The Escape. Part 2

Avery nodded and followed her father.

In the car, she dutifully clicked her seat belt. Her gaze mimicked his as he checked all his mirrors and put the car into reverse. On better days, he would quiz Avery on what he should do next to prep her for driver's ed next semester. But in the graying light of dawn, they were silent.

Once they pulled into the drive-through, Avery cleared her throat. "What does Fletcher want, Dad?"

The chief shrugged and placed their orders. "He just said he wanted to talk."

"If he just wanted to chat, you wouldn't have pulled me out of bed at five in the morning."

The expression on the chief's face didn't change. He fished a few bills from his wallet.

When they pulled up to the service window, Avery watched her father morph into chief mode, the way he did whenever he was in public. His lips curved into a sure smile, and his eyes shone as he asked about the drive-through woman's morning. He pa.s.sed Avery the bags of food, and the lady in the window called, "See ya, Chief! See ya, Chief's daughter!" as they pulled away.

"So you don't know why Fletcher wants to speak with you? You guys aren't close or anything, friends at school? I don't think I've ever seen him come over to the house."

"He hasn't. We go to school together, so we know each other. I mean, he and his mom practically live across the street. But we're not like, close close. Not since we were, like, eleven."

"Did he say anything when you found him?"

Avery shook her head, taking a bite of hash browns and letting the salt, grease, and crunch dissolve in her mouth. "No. Not really."

"He didn't mention anything about Adam, anything about what might have happened to him?"

Again, Avery shook her head. "No. I told you. He said he didn't remember. He had this really weird, vacant look, like he didn't know who Adam was. Maybe it was shock or something."

The chief rolled his car to a stop at a red light and turned to her. "What do you know about Adam?"

"Adam?" She bit into her sandwich, not tasting it. "He's just a regular guy, I guess. Really nice."

"Do you think he would have any reason to hurt Fletcher?"

"You think Adam was the one who did this?"

Her father gave one of those half nods that meant neither no nor yes. "We haven't found Adam yet, and Fletcher's hurt pretty badly."

"Is Adam a suspect?"

"I'm not saying that. Right now Adam is a missing kid who may have been out alone in the woods all night."

Avery balled up the remains of her sandwich, no longer hungry.

"Fletcher's mother called in the missing-person report, but Adam's family was right behind her. Do you know who suggested the hike?"

"Dad, I don't know them like that. We never really talked in school or anything, so no, it's not like we discussed our weekend plans."

Avery's mind flashed back to that time in the library with Adam. The electric feeling of being near him, of him reaching out to touch her cheek, was like hitting your funny bone-strange but not unpleasant. His eyes had been warm and comforting. Just his proximity had made her feel safe. She couldn't imagine Adam turning into a monster.

"I don't think Adam would do that. He's-he's...nice."

Chief Templeton shot Avery a look that practically delivered a lecture of its own, reminding her that bad guys don't always "look" bad and good guys can be the ones you least expect.

Then Avery thought back on when she'd found Fletcher in the woods. His eyes had lost focus, as if his mind had gone somewhere else when she asked about the other boy.

Suddenly, Avery's hash browns sat like a hot rock in her gut.

She remembered reading an article about the brain stas.h.i.+ng away memories-even recent ones-until the waking mind could process them. Had Adam attacked Fletcher? Or had whatever happened to Adam been so bad that Fletcher's brain had locked away the memory?

Memories, flashbacks, visions of the woods pierced his sleep like shards of broken gla.s.s, tearing holes in his relative calm. In the safety of his hospital room, Fletcher s.h.i.+fted, tossing off the thin blankets, wincing at the explosion of pain the movement caused. He pushed back into his pillow, his breathing raspy and shallow.

The images couldn't have been real. They must have been hallucinations, brought on by the medications the doctors had been pumping into his veins since he'd arrived at the hospital. Why else would he have visions of Adam, his face contorted in anger and then lapsing into pure terror? But Fletcher saw his friend clawing at hands that encircled his throat, heard his desperate gasps for air, the breath that called to him-"Fletch." It was like watching film footage of an old horror movie.

