When Tomorrow Starts Without me Page 16

  I frown. "My past is a big mystery. I can't remember, have I told you anything about it?"

  "You were adopted, right?"

  "When I was three. I have this one dream, but I don't know if it's real. I was only two or three, so it could just be nothing."

  She moves even closer, her eyes growing wider. "The same dream?"

  "Yeah, but lately I've been remembering more. Or at least the dream is expanding—if it has any basis in reality."

  "Do you think it does?"

  I shrug. "I don't know."

  "I didn't ask if you know. What do you feel?"

  Like a fool. The dream is probably more fantasy than reality. If my past was filled with loving parents and being on a TV show, how on earth did I end up with my parents? Liz and Theo? I shudder.

  "You don't even know how you feel?" Sutton frowns. Her eyes are full of pity.

  I hate pity.

  But she probably means nothing bad by it. How could she feel anything else toward me? I'm the person who she donated her clothes to because I had none of my own. In fact, without her family, I'd be homeless. Actually, without her brother, I'd be dead.

  And nobody would care. My funeral would've been a celebration.

  Tears blur my vision.

  I'm so sick of crying! I'm not weak. I'm not pitiful. I've just been handed one of the worst bunch of cards life can give a person.

  I jump from the couch and run out of the room. I don't know where I'm going but I have to think. Why does my mind have to give me these stupid dreams? I need to just accept that there is no TV show. No two-colored-eye dad. Only my adoptive dad who can't stand me.

  That is my past. I can't do anything about it, but I can change my future. I'm not entirely sure how, but at least I've found some people who actually care. That's something. It's more than I've had before. Theo's in jail. Liz and my dad have no interest in seeing me again.

  I have the opportunity to recreate myself. To become anything I want. Maybe I can do something to help the band.

  Sutton grabs my shoulder, stopping me in the hall. "Where are you going?"

  I spin around. "To my room. I need to think."

  "Wouldn't you rather talk?"

  "Talk?"

  "It's better than thinking. We can bounce ideas off each other. I have lots of ideas."

  I draw in a deep breath. She probably wants to be my friend, and friends talk, right?

  She frowns.

  If I don't say yes, I'm going to hurt her feelings. But at the same time, I don't want to talk at all.

  "Can I get a shower first? I feel gross."

  Her eyes light up. "Sure! We can walk around the lake. I like going there when I need to think. I'll be in the living room."

  "Thanks." Relief washes through me. I can figure out what to tell her while I'm getting ready.

  "Anytime." She smiles and flounces down the hallway.

  In my room, I close and lock the door behind me. My mind is racing. As much as I try to push the dream from my mind, it won't leave. I can't forget the smiling face of the man with two different-colored eyes. And I swear I can smell his aftershave.

  I lean against the door and close my eyes. The memories—no, the dream—only grows stronger.

  Why won't it leave me alone?

  Even if it is real, which it isn't, I don't want to think about it. How can it help me? Those days are over. Gone. Never to come back again.

  The rest of my life has changed any good that could've ever come from the past. My real mom and dad are dead. If that guy is my dad, he's gone. He can't help me. They can't do a single thing for me. Not now.

  Tears sting my eyes again.

  "I really do hate you," I say to the tears. If only I could just decide to quit crying. I went so long without, but now that I'm away from all the stress and abuse, I just can't help it.

  I open my eyes and glance around the room. My gaze lands on the bags that Rogan saved for me. The only remnants of my life. All in two bags.

  I've ignored them as much as possible. Now I'm drawn to them. Maybe if I go through the items, it'll help me to push aside my dumb dreams. I haven't been on TV. Crowds didn't love me.

  Nobody has. Not until Rogan came crashing into my life.

  That's my reality, and once I embrace it, my dreams will stop tormenting me.

  I dump the contents of the two bags onto the bed. The enormous bed makes my few belongings seem even more sparse. I shove aside the few articles of clothing and study the rest. A small picture album. Some trinkets. A few notes from friends in my younger years.

