The Disappearance of Sloane Sullivan, page 2
I kept my head down and studied my feet—lack of eye contact makes you more forgettable—as I turned the corner to the hall that would take me to physics. Which is why I didn’t see the person barreling toward me until right before we collided.
I had just enough time to spread my feet and bend my knees slightly. I felt the crash in my whole body, muscles tensing, air rushing out of me in a muffled umph, but a tiny step back was all I needed to absorb the impact. The other person hit the floor with a loud thud, knocking everything I was holding in my hands across the hall. Before I could even cringe at the lack of blending in, a prickly sensation crept up my neck at the feeling of eyes on my back.
My chest tightened as the velvety a cappella voices, the mass of students, the entire hall disappeared. Fragmented images flashed in my mind: feet pounding on concrete, a hand tight on my arm, a broken piece of wood. Then, as fast as the images had come, they were gone, replaced with the hum of conversations and a person sprawled on the ground in front of me and too many students gathered around us. I swallowed hard. They’re not watching you, they’re just curious. No one here knows you.
I took a deep breath, trying to loosen the knot in my chest. “Walk much?” I mumbled, quiet enough I knew the guy who’d run into me wouldn’t be able to hear. And I was certain it was a guy. The level of solidness I felt before he bounced off wasn’t something a girl could achieve unless she was a professional bodybuilder from Russia.
“I’m so sorry,” a deep voice said. “I shouldn’t have been running. Are you okay?”
I didn’t glance at him or any of the people now whispering about us as I bent down to gather my stuff. “I’m fine,” I replied without any malice. I wasn’t really annoyed at him, I was annoyed at myself. That’s what you get for letting some stupid Billy Joel song distract you. Remembering never helps anything.
“Here.” The guy shifted on the floor and collected the map from where it had landed a few feet away. He smoothed it out, even though it didn’t have a mark on it, reached around the legs of a few nosy onlookers and held it out to me.
I grabbed it and shoved it into my bag. All I wanted was to get to physics and disappear into a seat in the back.
“Sloane Sullivan?”
My heart skipped a beat at hearing my name from some random guy. I flexed my hands, my always-on-alert muscles ready to put my self-defense skills to use. Then his hand came into my field of vision. He was holding my schedule, his thumb resting next to my name, and I almost laughed at how jumpy I was being. Get a grip. It’s not like you haven’t done this first day thing before.
“Cool,” the boy said. “My grandfather’s first name was Sullivan.”
My eyes locked on the scuffed floor as my breath caught in my throat.
“Everyone should have two first names.”
Every inch of my body froze as a completely different image popped into my head: black hair sticking up in all directions, deep blue eyes bright with amusement, mouth quirked into the same goofy grin it always wore when he said those words, words he’d said so many times before.
My pulse took off as the guy crouched in front of me, making it all but impossible to stand without facing him. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do for a fellow double-first-namer.”
The whole world slowed to a crawl as I forced myself to look up.
Right into the unmistakable deep blue eyes of Jason Thomas.
Two
I studied the wide eyes staring back at me from only a foot away. It was impossible they belonged to Jason. But the pools of almost green around his pupils that melted into a deep ocean blue set against an even darker blue ring around the edges were exactly like I remembered. Exactly like I’d stared into a million times before.
This is bad. Very, very bad.
It had happened once before. Three and a half years ago, when we were living in Flagstaff. I thought I’d seen Ms. Jenkins, the elderly widow who lived across the street from me in New Jersey, come out of a gift shop one Thursday afternoon. I’d been inside a bookstore next door and was certain Ms. Jenkins hadn’t seen me, but I still took the long way home and told Mark. Three hours later, we were in the car on the way to our next lives.
And I hadn’t known Ms. Jenkins nearly as well as I knew Jason.
A crease appeared in between his eyebrows. He opened his mouth slightly then closed it, all while searching my face.
The contacts! I prayed the brown would be enough to throw him off. But when his gaze dropped to the left side of my neck, I knew I was in trouble. Mark’s voice sounded in my head, as clear as if he was standing right next to me: Lesson number six: take control of the situation.
I shifted my hair to cover the faint pink scar on the side of my neck—the only proof I’d once had a large dark brown mole there—and stood. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I grabbed my schedule with one hand and took hold of Jason’s outstretched hand with the other, helping him up. “I’m Sloane, but you already know that.” I nodded at my schedule.
The crease in between his eyebrows deepened. “Jason,” he replied, still holding my hand.
I wanted to laugh at the deepness of his voice as I took in the rest of him. What happened to the scrawny twelve-year-old I left behind? Sure, his eyes were the same. And his black hair was still disheveled, only now it was tousled in a bed-head kind of way that could only be described as sexy. Which pretty much described the rest of him too. He’d filled out and grown super tall and it made my stomach flip as all the ways I’d changed from my twelve-year-old self ran through my head.
A husky voice interrupted the silence hanging between us. “Well, hel-lo.”
