The Leaving Part 19

Kristen said, "Do you think anybody else is going to show?"

"I think Lucas will." He had to; she needed to see him even if she wasn't sure exactly why. "It was his idea. But I don't know. Have you been watching the news?"

Kristen said, "They'll never show."

"I wasn't sure you'd be here." She'd heard about Kristen during that brief news clip, too. "Hypnosis?"

"Yeah, it was all Father's idea. And Mother's, too, of course!"

"Are they awful?"

"They got divorced, turns out. So I'm living in this totally weird house with my mother and now they have to figure out custody? I don't know. It's like they're offended that someone did this to them. It's all so . . . unsavory. My father thinks we were kept in some pervert's bas.e.m.e.nt."

"And they want you to be hypnotized so you can remember that?"

"They want justice!" Kristen rolled her eyes. "They want answers! They want someone to blame! My father had this hypnosis chick's number ready, like he was waiting all this time."

"Maybe it'll work." It seemed like the right thing to say, even if Scarlett wasn't sure she believed it. "I'm surprised my mother hasn't suggested it yet. She thinks it was an alien abduction."

"No."

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"Thanks."

Kristen nodded toward the corner. "Why do you think we were dropped off here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just . . . I don't know. It seems . . . cruel?"

"How so?" They'd been let go. That seemed un-cruel.

"It just feels like a taunt." Kristen played with one of her bracelets. "Here you go. Here's what you missed. Here's a lovely reminder of the piece of you that's gone forever."

Scarlett wished she could locate her own missing piece.

Was it puzzle-shaped and in her heart?

Or oval in her gut?

"Did you see the memory guy yet?" Kristen asked. "Get poked and prodded yet?"

"Just MRI today. The rest tomorrow." She should tell her, but something was stopping her; she didn't want to be the only one. "You're all done?" she asked, fis.h.i.+ng.

"Yeah, what a waste of time." Kristen shook her head. "Like, what did they think they'd find? The memory guy was at least interesting."

"How so?"

"He's cool. Kind of hot, actually." She slipped off her sandals and put her bare feet up on the dash; a blister was forming near her left pinkie toe. "We were talking about memories as units. Like how when you have a memory it had a beginning and an end. So what triggers those beginning and end points, like who's the editor in your brain? Why do you remember one minute and not the minutes before it?"

"Does he have any theories? About what happened to us?"

"He doesn't know, except maybe it was some kind of experiment. Which is a better theory than aliens or perverts, though I suppose it could be two out of three. I can't breathe." Kristen slid her feet back down to the floor, slipped her sandals back on, opened the door and got out and closed it, and headed for the playground gate.

Scarlett got out, and then felt a tweak of pain in her gut.

Imagined it.

Surely.

Unless . . . ?

Was it possible?

That whatever it was . . .

Had hidden sharp edges . . . and could rip her right open?

Had to push push push the thought away.

Followed Kristen to the swings.

Who else could she trust if not the others?

Started to form the sentence in her head.

There's something inside- "I remembered something about you right after the session," Kristen said. "About us. Just a feeling, and I had it again as I walked toward your car."

"What?"

Kristen sat on a swing, twisting its chains. "I remembered that we don't really like each other."

The stabbing feeling again.

This time for real.

Lucas

He was on foot, heading for the playground, wondering who would show up, half hoping it would be only him and Scarlett.

What would he even tell her?

Or them?

Did they know how to load guns, too?

If he hadn't come across a gun, he wouldn't have even known.

Maybe he should have brought it?

Tested them?

No.

Why had he felt so still, so calm, with that gun in his hand?

Why had he . . .

ONE RIGHT TWO LEFT.

HISS CLICK.

SNAP UP DONE.

. . . liked it?

Would they remember the carousel, too?

GOLDEN SADDLES. PEANUTS. WHITE FIRE.

Or a man carrying something that looked like wrapping paper?