Page 123 of The Americana Playbook

I sit on the floor of the shower for so long that the cold water begins to soothe the scorched skin the hot water left behind. Goosebumps prickle my legs. I can see them in between the tiny drops of pelting water, but I can’t feel them. Even though it’s been a long time since I had a cold shower, despite all the shitholes I lived in, I’ve had enough that I’ve grown immune toward the icy feeling.

Showers were meant to be relaxing. But while I was at Horizons, they put my system into overdrive, worrying about eyes on me while keeping my ears focused on what might be happening outside the bathroom so I would know what I would be in for when I got out.

It wasn’t the fighting between other students that scared me. The paralyzing fear came when it happened between students but was broken apart by staff who often hit back and hit harder. I remember wishing I could say something. I remember wanting to scream,the enemy of your enemy is your friend. That’s what Sarah told me. If all of us believed it and acted like that, we could stage a rebellion. We could figure out a way to break out or, at the very least, try to overtake the place enough that someone would be forced to call the police.

I like to think that if Sarah had never disappeared, we would’ve done that.

A sob breaks free from my chest. Sarah never disappeared. Shedied.

My hair is a sopping mess, when I get out of the shower and slip into Fitz’s robe, but I don’t care. I walk back into the entry where I left my phone on the table when I came in, finding texts from Fitz I missed earlier.

Fitz

Going up to my room in an hour after dinner. Will try calling you.

Checked with Al at the front door. He said you went up. Guess you fell asleep.

“Later.” I know if I call him now, I won’t be able to hide the shaking in my voice. “I’ll deal with him later.”

I call my sister because—unlike most daughters—I won’t be able to reach my parents. Madeline answers on the second ring.

“What happened?”

I take a deep breath. “I think that’s a question better suited for you,” I say slowly. “Do you know what happened? I never asked.”

“What are you?—”

“Do you…” I begin to repeat. “Do you know what happened when they took me? Do you even knowwherethey took me?”

“Have you been drinking?”

I’ve never been more sober in my life. Not ever.

“I want to talk to Mom. Now.”

“I’m athome. It’s almost midnight,” Madeline informs me. “Whatever drama you’re stirring up, it can wait.”

I lift the phone and tap it furiously against my head before lowering it and trying to calm my breathing.

“I screamed for you that night,” I whisper. “I thought I was going to die.”

“Well, youdidn’t.”

The truth hurts. She’s right. I didn’t die.

But Sarah did.

I squeeze my eyes shut as my body shakes. So much of me began to die that night I called out for Maddy. My trust, hope, and mind. Small bits broke off that night, and with every day I stayed in Horizons, the pieces chipped away at me were larger.

And now, standing in this enormous apartment as the daughter of a president who was destined to serve in this position as the last member of a once-great political dynasty, I’m nothing. I have everything around me, but none of it is mine. I have no one around me even though I have a ring on my finger and a husband who goes out of his way to check with the doorman to make sure I’m home when I haven’t answered.

But even Fitz isn’tmine.Not in that way.

In some ways, I do feel dead.

“Parker, whatever you’re thinking?—”

“It wouldn’t be enough anyway.” I hang up the phone.

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