I yanked my hand out of Jason’s. A tall, slender guy with deep red hair was leaning against the lockers right next to me, holding a football. He inclined his head toward me and smiled. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”
I glanced from the boy to Jason and back again. “Um...”
A petite girl with olive skin materialized in between the boys. “Ignore him,” she told me, shaking her head at Mr. Love-at-First-Sight. “He tries his lines out on every female he sees.” She had shoulder-length, wavy dark brown hair with long bangs that swept across her forehead, partially covering one of her brown eyes. She turned to Jason and whacked him on the chest. “Babe! You practically mowed this poor girl down. How many times have I told you two playing football in the halls was going to end in bodily injury?”
Babe?
The girl turned back to me. “I’m Livie.” She paused, peeking at the guys on either side of her, then sighed. “And if these two Neanderthals haven’t properly introduced themselves yet, this is Sawyer—” she pointed to the pale redhead “—and this is my boyfriend, Jason.” She wrapped her hands around Jason’s arm.
The movement seemed to snap Jason out of his daze. “Oh, sorry, guys. This is Sloane.” He gestured toward me.
I gave them the look of self-deprecation I’d perfected from constantly being the new girl. “You know, I expected to embarrass myself on my first day but I had no idea it was going to happen so quickly.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Livie insisted. “It’s these two who should be embarrassed.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of blue against a red background. Something twisted in my chest as I remembered the flash I thought I’d seen the night before outside the school. I turned my head, half expecting to see another brick wall.
Sawyer was on one knee in front of the row of red lockers, his blue shirt still fluttering from his sudden movement. I shook my head. Of course there isn’t a brick wall.
Sawyer gazed up at me, batting his eyelashes. “I, dear Sloane, offer my humblest of apologizes for causing you embarrassment by using my considerable strength to throw this football farther than Jason expected, making him run to catch it and crash into you. I promise to find a way to make up for my superhero-like muscles.”
I glanced around. Most of the crowd that had stopped to watch the aftermath of my collision with Jason had moved on, but several girls were still hovering, giggling at Sawyer’s spectacle. I tugged on his arm. “You can start by getting up,” I hissed.
Livie helped pull Sawyer to his feet. “She’s trying not to draw more attention to herself, genius.”
Sawyer grinned at me, totally not sorry for making a scene, then leaned toward Jason. “Bet you can’t top that apology.”
Jason didn’t respond. He was still studying me, head tilted to one side.
My eyes locked on Jason’s and my pulse raced, pounding a rhythm in my head that sounded suspiciously like it’s not working. I knew what I had to do.
I peered around Jason at the door to the girls’ bathroom, barely visible down the hall. Thanks to my recon mission the night before (and lesson number two: notice every possible exit), I knew that bathroom had a window large enough to climb out of. I’d simply politely extract myself from the conversation, go into the bathroom and vanish without a trace. I’d be a new person in a new state by morning.
It wasn’t a choice, it was a rule. And for good reason. Even though I couldn’t remember what I saw the day I entered WITSEC—a little online research at a public library one day when no one else was around told me I’d probably repressed the memories—I’d always known being discovered wouldn’t be a good thing. The creepy flashes I got whenever it felt like someone was watching me. The way my dad and Mark had always refused to discuss what happened in front of me, whispering about my dad’s testimony in hushed tones. How Mark once told me he never wanted me to remember. Disappearing was the safest thing to do.
I inched away from Jason, eyes on the bathroom, preparing to make my escape.
“Wait!” Livie blurted, pulling my attention back to the group. She dug in her bag, pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper, and glanced at it before grinning at me. “You’re Sloane Sullivan.”
What is it with everyone here knowing my name?
Livie bounced a little on her toes. “I’m your First Day Buddy.”
“My what?”
“You know, someone who shows you around on your first day, makes sure you don’t eat the fish sandwich in the cafeteria, answers any questions that pop up. You have physics first period, right?”
No. No, no, no. I nod.
“Mrs. Zalinsky came into class yesterday and asked for a volunteer—” Livie looked pointedly at Sawyer “—which some people rolled their eyes at.”
“If I had known it was going to be a cute girl, I would’ve volunteered first,” he grumbled. “Superheroes make great First Day Buddies.”
Livie turned to me and lowered her voice. “Then it’s lucky you got me.”
I knew I shouldn’t have trusted Mrs. Zalinsky. “You don’t really have to do anything. I have a map. I’ll be fine. And I’ll totally tell everyone you did a great job.”
“You might not need me, but I need you,” Livie insisted. “Mr. Pruitt offered extra credit for volunteering, and I need all the help I can get in that class. And he always knows when someone’s cheating, right, Jason?”
Jason nodded, his eyes slow to leave me and find Livie.
“Hey,” Livie said, focusing on him. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Jason said with a slight chuckle. “I was momentarily horrified imagining Sawyer in a superhero costume.”
“Shut up,” Sawyer muttered, his cheeks turning pink.
Jason smirked and my breath caught in my throat.
