

HER HIDDEN PAST

By Michela DiMarco

Copyright ©2013 by Michela DiMarco

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced, stored or transmitted in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Inquiries should be addressed to:

Michela DiMarco

michealdimarco1@gmail.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used factitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 978-1490472027

First Edition

I'd like to thank my parents, my family and friends for their unconditional support and belief in me. Vincent and Sandra Abatemarco. Vinny Abatemarco. Andrea Rossbach, David Rossbach, Provie Jendusa. Rose Abatemarco. The Kaiser Family. The Riedl Family. The Abatemarco Family. The Jendusa Family. The Samat Family. The Galante Family. Pilar Hagey: my biffer. I keep writing because of your love and encouragement.

I'd like to thank my grandfather, Michael Abatemarco, for being my namesake. I miss you every day.

Thank you to Paige Hagey, for always being a light in my life. I'm so proud to be your God Mother.

And, to Carly Riedl...because I said I would.

CHAPTER 1

Amber Cole gazed out the window of the Chevrolet Suburban as it sped down the highway. Brief flashes of light reflected off her face every couple of seconds, but there was nothing but darkness between the lights. It was the same gloom that flowed through every inch of her, as if she had swallowed a bad glass of water.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Shuddering, she turned to her right. "We'll be there soon," Rachel murmured. Amber glared at her in the darkness. She hated how Rachel tried to comfort her when she was taking her away from the only thing that she wanted—her family.

A tear fell down Amber's cheek; her body felt chilly and unstable. She pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned against the door. With her eyes tired and dry from crying, she closed them, trying to remember what had happened up until this very moment. The shadows consumed her once again, but this time all she could hear in the back of her mind was her mother screaming.

Rachel touched her shoulder once more. Amber turned yet again, her eyes much colder than before. It was difficult to sit there and hide the fact that she felt ready to explode from the inside out. Rachel's blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she applied ChapStick to her lips as she whispered, "It will be okay."

"Okay?" Amber mumbled. "Nothing will ever be okay." She closed her eyes again and gripped her knees tightly. This time, she heard nothing but silence. She supposed it was better that way.

A few minutes later, the black Suburban came to a stop next to a plane parked at a landing field. The tiny private airport was lit like a festival. By the time Amber looked up, Rachel was already out of the car. Her own car door opened, and Amber nearly fell out, held in only by her seatbelt. The FBI agent did not say a word as he helped her from the back seat. There were at least eight people wearing black suits staring at her. She felt the hand on her back guide her toward the plane. Amber hesitated, still unsure of where she going, but before she had a chance to speak, Rachel appeared at her side.

"It's okay, I'm going with you," she said.

"Going where?" Amber asked, frightened.

After a brief pause, Rachel responded. "We're taking you to your new home."

Amber could feel the anger swelling inside. She was outraged at the preposterous idea of leaving California. "Now? But . . . I already have a home!" She was shouting as she tried to fight back tears. "What about my family?"

"I know this is a lot to take in, and although it seems unfair to you, we have to go, right now. Let's just get on the plane, and then we can sit down and talk about it."

Amber glared toward the plane with skepticism and anger. She walked cautiously up the stairs that lead to the open cabin door. How could this have happened to her? Two weeks ago, she was happy. She had a family who loved her and friends who adored her. And now, she was sneaking onto an airplane in the middle of the night. It was almost too much to comprehend, and she lacked the energy to fight it. She didn't know why, but despite the fact that she didn't like Rachel, Amber trusted her and agreed to board the plane.

The Gulfstream 250 was like no aircraft Amber had ever been on. She walked past two sets of reclining chairs before settling down onto the plush beige suede of a couch in the back of the cabin. Although it was a sickly color, it was welcoming. Rachel set her bag down on one of the recliners across from Amber. She retrieved a pill bottle from her bag and grabbed a bottle of water.

"This will help you sleep," said Rachel as she opened the bottle and handed Amber two white pills. The girl washed them down with a sip of water. This was not the first time she had been given these pills. They had been helping her sleep for a long time, and sleeping was the only time she didn't feel pain. Part of her tried to fight the sleep because she was uncertain where she would be when she woke up, but her eyes burned. She finally closed them to get some relief, and was fast asleep before the plane even lifted into the air.

CHAPTER 2

Greg Thompson sat at the desk in his home office. He glanced at the clock, which read 3:57AM. The room was dark except for the dim light coming from a small desk lamp. He had received the call that the plane was on its way only moments before. He picked up the photograph of his family—his wife and two sons—from the corner of his desk. The picture had been taken on a family vacation four years before; he wondered how the time had passed so fast. He leaned back and sighed, clasping his hands together on the back of his head and closed his eyes to think about the past.

Greg had aged a lot since that trip. His once dark-brown curly hair was barely recognizable. Now, his salt-and-pepper hair was messy and his brown eyes were puffy from sleep deprivation. His wife Mary blamed his gray hair on the stress of his job, but he disagreed, thinking it was just part of getting old. After all, he was pushing fifty . . . but still in great shape. Six feet tall, he ran almost five miles at least four days a week and lifted weights three. If not for the color of his hair no one would guess that he was a day over forty. Greg had called a family meeting earlier that evening to discuss the changes that the Thompsons would be facing by making a stranger part of the family. Mary was supportive about Amber's coming to live with them. She was the only "girl" in the house and would surely appreciate some female support.

It was their two sons—Ben, fifteen, and Gabe, fourteen—who were not so receptive to the idea. Looking at their young faces in the photo, Greg could not believe how quickly they had grown up. Only ten months apart, they were going through the teenage years at almost the same time, keeping Mary in a constant vigilant state. The only thing that separated them was one grade in school. Greg was close with both boys, but had recently felt them surging for independence—especially Ben.

A freshman in high school, Ben was quite popular. To Greg and Mary's dismay, Ben's girlfriend, Sara Shultz, was spoiled and hung around a lot of older kids. Before her, he had only been occupied with sports and friends, but that all changed the moment she entered his life as more than just another classmate. She had already gone out with half the boys in his class and had had quite a number of older boyfriends as well. But they learned quickly that Ben was at the age where he wanted to do the opposite of what they thought, so they kept their negative opinions of Sara to themselves while silently praying that Ben would find a girl better suited for him. Sara was bossy and Ben was submissive to her. Greg chuckled at Ben's buzzed haircut in the picture on his desk. He was currently in the process of trying to let his hair grow out, thinking it was the cool thing to do, and he had developed the annoying habit of constantly flipping his wavy, hair in an attempt to get it out of his eyes. He was on the thin side, especially for someone who consumed a massive amount of food. He was young and active, so Mary never worried about his healthy appetite. Greg glanced down at his slightly bulging stomach and wondered at what age it would catch up to Ben.

Gabe was in eighth grade and strove to be like Ben. However, Greg's younger son had a kinder, softer side that conflicted with Ben's personality. Gabe also tried to grow out his hair like Ben, however he inherited his father's darker curls, which grew out instead of down in the heat and humidity. As close in age as the boys were, Gabe was considerably shorter. But his growth spurt would come. Unlike his brother, Gabe's baseball career had ended at age seven, after he caught a ball in the eye thrown by Greg in practice one day. Gabe never set foot back on the field.

Mary walked into the office and slid onto Greg's lap, waking him from his trance. The boys did not look anything like their mother. Greg brushed her blond hair off her forehead and looked into her emerald-green eyes, behind the small-rimmed glasses she wore, and admired as he always did her poise and her perfect posture.

"What are you doing up?" she asked, yawning.

"I'm thinking about tomorrow. The boys were really upset."

"They'll be fine, I promise. That girl needs us to be strong for her, and that's exactly what we are going to be." Mary smiled softly before kissing Greg on the cheek. "Come up to bed. It's cold without you."

Greg laughed. "You have on your flannel grammy jammies. What do you need me for?"

Mary grabbed a pillow from the suede couch, launched it at Greg, and then ran out of the room like a child. Almost ten years separated the couple in age. Mary was Greg's second wife. His first wife had left him after not even a year, claiming he was a workaholic. Although Mary agreed with that assessment, she was also understanding of his life with the FBI. If she was ever bothered by it, she never let him know. She was proud of his work, believing that he was making a difference in people's lives. Greg never understood why his first wife had not seen that, but it didn't matter now. Greg was happy. Everything had worked out for the best.

He walked over to the window and watched the falling snow. He was more exhausted than he wanted to admit, so he picked up his cell phone and turned off the desk lamp. Sleep would be good, he thought, even for a few hours.

CHAPTER 3

Amber was fast asleep when she was awakened by whispering. She rolled over onto her side, trying to fall back asleep, but a few seconds later she heard more of it. Finally, she opened her eyes, finding herself in a queen-sized bed, under a mountain of pillows and blankets. The whispering was growing louder and sounded as though it was coming from the other side of the door. She lay in bed trying to listen as her eyes darted around, surveying the room. Light was trickling in from the window as she processed her surroundings. The room was painted violet, with white trim and light-wood flooring. She saw three doors, including one straight ahead, which Amber assumed led to the hallway where the whispers were.

The voices quieted down, and she decided to get out of bed for a more thorough look. She stepped down onto a white fuzzy rug that extended out from under the bed. Amber investigated the other doors to the right. The first was an empty walk-in closet. Behind the second door was a large bright bathroom. The walls looked freshly painted in pale purple, and the silver hangings were brand new. Amber entered to admire the bathroom. The large sink and vanity reminded her of her mother's bathroom, and how Amber used to watch her put on her makeup. A tear fell down her cheek. She quickly blocked the memory, and focused on the present.

Amber finished up in the bathroom, and walked back into the bedroom toward the windowsill. Everything was covered in snow. Snow! And it was only the beginning of December! She had never seen snow before. It was just like it was in the movies, only prettier, and such a drastic change from the ocean she used to have in her backyard. She had a sudden urge to run out and feel snow in her hands for the first time.

The bedroom door opened slowly. Amber's body went stiff. Rachel walked in and smiled when she saw Amber up. "You're in Michigan." Amber felt dizzy. "I have some clothes for you. I hope they fit. We'll take you out shopping today, but I hope something in here will work for now."

Amber sat down against the black pillow of the window seat, closed her eyes, and tried to let it all soak in. She was in Michigan, the state that looked like a mitten. It was halfway across the country from the west coast. The weather was strange and the time was different. She wondered how she would ever adjust.

"Whose house is this?" she asked, standing up.

Rachel smiled. "This is Greg Thompson's house. He's an FBI agent based out of Detroit. He has two boys your age, and his wife, Mary, is very nice. They'll take good care of you."

"Detroit? Isn't that dangerous? Am I safe here?"

"Yes, you're very safe here. You're not in the city, you're in the suburbs."

"Well, how close are we to Detroit?" she said, panicked.

Rachel laughed, "Don't worry, you're far enough. And Detroit is no different from any other large city."

Amber started trembling slightly and sat back down. This was all happening way too fast. Her chest was beginning to pound from all the anxiety. Rachel walked to the bathroom and came out with a cup of water. She pulled out the pill bottle from her pocket and handed Amber two capsules.

"This will help." Amber swallowed the pills with some water and leaned back. The window was cold on her head and she jerked forward. Rachel grinned "You better get used to that. It's December and you have a few more months until it warms up around here."

Amber forced a smile. She hated how Rachel could make a joke when Amber's entire life had fallen apart. She wasn't sure she would ever adjust to her new surroundings. Only a few minutes had gone by since she had woken up, and she already missed the beach and the sun.

"I'll leave you to get dressed. Rachel walked toward the hallway. "I'll be downstairs in Greg's office, waiting. We need to start getting you acclimated."

She closed the door, leaving Amber just standing there in her pajamas, looking around the room in disbelief. She scowled at the door Rachel had just left. Rachel treated Amber like a business transaction. What she needed was a reassuring hug.

"I don't want a new life," she sank to the floor, curling in fetal position as her eyes watered uncontrollably.

Several minutes later, she took a deep breath and made her way to the sink once more. She realized something she had not noticed before: The bathroom had been fully stocked for her. She brushed her teeth with the new toothbrush she found in the medicine cabinet, and washed her face with the bar of soap next to the sink. She ran her fingers through her dark brown hair, and she decided she would feel better after a long shower. Twenty minutes later, she felt a little less anxious and ready to crawl back in her new bed for comfort.

Instead, she found a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a thin, light-blue sweatshirt. The jeans were a little big in the waist and on the long side, but they would have to do for now. It was either the jeans or a pair of gray sweatpants. She opted for the nicer of the two since she would be making her first impression. Her aunt had once told her that "first impressions don't mean anything—only everything," and Amber had never forgotten that. She took one more look in the mirror before walking out the door.

"Deep breath," she whispered. "Be strong."

She opened the door to the hall, and decided to go to the right. She slowly walked down the wide hallway, stopping to look at pictures that she assumed contained the faces of her new family. The tall, strong man did not resemble her father. His face was pale in comparison to Amber's tan father. She ran her fingers through her black hair, the same color her mom had, comparing it to the blond haired woman in the picture.

"They look nothing like my family," she whispered to herself looking at the pictures of Ben and Gabe as she slowly made her way to the stairs. She paused at the top and listened for any indication of what the people she was about to meet were like.

CHAPTER 4

"You boys are in so much trouble!" yelled Mary from the kitchen. "I can't believe that Rachel caught you two opening the door trying to look at her! I know this isn't easy, but the sacrifices you two will be making are measly compared to everything she has given up. And now you're violating her privacy?!"

"We didn't see anything!" Ben yelled back as he and Gabe raced into the kitchen and jumped into the chairs at the island counter.

"Yeah!" echoed Gabe as he shoved Ben's arm.

"Enough!" snapped Mary. "You both are grounded. No leaving the house today. I don't want to hear another word about it. She'll be down any minute." Mary walked out of the kitchen, leaving the brothers to finish their squabble.

Gabe kicked Ben's leg under the table. "It's your fault! I always get in trouble because of your bad ideas. I'm not talking to you for the rest of the day."

Ben smirked, whispering, "She didn't say we couldn't have friends over. Don't argue back. Let's just wait a few hours until she'll be distracted with the new girl. Then we'll have some people over."

"Are you going to call Sara?" Gabe made a pouting face at Ben. "How far did you get with her?"

"Shut up! I'm not telling you, Sick-o!" Ben jabbed back at his brother. "Nobody is coming over, you two," Greg said calmly as he walked into the kitchen and picked up a piece of bacon. "I'm not happy that you guys were snooping. We need to help Amber get acclimated, so can you both please try to make her feel welcome?"

Both boys nodded in agreement. Mary walked back into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. She sat down at the counter next to her sons.

"I mean it," she said, sighing. "You'll both be so grounded if you don't conform to what your father and I see as an acceptable behavioral standard these next few days." The boys began laughing and repeating the words acceptable behavioral standard over and over. Their mom had been known to overreact at first and then backtrack after some time had gone by.

"I thought we were already grounded," mocked Ben, acting confused about the condition of his punishment.

"You are," Mary answered. ". . . Or you're not. I don't know, you sort of are. Nobody's leaving the house today and nobody's coming over, either! We are going to get to know Amber and let her get to know us, and that's not up for discussion," she said before the boys could argue with her.

Greg walked to his office and sat back down in his chair. He saw Amber coming down the stairs and got up to greet her. As she approached, he extended his hand.

"Good morning, Amber. I'm Greg Thompson." She shook his hand. "I'm . . . umm . . . Amber." He led her into the office and she followed with caution, taking a seat across from his desk. As he looked at her, Greg wondered what she was like and how all of this was going to change her. It was unrealistic to assume that she wouldn't be affected by the tragic loss of her family and her whole new living arrangement.

What he saw was a beautiful young girl, petite at about five-foot-two. She was looking down, her hair covering her golden-dark face and pink cheeks, the color of a native Californian. Her blue eyes were clear as the sky, yet he could see no hope in them. Her arms were folded across her chest, and Greg could see she was nervous. She bit the inside of her cheek and swung her legs. She slowly glanced up at Greg not wanting to know what he was going to say.

Her stomach wretched with pain. She gripped her arms tighter trying to control her anxiety. Her entire body ached. "Did you sleep okay last night?" he asked.

"I don't really remember," she mumbled.

"I work for the FBI, but I have a friend who works for the U.S. Marshals Service, with the Witness Protection Program. That's how you got here, to me and my family." He realized how insensitive he sounded. "I'm sorry to hear about your family."

Amber nodded. It was all she could do to acknowledge what had happened two weeks prior. Her life had been like a tornado, and every moment seemed as if it had lasted forever. Her mind began to wander as Greg started to speak again.

"I know you've been moving around quite a bit between hotels and such, but we wanted to give you a home that was safe and the stability to be part of a family. You're going to be living here with us from now on. My wife Mary and I have two sons about your age, Ben and Gabe. Mary is absolutely thrilled to have another girl in the house."

Amber just sat there. Her legs were still swinging, but the blue eyes staring at Greg were empty. He wondered if this was a mistake, taking someone in who had lost all she had lost, who had seen what she had seen. Maybe they were expecting too much from Amber. But it was too late to change his mind now—he had just promised her stability. "We have a pool," Greg started again. "Well, it's a little embarrassing, but we have two, actually. They both came with the house. The people who lived here before us must have loved swimming, because the outdoor season only lasts a few months here. Not like where you're from. I heard you're a great swimmer."

Amber's lips moved into a half smile. "I love being in the pool."

For Amber, swimming had always been an integral part of her life. Her backyard in California had a swimming pool that looked out into the ocean. She spent almost every day in the pool. Her summer mornings were spent in the pool with her swim team; her afternoons were spent on a lawn chair or floating in a raft. During the school year, Amber had swim practice after school. She had qualified for the California State Meet for the last three years, but had never gone any further than that. Swimming was her alone time with her thoughts. If she wasn't thinking, she was replaying a tune over and over in her head. No matter how fast or slow a song was or how well one knew the lyrics, a swimmer could always adapt a song and swim to the rhythm. Sometimes it would be a verse, sometimes just a line. But that same tune would repeat the entire time. Once Amber got in a groove, there was no stopping her. She could escape for hours.

"Good," replied Greg with a big smile. "We also belong to a country club, so if you ever want to join a team in the summer, just let us know. Or you can join the swim team at school. In fact, that's one of the reasons we thought this would be a good fit for you. Mary and I are going to be your guardians to help facilitate your care." That wasn't the word Greg wanted to use. It sounded as if he were guarding a patient. "What I mean is . . . all your financial matters are being taken care of, so if you need or want anything, just ask. No big-screen TV's or anything, but you don't ever need to worry about money, because there has been a trust set up for you."

Rachel walked into the office and sat down on the chair next to Amber, putting a reassuring hand on the girl's knee. She started to explain what the Witness Protection Program was, and why they thought she needed protection.

Amber wasn't paying attention. Instead she noticed the bags under Rachel's eyes and wondered if she had slept at all. Maybe Rachel wasn't her enemy for bringing her here. After all, she had gone to great lengths to place her in a house where she could escape in the cold waters of a pool anytime she wanted. Being in the water was second nature to Amber. She had been a swimmer most of her life.

"So, based on the imminent danger to your life . . ." continued Rachel.

"What?" interrupted Amber. "My life is in danger?"