What had happened to Adam?

Fletcher glanced at the empty visitor's chair at the side of his bed, glad that his mother had finally gone home. Otherwise, she sat there, wringing her hands and staring at him. He was tired of being stared at.

He looked around the room for a clock, but there wasn't one. He guessed marking time somehow went against the healing process. He wondered when Avery would arrive. He didn't know what he'd say to her, why he'd even asked for her, but when the doctors and officers, even the chief of police, peppered him with questions, his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth. That didn't stop them from trying to coax him to talk, saying things that shouldn't come out of adults' mouths like, "It's cool, Fletcher. You can talk to us. We're here to listen."

They didn't get it. They couldn't, because even he didn't get it.

Branches breaking underfoot, slipping in the mud as he ran, cringing, flinching, everything hurting. The smack of skin against skin, knuckles against bone, his palms sc.r.a.ping against rock, the moisture of-What was it? Blood? Damp?-seeping through his jeans as he fell. Adam, Adam, Adam...

Six.

Avery's mouth was dry. What was she supposed to say to him?

"Just listen," Chief Templeton said as though he were reading his daughter's mind. "Just listen to whatever he has to say and be there for him. Like a friend." He offered her a formal smile that must have been rea.s.suring for victims or witnesses or whoever her father normally dealt with, but it only made her feel more uncomfortable.

She nodded. "I guess."

Fletcher and his mother had moved into the neighborhood about five years ago. Avery was ten, just about to turn eleven, a tomboy teetering on the edge between liking boys and wanting to strike them out with her wicked three-fingered fastball.

The first time she had seen Fletcher, he had wandered out into the park, a half-abandoned stretch of gra.s.s and weeds with bases and a pitcher's mound scuffed out by the kids who played there. Avery was winding up a pitch, while Adam eyed her, his bat at the ready. A handful of kids were milling on bases or kicking rocks in their makes.h.i.+ft dugout. Fletcher had walked right through the game as if he had no idea anyone was even there.

She thought about that kid now-unaffected, indifferent-and tried to reconcile him with the one she had found in the woods. She thought of Fletcher's eyes, the desperate way they'd looked at her, begging her to notice him on the forest floor.

Now Avery stood outside Fletcher's hospital room, her heart thudding in her ears.

Would he be waiting for her? Would he even be awake?

Chief Templeton pushed the door open.

Fletcher was sitting up in his bed, looking out at the sunrise.

Chief Templeton cleared his throat. "Avery's here to talk. I'll be in the hallway if you need me."

Fletcher turned slowly, hunched as though he were an old man.

Avery sucked in a breath. His face was clean now, but the bruises remained. A gash above his eye cut across his forehead and shot toward his scalp, where a quarter-sized chunk of his hair had been shaved away. He was covered in scratches.

Fletcher's smile was lopsided. He gently touched the side of his head. "I probably look really stupid. They wouldn't even let me see a mirror."

"No," Avery said, her cheeks flus.h.i.+ng with embarra.s.sment at being caught staring. "You look fine. Good, I mean."

They both knew it wasn't true and stared at each other in uncomfortable silence.

"Do you want to sit down?" Fletcher asked Avery nodded and slid into the visitor's chair.

They sat in silence for a moment, Avery listening to her careening heartbeat, certain that Fletcher could hear it too. She tried not to stare, but even cleaned up, the wounds on Fletcher's face were bad. She thought about the possibility that Adam could have been the one to do this to Fletcher. It was impossible, she decided finally, absurd. The person who did this to Fletcher-the person who attacked him and Adam-had to be a monster. There was nothing else to it.

Fletcher watched Avery. Her actions were stiff and self-conscious. So was he. He had never been this close to a girl before. It felt so intimate, him being so vulnerable.

