Page 46 of Secrets in Salem: Part One

The handsome man smiles somewhat sheepishly, nods, and turns to leave. He signs something with his hands that I don't understand, and I decide there and then that I'm going to learn sign language so I don't have that particular language barrier hindering my need to understand him.

When all I do is look at Micah with a confused grimace, he huffs a soundless laugh, shaking his head, and walks out of the room. Well, okay then.

Alone at last, I lift my cell and dial my mother's number. It rings. And rings. The irritating sound goes on until I reach her voicemail. Sighing deeply as a tinge of worry sinks into my chest, I begin to speak after the tone beeps. "Hey, Mom. It's me. Please call me when you get this. You've up and disappeared on me, and I'm worried. I want to know you're alright. So, uh, yeah. Just call when you can. Love you."

I hang up, looking at my phone dejectedly. Staring at the screen for longer than any person should, I feel the hope I'd been building up slowly vanish until I'm left bereft. I don't even know why I thought she'd call straight away. She hasn't bothered calling since disappearing, so it shouldn't be a surprise. I just wish she would let me know she's alright so I don’t have to worry so much on top of everything else I'm currently going through.

Shaking my head, I dial the next number on my list, waiting for my best friend to answer.

"Where the fuck have you been, bitch tits?" are the first words to leave Adam's mouth the minute the call connects.

His greeting takes a minute to sink into my slow brain, but when it does, I can do nothing but laugh. It's not a cute chuckle or one of those feminine girly laughs. Oh, no. I wheeze out such loud guffaws that my body almost folds in on itself with the force. It only serves to set Adam off, his laughter pouring from the other end of the phone.

I have no idea how long it takes for our combined chuckles to taper off, but Aleric pokes his head in once and offers a funny look before slowly backing away with twitching lips. Heaving out a spent sigh, I tell my best friend, "You have no idea how badly I needed that, so thank you."

"Sure. Don't think I've heard you laugh like that since a few years back when I fell in that puddle that was a lot deeper than we thought," he answers, snickering under his breath.

Snorting, I smother the new laughter that rises and shake my head. "That was funny. Your dad didn't think so when you dragged water all through the house just after he cleaned the floor."

"True story," Adam concurs. "But seriously, where the hell have you been, Lowlita? I haven't heard from you since my failed fishing trip."

Biting my lip, I deliberate whether I should tell Adam everything that's happened since the coffee shop. But what could I possibly tell him that would make me sound sane? Nothing springs to mind. Not to mention I don't actually know the whole story myself. I'm almost just as in the dark as my best friend, so there isn't really much I can tell him.

Settling on less is more as the best policy for now, I explain, "I'm sorry. I've been busy at the studio, and I lost my phone for a little while, too. I'm only just getting to my messages and missed calls."

Guilt niggles beneath my ribcage with the white lies. He knows everything about me, just like I know all there is about him, so keeping this pretty big secret isn't sitting well with me at all. It makes me feel like a god awful friend, but I know that it will be better to have all of the information before dragging my best friend into the hellish nightmare. I'll tell him everything once I know how deep this shit show runs.

"Ah. That would explain it. What new masterpiece have you created?" Adam questions.

I pull a face he can't see, remembering the terrifying thing my ink portrait became just before the fire erupted. "Uh, just a couple of paintings. They need some work, though, so I'll probably be a little busy for the next couple of days."

"Are you still going out of town on Saturday?" Adam asks, the reluctance in his words easy to hear through the speaker. Though Adam won't tell me out loud, he thinks searching for my biological parents is a waste of time. He thinks I should leave the past where it is and move on, happy that I have my mom by my side. What he doesn't understand is the burning need to know where I come from and who created me. After his mother left him and his dad when Adam was just a baby, he's had a strong resentment toward mothers who abandon their children. In his mind, I'm sure he thinks I'm better leaving my bio parents behind me like they did me.

Inmymind? I don’t know. There’s just this desperate need to know my heritage, my ancestors. I just want to know where I come from,whoI come from. It’s been a driving force ever since I can remember, and I doubt it will go away until I finally learn everything there is to learn.

Clearing my throat, I answer, "Yeah. Heading out around lunchtime."

"Okay, cool," he answers a little stiffly. There's a pregnant pause followed by a deep sigh before he finally tells me what's on his mind. "Look, Low, I know you want to go on this whole self-discovery thing, but just promise me something, okay?"

I open my mouth, pausing before I reply. "What is it?"

Adam waits a beat before gently requesting, "Just don't be disappointed if nothing comes up, alright? I don't want to see you hurt or upset, so try not to get your hopes up. I know what it's like to have them shattered, and I don't want that to happen to you."

And this is why the guy is my best friend. His heart is as big as his hair, though he won't let it show often. Just that little bit is enough to confirm how much he cares about me.

With a soft smile on my face, I make my promise. "I won't get my hopes up. I'm pretty sure I'll come to a dead end, anyway."

"Okay, good," he responds with an audible breath of relief. A loud bang echoes through the phone before he can say more, causing Adam to squeak and my cell to jolt in my hand. With his voice an octave higher than normal, he quickly spouts off, "Anyway, I need to go. I locked my dad in the bathroom because he took the last Pop Tart, and it sounds like he's going to break the door down to deliver the payback he's been threatening me with for the last ten minutes."

Snickering, I question, "How the hell did you lock him in the bathroom?"

Clearing his throat, he explains hurriedly, "I unscrewed the door handle, and now he can't get out."

Another bang, this one louder than before, reaches my eardrums, and I snicker that much more.

"Got to go, glitter dick! Call you tomorrow!"

"Later, sprinkle tits!" I call just before the line goes dead. I'm left smiling at my cell, happy in knowing that at least one person I love picked up their phone and spoke to me no matter how briefly.

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