Rachel hesitated, not used to dealing with children. "Amber, I know that you've been through so much, much more than anyone should have to deal with in a lifetime. We believe that your life is in real danger." Rachel looked at Greg for some sort of confirmation. "Right now there are no leads as to why your family was a target. Given the . . . the nature of the crime, we believe this is the safest place for you to be."

The words lingered in the air for minutes. She couldn't imagine what happened to her family. Did they die quickly? Did they feel pain? Rachel continued to talk. Under no circumstances was Amber to make contact with her former family or friends. She would never return to San Clemente, California, or any place where she would be recognized.

"Amber, do you understand?" She nodded. It wasn't fair. How was she supposed to do this alone? Greg and Rachel assisted Amber in picking a new name, despite her insistence that she wanted to keep her name.

"How about at least my first name? I'll change my last name if I have to. Amber is a common name!"

They objected, assuring her that it was for her own safety. After a few minutes, she chose her middle name, Elizabeth. She was once again shot down. She began looking at names in a baby book that Greg handed her. There had to be at least twenty names on each page with origins, descriptions of what the names meant, and the nicknames or root names that went along with each one. The entire process was overwhelming. She was beginning to get discouraged when she came across the name "Brooklyn."

"My dad was from Brooklyn, New York. Can I do that one?"

"Of course," encouraged Greg.

"Do I look like a Brooklyn?"

"I think you make a beautiful Brooklyn." Rachel smiled.

"Brooklyn Thompson," Greg said. "That's a pretty name. From now on, that's who you're going to be."

"I guess it's pretty good. It's sort of weird picking out my own name."

"You did great," Greg said, trying to give her some encouragement.

Rachel stood and put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Brooklyn Thompson it is. I'll file it with the U.S. Department of Justice. Once again, she was only about getting her job done." She turned and walked out of the room.

"People are going to wonder where you came from," mentioned Greg. "I have a brother who lives in San Francisco with a daughter a few years younger than you. You are my niece, and my brother—your father—is being relocated to Germany for work for about a year. Instead of uprooting you and taking you halfway around the world, you came here to live with us for a while. The boys already know everything."

"Okay," said a solemn Brooklyn. "So, I have to pretend that my family is alive on a European vacation . . . and I never had a brother?"

"It's for your own safety." Those words were beginning to sound like a broken record. "In a few months, you'll start school here and slowly you'll become assimilated into your new life."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you'll get adjusted."

"What do I do until then?"

Her blue eyes were pleading with him again. He couldn't even imagine what she was going through. He had never been in this situation. He had never taken someone into his home who needed protecting, let alone someone who was still a child. With her family's murder, there was a statistical probability that Brooklyn would suffer from some sort of mental-health problem, educational difficulties, alcohol or drug abuse,. She was already being treated for PTSD—Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in California—and would begin regular sessions with a therapist soon.

"Greg?"

"I'm sorry. You can do whatever you want," answered Greg. "You can sleep in, watch movies, read books, sit in the hot tub, or eat all the junk food you want. There will be some home schooling involved so you don't get too far behind in school, but I suspect that Mary will take it easy on you."

Brooklyn had never been one for sitting around doing nothing. She was used to early morning and evening swim practices with school in between. If Amber was going to start a new life, she wanted to forget about the old one. It was the only way she thought she could survive.

"I don't want to sit around the house and think about everything that happened. Can I go to regular school if I want?"

Greg smiled. "We'll see how you're doing. Now, let's get you introduced to my beautiful wife and my snooping sons. I caught them trying to sneak a peek at you earlier this morning. I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay." She looked down. "My brother and I would be doing the same thing if there was a stranger sleeping in our house."

Our house. The words stung.

CHAPTER 5

Ben leaned in and tried to kiss Sara.

"I don't get why she's here," she said, turning away from him. "I hope you don't think I'm automatically going to be nice to her. I don't do charity."

"I'm not asking you to." He tried to steal another kiss.

"Eww, get away from me!" She jumped off the couch, sending an icy glare his way. Ben put his head in his hands in frustration. Riding his bike almost a mile in the snow when he was grounded to get to Sara's place was beginning to look like a mistake.

"What's your problem? Why do you care that she's here?"

Sara stomped her foot. "Because people are going to feel bad for her and want to include her and stuff."

"What's wrong with that?" He threw up his arms in frustration. Sara was selfish by nature. He'd accepted that and tried to ignore it as often as possible, but this was a little much. He couldn't understand why she was acting like such a brat.

Unarguably, she was gorgeous. Medium height, with a petite waistline and generous chest, she was treated like an icon by most of the other girls at school who secretly would have traded anything for the chance to get half the attention she received. Her lips were naturally pink, the color pink that most girls tried to achieve with make-up. Her skin was flawless, not even the slightest bump, blackhead, or open pore could be spotted. She was the daughter of two models, who had come together to create perfection, not seen in many fifteen year olds.

Sara had long, curly blond hair, which she kept highlighted year round. She was meticulous about her appearance. Ben had not seen her without makeup since fifth grade. He was convinced she even slept with it on. She checked her hair and face constantly with a mirror she kept in her Louis Vitton purse at all times. Every day of Sara's life was a fashion show.

Sara's mother had been killed in a car accident when she was only two. Her father worked a lot now as a lawyer and was often out of town overnight for extended periods of time working on national cases. vAs an only child she spent most of her time alone, with her nanny as the only responsible adult present. She had received little direction in right versus wrong. Instead, she had learned that she could usually get whatever she desired. Her credit card had no credit limit and was paid off every month. She had the friends she wanted. The freedom she wanted. She couldn't even remember the last time anyone had told her "no".

Many of the kids at school had speculated about how far she had really gone, wondering if her experience were just a front. With her solitude upbringing, Sara felt a constant need to be the center of attention. Sara always had a boyfriend. In the beginning of the school year, she had been dating a senior. Until about three months before, Ben hadn't been interested in her, or in her best friends Kaylie and Stephanie, from whom she was virtually inseparable. Ben had a weakness for being coddled, and, more often than not, was interested in girls who gave him a lot of attention. Sara was about herself. And she liked attention being paid to her. She decided she needed a boyfriend in her own grade after learning she was not being talked about. Ben became her mission, because he was completely uninterested in anything Sara. One afternoon, she snuck into the boys' locker room, shoved him against the locker, and planted an unforgettable kiss on his lips. It was all over. He was sucked into her world. And, like most fifteen-year-old boys, he intended to take it as far as possible.

Ben was standing now. Sara looked upset, and he didn't want to do anything that might agitate her more than she already was. He'd have better luck jumping off a cliff and putting his broken bones back together than receiving forgiveness from Sara.

"I'm sorry," he lied.

"Why?" Sara snapped back with an attitude.

"Because I don't want to fight with you," said Ben on his way back to redemption. "I want to make you as happy to be with me as I am with you."

Sara let out another sigh. "I guess that's good, Thompson." She started to smile and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Okay. You're back. And you may have earned my full attention for the rest of the afternoon."

"I like that," whispered Ben. He leaned in again to kiss her. This time she didn't stop him. She pulled Ben toward the couch and pushed him down, laughing. Then she climbed into his lap, pinning him down, while she tousled her blond hair.

"If we're going to be together," Sara said as she kissed his neck, "you have to learn to support me. It's the only way. I don't want anything to come between us."

He put his arms around her waist. "I will. I promise."

His wandering hands were kept in check during the make-out session. She had trained him well, but now he wanted more. She was not about to let him have his way. His phone began vibrating.

"Shit!" He reached into his pocket, his fingers digging around for his cell phone. Sara stood up and pulled out her compact, disengaging from Ben. She started playing with her hair in the mirror. It was just like Sara to remove herself from the present to focus on her makeup. According to his caller ID, Gabe was trying to reach him.

"This isn't a good time. What do you need?" Ben was shouting into the phone.

"Start pedaling," whispered Gabe.

"What?"

"Dad's looking for you."

"Well, stall him."

Gabe started laughing. "It's too late, stupid. You're already busted."

Ben hung up and turned to Sara who was now sitting on the side of the couch looking annoyed. She had already applied a fresh coat of her frosted-pink lip gloss. "Rain check? I have to go."

"Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "Your loss. This could have been your lucky day." Yeah, right, Ben thought to himself. She had used that line many times before, and it meant absolutely nothing. He smiled and kissed her good-bye, then ran out of the house as fast as he could.

CHAPTER 6

Mary took Rachel and Brooklyn shopping, telling the boys to finish cleaning their rooms, vacuum the first floor, clean the bathrooms, unload the dishwasher and straighten up the family room. Brooklyn was in awe of the size of the mall, which was made up of two separate buildings connected by a skywalk. They started by spending a couple of hours at Nordstrom. Neither Mary nor Brooklyn had had any idea how big a project starting over was going to be. There were so many physical possessions that Brooklyn needed, and, after a few hours, Mary realized that this was going to take more than a few days. Everything Brooklyn had owned was in California—not that it mattered much. When it came to clothing, all her stuff would be useless in Michigan, except for three months in the summer. Brooklyn wanted to transform herself into someone she didn't recognize. However, her simple style of jeans and t-shirts seemed to be the most comfortable fit. After all, it was still her.

She made quite a haul in the shoe department, buying tall boots, short boots, fashion boots, snow boots, and flats in every color. This was the first time in her life that she shopped with no opinion from her mother. Shopping was something they always did together. Mary tried to convince Brooklyn that the shoes she wore could be used as a way to express who she wanted to become. Brooklyn wanted to stay the same. Mary had also said this at the makeup and beauty counters, in the purse and accessories department, the clothing and pajamas department, and the winter jacket department. Mary had hired a porter to take the purchased items to the car because it would have been impossible to carry all of it. Brooklyn was embarrassed by all the items they purchased.

"I might have a small shopping problem," Mary grinned. "I just love it!"

From Nordstrom they went to the athletic store for tennis shoes, swimsuits, and workout clothes. It was important to Brooklyn that she remain active. The three of them also stopped at an electronics store for a computer, a CD player, a small television for her room, some movies, and a cell phone. Then they went to the bookstore for a bunch of novels, and a beauty-supply store, coming away with numerous hair products and accessories and different bottles of nail polish.

Brooklyn was a simple girl. She used to air-dry her hair. She never wore make-up. She was a natural beauty and never took the time to get dolled up. "I never wore nail polish," admitted Brooklyn. "It always came off in the pool." Mary assumed she was bonding in a way that most mothers and daughters did but she hadn't stopped to consider that the girl next to her wasn't her daughter, and didn't want to be her daughter.

Feeling slightly awkward, Mary called Greg and told him to order some pizzas and salad for dinner. When they got to the house, she pulled up to the door and the boys ran out with Greg behind them to bring everything inside. Miraculously, Ben and Gabe carried everything inside without one complaint.

After taking his share of the purchases upstairs, Ben lingered outside Brooklyn's room hoping for an opportunity to break the ice with her. When she finally arrived, he was impressed by her composure as well as her striking beauty. How had he not noticed this about her previously?

"So, how are you doing so far?"

"About as well as I should be doing considering I have a completely new life" she responded sharply.

Ben correctly sensed that he had strayed into something that he was ill-equipped to handle and decided to take the conversation in a different direction. "I know this is all new and everything to you, but I have many friends, and my girlfriend has many friends too. Maybe I can help you meet some kids."

Although Brooklyn had no desire to continue this conversation, or to meet any of Ben's friends, she really appreciated this gesture on his part to reach out to her. "Maybe," she responded, as she entered her room and put an abrupt end to the conversation.

Brooklyn found dinner very entertaining. With the exception of answering any questions that were directed to her, she remained quiet. Greg had busted Ben on sneaking out of the house, and was especially unhappy to learn that he had ridden his bike in the snow to see Sara, not to mention the fact that Mary had forbidden both of the boys from leaving earlier in the day. Greg and Mary objected to Ben's being at Sara's house knowing there was no supervision.

"Benjamin, please try to help me understand why was it so important for you to go over there that you had to sneak out of the house?" Mary inquired.

"Because you said we had to stay here."

"Give me a break, Ben," she said. "That's not like you to ignore what we tell you."

"You said we couldn't leave. Dad said we couldn't have anyone come over here. What was I supposed to do?"

Gabe started laughing with a mouth full of pizza. He found this very amusing. Although Ben did not get in trouble very often, Gabe had a sneaking suspicion that Ben's relationship with Sara was going to be his demise.

Ben smacked Gabe in the arm causing Gabe to spit his pizza out. Brooklyn looked over at Rachel. She didn't seem to be amused at the childish behavior between Ben and Gabe. She couldn't wait for Rachel to leave in a few hours. Mary turned to Greg. "Are you going to say something, Greg?"

"I think Ben learned his lesson," he replied. "Didn't you, Ben?" "Yes. I'm sorry, and it won't happen again." "You're still grounded for a week."

"This doesn't end with the grounding." Mary looked right at Ben. "We're going to have a talk about respecting girls, real soon. That includes you, too, Gabe." "What?" Gabe asked, stunned to be dragged into the conversation. "What did I do?"

If Ben had been embarrassed by the conversation, he didn't show it. However, Gabe was mortified that he had been brought into the discussion, especially at the thought of talking to his mother about girls. He had never even kissed a girl and his plans were going to be ruined. He had been looking forward to the eighth-grade ski trip, where it was rumored that "Truth or Dare" was played on the bus. Suddenly, that didn't sound very respectful, and Gabe felt sort of ashamed. He shoved the last of his pizza in his mouth, and decided to keep quiet about the bus ride he had been so anxious about.

Mary made the boys clean up after dinner. Everyone else went into the great room to finish talking about Brooklyn's new guardianship.

"We've arranged for someone to talk to you a couple times a week," Rachel started, "just to see how you are adjusting. We want you to know that you can always talk to Mary and Greg. And you can call me, whenever you want, any time of day."

"I want to go to school," said Brooklyn.

Without hesitation, Rachel replied, "Okay."

"Wait a second," Greg interjected. "We should talk about this more before racing to a decision. I don't think it is such a good idea to decide this so quickly. After all, if Brooklyn changes her mind in a few weeks or months, it's going to be harder to pull her out of school without people asking a lot of questions."

"I think that we need to listen to Brooklyn." Mary smiled as she put her arm around Brooklyn's shoulders, once again trying to be more of a mother. "This is new to all of us. We need to test the waters together. If school proves to be too much, then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"All right," Greg said reluctantly. "But Brooklyn, you have to promise to tell us if school is too much to handle right now."

"Okay. I promise." It was her new name that was hard to handle. Ben and Gabe walked in and sat down on the couches with everyone.

Greg chimed in, "We need to practice what to tell people when they ask about Brooklyn and why she's here."

"Dad, we've gone over this a hundred times," complained Ben. "This is important," answered Greg. "If Brooklyn goes to school, then you can tell your friends she's your cousin. Otherwise, we are going to wait a while."

Ben opened his cell phone and sent Sara a text: "Please don't say anything about my cousin being here. We're not sure how long she's staying."

After about ten minutes, Ben's phone buzzed with a text message from Sara: "2 late B. Ppl know. Will she b coming w/u to Jordan's party tnite?"

"Mom," Ben said abruptly. "I forgot about Jordan's party tonight. I have to get ready. Can you drive me?"

Mary laughed. "You are not going anywhere, mister. You're grounded for the rest of the weekend for that stunt you pulled earlier today." Ben didn't argue back. His sentence had just been reduced from a week to a weekend. Instead, he looked at his phone and decided to turn it off. Responding to Sara would open a can of worms that he certainly didn't want to do in front of an audience; because Sara definitely would not understand how Ben could possibly be grounded or that he was spending time with his family. Sara didn't know the meaning of family time. He slipped the phone back in his pocket and silently prayed Sara would forgive him.

After spending a few hours together, the family dispersed. Brooklyn went up to her room with Rachel, and together they started putting all of her new things away. The walk-in closet became full and her room looked less like a guest room and more like a teenage bedroom. Her new shoe rack overflowed and the drawers of her dresser and shelves of her closet were filled with new clothes for a new life. The only thing missing in Brooklyn's mind were pictures of her family. Unfortunately, those would never get put up in her room.

"Do you think people will ask about them?" Brooklyn asked as she sat down on her bed. "My family, I mean."

Rachel sat down next to her. "Yeah, I do. This isn't going to be easy for you."

Brooklyn's eyes began to water. "Thanks." She swallowed hard.

"I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon. I have to get back to California."

Brooklyn had mixed feelings about Rachel's departure. Rachel had been there when Brooklyn was alone in the hospital. She wanted to blame Rachel for making her leave her extended family behind and not allowing her to go to the funeral. Brooklyn was happy Rachel was leaving, but that meant she was going to be left in a house with true strangers. Rachel embraced her back and then pulled three small bottles out of a bag.

"From the doctor you saw in California" Rachel handed her one of the bottles that contained white pills. "Take two of the Trazadone before you go to bed. One to two of the Lexapro every morning for anxiety and depression," she said, holding up another bottle. "And one or two of the Xanax when you've reached your breaking point and feel like everything is falling apart. The directions are all on the bottles in case you forget. Your new doctor will continue to monitor your medication and progress. If you want, the medication can be a secret between you and your doctor." She put the bottles down on the desk.

"Am I weird that I need to take this stuff?"

Rachel flashed a quick smile back at Brooklyn. "Nothing or nobody is normal. In fact, there is no formal plan for any of this. All we can do is try to support you and guide you in the right direction. You just have to trust that the medication combined with your therapy is the best way of getting you back to what you consider as normal."

"But I have to talk to someone who helps crazy people."

"No, you'll talk to someone who helps regular people feel like themselves again. There's no shame in that. It's perfectly . . ."

"Ordinary?" asked Brooklyn.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Try to get some sleep," she said as she walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Brooklyn walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. "I miss you guys. I wish I was with you." After brushing her teeth, washing her face, and washing down the pills with some water, she walked back into her new bedroom. Climbing into her warm bed, she flipped on the television. After finding a comedy movie on TV, she set the sleep timer to one hour and turned off the light.

Brooklyn was beginning to get comfortable when she felt the drugs starting to kick in. "Good night, me," she whispered to herself, clutching her favorite stuffed animal, a white bear. That was the only possession she had been allowed to take with her from her old life.

CHAPTER 7

The ocean roared in the background. The open blinds were swinging away from the windows on this windy night. Amber had woken up to go to the bathroom and was now having trouble falling back asleep. She looked at the clock: The neon-green numbers read 1:42am. She had at least five more hours until she could go swim laps in the pool. Amber got up and made her bed, pillows and all, even though she was hoping to get back to bed sometime this night. She was meticulous about making her bed. If she wasn't in her bed, it had to be made.

Amber walked over to her desk to turn on her light. Through the open window, she spotted a van parked across the street as the blinds moved with the wind. Then she saw an orange flicker of some sort. There were people sitting in the van! Amber watched them for a few minutes and when she was convinced they were watching her house, she decided to wake her parents.

She darted into the hall toward her parents' room, grabbing her white stuffed bear before she left the room. There was a faint glow coming out of her brother's room, so she quietly opened his door. Nick looked up from the computer.

"What are you doing up?" he whispered.

"There's a van parked outside with people in it. Nick, I think they're watching our house."

Nick stood up abruptly. "Stay here. I'll go get Dad."

"Okay," Amber said, clutching her bear.

