Page 75 of You Had Me at Hello World
“No, that won’t help,” she says. “He’ll just play nice when they drop by to do a wellness check, then take it out on your mom. You know how it goes.”
She’s right. I do know how it goes, because that’s how it has always gone in the past.
The answer is obvious. I have to be the one to save her. I can’t be here, safe and happy in this cushy camp thousands of miles away, while my mother is caught beneath the thumb of a monster. I’ve been lying to myself all summer. But I can’t run from the truth any longer.
I thank Olive for letting me know, then end the call.
Khoi is staring at me. “What’s happening?”
My body feels taut, wired with energy. Quickly I explain thesitch while my brain kicks into overdrive. I’m not sure if I can scrape together enough money to buy a last-minute flight back to Portland. And let’s say I can orchestrate a jailbreak. I don’t know where we’ll go after that. Maybe I should google women’s shelters in Oregon.
“I’ll buy the flights,” Khoi says. “We’ll bring her back here. She can sleep in Aisha’s old bed until you figure out what to do next.”
His expression is so sincere it makes my heart hurt.
“Khoi. This is too much. I can’t accept this.”
“I’ll come with you,” he adds.
“No, don’t,” I say. “I can go by myself. You should stay here, work on Hello World.” The submission deadline is this Friday, two days from now.
“Char, if this is about your stepdad—the one who gave you those bruises—then I think, for your safety, I should come with you.” He takes my hands into his own. “You know I don’t care about the money, right?”
But it’s not about the money.
I don’t want him to come to Chinook Shore. I don’t want him to see the fist-sized hole in our living room wall, the empty beer cans littered on our kitchen counter, the overgrown weeds strangling a lawn nobody has bothered to maintain. I don’t want him to see all the ugliness, all the shame.
Khoi and I can be together in this sparkling, hopeful place where everyone expects their future to be bubblegum pink. I don’t know if we can be together elsewhere.
If he sees who I really am, and the horrible place I come from, he won’t want to be with me anymore. He’ll run away. I wouldn’t even blame him.
But his expression is stony, determined. I can’t fight him on this. And I can’t afford to dawdle. I have to rescue Mom. Even if it means losing Khoi.
“Fine,” I say. “Let’s get on the next plane to Portland.”
About nine hours later, Olive is waiting at Arrivals. She’s driving Drew’s dad’s girlfriend’s car—the same one that I used to kiss Drew in. It still has that same melted-crayon smell. I buckle myself into the passenger seat and ignore the torn condom wrapper in the cup holder. Khoi slides into the back.
“Hey, I think you might have a moth infestation,” he says suddenly. “There’s a little hole in this seat.”
“That’s a cigarette burn.” My stepsister glances at him through the rearview mirror. “I’m Olive. Are you Char’s boyfriend?”
He blushes. “Um, uh, I, we, uh—”
“We’re figuring it out,” I say.
“Okaaaaay.” She turns her attention to the road. That’s one great thing about Olive. She knows when to stop asking questions.
As we cruise down the freeway, Khoi tries to keep the convo alive. He exhausts all the usual small-talk topics: the weather, summer plans, college apps. Olive gives nothing but clipped,one-word answers, which doesn’t deter him from firing off yet more questions. I have to respect the guy for trying, but like, c’mon. Read the room. Or the car, I guess.
After Khoi asks for her favorite math theorem, she’s had it. Instead of answering, she cuts her eyes to me. “Does your mom know that you’re coming?”
“Uh. No… I was scared to text. She wouldn’t pick up any of my calls.” I know Michael has full access to her phone. That never struck me as weird or controlling until recently. I wonder what other glaring red flags I missed.
She purses her lips. “Then what’s the plan?”
Step 1: Distract Michael.
This is Khoi’s role, since my stepfather won’t recognize him. He suggests setting off firecrackers to lure Michael out of the house, but both Olive and I veto that idea. “He might come after you with a shotgun,” I say.