The girl I’d been before WITSEC had faded from my memory quickly, buried beneath new girl after new girl. But Jason’s smirk—that same irritatingly cute little smile he’d worn when we were kids—was like magic, breaking through the layers and shaking off the dirt on a hundred different memories at once. On all the times I’d been the one to sneak out and come up with ridiculous adventures for us, and he’d try to shoot them down even though he was just as excited as I was. A tiny piece of the girl I used to be, the girl who made up her own rules, sparked to life somewhere deep inside me and the craziest question popped into my head: Could I stay?
Livie grabbed my hand and pulled me closer, as if protecting me from Sawyer. “Don’t worry,” she fake whispered. “There are plenty of cute guys in this school to help erase the mental image of Sawyer in superhero spandex.”
I gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. Superhero Sawyer has a nice ring to it.”
Sawyer grinned and Jason rolled his eyes and my mind kicked into overdrive.
Everything was riding on making it through this placement without a hitch. The alternative, not lasting only nine weeks in such a large school, hadn’t seemed possible before today. I’d taken the SAT and filled out college applications as Sloane Sullivan months ago, before I even became Sloane Sullivan. I’d used a fake transcript painstakingly created from classes I’d actually taken, with grades I’d actually received, because I was tired of working hard for good grades that became pointless every time I became someone new. I was determined to get into college on my merit, like a normal person would. Well, as normally as I possibly could anyway.
And if we left North Carolina now, all my planning would be for nothing. Because Sloane Sullivan wouldn’t exist anymore. I’d have to reapply as the girl I became next, and all the application deadlines had passed. Which meant I’d have to wait another year to apply to college. Another year to get out of WITSEC. Another year to start my life.
I couldn’t wait another year.
Besides, disappearing had been the safest thing to do when there was no end in sight. When the threat of someone coming after me was more real. Now things were different. Thanks to the confession, the threat was basically nonexistent. And I was just a few weeks shy of getting out anyway. All I had to do was turn eighteen, graduate and have college lined up and ready to go. Those were Mark’s conditions, and I was so close. Too close to let it all slip away by following the rules this time.
Livie groaned and released my hand to shove Sawyer gently into the bank of lockers. “There is no such thing as a ‘superhuman ability to attract hotties.’”
Jason glanced at me, one eyebrow raised and eyes sparkling. Even though I knew it was only his amusement at Sawyer’s made-up superpower, it looked almost like a challenge. And just like that, my mind was made up. I was going to stay. I was going to convince Jason I wasn’t the girl who used to live next door. I was going to get out of WITSEC on time.
No matter what.
Three
I surveyed the cafeteria. Hundreds of voices floated through the air, wrapping around me like a cocoon. This was normally the part of my first day where I’d hang back and observe so I could find the perfect group to join: the one not too big and not too small; not overly popular, but not outsiders; not so involved in school activities as to draw attention to themselves, yet not so anti-school they stood out. Then I’d emerge from my cocoon as the girl I was going to be. The type of girl that, no matter who she was, would steer clear of anyone who looked at her with even the tiniest hint of familiarity. But this time was different.
This time I had a First Day Buddy who swore eating lunch together was a nonnegotiable part of the First Day Buddy contract. Which meant this time I’d be sitting with the only person in almost six years who knew the real me.
I eyed the table of artsy-looking kids across the room and sighed. They were laughing and teasing each other, saying hello to people walking by yet ignoring the attempts of the table of guys beside them to engage in some sort of food fight. I’d been artsy before, I could do it again. And sitting with them—acting like I not only didn’t know Jason, but had no desire to get to know him—was the safest way to convince him I wasn’t the girl he possibly remembered, the girl he’d grown up with. Instead, I was about to have lunch with him.
I took a deep breath. It was just one lunch, just one first day to get through, then I could get back to my plan of lying low. You can do this. But first, I needed something to eat.
I grabbed a tray and followed the familiar scent of cafeteria food to the open area at the back of the room where lunch ladies with hairnets were serving the day’s options. The pizza looked surprisingly good, but it had a line at least fifty people deep. My stomach rumbled, protesting the wait. I went to the other end of the counter and thanked the lunch lady for a plate of what appeared to be roasted chicken, salad and a glop of orange mush. I wrinkled my nose.
Someone chuckled. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Startled, I turned to find the tall a cappella guy standing next to me. I stared for a second, mesmerized by his piercing green eyes. Then I quickly peered back at the orange goop. “What is it?”
“Mashed sweet potatoes.”
I wrinkled my nose again.
He laughed, flashing two dimples. “I’m glad I came over. Now I have something else to call you.”
I tilted my head in confusion.
“I’ve been referring to you as New Girl in my head all morning,” he clarified. “But now I can add Hater of Sweet Potatoes to the list.”
“Ah.” I took a step closer to him to avoid the line forming for the chicken, glancing around at the same time. No one seemed to be paying any attention to us. “And what should I call you?” I pointed at his empty hands. “Disrespecter of Lunch Trays?”
He grinned. “I already bought my lunch. I came over just to talk to you.”
A wave of apprehension flowed through me. This better not be some kind of prank on the new girl.