Nick put his arm around her. Nick was five years older than Amber and never missed an opportunity to play big brother to his little sister.

"Don't worry. They're out there and we're safe in here. Can you do me a favor and tell Michelle I'll be right back?" He smiled and kissed Amber on the head, then grabbed her bear out of her hand. "Still carrying this thing around with you?"

"I love him," she smiled.

The instant message chimed from Nick's computer. "Never mind. I'll tell her." He leaned over and typed a quick reply.

"Let me see your bear really quick," he said. Amber handed the bear to her older brother. She could barely see what he was doing in the dim light. "He has a hole," he told her. "Sew that up and make sure nothing falls out, okay?"

"Okay," she answered. "Amber," he said, hugging her, "no matter what, no matter where you go, make sure you always take that stupid bear with you."

"He's not stupid, Nick."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He kissed Amber on the cheek and disappeared out of his room. She sat down at the computer and thought about typing Michelle an instant message. Michelle was Nick's first love. But Amber didn't feel like explaining that she was hiding in Nick's room because of a strange car outside. Michelle treated Amber like an eight-year-old sometimes.

"Amber?"

"Yeah, Mom," Amber replied, looking up from the computer. Her mother walked into the room. She was on the phone, and wearing a long yellow silk robe. The yellow looked alluring against her tan skin. She had long, glossy black hair and electrifying blue eyes. Even in the middle of the night, she was dazzling.

"Where are Dad and Nick?" Amber whispered as her mother spoke on the phone.

"Downstairs," she whispered back with a big smile.

"Yes, we're at 131 Breakers Isle," her mother spoke into the phone. "There is a van sitting outside our house and we can see people sitting in it." There was a long pause. "Okay, we'll be waiting for you. Sure, I'll hold." She winked at Amber and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Without warning there was a loud crash and both women jumped up. Her mother quickly hugged Amber and said, "Hide!"

Amber ran into Nick's closet. There was a plastic shelving container in the corner filled with T-shirts. She squeezed behind it as best she could and sat there, shaking, unaware of what was going on in the rest of the house. Amber's mother closed the closet door behind Amber and ran out of the room. The closet was completely black at first. A few minutes went by before some light peered through the crack of the closet door. Suddenly there was shouting, and then a gunshot, followed by screaming. Her mother was screaming. Amber wanted to run. But she was frozen, paralyzed with fear.

"AHHHHHHH!" Brooklyn abruptly sat up, screaming. Her eyes were still closed. The door flung open and Rachel came running in.

"It's okay. You're okay. You're safe here," she said as she wrapped her arms around Brooklyn, trying to wake her up. Greg and Mary came running in a moment later and turned on the lights. They stood at the foot of the bed, taken aback at the sight of Brooklyn and Rachel rocking on the bed. Greg wondered if he and Mary could handle such a fragile girl. She finally managed to rise out of her deep sleep. Her hair was stuck in sections to the sheen of sweat on her forehead and cheeks. Her knuckles were white from gripping her bear so tightly as her entire body convulsed from fear. "It was just a nightmare," Rachel whispered, still holding her.

Brooklyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had been like this almost every night for two weeks. She wondered if the nightmares would ever stop. "I'm okay," she said, opening her eyes, embarrassed.

"Can I get you anything?" Mary offered.

"Um, no, I'm okay . . . well . . . a little self-conscious . . . maybe some water, please."

"I'll be right back."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'll be in my room if you need me," Greg said, as he retreated back to his room. He knew that Brooklyn suffered from PTSD, but he felt as though her nightmare wasn't something he could handle.

Brooklyn and Rachel sat on the bed in silence. Mary came back a few minutes later with a chilled bottle of water, and sat down in the oversized chair facing the bed.

"Who's that?" asked Mary, pointing to the bear that Brooklyn was still clinging to. "You haven't let go."

"He's my teddy bear, Nicky," Brooklyn replied, squeezing the bear a little harder. "My brother gave him to me. It's the only thing I have now that's mine from before."

"Well, I'm glad he's here with you." Rachel winked. "He looks like good company."

"I had a best friend," Brooklyn blurted out as she looked down. "Before...you know...it happened. Her name was Sasha and she was my best friend since kindergarten. She probably hates me."

"Why would she hate you?" Rachel asked.

"Because...I just left. She probably doesn't even know why. And worst of all, I never said good-bye."

"Brooklyn," Rachel said, sweeping Brooklyn's hair out of her face. "I'm sure Sasha knows you care about her."

"Have you ever been left before...for no apparent reason? I read in a book once that there's usually a reason, it's just you don't know what that reason is. And, in this case, it's, well, a pretty good reason, because it's not like I had a choice. But that doesn't make it any easier. The fact is that if it was me that was left behind and I didn't know why, I would feel awful. With no closure, it makes it ten times harder to get over someone. I wish I could tell her I'm sorry and that I don't have a choice in any of this."

Mary and Rachel sat in silence, looking at Brooklyn. They both knew that Sasha would never hate her. The truth was that Sasha didn't even know Brooklyn was alive. As a matter of fact, all of her remaining relatives and friends thought she had died along with her family. Only a select few people actually knew the truth.

Mary and Rachel stayed with Brooklyn. No more words were exchanged. Brooklyn laid in bed thinking about her last birthday with her family. After thinking about them for a while, she finally drifted back to sleep knowing her parents were guarding her.

CHAPTER 8

Brooklyn jumped out of bed early the next morning. It was still dark outside at 6:00AM. There was a notebook on her nightstand with a note from Rachel that read, "To help you get it all out." Brooklyn kicked the book under the bed. Writing down the feelings she was trying to ignore was the last thing she wanted to do.

After making her bed, Brooklyn put on one of her new swimsuits, grabbed a towel, some clothes, and her new goggles and ran downstairs to the pool. When she opened the sliding door into the pool area, the familiar smell of chlorine filled her lungs, bringing a brief smile to her face. She set her towel and sweatshirt down on one of the chairs and walked to the deep end of the pool. It had been two weeks since she had been in the pool.

She looked down into the water and stared at her reflection for a few seconds. Then she put on her goggles and dove down deep, gliding horizontally through the water like a dolphin. Her body felt completely weightless as she slid through the water. As soon as she started slowing down, she began kicking rapidly toward the surface until her arms broke through. All of Brooklyn's memories came flooding back when she hit her second length of the pool: memories of her mother, father, and brother. She was the only swimmer in her family, and they supported her unconditionally.

Sometimes in the summer afternoons she would spend time with her mom in the pool on kickboards. They would go back and forth across the pool, talking. She tried not to think about that fateful night two weeks ago, but it was hard to put it out of her head. She remembered Nick's smile as he walked out of his room—the last time she saw him. She could feel her mother's arm as it wrapped around her. If only she could have told them both how much she loved them. Her father came home that night after she was already sleeping. If only she could have known, somehow, she would have stayed up to see him. She was angry that she didn't get to see him one last time. She never got the chance to tell him she loved him and that he was the best father in the world.

The more she remembered, the harder she kicked, and the faster she moved her arms. The anger that was inside her was propelling her forward as the water washed over her body. She tried to remember the sound of her father's gentle voice, but all she could hear were the screams of her mother. Back and forth she glided across the pool, like a fish trying to escape the jaws of a shark, until, finally, she was exhausted.

She stopped in the middle of the pool and flipped over onto her back. Brooklyn tore off her goggles and floated there, letting the gentle waves of the pool carry her body. The rhythm of the small waves beneath her began to calm the anger inside her. She lifted up her hands. Her fingers looked like giant raisins, and she decided to warm up in the hot tub.

Brooklyn climbed out of the pool and, after turning on the jets, she lowered herself into the warm bubbles. The jets felt soothing against her back and she relaxed and closed her eyes. Brooklyn never imagined that depression could impact not only her mind but her physical body, as well. After fifteen minutes, the jets turned off. Brooklyn climbed out of the hot tub, running for her towel. The room seemed unreasonably cold after the heat of the hot tub. Brooklyn wrapped her body up in the towel and stood there trying to warm herself. She smiled at the thought of how lucky she was to have the pool and hot tub to use at her disposal. She realized that access to the pool and the hot tub was her escape. It was a way for her to begin healing. It was a way for her to release her anger and calm herself down. This was her saving grace.

By the time Brooklyn made it back up two flights of stairs to her shower, she was freezing again. She didn't mind, though—it was worth it, and she would continue to swim every day if possible.

After her long shower, Brooklyn put on a white long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and bright, striped, warm fuzzy socks. She dried her hair with her new hair dryer and put on some of her new makeup at her own vanity. On the way out of her room she looked at herself in the mirror, her blue eyes glowing next to the light-pink eye shadow and black mascara. Worried she would forget their faces, she stood there in the mirror trying to decide if she looked more like her mother or her father. She finally concluded that she didn't significantly look like either of them. She pulled her hair up and off her neck and tried to decide whether or not to wear it up. Her hair had a little static from blow-drying. Brooklyn was used to letting her hair air-dry in the California breeze. She finally let it go, her hair falling down her neck and back. She put a hair rubber band on her wrist in case she changed her mind later. Brooklyn put on a light-blue cashmere pullover sweater and slipped into her new fuzzy slippers.

On the weekends, she was used to being the first one up. As a morning person, she never really understood sleeping in. Instead, Brooklyn enjoyed taking small naps throughout the day. She opened the refrigerator, and browsed for a few minutes. She finally decided that she wasn't hungry. Her appetite had diminished significantly in the last few weeks. Instead, she plopped down on the sofa, enveloped by the couch and cushions. Her body sank into the plushness of the couch. Closing her eyes for a minute, she felt a sense of ease as the cushions surrounded her body. Brooklyn scanned up and down all 352 channels twice, finally settling on the fact that there was nothing on the television that interested her.

Her wristwatch read 8:15AM. It was early on a Sunday, even for Brooklyn. She went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator again. After staring at some eggs, pancake mix, turkey bacon, and bagels, she settled on some cold cereal and a banana for breakfast. She was not looking forward to meeting with the psychiatrist later in the day for her first appointment. The Thompsons had scheduled the unusual Sunday appointment with their family friend. Brooklyn had one goal in mind: she needed to convince him that she was normal enough to go to school. She began to formulate her plan as she ate her breakfast alone.

Rachel came downstairs a short while later with Greg. Brooklyn talked to them for a few minutes before Greg left to take Rachel to the airport.

"How was the water this morning?" Greg asked Brooklyn.

"It was good," she answered.

Rachel squeezed Brooklyn before she left. "Your whole life is about to change. You're opening a new chapter now, and somehow you have to learn how to say good-bye to the old one. I think that no matter what you feel right now, you don't want to miss out on what lies ahead, even if there are more sad times to come, because you can never get this time back. Just promise me you'll try your best to keep pushing forward."

Brooklyn nodded, acknowledging Rachel's last words. However, she had serious doubts about whether or not she had the strength deep down to accomplish that.

CHAPTER 9

The room was silent except for the small clock ticking in the background. Brooklyn tried her best not to look interested in the boring office. Everything in there was brown-maroon, and dreary. Not a single light was turned on. In fact, the only light in the room at all came from the open window as the sunlight peered in. Brooklyn sat in one of the oversized chairs. The man sitting in the desk across from her was younger than she expected—he was probably in his thirties. He had shaggy, sandy-blond hair and a very light complexion. His green eyes were piercing and reflected a depth and dimension that Brooklyn had never previously encountered. He was wearing a yellow button-down shirt paired with a strangely colored brown tie.

Brooklyn had the impression that he had purposely chosen his odd attire to somehow make her feel more comfortable, to be certain not to overwhelm her with a commanding professional appearance during their first session. There was a notepad on his desk. He hadn't written anything down. He was staring at Brooklyn, chewing on his pen. The nameplate on his desk read: Dr. Todd Spencer, MD.

"Are you going to say something, or just continue to stare at me?" she asked, feeling bold.

"Brooklyn, I was waiting for you to begin the conversation. I only want to talk about the topics that you desire to talk about and I only want you to talk to me when you are ready. I am ready for any conversation, but I need you to be ready first."

Brooklyn crossed her right leg over her left. She straightened her back and extended her arms, placing her now-folded hands on her knee. Her eyes narrowed into a slight glare.

"What do you want me to say?" Brooklyn asked nervously.

"I want you to say whatever it is that you want to say. I want you to talk about the things that you feel you need to talk about."

"Okay," Brooklyn was frightened that a complete stranger was to begin analyzing her. "I don't want to be here talking to you."

"Actually, that is a great start for this conversation," he said. "Can I ask you why, Brooklyn? Why is it that you don't want to be here to talk to me?"

"I don't know," she said with a slight attitude in her voice.

He watched her closely as she began to shift in her chair. Her body language was beginning to send him signals that the necessary dialog would shortly follow: arms folded tightly, torso extremely stiff, and a pout on the lower lip. In his world, theses were all good signs.

"Brooklyn, it's okay to be angry."

"Angry? I'm not angry. Angry people throw things and scream a lot."

"Is that really what you think?" Dr. Spencer asked. "Angry people do many other things besides screaming and throwing things. Anger comes out in all different shapes and sizes. People use a variety of outlets as means to let their anger out. People who scream and throw things are dealing with the anger in a way that is most comfortable for them. Eventually, the anger will come out; it can't stay hidden in you forever. It is not healthy for your anger to remain below the surface."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to you. I think that I'm doing the best I can here." Brooklyn uncrossed her legs and then re-crossed her left leg over her right. Her bottom lip quivered. "I was happy. I liked my family and my friends and my life! And now, it's like I'm supposed to pretend that none of it ever happened. I have to pretend like my parents are not dead; they simply ditched me to enjoy some vacation in Germany, and my brother, Nick, never existed. I still don't know who killed my family, or why they did it. Or better yet, I don't even know why I'm even alive. I should have died that night with them." Her tone changed from anger to sadness. "I have all these questions and no answers. My life has been taken away from me. I miss my family. I have grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends out there. They don't even know where I am. They must be worried, and I want to tell them that I'm all right."

"Brooklyn, I must confess that I am not privy to the exact details about why it is extremely important that you have no contact with anyone from your past life. I guess for today it is on a need to know basis and somebody has decided that I do not need to know. So I don't have any answers for those questions. But I do know that important decisions have been made with your safety and well-being as the utmost priority. I wish there was something more I could tell you to help ease the pain that you are experiencing. This is going to be a long journey and a hard one at best. I will help you figure out the best ways to navigate through this stage. Given adequate time, I am confident you will begin to find some peace in all of this."

Brooklyn leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Wasn't he supposed to be an expert with all of the answers at his fingertips? Did he really not have the power to find a way to help her? The air in the room felt like it was being sucked out.

Once again, he concentrated on her body language. The pounding of the signals emanating from her body was reaching a fevered pitch: her arms were folded in a way that could only be described as a one-person bear hug; her torso was as stiff as if rigor mortis had set in, and the lip pout could never become more extreme.

"What are you feeling?" he asked her.

"I'm mad and I'm trying to hide it from you. It's hard trying to pretend that I'm not angry. I think there is an angry woman hiding inside me that would have liked coming out just now."

"Okay, and I certainly appreciate the fact that you shared that with me," he replied with a warm and genuine smile. "Just don't forget she's there. We don't want to upset her any more than she already is. We're going to take this one day at a time and I promise you we will get through this, together."

Brooklyn looked down again, fidgeting with her hands, but the bear hug had clearly loosened up and her entire posture seemed more relaxed and composed.

"Brooklyn, I get the distinct impression that there is something that you want to say." Dr. Spencer stated.

"I want to go to school," she blurted out. "Wow, I really had not anticipated that statement today. Why do you want to go to school Brooklyn?" he calmly asked.

"Why . . . um . . . do I have to have a reason?" "I think that you do have a reason or else you would not have asked the question today. Don't get me wrong, I'm not objecting to your request. But the last thing I want is for you to move too quickly and then have to take ten steps back. So I would like to know the reason why you want to go to school."

"I feel like you're analyzing everything I say," she said.

"I'm not analyzing you," he encouraged. "My job is to listen to you. To help you deal with what you are feeling inside. This is a safe place here. You don't have to hide who you really are with me."

"And who do you think that I am?"

Dr. Spencer smiled at Brooklyn. "I think that you are an amazing young woman who has shown extraordinary strength during a horrific time in your life. Even though you may not grasp it, you have persevered thus far, and you will continue to persevere and mature with each passing day. I may not know your favorite food or your favorite color, but I think I know what's inside you. And the fact that you are alive and sitting here right now proves to me your determination to make something of this second chance you have. I have the utmost admiration for you."

A minute went by. Brooklyn thought hard about her response. "I don't want to be that girl. The one who can't get out of bed or concentrate on anything other than the nightmare I lived through. I'm mad. I'm really mad that someone took my family from me. I'm really mad that I was taken from the only relatives that I have left and shipped off to a strange state to live with this family that I know nothing about." The tears started falling. "I have no pictures. All I have is what I remember up here," she said, pointing to her head. "All I want is to start my new life. I want to go to school so I can make new friends and move on. The last thing I want to do is to wait around an unfamiliar house and be reminded of everything that I lost."

Dr. Spencer nodded. "Brooklyn, I'm really proud that you are able to communicate your needs to me. If this is what you want then I am in agreement with you. Promise me that if it's too soon, you will let me know. And you need to continue with your medication. That's not negotiable right now."

She nodded. She didn't like the idea of being on the medication, but she had begun to notice a difference these last few days. She was calmer and less apprehensive toward everything around her. She kind of liked the way that it made her feel. When she turned her head, it felt like everything moved in slow motion. Her body felt as if it were floating at times, as if she were in a pool. The only reassurance she had was that she didn't feel like the medication messed with her mind; it just calmed her down. Her thoughts, although disturbing and difficult, were also a security blanket that could not be taken away from her. They are her thoughts and they can't be changed.

"Brooklyn, I am curious about how you are sleeping."

"Okay, I guess" she said, taking a deep breath and wondering if she should tell him the truth. "Well, I had a nightmare last night."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not really," she said, looking down. "Is that okay? That I don't?"

"Yes," he replied. "For now, anyway. But I want you to learn to eventually become comfortable talking to me about what happened that night."

"Side note: I think that Christmas is really going to suck," she mumbled.

"You don't have to celebrate it if you don't want to."

"Okay, I'll think about that. I mean, is that rude to the Thompsons?"

"No, I don't think so. Besides, the Thompsons will understand and they will be there for you when you decide to reach out to them." He took a glance down at his watch. "Our time is up now. Here's my business card with all of my contact information. My plan is that we'll meet once a week, and if there is ever anything you want to talk about, please feel free to call me in between our sessions. And, I would like you to keep a diary. You don't have to write in it every day, but I think it would be a good way to get some of your emotions out there."

She took the business card out of his hand and studied it for a second, then pulled out her new pink cell phone and programmed his name and number in.

"Here you go," she said, handing the card back to him. "I don't need it anymore. It's in

here."

Dr. Spencer grinned and said, "Keep it. Put it in a safe place in case you lose your phone someday."

"I guess it really can't hurt, just in case."

Mary was waiting for her in the waiting room when she walked out. Brooklyn told Mary that Dr. Spencer had given her the go-ahead to start school the next day. Mary was a little apprehensive at first, but she trusted that it would probably be best for Brooklyn to go with the flow and do what she wanted. After all, Dr. Spencer had the best reputation in Detroit for working with teenagers suffering from PTSD. The Thompsons were very confident in their choice to hire him.