  A necklace.

  My pulse races as I pick up the heart-shaped charm with different colored stones.

  Kenna

  Pretty stone." Sutton squints as she studies it.

  I hope she doesn't ask about it, because I don't know what to say. Did I dream about it because I actually had it before I was adopted? Or did it slip into my dream because it was something from my real life, simply inserted into a false memory?

  "Thanks." I clear my throat.

  "It reminds me of something." Sutton twists her mouth, looking deep in thought. "But I can't place what. Maybe I'll think of it later."

  "Maybe." Could she have seen the show if I was really in it?

  "Come on, the lake's just on the other side of the trees."

  I follow her through the perfect backyard, afraid our steps will ruin the grass, but it bounces right back into place, so unlike the brown, too-long splotchy lawn at my old house.

  We duck into a shaded area, the large evergreens casting a cooling break from the sun. Just the small trek across the yard already has me breaking out in a sweat. I'm going to need another shower after a walk around the lake.

  The full lake comes into view, and I stop at the edge of the shade to take in its beauty. It's clear and bright with the sun reflecting against the middle. The surface is so calm it looks like glass until an eagle swoops down and picks up a fish with its beak.

  Sutton grabs my arm. "An eagle! Look at those wings."

  It flies away, its enormous wings rippling the water.

  "They don't usually come here?"

  She shakes her head. "Not in the last few years."

  "I've never seen one so close. It's so…" I search for the right word.

  "Majestic?" she offers.

  I nod, then realize I'm playing with the necklace again.

  She turns to me. "You must be good luck."

  "Me?" I hold back a laugh.

  "Yeah. You show up, and the eagles make a comeback." She pulls me back out into the sun.

  I almost protest, wanting to stay in the shade, but knowing how much she wants to walk around the water, I hold my tongue.

  We step on more nice grass until we come to dirt, then sand.

  A boy and a girl play at the water's edge, squealing and splashing each other while someone about our age taps her thumbs furiously on her phone's screen.

  Sutton and I pass them in silence, unnoticed. Sand gets into my sandals, sticking between my toes. The sun beats down, but it feels good rather than oppressive.

  Once the kids are out of sight, Sutton turns to me again. This time her expression is serious, maybe a little sad. "What was your life like? You know, before you moved in with us."

  My stomach twists. So much for the tranquility from being outdoors.

  "I don't mean to pry," she says quickly. "I'm just curious what would happen to leave someone without anything. And you're so nice. I can usually figure people out, but you've got me stumped."

  My body relaxes. "I just… well, basically, my family sucks."

  Sutton arches a brow. "Doesn't everyone's?"

  "Not yours."

  "We have our moments, believe me. And you should see the dynamics change the moment Mom and Dad are in the same room." She sighs. "Dad thinks he's better than everyone else, and it takes him no time to get Mom upset. Then they're fighting, and Rogan jumps in, defending her. I get frustrated and tell them all to stop. It
's a mess."

  "Divorce definitely sucks."

  "Yeah, it does. I don't know why they ever got married. Trying to imagine them in love is like trying to imagine… I don't know. But it's impossible." She frowns. "Your parents divorced?"

  "My adoptive parents are."

  "Wow. You were adopted, just to end up in a broken family?"

  I stare at the lake, which is like glass again. "Pretty much."

  "What happened to your real parents? If you don't mind me asking."

  "It's fine." I draw in a deep breath to stall. "I don't know anything about them. That's what I'm trying to figure out now that I'm away from home. Actually, that's not entirely true. I know they died overseas."

  Sutton's eyes widen and her mouth curves down. "You can't ever meet them? That's so sad, especially since you don't want to be around your other family."

  "It is what it is. I'm hoping to find some of their friends and maybe find out some more about them. But either way, I'm on my own and have to figure out what to do with my life."

