Page 16

Moscow, Idaho

Emily’s Dream

T he following scene, a recurring nightmare, is what Emily later says—after she’s lost her friends, before justice has brought closure—she imagines could have happened that summer.

The details of the surroundings change from dream to dream, but the gist of what happens stays the same.

It’s the only explanation she can come up with, the only one that makes any sense.

It haunts her day and night because the uncertainty of whether it’s real or not real will never go away.

Maddie wipes down the table and turns to get fresh cutlery to seat the new customers.

As jobs go, waitressing at the Mad Greek is a pretty good gig. The forty-seat restaurant with a vegan-friendly menu isn’t one of the more popular ones in Moscow, so servers—all college kids, friends—don’t get run off their feet.

Maddie’s grateful for the pay. She can make as much as eighty bucks per shift, which covers her gas and her Ulta card and the trendy clothes she likes so much. And there’s the added bonus that the manager asked her to redo the restaurant’s website.

Maddie continues laying the table.

Then she turns and notices him. Unusual-looking. Intense bulging eyes. Thin, almost emaciated. And pale, almost ghost white. He’s raising his hand. He wants her attention.

She smooths her skirt and walks over with a smile.

He orders a vegan pizza to go. He’s staring at her intently. Maddie is used to male attention, but this time it feels… uncomfortable.

“I’m Bryan,” he says. “What’s your name?”

Maddie hesitates, then tells him. Why wouldn’t she? Everyone here knows it.

She hands him the check and, as he pays, he asks, “Would you like to go out sometime?”

This is an easy one, Maddie thinks. The idea of going out with this strange-looking guy is surreal. He doesn’t know it took Jake, her boyfriend, a whole two years to become her boyfriend. Maddie is anything but easy, even for guys she likes. And she doesn’t know or like this one.

She flicks back her hair. “Uh, no,” she says. She smiles, laughs a bit. It’s a nervous habit she has, especially with guys she turns down. She doesn’t mean anything rude by it.

But this guy looks at her strangely, like he doesn’t believe what he’s hearing.

He gets up slowly, still staring at her, and walks out.

Maddie shakes her head and goes about her business. She doesn’t give the guy another thought.

She doesn’t see the guy walk to his car, a white Hyundai Elantra, sit in the driver’s seat, and type her name into his phone.

Her Instagram, with the photos of her past and present, is there for all to see: Maddie in a bikini. Maddie with her roommates. Maddie and her friends posing in skimpy clothes for a fit check before a night out.

Maddie, Maddie, Maddie.

He looks. He presses Like once, twice, three times. And he looks and Likes some more.