"Well, we better make sure you have everything you need, and we'll get you there early to get you enrolled. I'm sure you can sit in your first day until Greg can talk to the school and fill them in," Mary said.

"Good idea," Brooklyn replied. "I don't want to stand out."

She had managed to make it through her third day in Michigan, but she still felt a stranger in her own skin. The weather was cold and uninviting. She missed the sun, the beach, and the comfortable sound of the waves crashing. Most of all, she missed her family.

CHAPTER 10

Brooklyn was up early once again and made her bed, first thing. She was nervous and excited to start school. She knew that the Christmas holiday was only a few weeks away so she would have time to reflect on whether she was capable to continuing in school. But she also understood that the only other option available to her was homeschooling, and the thought of being cooped up in the house all day every day didn't excite her. She had always thrived on social interaction, with her friends at school as well as with her family, so the idea of staying at home when she should be at school made her dizzy. After getting ready, she rushed downstairs to have breakfast with an energy level that had been lost the previous few days. She hoped to fit in and even make a few friends along the way.

Mary pulled into the parking lot at Pine Lake High School. Ben had helped Brooklyn pick out an outfit the night before to help her blend in. She appreciated the help, especially on the first day. She was used to wearing flip-flops, old shirts, and no makeup to school. She now had on a plain white long-sleeved T-shirt and blue jeans. She tied a light pink zip-up hooded sweatshirt around her waist and she was carrying a sea-foam green North Face backpack. Her jeans were tucked into Ugg boots, which came up mid-calf. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. On her eyes was a bit of pink frosted eye shadow, black mascara, and her lips glistened in a clear lip gloss.

"How do I look?" she asked Ben as he gave her a once-over.

"Take down the hair," he answered. "All the girls wear their hair down." Brooklyn pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and let it flop around her shoulders. "Now you look Birmingham," he added.

Mary and Brooklyn met with Principal Berg for an hour before school while Ben and Gabe sat on the floor next to Ben's locker playing handheld video games. It was December, a rare time of year for new students to be coming in. To make the transition easier, Principal Berg gave Brooklyn the same schedule as Ben, just as the superintendent had suggested. Brooklyn was happy to have a familiar face in all of her classes. She had been more concerned about getting lost in the school than whether or not she would make any new friends. If she got lost and missed the start of class, she would have to walk in late in front of the entire room. The thought of that was terrifying to her at this point.

She and Mary walked back to Ben's locker. The halls were beginning to fill with students.

"You're not supposed to have your phone out, Ben," said Mary. She held out her hand. He turned off the game and handed it to her.

"I was bored." He stood up and turned to Brooklyn. "Are you ready?"

"I think so," she replied. "But I'm really nervous."

"You'll do great. Call me if you don't want to stay all day," Mary chimed in.

"Mom," interjected Ben. "We look like dorks with you babysitting us. Please go home. Are you trying to ruin Brooklyn's reputation on the first day?"

"Okay. Be safe. Look out for her, Benjamin."

"And don't wave at us when you get to the end of the hall," Ben shouted after her. He turned to Brooklyn. "Do you speak any French?"

"No, I took Spanish."

"Spanish, huh?" he asked, taking into consideration for a moment how the two languages sounded very different to him. Maybe knowing Spanish would help her in French. "French is just like Spanish. You'll do fine. All you need to know is Oui and Merci beaucoup."

"What does that mean?"

"'Yes' and 'thank you very much.' I'll help you in class."

They started walking down the hall together when Brooklyn saw what looked to be a tidal wave coming at them. People in the middle of the hall were parting to the sides for the three girls headed right for her and Ben.

"That's my girlfriend, Sara. The one in the middle," whispered Ben.

"Oh. She looks nice," lied Brooklyn. She was already petrified of Sara.

"Benjamin," Sara said as she jabbed him in the chest. "I looked like a fool at Jordan's party. What happened to you?"

"I got in trouble for biking in the snow to see you."

Sara looked upset. "And you didn't call because . . . why?"

"Because I . . . I . . . I didn't want to fight with you."

Her sidekicks, Kaylie and Stephanie, giggled. Brooklyn stood as still as possible at Ben's side. Sara turned and looked right at Brooklyn. "And?" she asked inquisitively. "Just who are you and why are you with my Ben?" The emphasis on "my" was enough to instill fear in just about anyone.

"That's my cousin, Brooklyn," answered Ben quickly.

"What's she doing here? I thought she was staying at home, with your mommy." "She's actually staying longer than I thought."

Sara looked Brooklyn up and down. "You're pretty. I'm Sara Schultz. I know everyone and everything there is to know at this school. It would be a good idea to stay on my good side. These are my besties, Kaylie Miller and Stephanie Keller. Just because you're Ben's cousin doesn't mean I have to be nice to you."

"Nice to meet you, too," mumbled Brooklyn. She extended her hand. Sara looked at it and smirked. The dolls on both sides of her smiled, mimicking their leader. Brooklyn wondered if they even knew how to talk.

"Walk me to class, Ben," Sara snapped, and turned to walk in the other direction. Ben started to follow her and turned around to motion to Brooklyn to follow. She was a little hesitant at first, but decided it was a better option than trying to find French class on her own. When they got to Sara's class, she passionately kissed Ben in the middle of the hall. Brooklyn was shocked at the public display of affection and the even more attentive audience. Sara obviously liked the drama.

French class went well, considering it was her first French lesson ever. The class gave her a welcome in French of course, which she couldn't understand. Then, the teacher Mrs. Lawson tried to encourage Brooklyn to greet the class in French. Ben offered to help Brooklyn and handed her a piece of paper to read out loud.

"J'ai besoin de bière froide, s'il vous plait," she managed to mumble, mispronouncing every syllable. The class started laughing and Brooklyn turned a dark shade of red.

"You're a little young to be drinking cold beer, Ms. Thompson," smiled Mrs. Lawson. "Benjamin, I would suggest you teach your cousin a proper greeting this evening."

"What did you make me say?" whispered Brooklyn.

"I need a cold beer, please," answered Ben, grinning.

Math class with Mr. Mason was a breeze. Brooklyn was well ahead of the class, at least for the time being. The only drawback was that Sara was in that class as well. She didn't seem to pay any attention to Mr. Mason at all, spending most of the period passing notes back and forth with Stephanie. Thankfully, that was the only morning class they had together. English with Mrs. Dobbs was boring. The class was discussing a book they had recently read, and the teacher told Brooklyn to listen to the discussion. She would start a new book with the rest of the class after the holiday break.

History was not a history lesson with Mrs. Cartera. The class was learning about slavery and plantations, and their homework was to draw a plantation on poster board and color the entire thing. That was due next week. It seemed very elementary for ninth grade history.

Science was disgusting. Ms. Connors was teaching them how to dissect fetal pigs, which made Brooklyn feel sick to her stomach. As they were receiving directions, Ben was squeezing their science project, causing the insides to spill out onto the table. He was escorted out into the hall, where he received a brief lecture from Ms. Connors on dissection.

The lunch period followed science class, and Ben explained that half of the students from each grade ate lunch for the first thirty minutes of the lunch hour while the other half went to homeroom. After thirty minutes ended the school bell would ring and the first group would go to homeroom while the second group would go to lunch. That was the only difference between a Schedule A and Schedule B assignment.

Brooklyn was excited to know that she had only two more classes after lunch. Overall, it had been a pretty good morning. Ben's friends had all been pretty nice to her, with the exception of Sara. It didn't really matter, though. She wasn't someone that Brooklyn really cared to get to know, despite the reminder to get on her good side. Brooklyn wondered why Ben, who had been so nice so far, was even dating her. Brooklyn was walking to the cafeteria with Ben, when Lizzy, another freshman, came up to them.

"Hey, guys!" Lizzy said, almost out of breath. "We have French class together, Brooklyn. Do you want to eat lunch with me and my friends?"

"Umm," she stalled looking at Ben for guidance. "What?" asked Ben. "No, Lizzy, this is Brooklyn's first lunch period and she has to stay with me."

Lizzy's eyes and body language immediate displayed her disappointment. Her smile faded, and she turned her head to glance at the floor. But she gathered herself enough to say, "It's okay. You already have people to eat with." She walked quietly away in the direction of the cafeteria.

"Look," said Ben, trying to explain his point of view. "I don't care if you were a huge nerd in your last school, but I'm popular here, and I'm not going to let you eat lunch with Lizzy. She pisses in her pants."

The cafeteria was huge. Brooklyn and Ben went through the cold lunch line, each getting a turkey sandwich on wheat bread, and apple and carrots. They walked clear across the room to the back right-hand side, passing every table in the process. People were staring at her, but she shrugged it off. It occurred to her that walking across the crowded cafeteria would have been a lot more nerve-racking if she hadn't been taking her medication.

Ben's friends were already at the table: Nathan Lutrelli, Jordan Dalton, Robby Riedl, and Adam Ashmore. Typically Sara, Kaylie, and Stephanie sat at their own table, but today they had joined Ben and his friends to investigate Brooklyn.

"Brooklyn," said Sara, "I gave up my lunch hour to sit with you. If people saw us with you, it would do wonders for your reputation."

"I don't really care about that stuff." "What?" she asked. The dolls laughed. "Of course you do."

"I think it's kind of cool," chimed in Adam. "A chick that cares about something other than the popularity meter." Brooklyn glanced over at Adam. She hadn't noticed his blond hair, dark blue eyes, and broad shoulders before. Her heart started beating a little faster and she quickly looked down at her food.

"You would, Ashmore," snapped Sara. "All you care about are sports and . . . sports." Sara turned to Ben. "She's at strike one, Benjamin."

Ben was annoyed, but surprisingly more annoyed with his girlfriend than Brooklyn. "She didn't do it on purpose."

"Whatever. She can go hang out with Lizzy," laughed Sara.

Ben didn't really dislike Lizzy but he knew that his popularity at the school would suffer if he did not adequately distance himself from her. They had been in the same class since kindergarten and they had even had a few play dates until it wasn't cool for boys and girls to be friends anymore, around second grade. At that point, cliques began to form, peer pressure mounted, a social status pecking order took over and Lizzy became one of the biggest perceived nerds in the class. It just was not possible for him to have the friends he wanted and be nice to Lizzy at the same time.

"Even Lizzy deserves to have friends," said Brooklyn. "She shouldn't have to eat alone every day."

"Get up and eat with her, then," ordered Sara. "Do you like Lizzy Wizzy? She might pee on you if she gets too excited when you're around."

"Enough," snapped Ben. "I'm done. Brooklyn's my cousin, and she can be friends with whoever she wants. It's not a big deal." He looked at the mysterious girl he had only known for a few short days and silently cursed his father for bringing her here. He did not need this extra drama with Sara. That road was already rocky enough without these confrontations. This lunch period was not going as well as Ben had hoped so he buried his head in his hands and waited for the next blast. It did not take long for Sara to deliver it.

"Let's be clear about something," Sara glared at Brooklyn. "If you want to be friends with Lizzie, then you are not friends with us."

Brooklyn now felt like more of an outsider than the day she had arrived at the Thomson's house. Nobody else at the table said a word, not Ben, not Adam, and Sara only smiled. She had gotten what she wanted. Brooklyn pushed away from the table and got up to throw her half-eaten plate of food away. All she wanted to do was call Mary and get out of this situation. She knew that her brother Nick would have never allowed this embarrassing situation to happen. How on earth did Ben not stick up for her? So much for the short-lived connection with Adam. She desperately needed the comfort of the swimming pool to escape this dreadful situation.

Deep down, Ben knew that he should be defending Brooklyn but he could not find the courage. "Let's talk about something else," he suggested. "Like how you stood me up at Jordan's party?"

"And not that, either," said Ben, followed by a sigh. "Look, I'm really sorry about that, but it was her first night here and my mom said I couldn't leave. Besides, we've already gone over this. How long are you going to hold this over my head?"

Sara stood up. "Ben, it's me or her." Kaylie and Stephanie stood up, following suit. "Let's go, girls. See you in gym, Benjamin."

Ben smiled, but as soon as Sara was out of sight he grabbed his hair and put his head down on the table. "She's impossible! She's not even worth it, no matter how hot she is. Why does she even care so much about my stupid cousin?" His friends all started smiling and laughing.

"Ben, dude, your cousin's hot. And she's nice to people, including the geeks," answered Jordan, pointing over to the garbage can where Lizzy was talking to Brooklyn.

"She is going to be the death of me, I swear," Ben said, pointing to Brooklyn. "Isn't it, like, an unwritten rule not to be nice to people who are major nerds? How can we ever let her hang out with us if she is friends with Lizzy?"

His friends laughed. "I don't know how or why you put up with Sara," said Adam. "I can't stand her." "You don't like any girls at our school and you're the captain of the football team," said Robby.

The bell rang, signaling that it was time to go to class. As Brooklyn walked out of the cafeteria, she spotted Ben and tried to walk next to him. She did not appreciate his inaction at the lunch table, but for now he represented her only sense of security. He shook his head the entire way to their art class.

"So, Lizzy pretty much thinks you're the biggest asshole in the class."

"I guess sometimes I am," he answered "Thanks for making me look bad in front of Lizzy and my girlfriend."

"I don't think you hate Lizzy as much as you pretend. In fact, I don't think you're as tough as you act, either."

"Look, B, I don't care if you eat with her every single day. Just please, I'm begging you, don't piss off my girlfriend. She will break up with me if she gets mad at you."

"That doesn't make any sense." Brooklyn looked at Ben's pleading face. "But, okay, I promise."

CHAPTER 11

The rest of Brooklyn's first day at school was less eventful, for which she was extremely grateful. She needed to catch her breath get a break from the drama. On every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday they had art class with Mr. Groebel during sixth period. He also taught music class during the sixth period on Tuesday and Thursday. The class was working on perspective drawings. Brooklyn was both a fantastic and a horrible art student. Although her work never really looked pretty, she always got good grades because she followed directions well. Overall, she was happy that all of the harder-thinking classes were out of the way.

After art class, she and Ben had gym class with Mr. Peters. He was a younger, good looking man in his late twenties, who seemed perfectly comfortable with the large whistle hanging around his neck. He had short dark hair and a warm, wide smile which displayed perfect white teeth. Because of his age, he seemed to have a connection with the students that the previous teachers did not seem to have. This was especially true about his connection with the girls.

Brooklyn had trouble opening her gym locker. There was a pretty brunette at the locker next her hers named Blair Foster. She helped Brooklyn open her locker while giving her all the gossip about Mr. Peters and the tight T-shirts he wore. Blair confirmed what Brooklyn had already concluded: there was not one girl in the school that did not have a crush on Mr. Peters.

They changed into their gym uniforms during the conversation. Blair was petite like Brooklyn, with long, dark-brown hair, which was slightly curled. She looked into her locker mirror and reapplied a shiny raspberry lip gloss before slamming her locker shut. Brooklyn had the impression that Blair was prepping more for an encounter with Mr. Peters or some of the male students rather than for a competitive hour in the gym. What kind of school was this where the girls felt like they had to put on make-up before gym class?

"Are you ready, new girl?" she asked. "Dodge ball can get a little violent."

"I'm ready," smiled Brooklyn.

It was nice to talk to another girl. Mr. Peters divided up the teams. Ben, Nate, Sara, and Stephanie were on the other team. Brooklyn was happy that Blair was on her team with Jordan and Adam. The balls were lined up in the middle of the gym. Mr. Peters blew the whistle and they all went charging toward the balls. Brooklyn was one of the first to the line and grabbed a ball. The other team started firing balls, and she warded them off using her ball as defense.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sara and Stephanie in the corner looking at their nails. Brooklyn wound up and fired a ball right at Sara. It hit her directly on her forehead.

"Ahh!" she shrieked. "Who did that?"

Mr. Peters started laughing along with the rest of the class, except Stephanie, who was trying to console Sara. "This is part of the game, Sara," said Mr. Peters. "Stop fooling around and play the game. Have you forgotten that gym is a class and it is an important part of the school day?"

"Fine," she answered as she rolled her eyes. She walked up and stood behind Ben.

"Don't let the ball hit me again."

"Okay, but when I move, you better move with me."

Brooklyn was out of the game a few seconds later. Blair followed shortly and ran over to sit with Brooklyn. Sara was laughing and screaming when the balls were whizzing by, and yelling at Ben to protect her.

Blair said, "Man, she nauseates me. Nice shot, by the way."

"Thanks. I would have admitted I was the one who hit her, but my cousin would have never heard the end of it."

"Really? Who's your cousin?"

"Ben Thompson."

"Oh, big Ben. He's cool. Ben is really good friends with my boyfriend Jordan." She pointed over to him as he was aggressively trying to dodge balls. "I can't stand Sara, or her followers."

"I don't know her, but . . ."

"It's cool. Where did you come from?"

Brooklyn took a deep breath. "San Francisco."

"Really? Why would you move to Michigan?"

"My dad's job," answered Brooklyn. "My parents are in Europe for a couple of months, so I..."

"Got the short end of the stick?"

"Something like that."

"Are you close to Ben and Gabe?"

"Umm . . . I don't really know them all that well. But I'm sure it will be fine."

"I'm sorry. Well, your cousin is a hoot. He's got a good head on his shoulders, at least until she came along. His priorities can be a little mixed up sometimes, but . . . I mean, he's really good friends with Jordan, so, you know I like him and all. I just think that he's changed a little. Ben used to ignore Sara before. And she's been the same old spoiled Sara in the eight years I've gone to school with her. But Gabe is really sweet. We used to ride the same bus to elementary and middle school. I miss seeing him around, but he'll be here next year. And he's got some nice friends, too, so you should hang out with him more."

"Yeah, I probably will."

"Wait, we should hang out sometime. I dance a lot—ballet— so I don't have a lot of free time. But we can be friends. Unless you only have room for Lizzy."

"I'd really like that," smiled Brooklyn. "I have room for more than one friend."

"Good. She peed in her pants one day in gym class and nobody has forgotten it. The name Lizzy Wizzy has stuck ever since. Hey, do you have a Facebook?" asked Blair.

"No," replied Brooklyn. Only, she lied. Well, not technically. Amber had Facebook. But Brooklyn did not.

"Oh. Ben can help you. Sign up. I'll look you up tonight after ballet."

"Everyone's back in for the new game!" shouted Mr. Peters. After class the girls changed out of their gym clothes. Sara approached them and slammed Blair's locker closed.

"I know it was you," she said as she glared at Blair.

"What was me?"

"I know you were the one who threw that ball at my head."

"Are you serious, princess? It's gym class. Anyway, I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of throwing anything your way if we were the last two out there."

Sara glared at Blair. "I'm watching you, bitch."

"Thanks for that," whispered Brooklyn when Sara was out of earshot.

"We have a lot of history. She doesn't bother me. Talk to you tonight!"

Blair trotted away and Brooklyn stood there for a second and leaned her head against the inside of the open locker door. The cold felt good against her forehead. Her first day of school was finally over, but her first, second, and third impressions of Sara were less than impressive. In fact, Brooklyn downright didn't like her. Besides being conceited and selfish, she was utterly mean. But she was Ben's girlfriend, so she would have to learn to play nice. Brooklyn closed her locker and picked up her bag.

