Page 10

CHAPTER 10

Glenn

The Weekend After the Flight

Jasmine had been gone since Wednesday. I knew people at the bar were whispering about it. I could see them stop talking when I approached, and it made the little devil in me expand. Every hair on my head was angry. My devil had a pitchfork in his hand and flames behind him and was taunting me to do something about her pulling one over on me. I wasn’t sleeping well. I was eating only McDonald’s because I despised cooking. The one thing that made me feel better was target practice.

I took a bunch of empty beer cans out back and set them up on some stumps. Then I got the hunting rifle and handgun and alternated between the two, varying the distances from the targets and trying different angles. I was getting to be a good shot, and every time a can was punctured with a loud bang and fell over, glee would overtake rage for one satisfying moment.

Saturday I spent most of the day shooting, but Sunday I had an even better idea. I went into the storage area of the trailer to find some pictures of Jasmine in the cardboard box I remembered she kept there. I was surprised to see the state of the photo albums. Pictures were taken out of their holders and stuffed ran domly inside. Where the holders were, I had no idea. But then again, maybe it had always been like this. I had never taken the time to look at these albums. Now I perused through a bunch of the loose-leaf photos, setting some of her aside.

There was a stack of old birthday and Christmas cards in there too, still in their envelopes. Randomly I picked one up.

“Have a very Merry Christmas,” the card said inside, and was signed “Your Mother.” I had never met Jasmine’s mom. Jasmine barely spoke of her family. Pitching the card to the side, I picked up a birthday card from someone named Raven. It had a return address from Atlanta.

Jazzy—Happy Birthday! I’m so glad we met in high school. You, me and Anna. RAJE against the machine, right? I guess we still have a lot to be raging about. I can’t believe what you told me about that guy, Glenn, you’re living with. What an asshole. If I can be of help, you let me know! I have a way with people, if you know what I mean. Love ya lots!

My hand froze. I went back to the envelope to see the postmark. It was sent just five months ago, her most recent birthday.

“You fucking bitches,” I said aloud, reading it again and feeling the devil start a bonfire in my chest. He was throwing wood on as fast as he could. Jasmine was talking to other women about me and calling me an asshole?! After all I did for her?? And who was this Raven chick in Atlanta? She clearly went to high school with Jasmine and Anna. They had to be in this escape plan together—there was no other way. Raven had even said, “If I can be of help…”

Grabbing the card and a fistful of photos, I went back into the trailer, got some scissors out, and started haphazardly cutting and discarding all others from the photos except Jasmine. Then I taped the photos of her to my beer cans. Perfect. Now I would have a target, extra motivation. There was even one photo of Jasmine, Anna, and a third girl I guessed to be Raven, all looking much younger, and I put each picture on its own beer can. I didn’t care that I was ruining Jasmine’s entire photo collection. Too fucking bad, bitch. That’s what you get when you leave me.

I returned to shooting, which felt great for a while, until I realized that this wasn’t wholly satisfying. I wanted to share the feeling of power with someone who needed to be on the receiving end of it. I texted Anna:

Tell Jasmine that I will stop at nothing to find her. You better not be lying to me and helping her too. BTW, I’m having fun with target practice this weekend

I attached two pictures: one a beer can with Jasmine’s photo taped to it, and a second with Anna’s. In Jasmine’s picture, she had braces, and her hair was in two weird side rubber bands that I think girls called pigtails. In Anna’s photo, she looked to be in high school and was standing with a tennis court behind her and a cigarette in her hand.

I imagined shooting a bullet right through both of their faces and watching it come out cleanly on the other side of the can, and I smirked, then added one more text to Anna just to double down:

Bang, bang