." I didn't want to hear her explanation. I didn't want anything.

"I shouldn't have lied to you. I shouldn't have lied to myself. I didn't think I wanted any children. James and I had decided we'd put you both up for adoption. We had a couple ready. But then I saw you, and I couldn't give you up. But I couldn't keep you both. So then James decided ... insisted ... on keeping Jamie. It was the right thing to do, he said. And we agreed that it would be easier if neither of you knew about each other. We were always fighting, and he was so angry that I'd changed my mind about the adoption. He felt I'd ruined the plan. And I guess I did. After, I wasn't even sure what I'd done. What kind of mother leaves a twin?"

For once, I didn't have the words to make my mother feel better. But she didn't seem to need them. Her lower lip wobbled. She clenched her jaw, then opened her mouth again.

"I was so alone," she said to herself. "And then you both were there, and suddenly, we had one another. But I couldn't keep you both. I wanted you. And James got her. I kept telling myself that she'd died, because it was the only way I could live with myself. It was neater that way. I couldn't see her without seeing him, and ..." She emitted a long, shaky sigh. "I always hoped she'd have a better life. You were the one who was always working so hard, pus.h.i.+ng yourself. I sometimes wished that I'd given both of you to James. But then ..."