When she walked out of the locker room, she saw Ben down the hallway. He was talking with Sara and he appeared once again to be in defensive mode. As Brooklyn approached them, she decided not to stop. She didn't want to know what the argument was about this time.

"Brooklyn!" Sara bellowed after her.

Brooklyn stopped and turned around. She forced a smile on her face. "Yeah?"

"How was your first day?" The smile across Sara's face looked phony.

"It was pretty good. Thanks for asking."

"I know we didn't really get a chance to talk, since you were busy defending Lizzy at lunch. But seriously, we'll catch up tomorrow."

"Umm . . . okay. That sounds . . . fine," said Brooklyn, trying to look more excited than she sounded.

"Oh, and Brooklyn? About Blair."

"I think she's nice," Brooklyn interjected. After all, Blair had saved her from Sara. Defending her was the right thing to do.

"Nice? Uh-huh. Well, she's kind of pathetic, a real downer. I mean, it's your choice and all, but I would really choose your friends a little more carefully."

Brooklyn's smile faded. Sara was unbelievable. Brooklyn started walking slowly toward the exit. She heard kissing and giggling and thought she was going to be sick. Blair was right about Ben's being brainwashed.

Mary was parked right out front and Gabe was already waiting in the car. Brooklyn climbed in the back seat next to him.

"So, how was it?" Mary asked, intrigued.

"Umm . . . it was good, I guess. Better than I expected."

"Did you have the pleasure of meeting Sara yet?"

"Uh-huh," said Brooklyn.

"And, what did you think?"

"I think that she's a stuck-up little snot who is obviously living in a delusional world that she probably named after herself. She's phony and she's mean and I have no idea how I am going to avoid being her enemy."

"Awesome!" yelped Gabe.

"That bad, huh?" asked Mary.

"Yeah, she really is. On a good note, I met a girl named Blair Foster and she was really nice to me, especially on my first day and all. I think I'm going to get along great with her. Oh, and Sara clearly doesn't like her. She called her a . . . a really bad word, to her face."

"From what I know about Blair, I think she's a really good choice for a friend. A few years back, she and Sara were inseparable."

"Really? Blair didn't say anything about that."

"I'm not really sure what happened. A lot of friendships change between middle school and high school but I am confident that it was Sara that initiated whatever drove them apart."

CHAPTER 12

As soon as they arrived at the house, Brooklyn went right up to her room and dumped out her book bag on the floor. Her plan was to get her homework done, because the Thompsons ate dinner every night during the week at six o'clock sharp. After dinner, she wanted to swim some laps and then play on the computer. It was just before three when Brooklyn sprawled out on the floor and started doing her homework.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, she had completed all her assignments. It had been a lot easier than she had anticipated, so she decided to change her plan and swim before dinner instead. In the basement, both Ben and Gabe had sunken their video-addicted selves into the couch for another round of Mario Kart, their addiction of the week. "You're swimming again?" asked Ben, without moving his eyes from the television.

"Yes, I prefer to exercise more than just my fingers."

"You're an addict and you need help," said Ben.

"I guess," answered Brooklyn as she walked to the pool. She wondered whether Ben and Gabe really thought she needed mental-health help.

She swam laps for an hour before soaking in the hot tub for fifteen minutes. She could hear the boys shouting at each other in the game room, still involved with the game and racing each other all around the television screen. After the hot tub had soothed her muscles, Brooklyn went upstairs and took a hot shower. She changed into a hooded sweatshirt and pants before throwing her soaking wet hair in a bun on the top of her head and heading downstairs to dinner.

Mary was just putting the final touches on the Mexican-food buffet she had prepared, and was pulling the tortillas out of the microwave. They were enclosed between two plates, the top one upside down, and then layered individually between sheets of paper towel. Mary had sprinkled a little water on each tortilla and then placed a piece of paper towel on top. The tortillas were soft and steaming hot.

"I never knew you could do that!" exclaimed Brooklyn.

"Just like in a restaurant," said Mary, smiling. "I don't cook well, but I do know a few tricks." She winked at Brooklyn.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"No, thank you. I'm all set."

Greg walked in the kitchen and kissed Mary hello. "Smells great, Honey."

The boys walked into the kitchen and grabbed their plates right on cue. Ben's tortilla was dominated by chicken and cheese while Gabe's had healthy portions of tomato and lettuce. When everyone had a full plate, the family prayed quickly and dug in. Ben was practically inhaling his food while Gabe was slow and methodical and savoring every bite. Nobody broke the silence of the dinner table for the first couple of minutes. Finally, Greg spoke.

"Brooklyn how was school today?"

"It was good. Everyone was pretty nice."

"And how about your classes? Were they too easy, or too difficult?" he asked.

Brooklyn thought about it for a second. "French is going to be a challenge. I think everything else should be okay."

"She's really good at math," said Ben.

"Yeah, I'm a math nerd."

"And a social nerd," said Ben, nodding. "She talked to Lizzie right in front of the entire lunch room and all of my friends."

"Oh, come on, she's not a nerd," Mary said.

"No, but Ben is," chimed Gabe with a forkful of rice.

"Who is Lizzy and why is it a problem that Brooklyn talked to her in front of your friends?" asked Greg.

"Greg, it's Lizzy MacArthur. She's been in Ben's class for years." "The best part of the day was when Brooklyn hit Sara in the head in gym while we were playing Dodge ball."

"You saw that?" asked Brooklyn, surprised.

"Yep," said Ben with a grin on his face.

"How come you didn't say anything?"

"Because it's fun to watch Sara get mad. And now you owe me."

"And Blair, too," responded Brooklyn. "Sara yelled at her in the locker room because she assumed that Blair was the one who hit her. Besides, I didn't do it on purpose."

"I would have," Gabe said. "It would have been funny to see the witch screech."

"Gabriel!" snapped Mary, trying hard not to laugh. "Don't say that again." "She's not a witch." Ben said, stirring his rice around this plate. "She's just . . ." there was a long pause. "She just really thinks highly of herself."

"Do those high thoughts include you, Ben?" asked Greg.

"Mostly...sometimes...usually not."

"Well, I appreciate you not saying anything," said Brooklyn. "She would have eaten me alive on my first day! It really was an accident."

Brooklyn finished giving the Thompsons details on the rest of her day, including how embarrassed she was while asking for a cold beer in French class. After dinner, Brooklyn started to clean the kitchen. It was a tradition in the Cole house that everyone pitched in for kitchen clean-up after meals. However, Mary told her not to worry about it. Brooklyn took a seat on one of the counter barstools, filling Mary in on the details she didn't want to discuss at the dinner table. From her initial attraction to Adam, to the nice teachers and the mean girls, Brooklyn gave her the whole scoop on her exciting first day.

Mary was thrilled to have another girl in the house to talk to. Boys were so different. Gabe was a little more open than Ben, and oftentimes filled Mary in on things that Ben would have never discussed with either of his parents, such as all of the cliques and the social divisions that were occurring at the school. But Ben didn't like talking about himself, let alone other people, so most of the time Mary felt that he was not talking enough. On one hand, it was good because he didn't talk badly about other people with the obvious exception of Lizzy, but on the other hand it was also bad because he was very secretive about all of the issues that were taking place at the school. He was at the awkward stage where kids were exploring and experimenting and Mary had hoped that he would be willing to communicate more openly with her.

Ben came in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. "Jordan said that Blair said you need help to set up a Facebook."

"Yeah. I told Blair I would set one up tonight."

"Let's go, unless you're having fun talking to my mom."

"Actually, I am," she said, smiling at Mary. "Ben, you're going to be surprised one day to discover that I may actually be a pretty cool mom . . . just a little bit," answered Mary, smirking back at Ben. Ben stood there with a blank stare on his face.

"Yeah, right," he finally said.

"Hey, Brooklyn," called Greg from the family room. "Can you come in here for a second?" When she approached, Greg asked "Is it necessary for you to have a Facebook profile? I know that many of the kids use it as their preferred way to communicate but I am worried about how easy it is for people to find out information about someone else. Do you understand why I am concerned?"

Brooklyn thought seriously about his statement before responding, "Yes, I understand why you are concerned, but I have to be able to fit in with the other kids if I have any hope of having friends. I will be able to control how much or how little I want to say. It will be fine."

Despite still feeling concerned, Greg called out to Ben. "Ben, the Internet is a wealth of information, meaning that anyone has access to whatever you put out there. Keep it as brief as possible, and absolutely no pictures." Ben's face dropped. "Dad, what's even the point?" he asked, appalled.

"It's okay, Ben," replied Brooklyn. "I know the rules, Mr. Thompson. I promise that I won't say anything that can make someone suspicious of the new me."

"It's Greg, and I want to see it when you're done," said Greg, pointing at Ben.

"Do you always have to be such a cop? Can't you just be a regular guy for once?"

"I am being a regular guy, Ben—I'm looking out for my family."

CHAPTER 13

Brooklyn sat down at the computer at her desk while Ben dragged her armchair across the room, setting it down next to the desk chair. He began spitting out directions as he sank into the chair and put his feet on up the desk. He was surprised to see that she already had the sign-up page for Facebook on the screen.

"Those better not smell," she commented, pointing at his feet.

"I have socks on," he answered casually. Ben discreetly tried to check his feet for any unpleasant odor. Remembering that his feet had been trapped inside his shoes all day, he slowly removed them from the desk trying to avoid attention. Brooklyn glanced over at him with a big smirk across her face.

"Thank you."

"Okay, see on the top in the middle where it says 'Log In'? Don't go there. Look at the bottom right-hand side where it says . . ."

Brooklyn had already clicked where it said "Sign Up."

"Yeah, there."

She began to answer a series of questions under the registration. "Umm, I can't remember what my new birthday is."

"Just put in like 1/1/1910 or something dumb like that. My dad would probably want us to lie anyway." Brooklyn typed a random date, said she lived in Juno, Alaska and left the school blank. They found a cartoon picture on the Internet that had dark hair and blue eyes and downloaded it as Brooklyn's default picture.

"Great, this entire thing is a lie . . . looks nothing like my..."

"When were you going to tell me?" he interrupted.

"Tell you what?"

"That you have a Facebook profile already."

Brooklyn looked at Ben. "No . . . maybe . . . but that doesn't matter now," she replied, fidgeting in her chair.

"Every kid has a Facebook account. But, you're actually thinking about looking at it."

"No, I'm not, I can't do that," she snapped. Ben was staring right through her. It felt so obvious that she was concealing her true intentions. The thought of checking her Facebook account had occurred to her several times since she had gotten her new computer. "Forget it, okay? I know that I can't sign in . . . I'm not stupid, you know. The stupid thing shows the most recent log-in date and someone somewhere who's really good with computers could find where I logged in from."

"But, if we looked at your page from my account, then..."

"No," she said abruptly. "It's not my page that I want to see," she swallowed hard. "I...it's, like, my only connection to them and there's no way that I would be able to look just once." "I know, but if you could see what your old friends are doing, then you wouldn't feel like you're so far away. We could look from my account. There must be someone that you want to..." his voice trailed off.

There was a long pause. "Kind of...my best friend."

"I won't tell anyone if you want to look."

"No, I can't." Ben helped her connect to his profile and Gabe's profile. All of a sudden, Brooklyn clicked on the sign-out button and stood up abruptly, pointing to her chair. "Well, come on . . . are you going to help me or not?"

Without another word, Ben leaned over and logged in under his account with both guilt and regret. Twenty minutes ago, his father had trusted him to assist Brooklyn, and helping her spy on her friends in California was not what his father had intended him to do. Yet, there was something about Brooklyn that made helping her worth the risk. There she was, a foot away from him, and he could almost feel her body shaking with fear as she swiftly directed the mouse across the screen, followed by her fingers rapidly moving across the keys typing the name "Sasha Matthews" as fast as possible.

The search brought up 487 profiles under the name Sasha Matthews. She clicked on the Advanced Search button and narrowed the search by specifying the search criteria, followed by filling in the state, city, and age-range categories. The advanced search returned only four names.

Brooklyn scrolled down. The Sasha she was looking for was third on the list. Ben wasn't sure if it was the smell of Brooklyn's shampoo or the lotion that she used after her shower, but he was suddenly enamored of this stranger living in his house. He held his hand out, toward her back; all he could think to do was embrace her and tell her it would be okay.

Brooklyn turned around. "What?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. All of a sudden his mouth became dry and he was confused about what to say to her. He could not remember the last time that he had felt this awkward around a girl his age. "Nothing. Did you find her yet, or what?" he asked, anxious to see a little part of Brooklyn's past.

She nodded quickly, confirming that she had found her profile. The cursor hovered over Sasha's profile picture, with her jumping on a trampoline. It was the same picture that was on the profile the last time she had seen it. Brooklyn smiled, remembering how many hours Sasha had spent outside after she had gotten the trampoline, a gift from her parents after months of begging.

Brooklyn's palms were beginning to sweat, her nerves taking over her body. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," she whispered.

"It's up to you. If you're not ready and you change your mind later..."

It was too late. She had clicked on Sasha's picture, revealing the full profile. Ben leaned in a little closer, his face now inches from hers.

"Good thing her profile isn't private. Then we might not be able to stalk her."

Her status read "Missing Amber." Brooklyn's eyes started watering again. Her chest began to feel heavy. "I miss you, too," she whispered.

"What's your real last name?" "Cole," she whispered. It was too hard to say aloud.

Other than the new public messages Sasha received, her profile had not changed at all. Brooklyn and Ben read through the public messages, many of them offering support or asking if there was anything they could do to help. "What do you think that's about?" she asked, wondering if it was about her.

"Uh, maybe she's sad because you're gone, so..."

"Maybe," she interrupted. "But . . . what do you think people think, I mean about where I am and what happened? Do you think that she knows I had to leave because of my family? What if she thinks that I wanted to leave? I didn't want to leave."

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I know you didn't, but my dad didn't say anything about what they told people. You never asked?"

"I don't know . . . I guess it was just a shock or something."

Brooklyn clicked on Sasha's pictures. There were 127 pictures in her profile, and they scrolled through all of the pictures one by one. There were many pictures of Brooklyn and Sasha together: at the beach, at school, around the pool, at an amusement park. And there were pictures Sasha and Brooklyn with their friends doing even more things together. Brooklyn was clearly happy as she went through the pictures, telling Ben stories as they went through the photos.

"That's a good one. I want to see a close-up," said Ben, pointing to a picture of Brooklyn and Sasha eating ice cream cones with the biggest smiles on their faces. Brooklyn clicked on the picture and comments popped up below the photo. The first comments were from friends of theirs saying how cute the snapshot was. The last comment was from her former classmate.

This picture is only a few weeks old.

I can't believe she's really gone.

Let's make a pact visit her every year on her birthday.

"What?" asked Brooklyn, stunned. "How can they visit me? Do they know where I am?"

"No. I mean, that's impossible. My dad said that nobody knows, except for us."

"Then how are they going to visit me?"

Brooklyn clicked on another picture. Under picture caption it said, "Remembering Amber." Brooklyn had a blank expression on her face. Ben wasn't sure what to say. There it was, clear as day, a picture of Amber and a poem about never forgetting those who have died.

"They think I'm dead!" Brooklyn shouted.

"Are you sure?" asked Ben, knowing it had to be the truth, but unsure of how to respond with the sensitivity required for the situation.

"Yes, I'm sure! Look at this!" Brooklyn pointed to more comments on Sasha's page referring to Amber passing away.

"Let's ask my dad, then."

"No!" shouted Brooklyn. "You can't! If he finds out what we did, he won't trust me and I won't be able to look anymore."

"Uh . . . I . . . maybe I was wrong. Maybe looking isn't such a good idea."

"But it's all I have," said Brooklyn, her blue eyes sad and lonely. She clicked on one of Sasha's headshots so it pulled up a larger view. Then, she clicked the print button.

"Oh, uh, what are you doing?" Ben asked.

"Please don't say anything. I'll hide it, I promise."

"It's official. My dad is going to kill me," said Ben.

"It's fine. Nobody's even going to know," she said, trying to reassure him.

There was a chime; it was an instant message from Sara, asking Ben why he hadn't called her yet. Ben read the message and rolled his eyes as more messages from her began to appear asking him what he was doing and why he wasn't responding.

"Do you want me to leave?" asked Brooklyn.

Ben stood up and signed out of his account. Sara's timing couldn't have been worse—just as he was about to take Brooklyn into his arms to comfort her. "Are you okay, Ben?" Her beautiful blue eyes were staring into his. All of a sudden Ben felt the fog begin to clear and shook his head.

"It's fine, all of it. I won't say anything. We'll finish another time. Just promise me you won't look without me."

"Thanks for being here with me," said Brooklyn with a smile as she reached over to hug him.

"No problem," he said nervously. He began to feel guilty about even thinking about Brooklyn as somebody he would like to have as a girlfriend when he was supposed to be looking out for her like a brother.

"Uh . . . thanks for sharing all of that with me. I know it's not easy being here. So, whatever I can do to help. You know." He shrugged his shoulders. "Hide that picture, and, if you get caught, I was never here."

Brooklyn spent the next two hours chatting with Blair on her Facebook instant messenger. Gabe was logged on from his computer down the hall and was messaging Brooklyn as well. She received several friend requests while she was online with Blair and Gabe because he had sent out a note to his friends to add Brooklyn. She accepted all of their requests and couldn't believe how fast this was all happening. Ben signed on and also messaged her, letting her know he had also told his friends whom she'd met earlier that day, and to look out for them adding her.

Just when she was done with the computer for the night, Brooklyn received a friend request from Sara. She considered ignoring it for a moment before finally accepting the request. It was beneficial not to make waves. After adding Sara's clones and then all of Ben's friends, she finally decided to call it a night. She was exhausted and her fingers hurt from all the typing.

She said goodnight to Blair and then walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she was done, she opened the medicine cabinet and took out two sleeping pills. She stuck her head under the faucet to drink water and wash the pills down. Brooklyn folded up the printed picture of Sasha and put it in the middle of one of the books on her bookshelf. After climbing into bed, Brooklyn grabbed her bear and snuggled in.

She tried to dissect everything that happened earlier that day. Overall, it had been a pretty good start. Everyone except Sara had been friendly. Blair was extremely nice, and Brooklyn was excited to get to know her better. She felt a bit unsettled about having to lie to people about who she was and where she came from. But she hoped that would become easier as the days went by.

After all, she would never be going back to her old life. She was really thankful to have Ben. So far, he had proven to be a great ally, except when it came to his reputation. She was content with her living situation and surprised herself by thinking about the Thompsons as her own family. She desperately wanted the warmth and comfort of her real family and was hoping that it could exist with the Thompsons. There really was no choice for her, she could never go back. Would her life with the Thompsons feel like a real family is things were stable, and normal and fun? Should she feel guilty about wanting to be treated like a daughter by these replacements?

But then she started thinking about Sasha and her living relatives, and she started crying. They all thought that she was dead, and it was upsetting to think that they were grieving her loss. There was nothing that Brooklyn could do about it, even though she wanted to somehow pass along a secret message that she was okay. But it was too risky, and if she got caught, there was no way to know what the consequences might be. She could be sent to live somewhere else—or worse, she might be kicked out of the witness protection program, which would make her an easy target for the people who murdered her family. She knew that her life absolutely depended on following the witness protection program guidelines and instructions.