  "I can't even imagine." She throws her arms around me, startling me. "If you need anything, just let me know. I can talk for hours on end, and listen too."

  "Thanks, but your family has already given me so much."

  She pulls back. "And we can give you more."

  I glance away, anger bubbling inside of me as I think about my family. Part of me wants to tell her everything. It helped so much when I told Rogan about it. Maybe the more I talk about it, the less of a hold it'll have on me. "I wouldn't mind talking."

  Sutton fans herself. "It's getting hot out in the sun. Do you want to sit under that tree over there?" She points to a weeping willow.

  It seems fitting, so I nod. We amble toward it in silence as my mind races, trying to figure out where to start. Before we get there, she stops and stares at the water and shudders.

  "What is it?" I don't see anything unusual.

  Sutton wraps her arms around herself. "This is the deep part of the lake. Some kids have drowned here." She clears her throat. "It's rumored that one girl did it on purpose. Her parents were pressuring her to go to a school she didn't want to right after they forced her to break up with her boyfriend."

  "Oh." Is she trying to get me to talk about my own attempt? Or is it just a coincidence?

  Sutton sighs. "I think there was more going on, but I didn't really know her well." She clears her throat and holds her head high. "Well, let's get over to the tree. It's hot out here."

  We make our way to the weeping willow. Sutton leans against the tree and stretches out her legs. I sit next to her, but pull my knees to my chest.

  We sit quietly, but I know she's waiting for me to start talking. I'm so bad at this friend thing. Growing up, I always feared any friends would figure out what was going on at home. It wasn't something I wanted to risk. But now that it's in my past—barely—it feels safer to talk about. It's not something I'm allowing to happen any longer.

  Sutton takes off her sandals and empties the sand from them. "At first, when my parents announced the divorce, I was so pissed. But then when I realized it meant so much of the fighting was over, it was actually a relief. I hate living with Dad's negativity. He can take a perfectly good situation and ruin it, either by pointing out some itty-bitty thing that's wrong or by chewing someone out over something that has nothing to do with anything. He's not happy unless he's putting someone in his place." Her nostrils flare.

  "I know all about that. Does he drink too?"

  She shakes her head. "He won't touch the stuff. He's so obsessed with work he won't do anything to risk his career—including spending time with the family. The jerk has never been to any of my performances. There's always some stupid work thing that's more important."

  "Does your mom go to those, at least?"

  "Yeah, she doesn't miss one ever. I guess she's trying to make up for him."

  "Or maybe she just cares."

  "Maybe."

  Silence settles over us again. I think about my family. They're horrible, but it helps to know I'm not alone. Even though Sutton and I have very different lives, she's been through her own hardships as well.

  I suppose that no matter how people's lives appear, everyone has their own heartaches. Maybe that's even what makes some of them lash out.

  Sutton puts her hand on top of mine. "What was it like when your parents divorced?"

  A lump forms in my throat. "She just left. Drove away, and never returned."

  "Without you?"

  I nod. "I ran out to stop her, but was too late. I was little, so I had no way of understanding that I couldn't have stopped her."

  "Oh my gosh. That's horrible. Who does that?"

  "She wanted to get away from my dad. I can't blame her for that. Merle's a monster."

  "Yeah, but to leave you behind? Her little kid?"

  "We probably never bonded like she wanted. Or maybe my dad threatened her if she took me. I don't know. He's never acted like he wants me around, but I could see him keeping me just to spite her. He loves making people miserable."

  Sutton balls her fists. "Why are guys like that?"

  "Not all of them. Rogan isn't."

  "A lot of guys are just jerks. They think they can control women. They think they're better than us because they can pee standing up."

  I study her. "What makes you think that's a common trait?"

  Her expression tenses. "Promise not to tell Rogan?"

  "Of course."

  "Or my mom."

  "I swear."

  Sutton leans against the tree and plays with a curl. "I had a boyfriend earlier this year, and he was like that. Ordering me around and crap like that. I should've just smacked his ugly face and dumped his butt the first time he told me what to do, but I didn't."

