April Henry - The Girl Who Was Supposed to Die

I find the coat pocket and slip my fingers inside. The solid coolness of the gun is reassuring. I pinch the grip. Slowly, I begin to tug it free. James raises his voice. I still can’t make out the words, but I can hear the stress in it.

“No,” Ty whispers against my ear. The word is softer than a sigh.

I shake my head. I know what these men are capable of. I can pull the trigger if I have to.

Ty’s arms go around me, tight, pinning my arms to my sides. Just like it did with Michael Brenner, my body automatically wants to fight back, but I repress it. I figure I still have hold of the gun. I can move fast if I have to. Maybe I’ll have a second or two to catch them by surprise.

Ty’s arms relax but don’t fall away. His breath tickles my ear. His body, pressed up against me, is warm and strong. And so we stay, locked in our one-sided embrace, listening for the voices to come nearer, straining for the sound of footsteps on carpet. And I don’t know if we use up all the air in that small space or if it just hits me all at once, but my knees go weak. I sag forward. Ty’s arms tighten again until he’s half holding me up.

“It’s okay.” His breath is warm against my ear.

I realize I’m crying only when a hot tear runs off my chin and down my neck. It’s most definitely not okay.

Ty presses his lips against my forehead. I turn my head and lean into him, into his solid warmth.

When the footsteps come for us, we don’t hear a thing.

“It’s me,” James says softly from just outside the closet.

Ty and I freeze. But when all we hear is silence, it’s clear he’s alone. Ty loosens his arms, then opens the door and steps out. I wipe my eyes on my sleeve before I leave the cave of the closet.

“So who was it?” Ty whispers. “Cops?”

James shrugs. “He flashed a badge at me but not long enough for me to really look at it. He said that Katie was wanted for questioning in connection with a murder up at Newberry Ranch, and they were asking everyone in the building if they had seen her. When I said I hadn’t, he asked if there was anyone else in the apartment. I told him I had two roommates who were asleep.”

“Two?” Ty asks.

“If anyone heard you guys, I didn’t want them figuring out there’s one too many people here. He wanted me to wake you up, but I said I would just ask you later. Then he asked if I minded if he took a look around, and I said I most certainly did. I told him it was police harassment because I’m gay. I said I have the ACLU on speed dial. Then he backed off.”

“Did this guy say anything about Sagebrush? About me being mentally ill?”

James shakes his head.

Ty gets so excited he forgets to lower his voice. “So they must have been lying about you being a mental patient.” James and I both turn on him with stern faces, and he drops back to a whisper. “They must realize that if they keep telling everyone you’re from Sagebrush, then pretty soon someone’s going to call Sagebrush. And then they’ll learn you were never there at all.”

I hope Ty is right. Enough crazy stuff has happened to me already. I don’t want to be crazy, too. “Then maybe they’re lying about what happened to Officer Dillow!” I feel a surge of hope.

They just exchange looks. Finally Ty says, “It would be a lot easier to frame you for murder if they actually had a dead body.”

“But who would do something that drastic?” My stomach hurts. “Kill a guy just because he’s the first person I ask for help?”

Ty swallows. “They must really be covering up something bad.”

“I’ve got to leave before anything bad happens to you two.” I slide one arm into the coat. “I just need to figure out how to get out of here without them noticing.”

“You can bet they’ll be watching anyone leaving these apartments,” James points out.

“I could cut the screen and go through the back window.”

James shakes his head. “What? You don’t think they’ve thought of that? I’ll guarantee you there’s a car parked out where we can’t see it, with some guy watching. And the minute you climb through the window, he’ll know you’re the one they’re looking for.” He looks me up and down. “And no matter how you leave, they’re looking for a blond girl dressed in those clothes you’re wearing. Maybe the trick would be to make you the exact opposite.”

“What would that be?” Ty asks. “A dark-haired dude?”

I think he’s joking, but James says, “Exactly. And fast, before they start double-checking the apartments. See if you can find her some clothes while I take care of her hair.”

James pulls off my coat and sets it aside, then leads me into the bathroom and takes a pair of scissors from a drawer. Before I can think whether it’s a good idea, he grabs a hank of hair and lops it off, then grabs another. He doesn’t do it with any care, and after he takes out the clippers, I see why. While he buzzes over my scalp, I close my eyes. When I open them, I look like some kid too young to grow a beard. In the mirror, I see Ty standing in the doorway, holding a pile of clothes.

“I don’t see any cuts or bumps.” James runs his hand over what’s left of my hair. It looks like fur. “Whatever made you lose your memory, I don’t think it was that you got hit on the head.”

He means his words to be reassuring, but I wish it were something simple. Why did my memory go away? And will it ever come back?

“Do you have an old T-shirt of yours that she could wear?” James takes a dye kit from one of a couple dozen jumbled underneath the sink. “This stuff tends to drip, and it isn’t exactly gentle on the skin.”

Ty sets down the clothes he was holding and digs around in the bathroom’s laundry hamper. The yellow T-shirt he finds is fraying at the neck. Since it came from the hamper, he must still wear it. It’s clear how poor he is.

I hesitate. “Are you sure?”

Ty waves his hand. “I should have gotten rid of this a long time ago.”

As my head pushes through the cloth, I realize it smells like him. The same smell as his pillowcase, or when he put his arms around me in the closet. Sharp and clean, like fresh-cut wood.

James has me put my head under the faucet. It takes only a few seconds to wet what’s left of my hair. He pulls on a pair of bright yellow gloves. I close my eyes as he squirts the cold dye onto my head, massages it around, then wipes the extra gunk off my forehead, neck, and ears with an old washcloth.

At the sound of James’s voice, I open my eyes. He’s looking at his watch. “Okay, even though I’m not sure the color’s set, we need to get you out of here. Time to rinse you off.” He runs water over my hair until it swirls clean in the white sink.

When I lift my head, I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. Just when I was starting to know what I looked like. Under my cap of dark hair, my eyes look huge. I don’t look like a girl or a guy. Maybe not even human. I look like some wild animal baby left orphaned in the forest.

The kind of wild animal baby that’s going to get eaten.

“You look younger as a boy,” Ty says. “Maybe thirteen or so.”

“That’s good.” James strips off the rubber gloves. “They’ll be looking for a sixteen-year-old blond girl. Not a thirteen-year-old dark-haired boy.”

Ty picks up the clothes again and hands them to me. “Hopefully they’ll fit. And I figured you could put the stuff from your coat in the backpack.” He doesn’t say gun. He doesn’t need to.

They leave me alone to get dressed. I want to take a shower, but there’s no time. Ty’s left me a T-shirt not much newer than the one I take off, a black hoodie, and a pair of Converses. The shoes are so big I don’t even try them on. I just put my Nikes back on. I put the things I’ve collected—the only clues as to who I really am—into the backpack: the framed photo of my family, and Brenner’s keys and disassembled cell phone. His gun goes into the waistband of my jeans, with the hoodie pouched over it.