Page 86 of The Americana Playbook

“You have an out, Fitz.” I slip my fingers from his. “I feel like we jumped into it all too fast, and I know I haven’t told you everything, but?—”

“Parker.” His voice is clear and steady. “I’m with you.”

My lips begin to tremble. “You don’t even know…”

You don’t know what they did to me,I want to cry. But no more words come out of me. Only tears.

Fitz’s eyes break their hold on mine and sweep around the apartment toward the door. “I think I know enough,” he says, taking a deep breath and returning his gaze to me. “And I trust you with the rest. But if we’re going to get under your parents’ skin before that speech, I think we have to do better than we did today.”

Dear Fitzy,

Today I’ve been gone 91 days and I’m growing antsy. Sarah has a plan, but it needs time. But if things go to plan, I’ll be out of here before my eighteenth birthday in April. Even if I get out one day before, it will be a victory.

The other day, I started preparing myself. I stopped taking the medication. All of it. I didn’t have much luck cheeking it like other people do. That’s because my pills are huge. I think they’re meant for an elephant. But I don’t swallow them all the way.

When I’m done with dispensary, I cough it up. My throat is so raw you have no idea. But a raw throat is better than a broken brain.

Maybe with my head clearer, I’ll be able to help Sarah with our plan. We need some things. Like a hammer to break the lock on the only door we’ll likely be able to get out of unnoticed for more than two or three minutes. After that, we run, which is good, I told her. We’ll need a running start to get over the fence. You told me that. See? You’re a rebel after all.

I think about that night so much—my last taste of freedom, my last moments with you. I wonder if our signage is still under the bleachers. You’ll have to check for me.

I’ll never go back to Thacher. I’ll never go back to Manhasset or Captain’s Cottage even though part of me wishes I could. And Fitzy? I’ll probably never come back to you.

I wonder if you think about me. You might be the only one. To everyone else, I’m probably dead.

If you think about me, maybe I’ll live a little longer.

Rebels Only.

Parker

“You can’telope with the president’s daughter,” Josh informs me, putting both hands on his hips. “I’m sure there’s a law against that. You’re going to have a big old wedding where other presidents make toasts.”

Two things can be true at once—I can elope with the president’s daughter while Josh—and the country—waits for us to have what Nick just told me is being referred to as America’s royal wedding.

“Since when do you have so many opinions on weddings?” I break my stance, tossing the ball between my hands before I toss it to the side. “This one’s dead.”

I clap my hands, and Josh snaps another one. I fire at the target, but I’m off half an inch.

“I’m just saying, Fitzy. Probably not the best tone to set with your in-laws to have Elvis officiate your wedding. I’m sure they’re already planning for it to be someone special. You know, like the King of England.”

Grabbing another ball, I set myself up and then bring my arm down. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s on Lo’s list.” Josh shrugs. “Of the important people that will probably be there.”

“Is this what I’m in for when I’m married?” I joke. “What, do the two of you just sit around at night and talk about this kind of stuff?”

Josh lifts a thick arm and scratches his thick, brown beard. “Sometimes we watch documentaries. Did you know Herbert Hoover managed Stanford’s football team as a student? One time he forgot a game ball. Man”—he chuckles—"Foller would’ve had him by the nuts. I love the History Channel though. Where else would you learn that? You should ask your father-in-law to be if he knew that about one of his predecessors.”

I stare blankly but maybe I can’t really talk. Over the past few weeks, Parker and I have averaged a 2000-piece puzzle every two nights. Lame? Totally, yes.

Is it also my favorite time of day? Also, totally yes. Now, I’m no shrink. I really know nothing about OCD or whatever Coach was talking about. But what I do know is Parker seems more rested, a little more at ease, and I’ve been hearing the door checked only once a night, sometimes twice. Even though that comes after I make sure to lock up in front of Parker, I’ll take it. Forward progress gets the win. And, of course, the puzzles give us a little quiet, quality time which I treasure.

But we’re a step up from Josh and Lo. Because Parker and me, we puzzle andplot.

“This stays between you and me,” I tell him. “We’ll go to Vegas a few days after the engagement party.”

Josh’s jaw drops. “Youcan’tbe serious.”

---