Brooklyn remembered her promise to Greg and Rachel that she would never go back to any part of her old life. And deep down she knew that she had to keep that promise, except for the occasional times when she would allow herself to look up their profiles under Ben's account...After all, she thought, there was no way that those murderers could ever track her down just because she looked up some Facebook profiles. It seemed like a harmless way to maintain a slight connection to her previous life, although it was an effort to convince herself that it was not really breaking the promise she had made.

CHAPTER 14

In her previous life, the early-morning swims were Brooklyn's favorite. Consistent with her past custom, she dove right into the lukewarm water and started her hour-long routine, trying to process the events from her first day of school. She was excited about her second day of school, and hoped it would be just as good, if not better. She also promised herself that she would not make a habit of checking up on her past through the computer. The last thing she wanted to do was betray the trust the Thompsons had placed in her. Her living situation could have turned out to be a nightmare, but she had been blessed, and she didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize that.

After her swim, she sat in the hot tub for about ten minutes, and then went upstairs to shower and get ready for school. Classes started at eight-twenty, and they were supposed to leave the house at eight. At ten to eight, Brooklyn came flying back downstairs to the kitchen. Mary had already made one of her favorite breakfasts: plain oatmeal, a hard-boiled egg white, a banana, and skim milk.

"This is great," she said when she saw the food at the table.

"I'm having fun spoiling you," said Mary, smiling. "The boys just eat cereal. I'm glad you eat a real breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day."

"I never miss a meal," answered Brooklyn as she shoveled the food in her mouth.

"That's good, because if you did, with all that swimming you've been doing, I would be worried."

Mary dropped Brooklyn and Ben at the front door of the school. Once inside, they stopped at Brooklyn's locker and then Ben's, and then headed to start the morning classes. Brooklyn had not noticed the prior day, but she had the first two morning classes with Blair. She was really excited about that. After math class, Blair proposed lunch together with Ben, Jordan, and the rest of their friends. Brooklyn warned her about possibly eating lunch with Sara, but Blair said that she wasn't going to let her new friend eat lunch alone with Sara.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, Sara was already seated back at her usual table with Kaylie and Stephanie. Brooklyn asked Sara if she would like to join them at Ben's table, but luckily Sara declined, saying they would catch up another time. Brooklyn wasn't sure if it was because Blair was standing at her side or not. The next week and a half went by quickly. While Brooklyn was getting acquainted with Ben and Gabe and their friends, she was also settling into a routine which included swimming every morning and sometimes after school as well. She was beginning to look forward to dinner with the Thompsons as a way to get to know the family better. She was also more comfortable thinking about them as her own family, people trying to help build a strong foundation for her future.

Ben and Gabe were very different in so many ways: where Ben was confident and outgoing, Gabe was reserved and quiet; Ben liked girls and big groups of friends but Gabe loved sports and did not have time for girls. Brooklyn was developing a different relationship with each of them. With Ben, she wanted to come across as cool, knowledgeable and mature. But when she was around Gabe she was very relaxed and could just be herself.

In the evenings, she spent a lot of time on the computer and on her cell phone talking to Blair. As their conversations and interactions gradually became longer, Brooklyn realized it was because their personalities were very similar. They were both confident, but not in a cocky or egotistical way. Blair had been quick to point out how much she disliked the cliques that had formed because they seemed to spend much time just criticizing the students who were not in those cliques. She did not go out of her way to try to impress anyone because she was comfortable with her own values and how the other kids reacted to her when she was kind to them.

She was also started to talk to Adam a little, outside of school. They were slowly beginning to sit together in a group at lunch and chatted a little in gym class. And he seemed to check in on her every day after school on the computer, and sometimes they texted back and forth, or exchanged fast conversations over the phone.

Brooklyn was finally beginning to feel that she had some sort of life again, despite the void that she felt every second of every day. She often thought of her parents and wondered what they would think of her new friends who were so different than the friends she used to have back in California. With her friends in California, there was minimal drama and everyone got along with everybody else. The girls basically just hung out with other girls so they did not try to impress the boys with make-up and beautiful clothes on a daily basis. But it was different in Michigan. Every day at school was like a fashion show with the clothes and the make-up. The girls especially noticed who you talked to and they noticed the car you arrived in and they were quick to criticize what they didn't like. Despite these differences, Brooklyn felt that her new life was actually going better than she could have ever imagined.

CHAPTER 15

The last day of school before the Christmas break was a Friday, so school would be closed for two full weeks. While Brooklyn was thrilled to have that much time away from classes and homework, and to be able to catch up on some sleep, she really wasn't looking forward to a holiday without her real family. It had always been her favorite time of year, but now it would be a constant reminder that her family was gone, and she was alone. She wasn't sure how she was going to make it through, and wondered if she would leave town alone when she was older, just to get away. She pondered where she would escape to, and settled on Mallorca, Spain, the largest Balearic Island in the Mediterranean, home to her favorite tennis player, Rafael Nadal.

Morning classes were easy on the day before winter break as the kids were anxious for the day to end so their vacation could begin. In French, the class had to read out loud six things they would be doing during the next two weeks. There was a lot of laughing from students. Brooklyn could only imagine what they were saying, since she hadn't a clue. Math was the only morning class where they actually did work, which she didn't mind.

The bell rang at the end of the last morning class and everyone headed into the cafeteria for lunch. Brooklyn met Blair and they went through the cold lunch line together with Brooklyn grabbing her usual turkey sandwich, raw carrots, and an apple. Blair grabbed the same lunch except she substituted celery for carrots. They had beaten the crowd to the lunch line so they were the first to arrive at the table.

"I'm so excited for the break," said Blair. "Are you going to see your parents?"

"Nope," Brooklyn answered, taking a bite of her sandwich, trying to hide the awkwardness that she was suddenly feeling, once again having to lie about her parents.

"That's going to be kind of weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah . . . I don't . . . probably, I guess."

The boys walked over with trays of piping-hot turkey, mixed vegetables, and stuffing with cranberry sauce.

"Look at this crap. How am I supposed to eat this?" asked Ben.

"I don't get why you go through the hot line and then complain about it every day," laughed Brooklyn.

"Oh, and your lunch is better? Since you've been here you have eaten the same exact lunch every day. Why don't you try something different?"

"You don't hear me complaining," she answered, waving a carrot stick in the air. "I'm perfectly content with my lunch."

"It's kind of mushy," said Adam, looking disappointed at his stuffing.

"I'm used to this. It's just like my Christmas dinner," exclaimed Jordan. Everyone looked up at him. "What? My mom can't cook," he said, taking a spoonful of food.

"Brooklyn, I think that we should have a sleepover this weekend," declared Blair.

"Umm . . . I'm not sure what we're doing," she replied nervously.

"We're not doing anything," said Ben, hinting that it was okay for her to socialize. Brooklyn was nervous. She wanted to have a girls' night, but was hesitant about committing to a sleepover. The last thing she wanted was to wake up screaming in the middle of the night from one of her frequent nightmares and have Blair there to witness it.

"Well, can you ask your aunt?"

"Yeah . . . I guess I can ask her."

"Great, I have dance until six-thirty, but we can get together after that. I'm excited!"

"Yeah, me too," said Brooklyn, forcing a smile.

"Just call me if she says no, otherwise I'll bring us dinner."

"What are you bringing?" asked Ben.

"Nothing for you. It's a girls' night only," snapped Blair.

"Except for boyfriends. I'm coming over," said Jordan. "Is that cool?" he directed his question at Ben.

Ben looked at Brooklyn, who looked uncomfortable enough as it was. As fun as it sounded to have a group of guys and girls over at the house that night, he realized that it might be a bit overwhelming for her. "Uh, my mom would probably kill me if we interrupted girl night," answered Ben.

Noticing Brooklyn's apparent hesitation, Adam decided to change the subject. "Ben, what did you buy your girlfriend for Christmas?"

"Nothing," he replied, trying to swallow a bite of turkey.

"You're so stupid! You'll never hear the end of it," Blair blurted out.

"Oh, like you care whether or not she gets mad," he answered.

"I care if she's going to take her anger out on everyone else, especially me."

"Huh," Ben thought for a second. "Well, what has she done for me?"

"Apparently not what you want," Jordan said, laughing.

Blair smacked his arm. "I don't think that's very funny."

"Sorry babe. But, it's Ben and Sara," Jordan said. "Come on, she's such a tease."

"What do you think, Brooklyn? Should Ben get Sara something?" Blair asked.

"I don't know. You guys have known Sara for a much longer time than I have so I'm not really sure. I guess . . . I mean what do you get the girl who already has everything?" Brooklyn was saved by the sound of the bell signaling that it was time to go to class.

The rest of the afternoon flew by. With only gym class to go, Brooklyn was beginning to get excited for the vacation to start. Blair was waiting for her outside the locker-room door. "Bad news, we're swimming today in gym," pouted Blair.

"Really? I love swimming!" exclaimed Brooklyn.

Blair made a disgusted face. "Well, so do I, but I hate swimming in gym class. All the boys stare at us like we're pieces of meat. And it's not like we do anything fun in the water. It's usually hard."

The girls changed into the navy Speedo suits that were part of the gym uniform. They walked out onto the pool deck to find Sara already touching Ben's bare chest. He was tall and skinny, and didn't have bulging muscles, and Brooklyn was pretty grossed out at the sight of Sara being all over him right there in gym class.

"I think I just threw up in my mouth," said Blair as the girls walked past the twosome to sit on the other side of Ben with Nate, Jordan, and Adam. "Ben is no Michael Phelps."

Brooklyn could not help but notice Adam's tall, muscular frame. It came as no surprise that he was the captain of the football team. He looked more like a junior than a freshman.

"All right," shouted Mr. Peters. "We are going to be doing some water aerobics, treading water, and a little swimming. Get in the pool." The class walked to the side of the pool, most of them feeling a bit self-conscious. The boys and girls reflected the full spectrum of different shapes and sizes and even those with the better appearances felt awkward in this setting. While they knew that the initial plunge into the water would be a shock to their systems, it was still preferable to lingering on the pool deck. So it did not take long for the class to be in the water, with the exception of Sara.

"Umm, Mr. Peters, I have a stomach ache," said Sara.

"You seemed fine a minute ago when you couldn't keep your hands off Mr. Thompson. You need to get in the water if you have any desire to get credit for this class," he answered, pointing to the pool. "Fine," she snapped. She took her time walking the five feet to the side of the pool as the rest of the class watched from inside the warm water. After piling her hair on the top of her head and securing it with a rubber band, she sat down on the side of the pool and slowly dangled her legs in the water. Stephanie swam over to the side to wait for her.

"In the pool now, Sara. This isn't a joke." warned Mr. Peters. Sara glared up at him as she scooted her body into the water. "Tread water for five minutes with your hands above your head and chin above the water. Three, two, one, go."

Brooklyn started moving her legs in a figure eight motion at a steady pace. She was a natural at treading water, and could do it in her sleep. She looked over at Blair, whose head was bobbing up and down; the water level was moving between her chin and her nose.

"How do you do this?" asked Blair. "You're barely moving!" "Move your legs in a figure eight."

"What's a figure eight?"

Brooklyn tried to her best to explain what she was doing, but it was hard to show her what she was doing underwater because Blair couldn't go underwater to see it. One of the women from the front office came into the pool area, waiving Mr. Peters out into the hall.

"I'll be right back. Keep going. Three-and-a-half more minutes," he said, walking into the hall. That's not smart, thought Brooklyn as she continued to tread water better than the rest of the class. By now, most of the kids from the class were resting their arms under the water with their heads tilted back, making it much easier for them to float, which was clearly less work. Brooklyn and Blair kept treading water in the back of the pack. There was a big splash and Sara started screaming.

"My makeup!" she screeched. "Who did that?"

There was no response other than laughter. Jordan dove under the water and swam over to where Brooklyn and Blair were.

"Ladies," he said. "You both look sexy in your Speedos. How is it going back here?"

"Did you splash Sara?" Brooklyn asked.

"Of course," he replied smiling. "My makeup!'" he said sarcastically.

"I knew there was a good reason I went out with you," said Blair as she quickly pecked him on the cheek. Adam and Nate swam over after Jordan. Ben was still in the front of the pool, arguing with Sara over being splashed. The door opened, and Mr. Peters walked back in.

"Time's up, guys. Get down to the shallow end for water aerobics."

"Mr. Peters, someone splashed me," whined Sara.

"Sara, you're in a pool. You're going to get wet so you need to deal with it."

Water aerobics turned out to be pretty funny because the boys in the class turned everything into a joke. From marching in place to running in wide circles, they were trying to chase each other around the shallow end. Mr. Peters was being unusually lenient because it was the last class before Christmas break.

After twenty minutes of water aerobics, Mr. Peters passed out goggles and divided the class into six teams of four for relay races. Brooklyn ended up on a team with Adam and two girls whom she had not met before, Sammy and Carly. Each member on the team had to swim two lengths of the pool. Sammy and Carly thought that Adam should start the team off because he was the only guy, and they thought he could get them a little bit of a lead. Carly wanted to go second, and she picked Brooklyn to go third, not yet knowing that Brooklyn was the fastest swimmer in the class. Typically, the fastest person on the team would swim the anchor leg, which is last, but this was only gym class and there was nothing to win so Brooklyn didn't offer to change the order.

"Take you mark, GO!" Mr. Peters shouted, and the first leg was underway.

Everyone else was gathered on the side of the pool, clapping and cheering, except for the next person in line for each of the teams, anxiously waiting his or her turn. Adam was a decent swimmer for a non-swimmer, and the girls were right in picking him to lead off. He was ahead of the pack by over a body's length. After he touched the wall, Carly hesitated too long before diving in, so the other teams caught up to her. By the time she reached the wall on the far end of the pool, their team was in fourth and fading fast. Brooklyn put her hands together and stretched her arms high above her head. Then she shook her arms out to the side and jumped up and down three times to quickly stretch her calf muscles.

"What is she doing? This isn't the Olympics," she heard Sara say, followed by laughing and snickering. Brooklyn put on her goggles and restlessly waited for Carly to reach the wall. The first team touched the wall, followed by the second and third. A few more seconds went by and fourth and fifth touched. Finally, Carly, in dead-last place reached for the wall. Carly's fingers barely touched the wall, and Brooklyn darted off, diving effortlessly into the rippling water.

As soon as her legs were in, she started kicking rapidly in a streamlined position, trying to stay under as long as possible. When she broke through, her arms started turning over twice as fast as the rest of the teams in the pool. At the end of the first length, she reached the wall before three of the teams. She did a flip turn and glided off the wall again in a tight streamline, just a few feet away from catching the first two teams. Halfway through the second length, she had passed the remaining teams and was now trying to put as much distance between herself and the rest of the people in the pool. She kicked a little harder and turned her arms over a little faster. When she reached the wall, she pulled off her goggles and looked back to see where everyone else was. The closest team was still about ten feet out! Adam and Carly were cheering wildly. Adam extended his hands down and helped pull Brooklyn out of the water. She looked back down the pool and saw that Sammy had made it through the first turn, maintaining the lead.

"Nice job!" Adam said with a huge smile. "I had no idea you were a swimmer."

"Yeah, I swim every day."

"Sometimes twice a day because she's a freak," said Ben, walking by. "Check it out. Sara's in the water now and she's pretty bad," he snickered.

"Come on, Sammy!" Brooklyn, Carly, and Adam all shouted.

Sammy touched the wall first so the comeback was complete. Blair came over from the lane that she had swum in and hugged Brooklyn.

"Wow! That was awesome! You never told me you were a swimmer!"

"I don't know, I guess I'm not used to talking about myself."

"Don't be ridiculous. I want to learn everything about you." Brooklyn's smile abruptly ended and Blair sensed something was wrong. "Uh . . . we'll start slowly."

"Okay," answered Brooklyn, thinking that there was only so much she would be able to talk about with Blair. The hardest part about having a new best friend who was anxious to get to know her was the fact that there were so many secrets that could never come out. The girls went into the locker room to dry off and change back into their clothes after class, and then tried to dry their hair as best as they could under the hand dryers so they didn't get sick when they went outside into the cold December air.

When they exited the locker room, Brooklyn noticed Gabe anxiously waiting in the hallway. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Mom said it's fine," said Gabe. Then he spotted Blair and immediately went flush. "Hi, Blair."

"Hi, cutie," she answered, smiling at him.

"What's fine?" Brooklyn asked.

"It's fine that Blair sleeps over tonight . . . Ben said you were going to ask."

"Oh. Cool," said Brooklyn, concerned that somehow since lunch Ben had told Gabe, who went to a different school, to ask Mary about the sleepover. She was beginning to realize that things didn't say quiet for long in the Thompson family. She turned to face Blair. "So tonight after dance?"

"Perfect. Thanks, stud," Blair said to Gabe. He grinned from ear to ear and ran toward the car. "He's so sweet," she added.

CHAPTER 16

Brooklyn reflected on the fact that she was minutes away from the start of her first sleepover in Michigan, and she had just finished cleaning her room when the doorbell rang. She ran downstairs to answer it, but Ben had already beaten her to it.

"Oh, it's you," Ben said, acting as if he didn't know Blair was coming over. "You could at least try to hide the disappointment," Blair said as she handed him her oversized duffle bag. He took the bag, wondering if it would be possible to spy on them during the night. He sensed that there might actually be some advantages of having a girl in the house.

Blair and Brooklyn hugged. "I brought sushi for dinner," said Blair with a smile.

"I love sushi!" gasped Brooklyn.

"I'll just put your stuff in B's room," said Ben.

The girls walked into the great room to set the sushi down. Brooklyn grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator in the kitchen and then they searched the channels on the television to find a good show while they ate their dinner. They watched a "Laguna Beach" rerun, and made comments about all the girls on the show: Josie's hair was a terrible color, Emily was wearing too much make-up, Katie was going to need a crowbar to get out of those jeans.

"Is it really like this in California?" asked Blair.

"Maybe there," Brooklyn answered. That was the most she felt she could answer. Mary and Greg returned from their drive to pick up Gabe from his snowboarding outing. They came into the great room and welcomed Blair with warm smiles and handshakes. This whole thing isn't so bad, Brooklyn thought. Starting over could have some positive benefits.

"What are you eating?" Gabe asked as he sat down on the couch.

"Sushi," answered Brooklyn. "Do you want to try some?"

"No, thanks." He tried not to look disgusted. He thought for a second and then called out, "Mom, can I order a pizza?"

"Yes, but only if you promise to leave the girls alone tonight."

Gabe mumbled something under his breath which Brooklyn could not understand. She assumed that it was at best a half-hearted promise that he would stay clear of Blair and Brooklyn the entire evening.

When the show ended and they had their fill of sushi, the girls went upstairs to change into their swimsuits so they could go soak in the hot tub. Ben was in his favorite position on the leather couch playing a video game. When the girls walked through, he didn't break his gaze from the television, but, as soon as they closed the door behind themselves, he tried to peer over the couch without being too obvious. It was the first time that he had seen Brooklyn in a bikini and realized just how attractive she was. Then he ducked down on the couch, embarrassed, and covered his head with a pillow, knowing that having girls around wasn't going to be easy.