He didn't even know why he had asked for her. It just came out of his mouth while everyone was throwing questions at him. His doctor kept holding his hand out to the officers, warning them that Fletcher's condition could be "touch and go"-that was the phrase he used. But even when the officers backed off, the doctor started in: "Can you move this? Does that hurt? Do you remember if you were hit here...?" It was all a painful, weird blur, memories sharp and faded at the same time.

"I want to talk to Avery," Fletcher had said before the fog had set in. "I want to talk to Avery, please."

Maybe it was because she was kind of a loner like him, or because she had been through something traumatic too. Maybe it was because she had been the one to find him.

A thought played on his periphery but Fletcher didn't want to pay attention to it: had he asked for Avery because she found him or because she saved him?

"My dad said you wanted to talk to me."

Fletcher's cheeks went red.

"It's okay, you know," Avery continued, nerves humming. She wanted to comfort Fletcher. She wanted to be as good as her dad. But seeing Fletcher in front of her-part friend, part victim-shook her. "You don't have to talk to me. I mean, you don't have to tell me anything. Unless you want to. I won't... It can be between us." She was stammering, her hands flopping in front of her as she talked.

Fletcher opened his mouth, and then he shrugged. His shoulders looked small and bony beneath the oversized hospital gown. He looked fragile beyond the cuts and bruises, and Avery wondered how Fletcher was able to defend himself at all.

He looked down at his lap, his chin on his chest.

"Maybe you could tell me when you guys decided to go hiking. I mean, I didn't know you and Adam really hung out."

Fletcher's head snapped up. "Me and Adam are friends. We hang out." The edge in his voice frightened Avery. Then his face softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad. It's just...you know, people think I'm a geek. And why would someone who is popular like Adam hang out with the geek?"

Except people didn't call Fletcher a geek. They coughed freak or loser into their hands when he pa.s.sed or asked a question in school. They called Avery a geek.

Fletcher traced the pattern on his pajamas with his fingernail. "The hike wasn't really anyone's idea. We'd been talking about hiking, checking out the woods, and just got in the car. It's not something we did all the time. We aren't mountain men or anything."

Avery nodded. "Yeah, it's usually a good idea to bring water and a map with you."

"A map?" He laughed. "Care to join us in the digital age, Avery? It's called GPS."

She laughed despite feeling stung. "It's called no cell towers in the forest."

Fletcher reached out, his fingers featherlight on the back of her hand. "And then you found me."

Avery matched Fletcher's small smile, but something felt off.

We were just going to go for a hike. Nothing big, just a walk in the woods.

"Hey, Fletch. You've got to see this!"

Adam's voice was a subtle call in the back of Fletcher's head, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could see his own sneakered feet and the tamped-down ground around him. He could feel the wind on his cheeks and see where Adam had stopped up ahead.

And then what happened?

An explosion of white-hot pain shot behind Fletcher's right eye, and his vision went black.

"Hey, Fletch. Hey, are you okay?"

Hey, Fletch...

It was Avery this time and Fletcher wanted to grab her, wanted to hang on to her for dear life. If she wrapped her arms around him, could she keep him here, could she keep him from slipping into the blackness? He tried to speak, but all that came out was a shallow groan.

Fletcher could feel the s.h.i.+ft of Avery's weight on the mattress as she moved toward him.

"Should I call the nurse? Are you okay?"

"No, don't," Fletcher panted, the pain shooting waves of nausea into his stomach. "I'm okay." The pain started to subside.

He remembered the doctor's fingers on his scalp, gently feeling along his forehead until he yelped at the same explosion of pain. The doctor had rattled off notes to the nurse: cranial damage, frontal lobe injury.

Avery stared at him, her eyes intense. "Fletch?"

"I'm sorry. I... Sometimes there are these...pains."

She c.o.c.ked her head, her eyebrows diving into a concerned V. "You look like you took a pretty big hit."

Fletcher watched Avery's fingers-delicate and slim-brush a lock of hair from his face. The light pressure from her fingers over his forehead sent a s.h.i.+ver through him.

"Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah. But the pain, the headaches, I mean... I've had those before."