Page 12 of For Emery

“You need to get everything you want to take with you in the car in the next ten minutes.”

My heart leaped to my throat. “What do you mean? Where are we going?” I hurried inside, following her as she frantically grabbed various items from around our small home and piled them on the kitchen table.

“We’ll figure that out later. Right now, I need you to get anything important to you and get it in the car.”

My heart began to bang. “I need to see Jordan.”

She grabbed me by the arm and looked me in the eyes. “There’s no time if we’re getting out of here.”

“But I need to see him. I need to explain.”

“Emery, please don’t do this to me right now. Get what you need and get in the car. If Wayne comes back, I may not have the nerve to do this again.”

I ran down the hall to my room, my pulse pounding in my ears. I would grab my clothes and pictures of Jordan and me—the only things I really cared about—and still have time to run over to see him. Yup, that’s what I’d do.

I threw open my closet door and grabbed my backpack and suitcase from the floor. I pulled all my clothes out of the closet with hangers still intact and stuffed them into the suitcase. I left Jordan’s shirt on and pulled on some shorts before sweeping all the framed pictures off my dresser and packed them into my backpack. I yanked open drawers and emptied the contents into both my backpack and suitcase. I scanned my room, pulling a stuffed panda off my bed. Jordan had won it for me at a carnival on my ninth birthday. It meant the world to me.

I stuffed it in my backpack and tossed it onto my back. I attempted to close my overstuffed suitcase by sitting on it, but it wouldn’t close. I picked it up and carried it half open to the car. I shoved it into the backseat and dropped my backpack on top of it. I spun away from the car toward Jordan’s house. I made it three steps before my mother called me.

“Emery. Hurry. I need your help.”

My eyes jumped between Jordan’s house and my own. With a discouraged huff, I jogged back inside. My mother had piles of things stacked on the kitchen table for me to carry out to the car. It took eight trips to get everything packed. Once I stuffed the final pile into the trunk, my mother jogged outside and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Let’s go,” she said.

I looked to Jordan’s house. His bedroom light was on. Was he waiting for me to come back?

“Get in,” she yell-whispered.

And because I loved my mother for finally freeing us from the abuse we’d endured for far too long, I slipped into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut.

As soon as we’d reversed out of the driveway and the house we’d lived in for the past six years became nothing but a blur, I pulled out my phone to text Jordan.

My mother reached over and grabbed it. “No. No one can know we left yet. We need time to get out of town before he finds out.”

“Jordan won’t tell anyone.”

“I said no.”

I felt the tears well up, but I couldn’t cry. I had to stay strong. But how could I in some other town without Jordan by my side?

Grady

I pulled my truck into the driveway after a grueling football game the following night. I glanced to Emery’s house wondering where the hell she’d disappeared to. Since my mom broke up our make-out session, I hadn’t seen or heard from her. It wasn’t like her to go silent. What was worse was she’d never missed one of my games before. She always sat front and center. Was she embarrassed about my mom finding us? Embarrassed about asking me to kiss her?

I switched off my ignition and grabbed my phone from the passenger seat. Still no calls or texts from her. This shit stopped now. I pressed Emery’s name and dialed her up. I lifted the phone to my ear. It didn’t ring. An operator’s voice informed me the phone was no longer in service. I checked the screen. I’d definitely called Emery. I tried texting her to come outside, but the text went undelivered.

My heartbeat quickened. What the hell was going on? I hopped out of my truck and hurried over to Emery’s house. I rarely visited there. I never had a reason to since she always came to mine. But as I climbed the front steps of her rickety porch and pulled open the screen door, fear spread over me. I hadn’t thought anything was seriously wrong until that moment. Had he finally laid a hand on her? Or worse?

I pounded on the door, pausing to listen for her footsteps to approach.

I’d kill him. I’d seriously kill him.

I pounded again.

Still there was no movement inside.

I jogged down the steps and rounded the house, moving to the side door and peering inside the door’s window pane.

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