The temperature of the water in the hot tub was 103 degrees. The girls both piled their long hair on top of their heads before settling into spots in front of the jets.

"Now that we're alone," started Blair, "tell me honestly what you think about school."

"It's fine."

"It's fine? Okay, what about the boys?"

Brooklyn let out a nervous laugh. "They're fine."

"You stink at this! I don't have any girls at our school that I can trust except Mackenzie and Ashley. I have no classes or lunch with either of them."

"Really?" Brooklyn asked, surprised that a girl like Blair did not have more friends at school. "Okay, I'll try to give you more detailed answers."

Blair splashed water toward Brooklyn. "So, the truth . . . I used to be friends with Sara, you know."

"Really? But it was a long time ago?"

"Uh-huh. We met in kindergarten and were inseparable until the beginning of fifth grade. There were three of us: me, her, and Kaylie."

"What happened?" asked Brooklyn, more curious now than ever.

"Um . . . my mom and Sara's dad . . . that's what happened. They started dating."

"No kidding?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "Yup. Don't get me wrong—at first Sara loved it. She, like, used to say that we would be sisters forever. They took us out to dinner and to the movies, and we did everything together, as a family."

"What changed?" inquired Brooklyn.

"I'm not really sure. My mom and I think that maybe her dad was going to propose to my mom and he told Sara. We were in sixth grade then, at a new school, and she just all of a sudden completely turned on me. Her dad broke up with my mom."

"She never told you why?"

"One day we were friends and the next day she was ignoring me. She told people that I was using her for her popularity, and my mom was using her dad for his money. She called me all sorts of names in front of people and spread a lot of lies about me. She completely cut me out, and Kaylie helped her. Stephanie practically replaced me the same day. I was out and she was in. Sara really hurt me, and it seems like I'm still her target most days, unless of course she has someone else to pick on. But I stand up to her now. I just kind of do my own thing."

"I'm sorry. Does Ben know all of this?"

"Yeah," replied Blair. "Everyone knows. But it happened three years ago, and about what she does now . . . he doesn't say much. A little here or there, but I think he tries to stay out of it so she doesn't turn on him. I get that."

"How could someone do that? That's so mean."

"The thing is, my dad left me and my mom when I was five. He decided that he had made a mistake and didn't want a wife or a family anymore, so he went back to being a business tycoon and sleeping with as many women as possible." Brooklyn could hardly hide her shock. "But twice a month he sent my mom a check to make sure we were taken care of. Maybe we didn't have the biggest house, but it was just the two of us. I've never been deprived of anything, other than a father. So, it's ridiculous for her to say that my mom was after her dad's money. There's absolutely no truth to that."

"I'm completely stunned," Brooklyn said.

"Imagine how I felt," Blair said, rolling her eyes.

"Was she mad when you started going out with Jordan because he hates her so much?"

"I'm sure, but what was she going to say? She tried to talk to Jordan in the beginning of the year while we were together, but he kind of blew her off. She said things like he would be so lucky to be with her because she could have anyone she wanted, even someone in college."

"You must hate her so much," Brooklyn said.

"Sometimes I do. But hating her is a waste of time. I just think she's a terrible person. I wish I didn't ever have to see her. Ever."

After soaking in the hot tub, the girls went upstairs to Brooklyn's room where they showered and changed into their pajamas. They played on the Internet for a while, looking up people's Facebook profiles. Brooklyn felt uncomfortable while they were navigating through the Facebook profiles because she did not want to blurt out something that was part of her previous life. After a short time, they began to get bored with the Internet and crawled into Brooklyn's bed to watch movies. Their energy level was still high during the first movie so they had no trouble staying awake. But by the middle of the second movie, the girls had fallen fast asleep, and Brooklyn's mind once again wandered back to a place that she didn't wish to remember.

Amber sat in the closet holding her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her mother was screaming. There was a man yelling. Then the two men were yelling. They were looking for something. Her dad was pleading with the men. What could they possibly want? Where was the phone? Amber remembered that her mom had walked out of the room with it. What about Nick's cell phone? Get up, Amber, get up, she told herself. There was more yelling, more pleading, more screaming. And then there were five gunshots. Amber's body began seizing uncontrollably from the immense fear she felt. She was immobile, paralyzed from the shock of what was going on in the room below her.

Minutes went by—they felt like hours—without another sound, and Amber was surrounded with an eerie silence. Amber wanted to run from the closet to check on her family. But there was a force inside her, an intuition, that was holding her back, telling her to stay put, for she had no way of knowing what danger could be waiting for her. Her mother, her father, Nick . . . The tears flowed down her cheeks. She felt alone, trapped, and heavy, barely able to think, unable to breathe in the stuffy closet air. She was trying to process what could have possibly happened downstairs when she heard footsteps. They're coming, she thought. My family is coming to get me. There were more footsteps. They were closer now...

"Check in there," a voice said that didn't belong to her mother, father, or brother.

There was more silence and then Nick's closet door opened. Amber ducked. The hangers were moving. Clothes were being torn down. The plastic shelving bin moved. She told herself to stay still, but she couldn't have moved even if she wanted to. The shock kept her immobile. Something touched her, something poked her. She looked up slowly as a tear trickled down her cheek. Someone was there . . . staring down at her! He has a gun! Run, Amber, run!

Brooklyn woke up screaming hysterically. She was already sitting up in bed with her knees pulled up to her chest while she clutched her bear and rocked back and forth. A panicked Blair woke up and turned on the light.

"Brooklyn? It's okay . . . um . . . you're having a bad dream," she said, putting her arm around her. Brooklyn was unable to hear what Blair was saying. She was still trapped in her own mind, reliving the scary moments from that terrible night, in the dark, in the closet, still rocking.

"He found me. He found me," she screamed. "Somebody help me!"

Blair jumped up, unsure of what to do. She ran into the bathroom and brought back out a washcloth that she had soaked in cold water. Just then Mary came running into the room.

"He's here! He's going to kill me!"

"Blair, honey, can you get me a bottle of water? Down the hall in the spare bedroom, there's a mini-fridge. It is right across from the boys' rooms." Blair handed Mary the washcloth and ran into the hall. I don't know where the boys' rooms are, Blair thought to herself, turning on every light switch she could find on her way. At the end of the hall there was a set of French doors. Blair opened one of the doors and the light from the hallway revealed a big room with a couch and television. This must be it. Blair turned on the light and found the mini-fridge. It was stocked with bottles of water. She grabbed one and ran back to Brooklyn's room, trying to turn off all the lights she had turned on.

When she walked back into the bedroom, Mary was holding Brooklyn while she sobbed. "It's okay. I'm here. Blair's here. Nobody else is here," Mary said quietly. Blair walked over slowly and handed the bottle to Mary.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Blair went over to the armchair and sat down. She pulled a blanket over her shoulders and watched intently as Mary made progress in calming Brooklyn down. The tears and the sobbing finally stopped. Mary got up and went into the bathroom. Blair couldn't see what she was doing, but she heard the medicine cabinet and a pill bottle open. Mary came back and handed Brooklyn some pills and the bottle of water. Brooklyn was lying down, still clenching her bear. Mary kissed her on her forehead and motioned for Blair to come back to bed. She went over and climbed back into Brooklyn's bed. Mary tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead as well.

"Thank you for being here, Blair," Mary whispered.

"I didn't know what to do. I was scared," she whispered.

"Sometimes she has nightmares. But she should sleep through the rest of the night." Mary turned off the light and closed the door behind her. Blair turned over to look at Brooklyn but Brooklyn had her back to Blair, and it looked like she had already fallen back to sleep. Blair wondered if she was having a random nightmare or if there was more to the story. Who had been trying to kill her friend? Who was Brooklyn so afraid of?

The next morning, everyone was quiet about what had happened the night before. Mary made waffles and the girls indulged with whipped cream and strawberries. After breakfast, they drove Blair home and then headed to the store to do some grocery shopping.

"Do you have any holiday traditions?" Mary asked. "Is there anything you want to eat or do for your first Christmas with us?"

"I haven't really thought about it," Brooklyn replied. "I mean, I guess it's a little weird. Christmas used to be my favorite time of year. I see all the decorations and stuff, and everyone's always talking about it, but it feels strange to me. If you don't mind, I just maybe want to lie low and not really get into it this year."

"Of course, honey," Mary said putting her arm around Brooklyn's shoulder. "We want to do whatever makes you feel comfortable. I know it's going to be tough for you this Christmas."

Brooklyn smiled as best as she could. She wasn't looking forward to it at all. She couldn't believe that she actually wanted to talk to Dr. Spencer about how much she was dreading what used to be her favorite holiday. She realized that he was the only person that she felt comfortable talking to. She sensed that there was somehow a contradiction about what she was feeling: she was looking forward to having a conversation with someone she barely knew about dealing with her favorite time of year, which she now wished she could just blink away. Perhaps she really needed the sessions with Dr. Spencer as the outlet for all of her emotions, which could not be shared with anyone else.

CHAPTER 17

Christmas Eve morning came and went in an uneventful fashion. Even though it was a Monday, Brooklyn treated it like any other weekend morning that she had been at the Thompsons' so far. She was up early as usual, this time down in the workout room lifting free weights while walking on the treadmill. Greg came down to work out alongside her. Most mornings he exercised after she was already done, but this morning he tried to get down there as early as possible, because Mary would have him slaving in the kitchen all day with her baking Christmas cookies. What he really wanted was to get his workout in so he could eat as many cookies as he wanted and not feel guilty about it.

When Brooklyn was finished, she convinced him to get in the pool and swim some laps with her. Greg rarely used the pools, except on those rare occasions when Mary persuaded him to relax. He used the outdoor pool more in the summer if they had friends over, but then he usually was too busy entertaining to enjoy it. The hot tub was one of his guilty pleasures, but he didn't find the time to utilize it much either, except when he would try to soak his sore muscles.

He didn't have a normal nine-to-five schedule like most adults his age. Although he rarely missed a family dinner, he typically worked late into the evening on his cell phone and computer. The nature of his job was such that he had to be in almost constant communication with other offices and agents. He knew that if he did not put in a few hours every evening that he would spend most of his time the following day just playing catch-up.

After swimming for twenty minutes, Greg was done, admitting that swimming for exercise was a lot harder than he remembered. He told Brooklyn that would like to get into it as an alternative to the treadmill or Stairmaster.

Brooklyn finished swimming to complete her hour-long workout, and when she was finished Ben was sitting on the side of the pool with his legs dangling in the water. She pulled off her goggles and tossed them at him.

"You're one crazy fish," he said, smirking at her. "Why do you like it so much?"

"I don't really know," she answered. "I just think it's the most amazing feeling in the world."

She pulled herself out of the water and ran over to the hot tub. Ben followed and sat on the side. He slowly put his feet in. "That's hot! How do you get right in?"

"It's not that bad, especially after a long swim. The water in the hot tub feels cooler to me after being in the swimming pool. I can't believe you never come down here and swim."

"I'd rather snowboard. I don't get what's so great about swimming."

"It's just like any individual sport. You're only as good as you can be. But it's what's inside that motivates you, and the self-motivation dictates how far you are willing to push yourself. I just say to myself that today I'm going to swim a little faster or a little farther. And when your body hurts, you dig deep inside yourself to find a way to work through it. It's challenging and peaceful at the same time."

"I guess," he said, rolling his eyes at her. "How did last night go? Blair's pretty cool."

"Terrible."

"What happened?"

"I woke up in the middle of the night screaming."

"Oh," Ben said. "Was it about . . .?"

"Yeah," she said, splashing the hot water on her flushed face. "Blair didn't say anything, but she probably thinks I'm crazy."

"Do you want me to ask Jordan?"

"No," she said. "Thanks, though. Just in case she didn't say anything, I don't want him to think I'm a freak as well."

"You're not, you know," he said.

"Not what?"

"Not a freak. Anyway, speaking of freaks, on Christmas my parents kind of still do the whole Santa Claus thing so you might end up with a pile or a mountain. My mom keeps telling Gabe and me how awesome it is to have another girl in the house. I just didn't want you to feel weird about it and all."

"Oh," she answered sheepishly. She knew that Christmas was going to be very different this year but she had not considered that the Thompsons would be trying to keep things as normal for themselves as possible. "Thanks for telling me. I, um, I need to do some shopping."

"I hope you're not shopping for us. But my dad is taking me to the mall today so he could get out of cooking so, if you want to, you can come with us. I always do my shopping last minute."

"Hey, thanks for looking out for me and all. This whole thing would be a lot harder without you."

"Don't tell anyone, but it hasn't been so bad having you around here either," he said with a smile. Brooklyn went inside and got a crash course on her inheritance and financial status from Greg. While she never considered her parents to be rich, they were certainly smart in their planning for the future. Greg mentioned life insurance policies and retirement accounts, all of which was intended to provide funds in some way for each of the four family members for many years into the future. But she would be the only family member to benefit from all that diligent planning. Greg indicated that she would have decent a weekly allowance until she became twenty-five years old, and that there would be enough money available to completely pay for a college education at a good university. He also explained the steps that she would have to go through to access the trust after she turned twenty-five. With her head spinning from the details of the conversation, Ben, Greg and Brooklyn headed off to the mall.

She had been thinking that shopping for people she had only known for a few short weeks might prove to be challenging. However, the boys were easy to shop for. She bought them each a new video game. Ben told Brooklyn that his dad was a golfer, but that golf balls were a bad choice because they were more of a personal preference, so she bought Greg a golf jacket and a pair of swimming goggles because he had expressed a mild interest in taking up swimming as a more serious form of exercise.

She wanted to get Mary something a little more sentimental, so she went to Tiffany & Co. and purchased a crystal candle holder with a snowflake pattern. Brooklyn had noticed that Mary had a set of coffee mugs in the kitchen with a similar snowflake pattern so she decided to play off of that theme. The candle holder was tall and square, rather than circular. It had caught Brooklyn's attention because of how the snowflake pattern sparkled more brightly than the other pieces around it. There was elegance in the pattern which Brooklyn marveled at. She felt certain that Mary would feel the same way when she saw it.

When she was done shopping, Brooklyn began to make her way to the courtyard in the middle of the mall where she had agreed to meet Greg and Ben. The mall was packed with shoppers of all ages. They were moving at a very fast pace and they were not enjoying the experience, despite the Christmas carols playing in the background and the beautiful decorations adorning every storefront and common area. The shoppers were on a mission and the clock was not moving in their favor. Brooklyn did not have to wait too long for Ben and Greg and was happy to leave the hustle and bustle behind.

By the time they got home, Mary had already prepared a variety of Christmas cookies in different shapes, flavors and colors. She still had her apron on, with a good portion of it covered with flour. She strolled over to Greg in an attempt to hug him with the floured apron but he reacted quickly, screamed out, "Oh no you don't!" and ran out of the kitchen. Although the room smelled like a bakery, Mary had already cleaned all the cookie sheets, and the counters were spotless. On one of them, there was a small plate of round chocolate cookies with a walnut in the center. Mary explained that they were Ben's favorite so she always set aside a small plate just for him.

Greg had started a fire in the great room where a pile of board games was waiting on the coffee table. "It's sort of our tradition," Gabe said. "Do you like games?"

"Yeah," answered Brooklyn. As a child, she had always been outvoted when it came to playing games. Her brother always wanted to play games involving sports, history, or intense strategy, while she preferred something that didn't require a lot of thought or questions about football or history.

"I'm really bad at all of the trivia games," said Gabe. "Will you be on my team?" "Sure, but I'm probably not going to be any good either," she said with a sympathetic smile.

She sank into a comfortable chair next to the fire and closed her suddenly tired eyes. To Brooklyn, this felt nothing like Christmas Eve. Even the aromas of Mary's full day of cooking in the house were different and the noises were quieter than she was used to. She tried to fight the sleep, but gave up and let herself succumb to the memories that dwelled deep inside of her, with the warmth of the fire surrounding her like an inviting blanket on a cold day.

It was 5:57AM, on another Christmas morning, and Amber was wide awake, anticipating her favorite day of the year. Even her birthday took a distant second place, because Christmas wasn't just about Amber—it was about her family all being together as the hustle and bustle of their lives paused, for one day, one moment. A gentle breeze moved across her face and rustled her hair from the open window where outside it was still dark and quiet.

The anticipation of Christmas morning grew every year. Since she was three, Amber had always asked for a surprise, and to her delight she had never been disappointed. After watching the clock for over an hour now, the glowing green numbers finally changed to 5:58AM, signaling that the wait was finally over. She quickly changed from her shorts and t-shirt to longer cotton pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Her parents loved the fresh air and would certainly have opened all the windows downstairs, where she would no longer have the warmth of her down comforter.

She slid her feet into her slippers and hopped to the door. She looked at the clock. It was now 5:59AM, and her hand waited on the handle for the clock to change. Those twenty seconds seemed like an eternity. The clock changed and the door swung open. She darted down the hall to Nick's room.

"Nick!" she yelped, full of excitement, running into his room. "Get up, Nick! It's Christmas!" Nick didn't move a muscle, despite the intrusion. He had been up late playing computer games. "Come on, Nick," she pleaded, tugging on his comforter. "I can't wait anymore! I'm too excited!"

He opened one eye, and then two. "Amber, you're ten now. Don't you think it's time to wait until at least eight o'clock?"

"No way!" she said, still tugging, but not making any progress. "Hurry up! What do you think I got this year?"

"All right, all right." He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Calm down. I'm coming. Did you wake up Mom and Dad?"

"No, I waited for you."

Nick stood up and stretched his arms. "You're such a pain, you know."

Amber threw her arms around him. "I love you, Nick."

He was considerably taller than she was. He leaned down and hugged her. "I love you, too, rug rat. Even when you drag me out of bed when it's still dark outside."

The two walked to their parents' room. They could smell the coffee downstairs brewing, bringing a smile to Amber's face. They both knew that someone had already been downstairs to start the coffee, and that Mr. and Mrs. Cole were pretending to be sleeping so Amber could wake them up. Nick had never been as excited as Amber for Christmas, and although he hated being woken up so early, he hoped that she would never grow out of this phase. He really enjoyed every aspect of the family: he had two warm, loving parents and a younger sister who adored him. They took great vacations almost every year and genuinely enjoyed being around each other.

Amber opened the door and jumped onto the bed.

"Wake up!" she shouted, full of anticipation. "It's Christmas!"

"What a surprise to see you this early," her mother said.

"I'm too tired to get up, honey," her dad mumbled. "Maybe you could go back to bed for another hour."

"No way! You guys are pretending to be sleeping. Someone put the coffee on already. I can smell it!"

"I didn't touch the coffee," her father said, trying to hide his face under a pillow. "Did you, dear?"

"It wasn't me," she answered, laughing. "I've been sleeping here the whole time."

"Maybe Santa Claus did it," answered Nick, standing in the doorway. "Or one of his little elves."

Amber went running down the stairs in the dark. All of the lights were off except for the Christmas tree sparkling in the living room. Amber stood there and admired the beauty and scent of the real blue spruce tree with the lights reflecting off of the bright metallic ornaments. Amber thought, This is going to be the best Christmas ever!

