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I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable by telling her I liked her. I’d never told anyone I liked them, and I really wasn’t sure how another girl would react to that – especially a girl who had been happy to let people assume she was straight.

At school dances she’d never gone with a date, but that wasn’t unusual at St. Catherine’s.

The administration were super strict about things like dating and PDAs, and even kissing in the hallways got people hauled in for detention.

Most people went to dances in friend groups, except for senior prom, when everyone was eighteen.

And we hadn’t gotten to senior prom yet.

There was no point in trying to test the waters while I was still hiding so much from her.

I was terrible at lying, but I was doing pretty great at not thinking about the blood and death and pain I was running from, and I didn’t need an extensive romantic history to tell me that would be a turn-off for any potential romantic partner.

Not that I gave much of a fuck about future romantic partners. I cared about Brooke.

I wanted us to share a bed again. I wanted her to smile at me, and touch my arm, and, maybe, eventually, kiss me – even though that last one seemed like a far-fetched dream.

‘This place reminds me of the first motel we stayed in,’ she said suddenly, without opening her eyes. I startled, then reminded myself that she couldn’t hear my thoughts. ‘It’s nicer here, though. The people are nicer,’ she said.

‘We’re also, like, more than halfway across the country from home.’

‘Shit. You’re right.’

Brooke almost jumped out of her skin when her phone rang.

‘Are you gonna answer it?’ I asked Brooke, now fully alert.

‘It’s probably someone wanting Meredith.’

I shrugged. ‘I’ll get it if you want. I can tell them they have the wrong number.’

‘I’m closer,’ she said, sounding resigned, and picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘Brooke?’ I could only just hear the voice.

‘Meredith?’

‘No, it’s Julianne.’

Shit.

Brooke put the phone on speaker and set it down on the nightstand, then crawled up on the bed next to me. I put my hand on her knee and squeezed it gently as she leaned into my side.

‘Hey,’ Brooke said.

‘Jesus Christ, you have some nerve. You’re going to just hey me right now?’

‘What do you want me to say?’

‘I want you to say, “Julianne, I’m turning my sorry ass around right now and driving back home.”’

I couldn’t help but think I would like Julianne Summer, if I ever had the chance to meet her. Right now, she was terrifying.

‘I’m not going home, Jules,’ Brooke said. ‘I’m fine, though, if that was what you wanted to know.’

‘Oh good, I’m delighted to hear it.’

She didn’t sound delighted. She sounded mad as hell.

‘Brooke. Where are you?’

Brooke glanced at me. I shrugged. ‘Des Moines,’ she said.

‘Liar,’ Julianne snapped.

‘Does it matter?’ Brooke said with a heavy sigh.

‘Yeah, Brooke, it matters.’ Julianne’s voice softened. ‘Where you are and what you’re doing and who you’re with. It all matters.’

Brooke rubbed her fingertips over her eyelids, like she was trying to dislodge the stress building behind them.

‘Brooke?’ Julianne said again.

‘I don’t know who I’m talking to right now,’ Brooke said. ‘I don’t know if you’re calling because Mom and Dad told you to, or if you’re doing it because you care about me.’

‘I’ve always cared about you,’ Julianne replied, sounding hurt.

‘I know.’

‘Dad called me,’ she admitted. ‘He’s worried.’

Brooke glanced at me. ‘So they don’t know where I am?’

‘No, Brooke,’ Julianne said. ‘But there’s a girl missing. From your school. Do you know anything about that?’

I shook my head frantically. Brooke might trust her sister, but I didn’t. If Julianne knew about me, then she probably knew about the Creep, and I couldn’t risk her telling Brooke. Not now. We’d come so far already.

‘Who?’ Brooke asked.

‘Her name is Jessie. Jessie Swift.’

She clenched her jaw. ‘I have no idea. She’s not with me.’

‘Are you sure?’ Julianne pressed.

‘Yes,’ Brooke said, sounding annoyed. ‘Seriously, Jules, don’t call me again. I’m fine. I’ll be home soon.’

‘Okay, Brooke,’ Julianne said with a sigh. ‘So long as you’re all right. I love you.’

‘I’m all right,’ Brooke echoed. ‘I love you. Bye.’

She ended the call before Julianne could reply.

‘Shit,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine. I was kind of expecting it at some point.’ Brooke threw the phone down on the bed. ‘My parents always pit us against each other. They’ve obviously convinced Jules that she needs to play the responsible older sister.’

‘Do you think she believes you?’

‘I think so.’

‘Okay,’ I said, not totally convinced. I wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to Brooke back home to make her so determined to run far, far away.

‘Jessie, are you sure you don’t want to call your mom?’ she asked gently. ‘Or anyone else?’

I shook my head. ‘Not yet, no.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure.’

She sat upright again. ‘Do you want to get out and go for a walk? We’re only a couple blocks away from an outdoor mall.’

‘Sounds good.’

I watched Brooke pack up the few things she needed, then fell into step with her as we walked out of the motel.

It was getting close to sunset, and the heat was finally starting to die down as we wandered through the mall. People were spilling out of a sports bar showing several games on huge screens, or juggling small children and ice cream and strollers.

‘There,’ I said, pointing to a little deli that caught my eye. ‘That’s what I want to eat.’

‘Works for me,’ Brooke said easily.

The cost of bread and olives and a cute little charcuterie box was at least double what we usually spent on an evening meal, but I didn’t care at all.

We had topped up our stash of cash and there was absolutely nothing fried in the paper bag I carried out of the store and over to one of the colorful picnic tables set up in the square.

That felt like a victory. I still couldn’t figure out how Brooke had the diet of a three-year-old and managed to stay so slim.

‘Metabolism,’ she said around a mouthful of bread. ‘And soccer.’

‘I’m jealous.’

‘You could always join a soccer team.’

‘I don’t think any team would take me. I’m too short for soccer.’

‘Have you seen the high-school team?’ Brooke stabbed an olive with a tiny fork and popped it into her mouth. ‘We have a couple wannabe Megan Rapinoes, but most of us just play for fun.’

I couldn’t imagine playing soccer for fun. That sounded like torture to me.

A few other families seemed to have had the same idea as us, and had picked up food from one of the places around the square to eat at the picnic tables.

It all seemed very wholesome, like this was exactly the type of thing the city government wanted to encourage.

If I looked up an advert for Kansas City, it would include me and Brooke, sitting at this bubblegum-pink picnic table, fighting over the last olive.

Brooke swung her legs off the bench and got up. ‘I’m going to use the restroom,’ she said. ‘There’s some right behind you.’

I glanced over my shoulder. ‘Okay.’

‘I won’t be long.’

I nodded, and packed up all the wrappers while Brooke was in the restroom, dumping them in one of the trash cans, then picking another bench to sit and wait at so a family could take over our picnic table. I stretched my legs out and rolled my shoulders.

It had taken us just under a week to get to Kansas City, so Brooke’s initial estimation of getting to Disney World in ten days was going to be out by at least a few days.

I already knew I wanted to stop in Nashville, and we’d probably need to make an overnight stop in Atlanta, too, before making the final push down to Orlando.

That would mean Brooke didn’t have to drive too much every day, and we could still enjoy some of the cities along the way.

I saw Brooke walking out of the restroom, so I turned around to shoulder my backpack before she got to me.

A kid over at the picnic tables let loose a high-pitched scream and distracted me for a second – only a second.

When I turned back, she was gone.