Prologue

I

A Mistake or Typo or Something

A WHILE AGO

(Leith)

"Keith?"

"Leith," I said for the fifteenth time.

"Thought it was a mistake. A typo or something."

The burly looking police officer looked into his rear-view mirror at me.

I just sat there, my hands on my legs like I promised I would do and like I promised I would stay.

Although it would have been kind of cool to actually be put into handcuffs. I'd have one hell of a story to brag about on Monday in school.

Either way, I was in the back of a cop car.

"Leith," the officer said again. "That's a weird name. I bet everyone asks you if it's a mistake, right?"

"I've heard it before," I said.

"My name's Peter. I like Pete. Sounds tougher. What do you think?"

"I'm pretty sure the gun makes you look tough."

"But the belly from the fast food doesn't," Pete said with a laugh.

I wasn't in the mood to laugh.

I looked out the window and frowned.

It had been such a great night. A crazy night. A night I knew I'd never forget.

And it all came crashing down on me.

"Where are we headed?" Pete asked.

"You tell me. You're the driver."

"I'm not taking you to the station, kid," Pete said. "You know that. You live with your grandmother, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'll drive you home. I'll let you walk up to the door like nothing is wrong. Will she be awake?"

"Maybe," I said.

"She'll give you hell for being dropped off by a cop. What will you tell her?"

I swallowed hard. "Are you asking if I'm going to lie to my grandmother?"

"Maybe."

"What would you want me to tell her? The truth?"

"What is the truth, Leith?"

I swallowed hard again.

Man, I needed a drink of water.

I would never tell the truth.

The truth was my own.

Well, it was our own .

"You saw what you saw," I said.

"Would you tell your grandmother about it?"

"Yeah, actually I would."

Pete nodded. He finally turned and looked at me. The extra skin on his neck and face twisted up into itself, making him look almost like an alien or something.

"You really have some balls there, don't you?"

"I don't know."

Pete laughed. "I think everyone gets one break here, okay? I'll drive you home. If Grandma answers the door, I'll get out and cover your ass. Just tell her you were out walking and I offered to get you home safe. And we leave it at that. But what happened tonight? Take my advice, Leith. Don't get involved in it."

I didn't nod. I didn't shake my head.

I just stared at Pete.

"You hear me?" he asked in a louder voice.

"I hear you."

"Okay. Then let's get you home. Want me to turn on the lights and sirens and drive through a few red lights for the hell of it?"

"You'd do that?" I asked, my eyes going wide with excitement.

Pete laughed. "Hell no. Now sit back and think about what I said. Don't be a dumb ass, kid. And don't make me come track your ass down again in the middle of the night."

That's when I nodded.

Pete started to drive and I looked out the window again.

That's why I finally did the one thing I had been waiting to do for a while now.

I licked my lips.

And I could still taste her cherry Chapstick.

II

Cherry Chapstick Secrets Galore

A WHILE AGO

(Beth)

My father took his belt off and placed it on the table, making sure the last thing he touched was his service gun. Maybe that was supposed to be intimidating but it wasn't to me. Growing up as the daughter of a cop, that kind of stuff didn't get to me. I knew that because when I brought friends over and they first met my father, they were always suddenly shy or red faced at the sight of a cop. And my father always played into it, giving strong warnings about drinking and drugs.

And don't even get me started on boys.

I was partnered at the beginning of the year with Kyle for a science project. We had to grow a vegetable, track its progress and keep a detailed journal of everything. Every time he came over, my father would sit at the kitchen table and clean his gun. He would go super slow, whistling loudly, enjoying the fact that Kyle sat next to me and sweat with fear.

The crazy part though was I didn't like Kyle. Not even close. We were two totally different people. We both knew that. But my father insisted on making sure Kyle knew who the boss was.

"What am I going to do with you, Bethany?" Dad asked as he locked the deadbolt on the back door.

"I think you're overreacting," I said with a smile.

I reached into my bag and took out my favorite cherry ChapStick. I put more than needed on my lips and smacked them together.

I wasn't allowed to wear lipstick but if I used enough cherry ChapStick it made my lips a little red. And because I had inherited my mother's pouty lips, without ChapStick my lips would dry and crack.

My father stepped to the counter where a stack of recycling had been collecting for days. He put one hand on the counter and the other ran through his newly thinning hair.

That was my fault.

Being a cop made his hair speckled with gray.

Being a father to a thirteen-year-old girl (who thought she was a woman) made his hair thin.

This was one of those moments when I knew he wished my mother was around.

I could see it in his eyes.

I knew he wanted to say something about it too.

Maybe later he would sit on the edge of his bed, shake his head, wondering what kind of terrible person my mother would have to be to leave her only daughter behind.

"You know, I could make one phone call and have one of my guys following you at all times," Dad said.

"I know."

"And yet you still do this kind of stuff."

"Dad…"

He slapped the counter. "I don't like it."

"If you would take a second and ask some questions, you'd understand."

"I think I understand plenty."

"What did you tell Pete to do with him?" I asked.

I felt my voice crack just enough to show fear.

That's when my father grinned.

He knew I cared.

He knew he could get to me too.

I lowered my head, feeling defeated.

"You know you're grounded for the weekend," he said. "I'm working midnight tomorrow. I still have your old babysitter's number. I'll call her and make her sit with you."

"I understand," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Sure you are," he said.

He walked through the kitchen and grabbed his belt.

The old house creaked with each step he took.

Not to mention his steps were like that of an elephant.

It was how I tracked his movements on Christmas Eve as a young girl so I could spy to see when Santa had come and gone. I'd sit in front of the glow of the tree at one in the morning, my heart racing, waiting for the sun to come up to see what I had gotten. I used to write a letter to Santa to give to my mother and put it under the tree. I stopped when I spied my father reading it one year. It was the only time I ever saw him crying.

When he was upstairs, I grabbed a trash bag out of the one drawer and filled it with the recycling.

I took the recycling outside to the bright orange bin and snuck under the back porch to find my secret little box.

I was pretty sure getting caught with a boy was far worse than smoking a cigarette.

But who knew how the justice system of my father really worked.

Then again, I could really shake him to his core.

He thought I was just out with some boy.

Leith wasn't just some boy .

I was going to marry him someday.