Page 91 of Even in the Dark

And I am, I realize. I’m glad she told that asshole to fuck off. More than that—I’m just honest to God happy right now. Up here on this rooftop with Scarlett, talking and looking out at the town lights. We both lean back and sit in silence. I track an airplane from somewhere beyond the horizon, across the water and over the town. A dog barks down on the street.

“I was going to run away.” My voice sounds hollow. Softer than when I was dishing out advice to Scarlett just a few minutes ago. “That’s why I did those ads.”

Scarlett shifts to look at me.

I hold her gaze. “I was in lockup at Clive. Like, full lock up. On eyesight, which means they have a staff member watching you the whole time. Even when you use the can. Like, literallyallthe time. I’d done a couple things that… staff were worried, I guess—when I found out the truth about Eli, and my mother, and Phil and everything a few weeks before that. I was pissed. Just so fucking pissed—at everyone. At everything. Atme.” I shrug, looking away now. Back at the airplane that looks like it’s going in to land somewhere nearby. “Figured if I did the photoshoots and commercials and stuff, that would be my only chance to get away.” I pause for a second. Drop my voice even lower. “Eli… hegot this suitcase a while back. Packed to the brim with clothes and different fake IDs than the ones we already had, and an envelope of money. Put almost all the money he made for a long time in that suitcase. He stashed it in this locker only he and I know about, with everything we’d need if we ever needed to run. Because of… you know. The shit he did… The murders.” I glance at Scarlett.

She’s watching me, her whole body still as a statue. Her mouth slightly open. Eyes showing a hint of surprise. Curiosity. No judgment though, so I continue.

“He’d drilled it into me for a few years. Where it was hidden, where we’d meet up after if we got split up. How to get there. Everything. I knew it all by heart. So when everything went down—when I was arrested, thenhegot arrested and the lies blew up, and I got locked up at Clive—and this modeling gig came up, it was like this golden ticket to get out and get to that suitcase and just… start over or whatever. I didn’t think I would have to even do any of the modeling stuff. Figured maybe the first day of the photoshoot, I’d go along with it, wait to see where the location was, the best way to get away and stuff, then split the next day.”

“So?” Scarlett leans in. “Why didn’t you?

I look over towards the horizon again. The plane’s gone. Landed somewhere, probably.

“They sent two of the staff from Clive to the shoot with me. And Phil hired a security guy. Tailed me the entire time. Just as bad as the staff at the facility. Worse, because there were three of them and one of me. Big dudes. The security guy was fast as hell, too.”

“Did you still try? To get away?”

“Yeah. I made a run for it the last day of the shoot. Figured I had nothing to lose. Knew it was a longshot but had to take my chances before I was locked back full time at Clive." I sigh."Made it maybe a couple hundred feet. Security guy tackled me to the ground. The whole thing freaked out the entire crew. And Phil… You can imagine. Think he suspected all along, though. It’s why he hired the extra security guy in the first place.”

Scarlett watches me. Nods a couple times. “It’s why he’s extra paranoid now,” she says. Probably dead right. “After the kidnapping, then finally getting you back fourteen years later, only to have you try to get away again.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” Never thought about it that way before.

“Did you—I mean, have you tried to take off since then?”

I shake my head. “No point. Everyone recognizes me now… Nowhere to go, anyway.”

“But if you thought you could get away with it, would you do it? Do you…” her voice trails off. Then she tries again. “Do you really hate it here that much?”

It’s a loaded question.

I sigh. “Hate it everywhere.”

Then I feel bad saying that. Imagine Phil hearing those words. So I add, “I don’t hate Phil. Or Diane or anyone else here.” My shoulders lift in a shrug. “They’re nice. It’s fine. It’s just… Fuck. I don’t know… Everything feels like a lot.”

“God… I’m sorry, Dylan,” Scarlett says. She crawls across the space between us and slides next to me, and I let her. There’s not a lot of room for two people, so she leans in close. Her head is right up against my arm. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “About everything that happened to you. That you had to go through all that. And that you’re still dealing with so much stuff even now.”

“It’s fine,” I say. Feel bad I didn’t tell her sorry for what happened to her. Not sure how to do that, though.

She squeezes my arm, kind of like she did earlier when she first showed up down in the theater lobby. “I think I get it, though—why you say you hate it everywhere. Becauseit probably seems like this whole thing… like it follows you everywhere.”

“Yeah,” I say, “like the thing with that asshole from the lake feels like it’s following you, probably.”

She laughs. “Kind of a big difference between that and what you went through, but yeah.”

I tilt my head down. Slowly… Slowly… until it’s resting against hers. Inhale vanilla. “I didn’t hate tonight, though.” My voice sounds rusty again. “Up here. Flying those planes and talking and stuff. I didn’t hate this,” I say.

She covers my large hand with her small one. “Same,” she whispers. “I didn’t hate tonight either.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dylan

Scarlett stays true to her word and is rocking the most butt-ugly snap bracelet when she picks me up for school the next morning. Bigger and tackier than I imagined—and my imagination had painted a pretty unflattering visual.

“Holy shit.” I eye her wrist. “That thing’s gonna need its own seat in homeroom.”

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