I have to try something or I may regret losing the only opportunity I get to save us. Hanging the top half of my body out of the window, I wave my arms back and forth. The driver has his back to me and the people in the carriage don’t seem to notice my movements.
The driver keeps talking, his booming voice filling the empty night air. “After the fire, the Spanish ruled this area for a short time and rebuilt everything in the Spanish style, which is why Ursuline is the only building in the French Quarter with French architecture. But it was the residents of Ursuline who are the most interesting thing about this convent—and I’m not talking about the nuns. I’m talking about the Casket Girls.”
I can hear some faint mumblings of the passengers but for the most part, he’s got their full attention.
Just as he’s about to explain what or who the “Casket Girls” are, another carriage turns onto the street from the opposite direction. But this carriage is partying. It’s as full as the other one, but the riders seem young, college age or just older, and they are having averygood time. Instead of the driver giving a tour, he’s playing music over his speaker, a loud, thumping mix. The carriage shakes as the girls dance in their seats and one even uses the pole that holds up the canopy as a…pole to dance on. It’s amazing the whole thing hasn’t tipped over.
I just need one person to see me.
Camera flashes pop and I’m still waving my hands around like a lunatic. The talking tour guide starts yelling at the music tour guide. They pass each other almost right in front of my window.
Nothing.
No one sees me.
Dumb tourists.
The room gets darker and the quiet cool night air fills our room as I settle in for the next carriage to come our way.
Rules for disappearing
by Witness Protection prisoner #18A7R04M:
Never tell anyone your secrets….
New rule by Anna Boyd:
Keeping secrets usually makes everything worse—not better.
dreamed about Tyler last night. I was back in Florida with my long blond hair and still somewhat carefree attitude. Like Witness Protection wouldn’t last forever and somehow I’d have my perfect life back. It was really more like a memory than a dream. We were on the beach, hanging out with a few friends and it was nice.
There was a street fair going on and he pulled me in the photo booth that was set up on the sidewalk. We smiled at the camera and then he kissed me for the first time.
Later that day he was teasing me, asking me about old boyfriends…wanted to know if there was any boy back home that I still had a crush on…now that I was his girl. And I got so nervous when I thought about Brandon. Now I understand why.
The truth about his murder was locked in the deep recesses of my brain, but I still wasn’t ready to let it free.
And again, I think Tyler was trying to get something out of me and I was totally blind.
My stomach is in knots trying to understand how the guy I knew then could be wrapped up in something as sick as this. Was he in it from the beginning? Or was he brought in after the fact? The first time I ever saw Tyler was just after we moved to Naples and I was still beating myself up over screwing up our last placement with my drunken escapade on Facebook.
Mom was still under control and Teeny hadn’t completely closed off. Looking back, we were in that sweet spot right before the storm. We had hope. After leaving Florida, it was a disaster. But there, with our apartment a mere two blocks from the beach, life wasn’t completely horrible.
Tyler was on the beach, just sitting in the sand. He asked if I wanted to throw a Frisbee around, said he’d been ditched by his friends. He was so cute, I couldn’t resist. And for the next several nights, he was just sort of there. It wasn’t long before the two of us were making plans and spending a lot of time together.
Until we got hauled out of that placement.
My last day in Naples was the best and worst. The best because I felt like Tyler and I had really connected in the sweeping warm waters of the Gulf and the worst because it’s the day it was all ripped away. The suits busted through our apartment door, and within twenty minutes there was no sign that we had ever lived there. I left that placement dressed like Sandy fromGrease—supertight black pants and all—waiting for Tyler, who was supposed to be dressed as Danny, to pick me up for a Halloween costume party.
I spent the next two placements, short as they were, being a total bitch to any boy who approached me. It wasn’t worth the feelings of guilt that swamped you after deserting someone who cared about you.
And then I met Ethan. And he got under my skin in a way that no one else ever had, including Tyler. And as much as I tried, I couldn’t scare him off. He called bullshit on my bullshit. And now he’s in this mess because of me and for whatever reason, Tyler has something to do with that.
“Sissy, do you think Francesca and Henry finally found each other?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer, just keeps talking. “I think they did. Maybe he found out she got on the wrong boat and he came here to get her. How cool would it be if he just showed up here one day and rescued her!”
I start to worry that maybe the letters are becoming too important to her. But then if she’s going to obsess over something, I’d rather it be them than Thomas and Tyler.
“Francesca says it was miserable being here during the summer. Like it was really hot and there were huge bugs and people got sick all the time just from their bites.” Teeny scans the newest letter she was able to free from the envelope. “I guess they didn’t have any air-conditioning back then.”
