Becca, still trying to process his revelation about his arrest, couldn’t respond with anything but a blank stare.
“When Internal let us go, everyone knew what had happened,” said Jake. “None of my friends would speak to me, except to call me a dissident. I got beaten up every day. I couldn’t fight back, in case hurting them got me arrested again. They broke one of my ribs once. I was afraid one day they’d go too far and kill me.” He rubbed his chest like he could still feel the pain of the broken rib. “We moved out to live with my grandparents—my mom’s parents—for a while. No one at my new school knew about any of it. I kept waiting for someone to call me a dissident, or to say something about my mom, but they never found out. I almost got used to it—being normal again.
“Of course, then my grandparents decided they’d rather pay for us to move back here than keep us in their house any longer than they had to. I guess I should be grateful they kept us around as long as they did—my dad isn’t exactly easy to live with. So they pay the rent and send us just enough money to live on—” A hint of bitterness crept into his voice. “—And we stay here where they don’t have to deal with us.”
He paused for a moment, staring at the ground. “When we came back here, I stayed as invisible as possible. I didn’t want anybody to recognize me. A few people have, but it’s nothing like before. But that’s only because I don’t let them notice me. I make sure not to be too loud, or too quiet, or too smart, or too anything.”
But he hadn’t been invisible when he had confronted Laine. He had risked having people notice him to help Heather.
She kept listening.
“I saw it happen all over again with Heather. But you didn’t turn on her, even after people started calling you a dissident too. I thought…” He laughed a little. “It sounds pathetic. I thought with you maybe I wouldn’t have to be invisible.”
What could Becca say to all that?
“I had no idea.” She shook her head. “I thought you were using me somehow—either to get information about Heather for Internal, or… I didn’t even know what.” She paused. “I’m sorry.”
“How were you supposed to know?” He stood awkwardly, hands jammed into his pockets. “So… can we start over?” His smile was so slight, Becca almost didn’t see it. “Again?”
By telling her what had happened to him, he had risked her turning against him like everybody else. He had poured his heart out to her. How could she turn him away after that?
She smiled back. A peace offering. “Of course we can.”
Becca’s head was still full of her conversation with Jake when she scanned the cafeteria for Heather the next Monday.
She almost didn’t recognize her. Heather wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her hair stuck out in tangled curls. She moved without grace; as Becca watched, she stumbled to an empty table in the corner and set her tray down so hard a drop of chili jumped up onto her shirt. She didn’t seem to notice.
Becca crossed the room and slid her tray into the space across from Heather.
“Whoever you are, just leave me alone,” Heather muttered. She looked up. “Oh,” she said flatly. “It’s you.”
Becca sat down. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. I thought maybe you had skipped school again.”
Heather studied her chili as though it were an alien lifeform. “What do you want?” For a second Becca wasn’t sure whether Heather was talking to her or the chili.
Becca took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
She’d had all day Sunday to think about her conversation with Heather, and about what Jake had told her. And the more she thought, the more she knew she had been wrong to push Heather about what she had found in her mom’s files. Heather didn’t need that kind of pressure right now. She didn’t need that reminder of what her parents had been.
That would leave Becca with nobody to talk to about what she had found. But that didn’t matter right now. Heather needed a friend—Becca’s conversation with Jake had shown her just how much—and she had nobody else.
“I’m sorry about… everything I said,” Becca continued. She couldn’t get more specific than that. Not here. “I won’t talk to you about it anymore, if you don’t want.”
Heather stirred her chili. She didn’t answer.
“Whatever you need, I’m here for you,” Becca promised.
Heather spoke without looking at Becca. “I need you to leave me alone.”
Becca flinched at the coldness in Heather’s voice. “I should have told you about your parents sooner, too. I won’t keep things from you anymore.”
Heather jumped up from her chair. She slammed her hands down on the table; both their trays shook. “I said leave me alone!”
In the sudden quiet, Becca felt everyone’s eyes on her.
Heather’s breath came raggedly. Her eyes looked like a trapped animal’s. “Please,” she mumbled. “Please. Please go away.”
Becca’s best friend was in there somewhere. But Becca couldn’t see her.
Heather didn’t move. Neither did Becca.
Slowly, the conversation in the cafeteria started up again.
Heather was slipping away. Somebody had to keep her here. Keep her sane.
But hadn’t Becca said she would give Heather whatever she needed?
I need you to leave me alone.
She had thought she had known what was best for Heather before, when she had put off telling her about her parents and led her to the note. It hadn’t helped. If anything, she had only made things worse.
If she pushed Heather now, would she be making the same mistake all over again?
Becca swallowed her next round of apologies and walked away.
Chapter Eight
A knock on Becca’s door dragged her out of her dream.
She muttered something incoherent and pulled her blanket up over her head. The knock came again; the blanket did nothing to muffle it.
With a sign, Becca pushed the blanket away and flicked on her light. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What is it?” she mumbled.
“Can I come in?” her mom asked from the other side of the door.
As if Becca could say no. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“I didn’t have anything urgent to deal with, so I decided to come home and catch up on some sleep.” The door opened, and her mom stepped inside. “Speaking of which, you’re in bed early. Especially for a Saturday.”
Sleeping was easier than being awake, these days. Less opportunity to think about all the things she was trying to push to the back of her mind. “I was tired.”
Her mom held something out to her. Her eyes still blurry from sleep, Becca squinted at the object in her mom’s hand. Her phone. She must have left it in the living room when she had gone to bed.
“Somebody called for you.” Her mom crossed the room to her.
Becca reached for the phone, but her mom pulled it back. She sat down on the bed next to Becca. “Your phone said it was Jake. Is this the same Jake you thought was working for Surveillance? You told me he had stopped bothering you.”
She had told the truth… sort of. In the three weeks since their conversation at the playground, they had taken the first shaky steps toward getting to know each other. They never talked about Jake’s past—he never brought it up, and Becca didn’t want to push him. Instead they stuck to other things, safer things, like school and TV and all the everyday inanities people talked about to fill up time. They talked almost every day… but he never bothered her.
Somehow Becca didn’t think that was what her mom meant.
She straightened, trying to will herself awake. “How should I know why he called?”