  "Why didn't you?"

  She sighs and frowns. "He caught me off guard. I was totally shocked, and convinced myself I was misreading him. Then he did it again, but he was even more forceful. I'd already given in once, so it was like he had more power. I stood up to him, but he got in my face and demanded that I do what he wanted."

  "What was it?"

  "He wanted me to blow off my friends and hang out with him. Before I knew it, I was spending all my time with him and none with my girls. They were pissed at me, but I felt like I couldn't do anything about it." She stares at the water. "It sounds stupid."

  "No, it doesn't."

  She turns to me. "You've had a boyfriend like that?"

  "My dad and brother."

  Sutton tilts her head.

  I spill the whole story, leaving out only the gross details after Theo came into my room nearly every night.

  Her eyes widen more and more as the story progresses. She covers her mouth and tears shine in her eyes.

  When I finally finish the story, she throws her arms around me.

  I finally have a real friend.

  Rogan

  A slight breeze ruffles my hair. I move it back into place without taking my attention from my phone. I'm certain I've found Kenna's adoptive mom. Scrolling through her profile, there are several mentions of an ex, and the woman has enough mutual friends with Kenna's dad that I'm convinced.

  I just want proof before I contact her. So far, there isn't any mention of Kenna's dad's name, or any pictures of them together. Not posted by her or any of their mutual friends.

  "Hey, Rogan."

  I nearly drop my phone. Emily from across the street is in front of me, a hand on her hip. "Uh, hi."

  She glances at the seat I carved out of an old stump one summer before I was driving. "Can I have a seat?"

  If she sits, our sides will be pressed against each other.

  "I'm kind of busy." I glance back at my screen, hoping she'll take the clue.

  Emily steps closer. "Who's that girl I keep seeing you with? A relative?"

  I turn off my phone's screen and set it next to me. "My girlfriend."

  She blinks quickly several times. "You have a girlfr
iend?"

  "Is that surprising?" I rake my fingers through my hair, pulling some behind my ear, and hold her gaze.

  "Well, I… I'm not saying that. It's just you don't usually have one."

  "Your point?" I lean forward, drawing my eyebrows together.

  "Never mind." She spins around and storms toward her house across the street.

  With any luck, she'll leave me alone. But honestly, I can't see that happening. She's been flirting with me for years—ever since around the time I was in my first band. I just pretend not to notice her efforts.

  Once she's out of sight, I pick up my phone and continue scrolling through Caroline M. Fargo's profile. Does the 'M' stand for Mitchell?

  Finally, I come to a picture that offers the proof I'm looking for. Someone a couple years ago tagged her in a Throwback Thursday post. It's a fuzzy picture of a much younger Caroline and Merle kissing under a mistletoe.

  Merle hadn't been tagged in the post, and there were fifty-three comments about the picture, mostly dissing on him. And the third-to-last referred to him as her ex.

  "Gotcha!" All my searching and scrolling had been worth it. Caroline M. Fargo is definitely Kenna's adoptive mom.

  Now for the tricky part. Getting her to agree to meet with us. I don't want to tell Kenna about the find unless she agrees to talk with us. It would crush me to hurt her further.

  My pulse races through me as I consider my wording. I have to be careful, or I could scare her away. She obviously can't stand Merle, so I decide to use that angle.

  I send her a friend request so she'll see my message, unless she rejects the request before I send my note. I need to be quick.

  Me: Hey, I have a question about that dill weed Merle.

  I press send and take a deep breath. Caroline posts like twenty memes a day—that's why it took me so long to finally find that picture of her with Merle—so it probably won't be long before she sees the message. She posts so much, she clearly lives on the site.

  My phone dings with an alert.

  Has she already responded?

  She has!

  Caroline: What do you want to know about that piece of trash?

  She hasn't accepted my friend request, but she's interacting!