Page 23 of Middle of the Night

Beside me, Ashley claps a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

She rushes to the powder room in the hallway off the kitchen, the memory of visits thirty years ago showing her the way. I follow Ashley out of the room and hover in the hallway, far enough to give her some privacy but unfortunately close enough to hear her retching behind the closed door.

When she emerges a few minutes later, Ashley spots me and freezes. Then her face crumples and she reaches for me, pulling me into a hug both desperate and sad. Weeping at my shoulder, she says, “Oh, Ethan. All this time, I liked thinking he was still alive. I knew it wasn’t true, but it was nice having that thought to cling to.”

I wrap my arms around her, unable to keep the memories at bay. Of the two of us a week after Billy had gone missing. By then, every parent in town was terrified to let their children out of sight for even a second. I was allowed to go outside and play, but only in the front yard, where I’d be in view of others in the neighborhood.

That’s where I was sitting that afternoon, not playing. Not by a long shot. Instead, I smoothed my hand over the grass, plucked a few strands, and watched them catch the breeze and fly away. Each time ablade lifted from my fingertips, I thought of Billy, who had in essence done the same thing.

Flown away.

Vanished.

Even though no adult—not the police, not even my parents—had told me so, I also knew the likelihood was high that Billy was dead. A horrible thing for a ten-year-old boy to deal with.

Yet that’s what I was thinking about when a brown Camry, shining like a polished penny in the light of the mid-afternoon sun, pulled up to the curb. I stood and instantly started backing toward the house. Despite staying mum about Billy’s probable fate, the adults around me had plenty to say about stranger danger. I was on the verge of running when the passenger-side window lowered, revealing Ashley behind the wheel.

“You got a new car,” I said, because it was true. Her parents’ other car had been a boatlike blue Chevy Malibu.

“Yeah,” Ashley said. “Now, are you going to stare at it all day or are you going to get in?”

By then my mother was outside the house and stalking toward the car. She looked so strange in that moment. Her eyes gleamed with terror, yet her mouth was twisted into an angry snarl, her teeth literally bared. It made her seem both vulnerable and vicious. It was, I assumed, what mother bears looked like when someone got between them and their cubs.

“Ethan, get away from that car!” she yelled as she thrust her arm in front of me, as if that alone could shield me from the evil she thought rested inside that idling Camry.

“Hi, Mrs. Marsh,” Ashley said through the open window.

My mother practically melted with relief. The terror left her eyes and her face went slack. Only the arm thrown across my chest remained, and even that soon dropped to her side.

“I thought you were a stranger,” my mother said with relief.

“I’m just saying hi to Ethan.” Ashley paused, mulling something over. “I could take him to get some ice cream. Give you some alone time.”

With anyone else, I’m certain my mother would have said no—or at least considered it for more than five seconds. But since it was Ashley, her reply was instantaneous.

“Thank you,” my mother said. “That would be wonderful.”

I climbed inside, making sure to fasten my seat belt. Worry fluttered in my stomach. It was, to my recollection, the first time I’d ever been in a car without an adult behind the wheel. A scary thought, but also exciting.

“Can you drive?”

“Obviously,” Ashley said as she eased the car away from the curb. “My dad taught me this spring.”

“I meant legally.”

This time Ashley, who I knew to still be fifteen, said nothing.

“Where are we going?” I asked once she’d steered us out of Hemlock Circle.

“Notfor ice cream.” Ashley set her jaw and stared straight ahead through the windshield. “I wanted to talk to you. About Billy.”

I shifted in the passenger seat, annoyed and sad and guilty. I’d wanted to forget about Billy. Just for a little bit. Which made me feel even more guilty—and more annoyed and sad that I couldn’t escape that guilt.

“What have the adults been telling you?” Ashley said.

“That he was taken.”

I turned to look out the window, watching the neighboring homes and lawns. The way they slipped by and vanished from view made me think about Billy. I knew I’d see those houses and yards again when Ashley turned around and brought me home. But Billy? I knew in my gut that I’d never see him again. A realization so awful that I began to bawl right there in the car.

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