Page 41 of Hide and Keep

Here? Crue is here?

I almost bite it.

How? I filled the guesthouse with enough mousetraps to send him to the hospital. Did he not go into the bedroom at all? Did he even sit on the couch? What has he been doing this whole time? Just waiting in his car for me?

I was too busy researching him on my phone to notice what was happening out front. While he did tell the truth about Yasmin being dead, Crue wasn’t entirely upfront on the details. For one, she wasnothis girlfriend, and two, he was partly to blame for her death. Apparently, he’d been drinking and driving the night of his senior homecoming, so when another drunk driver came at him on the wrong side of the road, his abilities were too impaired to avoid a head-on collision. The other driver sustained serious injuries that he was expected to make a full recovery from before being carted off to jail. Crue’s were minor, mostly cosmetic, but his passenger’s were fatal. Yasmin—his passenger—eventually succumbed to hers a few days later at the hospital where she died surrounded by family and friends…excluding Crue because, again, he was neither.

Another confusing tidbit about the situation is that Crue didn’t get in any trouble for his part. The other driver was clearly more at fault, but Crue was not only drinking while underage but also driving under the influence. Only one of the articles I found reported him being cut from the wrestling team he’d been captain of as a result of his infraction, otherwise he served no jail time whatsoever, not even in juvie, or community service. I’m guessing Ronny Veen’s father had a lot to do with that.

Hearing my bodyguard enter the labyrinth, I pick up the pace, quickly taking the turns that will eventually lead out the other opening. There are a couple dead ends in here, not many, but I envision him winding up in those, buying me time.

I can’t believe he has the energy to chase me again. I pushed myself to the point of exhaustion today. I mean, I wasn’t exhausted but he should’ve been. He’s not a runner, or a swimmer, or a… I’m not sure what Crue is. Or was. Regardless, he’s supposed to be passed out, preferably under the covers of the bed I took over an hour to prepare for him. It was so hard to position the blanket over the traps without triggering them.

When Crue’s steps grow closer, I halt and slow my breathing as I wait for him to pass on the other side of the evergreen wall. At over six feet tall, they keep the maze’s occupants hidden from view while inside. I can only see the pathways closest to the house from my bedroom windows, but the rest of the maze is obscured, even from the elevated vantage point. The walls are tightly packed, too, but knowing what I’m looking for makes it easier to pick out the movement of Crue’s body charging past.

I picture him running right into a dead end, frustrated and helpless, and smile. It will be too easy.

Quietly, I resume my previous pace until I exit the maze, practically skipping out. I knew it. He didn’t stand a—

“I know you fucking heard me!”

I glance back to find Crue jogging through the same opening I just did.

Oh my Goddess. How’d he make it through so fast? I don’t think he got lost once in there.

Spinning around and running backward—still faster than him, by the way—I taunt, “I can’t hear anything past your wheezing.”

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond, probably because he can’t. He really should work out more often.

I turn and sprint into the woods. Once I’m sure there’s enough distance between us, I twist and press my back up against a tree trunk, the bark snagging my sweater. The risk, the fear, thethrillof being caught takes me right back to Hide and Keep, and I can’t help but smile even bigger. It was fun while it lasted.

This isn’t exactly like that, but close. The rush feels the same.

Flapping noises pull my attention skyward. Some of my nocturnal friends have returned from their winter roost.

Welcome home,I tell them in my head.

What will happen next month? Will all my conservation work just stop? Will I get to have any hobbies at all?

Of course I won’t. I’m already being forced to give up cheer.

That choking sensation reappears, and I roll my head forward as I gasp out loud. Hot tears fill my eyes, burning.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair.

A twig snapping nearby has me on the move again, darting from tree to tree, only stopping long enough to gauge which direction Crue’s coming from. Each time he gets too close, I perch down and bear crawl away. Because he’s already taller than me, and probably not expecting me to be on all fours, the significant height difference allows me to escape without discovery time and time again.

Suddenly, the forest goes eerily silent, and with how hard my heart’s pounding in my chest, I’m surprised the sound alone isn’t leading Crue directly to me.

I close my eyes and concentrate on my hearing. The Sound to my left, clicks overhead, and…music? I tilt my head to the right, picking up a few words. “What it means to be a girl” by EMELINE.

My ride is here.

The moment I open my eyes, I shrink back. A tall, dark form is in front of me, latching on to my shoulders. His mouth opens and I imagine him repeating what he asked me that same night.“Do you want to be kept?”

My answer now is the same it was then. No. I don’t. I want to fly.

But he doesn’t ask that. He asks what the fuck is wrong with me.

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