That morning, the family opened a lot of presents, the majority for Nick and Amber. Amber was the designated elf every year, and in a predetermined order she fetched the presents out from under the tree and passed them out accordingly, one at a time. Jim and Kara, Amber's parents, sipped their coffee and watched as Amber neatly unwrapped each of her presents, overjoyed at the expectation of what lay under the wrapping paper. Amber's hot chocolate sat undisturbed on the coffee table. Somehow in all the excitement she had forgotten about her favorite drink. When it was Nick's turn or one of her parent's turn to open a present, Amber would sit on the floor and intently watch them open the present. She got almost as much joy watching them open their presents as she did from opening her own.

However, Amber always saved the last present to be opened for herself. It seemed fitting, since she was the youngest of the family and generally had a bigger pile of presents than the rest of the family.

"Oh!" she said excitedly. "This one's from Nick!" They all laughed, knowing that she had purposely saved that one for last because it was from her brother. She squeezed the package, "It feels soft!"

"Just open it already," said Nick. "I'm ready for a nap."

"But it's the last one and I don't want it to end."

"Amber, you'll get to open more presents later when the family comes over," her mother reminded her. Amber slowly unwrapped the present, revealing a white stuffed bear. The bear had black eyes, a black nose, and a black string mouth. There was a red scarf around its neck. She stared at it for a second and then a big smile stretched across her face. She jumped up and hugged Nick, who was lying on the couch.

"I love it!" she shouted. "I love it so much. Thank you!"

"It's a Santa bear, so you can have a little piece of Christmas all year round—and just maybe you will sleep in a little longer next year."

"No, I'm never sleeping in on Christmas!"

When it was all over, Kara prepared a big breakfast for the family while Amber napped under the tree with her new bear. Jim and Nick threw away the wrapping paper and carried all the presents upstairs. Amber slept through breakfast, as she typically did every year. A few hours later, the house was loud, full of grandparents, aunt and uncles, and cousins.

The celebration was proceeding for Amber in much the same way as all of the other Christmas Days that she could remember: all of the rooms were decorated to varying degrees with symbols of the Holiday such as mistletoe, wreaths, poinsettia plants, and nutcracker displays; every light in the hose was on which helped to magnify the bright colors of the napkins, the tablecloths, and the clothes being worn by the guests; raucous laughter was coming out of every corner of the house and drowning out the Christmas music that was playing in the background. The meal was a feast, with a huge ham as well as a large turkey with several types of vegetables, an antipasto salad and assorted breads. After dinner, they celebrated with another round of Christmas presents from the larger group. The adults then sat around on the deck afterward, drinking adult beverages, while the children played games on the beach. At the end of the day, when everyone went home, Amber's parents cleaned up, while Nick and Amber sat in front of the television watching "A Christmas Story."

When Amber couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, she asked Nick to put her to bed, and headed upstairs first to change and get ready. By the time he got up here, she was already in bed, waiting with her bear.

"Why do you need me to come up here if you're already in bed?"

"Because I can't fall asleep until someone kisses me goodnight."

He walked over and pulled her covers up, leaned down, and kissed her on the forehead. "Merry Christmas, rug rat."

"Merry Christmas, Nick. Thank you for my bear. I love him."

"You're welcome. I knew you would."

"I named him Nicky. After you."

"Don't tell my friends that," he said, laughing. "Goodnight and sleep tight, rug rat."

Brooklyn woke up a little warm from the heat of the fire, the image of her brother Nick kissing her goodnight still very real in her mind. It was almost as if she could feel that moment in her heart.

"Did I miss the games?" she asked.

"Hey," said Mary. She sat down in the chair next to Brooklyn. "You're awake. Don't worry; we have lots of time to play more games. We usually have homemade pizzas for dinner and then go to church at nine. How do you feel about church? Actually, we don't have to go. We can all just stay here. I'm sure the boys would love that."

"No," Brooklyn said. "I don't want you to change your traditions just because I'm suddenly here. I think that I just might like some time to be alone," Brooklyn sighed. "Besides, I do not want to spoil your holiday or to be a downer for the rest of the family so is it okay if I just stay here while you go to Church?" "Of course," Mary replied. She kissed Brooklyn on the forehead. "Come join us in the kitchen if you feel up to it. Gabe is trying to recruit you as his partner, but you looked so peaceful, we didn't want to wake you."

Brooklyn smiled. "Thank you. I was actually having a good dream, a very good one." She joined the family in the kitchen. They played two board games and then had homemade pizza. Earlier that day, Mary had made the dough from scratch, working the flour and oil combination until it had reached the right consistency. She placed the completed dough into a large pot to allow it to rise. When the dough was ready, she spread it out on a large cookie tray and added homemade sausage in a rectangular pattern on the dough. She then covered the sausage with mushrooms and onions, as well as generous amounts of mozzarella cheese and pizza sauce. Mary explained that even with her blond hair, she had some Italian in her, and they were eating one of Italy's finest recipes, which had been handed down to her from her mother. Brooklyn wasn't too fond of the ingredients on the pizza, but she pretended it was the best she had ever eaten.

During the meal Greg and Mary talked about how much they enjoyed the Christmas holiday because it allowed them to take a break from the normal routine and spend quality time together. They both provided stories of how they celebrated Christmas Eve when they were teenagers - Greg mentioned that he had always organized a football game with his friends on the morning of Christmas Eve, while Mary had often used Christmas Eve for last-minute scrambling to complete her shopping. The boys talked about some of the gifts they had received over the years such as a full-size air hockey table, PlayStation 2 with several video games, and a Lionel train set with more track than they could ever utilize. Brooklyn did not offer much to the conversation, but the energy and joy in the voices of the Thompsons was not lost on her. Deep down, she knew that she had been lucky to have been placed with them.

After dinner, Brooklyn offered to clean the kitchen while the family finished getting ready for church. She debated whether or not to go with them, but finally settled on staying back. She was already feeling slightly melancholy, and her mind kept straying back to her real family and past Christmas celebrations. So she thought it would be best to spend some time alone and gather her thoughts to prepare for the next day, which would surely be the hardest.

The Thompsons left the house around 8:15 to make sure they got seats in church, and Brooklyn headed up to her room. She plugged in the multicolored Christmas lights that she had strung around her room, and then sat down at the computer to check her messages. Her instant messenger box was empty. Everyone is with their families, she thought, and she could immediately feel her eyes begin to tear. She collapsed into a fetal position on her bed, tightly clutching to her bear. The warm salty tears stained her cheeks, and although crying was a healthy way for her to release her emotions, she could hardly manage to catch her breath in between sobs. She had purposely been occupying her thoughts these last few weeks with her current activities and new friends and the Thompsons. She knew that she had to move forward with the new identity and her new life, but when she allowed her thoughts to stray back to her previous life, she became overwhelmed with grief.

A few feet away at her desk, her computer chimed. She looked up, but couldn't see through the blurry effect created by her tears whom the message had come from. The computer chimed again and Brooklyn got up. She grabbed some tissues from her nightstand and wiped her tears as she walked over to the computer. The messages were from Adam.

ADAM: Hey there. What are you doing?

ADAM: Are you bored?

Brooklyn looked at the computer screen where she had forgotten to sign off of her instant messenger. She decided to tell him that she was busy and would talk later, but part of her wanted to talk to him. There was something about him, so kind and gentle, and attractive and he was the friendliest boy that she had met so far.

BROOKLYN: hey, just ran upstairs...can we talk later?

ADAM: Skipping church?

Brooklyn wanted to lie and tell him that he had misunderstood, that the Thompsons were all downstairs, so she could be left alone. Or she could put her grief aside and try to salvage a little bit of this tough day with a pleasant distraction.

BROOKLYN: you're right. just sort of wanted to be alone for a little bit.

ADAM: I get it. It must suck to be here.

BROOKLYN: ?

ADAM: Because your parents are running around Europe right now.

BROOKLYN: it sucks more than u know

ADAM: Are you mad at them?

BROOKLYN: not at them...

ADAM: Who are you mad at?

The answer ran through her head like a rehearsed speech waiting to be performed. Oh, nobody, just the people who murdered my dad, my mom, my brother, and tried to kill me. After all, that is why I now live in this random house, with random people, go to a random school, and pretend to random friends that my life is great. She changed the subject instead.

BROOKLYN: why aren't you with your family?

ADAM: I am. Sitting in Church 2 rows behind Ben. I didn't see you so I wanted to wish

You a Merry Christmas.

BROOKLYN: thx adam :)

ADAM: I know that it sucks for you right now, but I'm glad you're here. If there's anything you ever need, just ask. Even though I'm not Blair.

BROOKLYN: hey! i do need more than 1 friend, you know. it just so happens that i'm accepting applications right now.

ADAM: Maybe I'll have to turn one in.

BROOKLYN: maybe I'll consider it.

ADAM: I should be going. Merry Christmas B.

You, too, she thought. She turned off the computer, picked up her bear, and sat down on the window ledge against the pillows. She wiped her hand across the cold window to clear the frost. She instantly had a flashback to that terrible night when she had looked out the window and saw the car that was watching her house. But her thoughts quickly jumped back to the present time because of how beautiful the scenery was. The light posts outside were wrapped in Christmas lights that lined the street in front of the houses. The white lights twinkled. Big snowflakes were beginning to fall. The window began to fog up again, so she wiped at it once more, this time using her sleeve. The bushes below were decorated with multicolored lights and even a glowing Santa Claus with reindeers pulling his plastic sleigh. She sat there staring at the decorations, admiring how something so simple could be so beautiful.

She sat unmoving until an hour later when she saw the Thompsons' Range Rover pull into the driveway. Then she got up from her seat, pulled on her Ugg boots and grabbed a hooded zip-up sweatshirt from her closet.

"Be right back," she whispered to her bear as she placed him down on the bed. She skipped down the front stairs and as she opened the door, Ben walked into the foyer from the back door.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "I'll be right back," she said as she pulled her hood over her head and walked out the door onto the front porch. She walked down the front steps through the snow to the middle of the lawn.

"Ben," Gabe said, looking at his brother staring out the window. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," Ben said pointing to Brooklyn. "What's she doing?"

She stood there and looked up in to the sky. The cold snowflakes were falling on her face. She stuck out her tongue and closed her eyes, focusing on the cold droplets of snowflakes melting on it.

"Why is the front door open?" Greg asked as he was walking by. "What are you two looking at?"

Both boys pointed at Brooklyn in the front lawn, but neither of them said a word. They all watched as she spread her arms wide open, her freezing fingers reaching up toward the night sky as if trying to grab the snow faster. Brooklyn leaned back in slow motion and toppled over into the soft snow. Greg heard Mary walking in, and quietly called her over. All four of them were gathered on the front porch in a huddle, watching Brooklyn.

"Is she okay?" Gabe asked. "Sure," Greg answered. "I think she's just processing."

The snow began to melt through Brooklyn's jeans, but it didn't seem to matter much. Being outside in the cold air was somehow exhilarating, and she was perfectly content looking up at the stars. She was surprised at how bright the stars appeared on such a snowy night, and thought it was a sign. She felt as though her family were with her, and the more she gazed into the cold sky, the more her mind began playing tricks on her, revealing the faces of those she wished so much to be with her, high in the sky. After fifteen minutes, Mary decided to ask Brooklyn to come inside.

"It's not like she's wearing a snowsuit," she said. "She's going to get sick."

Brooklyn came inside reluctantly. Her clothes were soaked from the snow, and Mary suggested she quickly take a shower. Since she was already beginning to shiver, the thought of a very hot shower sounded appealing. She went straight up to her room, undressed quickly and jumped in. The hot water created a stinging sensation at first because it was such a difference in temperature but she got accustomed to it and allowed the water to soak all over her body. She finished her shower and wrapped herself up in her robe and slippers, then walked back into her room. She saw that Ben was sitting on her bed. She tightly held the collar of her robe together, feeling a little embarrassed to be seen like that.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to...I didn't know you weren't dressed. I was just checking on you."

She nodded and went to her dresser to pull out a pair of pajamas and went back into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. When she came back out, he was still sitting there. She turned down her side of the bed and climbed in, pulling her bear as close as possible as she lay looking at him.

"So church pretty much sucked," he said. "I don't know how you got out of going."

She smiled. "It wasn't a good time here, either."

"Oh, yeah?" Ben said. "It was probably better than church. The worst part is that I have to see all these people I've been able to avoid all year. And I have to pretend that I'm actually happy to see them. It's such a joke. I would rather drive to a church an hour away just to avoid people."

Brooklyn laughed. "Well, I cried. And I talked to Adam for a few minutes. And I stared out of my bedroom window at nothing and then sat in the snow."

"Sounds like fun," said Ben, lying down next to her. It came to him a minute later. "Wait, my Adam?"

"Yeah," she answered, trying to hide her smile from him. "Why?"

"Because he doesn't like girls from our school. He likes older girls from other schools. He's the starting quarterback as a freshman. That's huge."

"Oh," she said, surprised and slightly disappointed. "I didn't realize that he had a girlfriend."

Ben cut her off. "No! He doesn't right now. Lots of girls think he's hot. Do you think he's hot?"

She smiled. "He's just being nice to me."

Ben laughed. "He probably likes you. I mean, why wouldn't he? You're pretty and you're nice and somewhat cool. He hates Sara."

"Why doesn't he like her?"

"He thinks she's selfish. Well, she sort of is."

"No kidding?" said Brooklyn.

Ben laughed. "I'm glad you're here."

"Thanks," she smiled. "Hey, would you stay with me for a while? Until I fall asleep maybe? I feel like if you're here I won't cry. I'm tired of crying for the night." It was Christmas Eve, Ben thought. Although he tried to pretend that he didn't wonder about Brooklyn and her past life, he had done a great deal of thinking about everything she had been through. When his parents announced that they had agreed to allow someone to move in with the family, on what sounded to him to be a permanent basis, he initially cut off their explanation to express his surprise and displeasure. Shouldn't he have been allowed to weigh-in on such an important decision regarding the family? After all, because of the closeness of their ages, it sounded to him that he was going to be the chief baby-sitter for this new family member.

But his father had reacted quickly and decided to discuss the real reason for the new house guest sooner rather than later. Greg told them that Brooklyn's parents and her only brother were killed in their house. She had hidden and somehow had managed to avoid the same fate. The most chilling part of the story was that the people who killed her parents and brother might still be looking for Brooklyn, since she was potentially the only witness to the crime. Ben could not believe what he was hearing and. He was completely overwhelmed by the story and he realized that Gabe had felt the same way. He thought that this was the sort of thing that you only heard about on television but it never happened to anyone that you knew or would ever end up knowing. Right then he also realized that it would be impossible for him to ever truly understand what this house guest would be feeling.

Now sitting in the chair in her room, he felt so sorry for her first of all that she lost her entire family, and then that she had been forced to move in with complete strangers. And on top of it all, it was Christmas Eve and she clearly was afraid to be left alone. He got up to turn off the light, sat back down in the chair and grabbed her blanket for warmth."

"Don't tell anyone I'm sleeping with a pink blanket."

"I promise I won't. Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He sat in the chair and pulled her pink blanket all the way up to his neck. It smelled of her perfume, which he later discovered was Vera Wang Princess. He inhaled until the scent filled his nostrils. He wondered if it was wrong, being there with her but the door was open and he only intended to remain until she dozed off.

"I'll just stay in the chair until you fall asleep. I need my beauty rest too."

"Okay," she said. They were both fast asleep ten minutes later, side by side under the multicolored glow of the Christmas lights. Unknown to them, Mary came upstairs about an hour later to check on Brooklyn. When she saw Ben asleep on the chair, she stood in the doorway for a long moment before finally deciding not to wake him. She retreated quickly downstairs to discuss the situation with Greg and they jointly concluded that Brooklyn may have reached out to him and that at this point there was nothing to be concerned about.

CHAPTER 18

Ben woke up on Christmas morning earlier than he would have liked to. He had been restless for about an hour because he was having a hard time keeping warm. Still a little groggy, he reached out from under the blanket, hoping to find his comforter to pull up. His attempt was unsuccessful, of course, because his comforter was in his room. He rolled over on his stomach, hoping that his body heat in the bed would help warm the other side of him. He buried his head down in the pillow and, suddenly smelled something sweet which made him forget about how cold he was. Christmas morning breakfast, he thought. He lay still, trying to figure out what heavenly breakfast his mother could be making that would give off such an enchanting aroma.

He was about to drift back into a groggy coma when suddenly it came to him—Vera Wang Princess, the pink blanket, Brooklyn's bed. He opened one eye, trying to peer through his shaggy brown hair over the pillow that was smothering his face. His lone eyeball scanned to the right, hoping to catch a glimpse of what happened last night. Technically, nothing had happened. It was completely innocent. Would his mom see it that way? Brooklyn had a bad night and he had stayed with her so she could fall asleep. He had fallen asleep as well and spent the entire night on her bed.

He looked over, and thankfully Brooklyn was still asleep. She was in the same position as she had fallen asleep in, still clutching her bear. He wondered if she had moved all night. He inched his way off of the down comforter, and quietly moved toward the doorway. He paused and listened for any noises that would indicate that someone was in the hallway. He was relieved that he could hear no sound.

He moved toward the doorway and peered out into the hall. His parents' room was at the end of the hall, and the door was still closed. Good, he thought. He closed Brooklyn's door behind him and strolled down the hall toward the spare bedroom, trying to be silent. As he got closer to the room, he began to relax a little. He was beginning to think that he had just dodged a bullet when Gabe's bedroom door opened and the two brothers stood facing each other. Ben froze.

"What are you doing?" Gabe asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Bathroom," he quickly answered.

"Me too," Gabe said. He turned around and looked toward the bathroom. "But the bathroom is behind me. Why are you coming from the hall?"

Think quickly, Ben thought. "I was checking to see if anyone else was up?"

"Oh. Are you going back to bed?"

"Are you? I don't even know what time it is."

"It's 7:45. Want to play video games until everyone else gets up?"

"I guess, but don't you think we'll get new games?"

"Yeah," answered Gabe. "That's why we need to play the old ones, because this will probably be the last time we do for a long time."

Ben yawned. "Play now, nap later."

The video games didn't last long, but he was happy for the cover they provided. Within an hour, the family was exchanging presents in the living room. Santa Claus had come, just as Ben predicted. Brooklyn received a digital camera as her major present, but her excitement was quickly squelched by Greg.

"Brooklyn, you need to understand that I was concerned about giving you this gift. Sure, I think that you will have great fun with it, but it would not be wise for you to be posting pictures of yourself online. I know that I am the worrier in the family but, for now, just take pictures of everyone else."

Everyone loved their presents from her, and she was happy to have the weekly allowance money available from the trust so that she could be generous when she wanted to be. The boys were thrilled to have the new video games and tore through the packing to get to the instructions and software as quickly as possible.

Greg tried on the golf jacket and stated that the size, style and color were just what he would have picked out for himself. Mary was speechless when she unwrapped the crystal candle holder. She had gotten Brooklyn some silver jewelry from Tiffany and Co., which was a pure coincidence because they had never spoken about their fondness for the store. Mary felt a sense of maternal satisfaction that she had given a gift that the girl would really enjoy.

Brooklyn received movies and books from Ben and Gabe, and lots of clothes from Mary and Greg. A big breakfast followed the opening of the presents, and the whole family spent several hours in the basement competing against Ben and Gabe with their new video games.

The Thompsons had decided to change their tradition this Christmas and spend the day at home. They didn't have immediate family located close to them, so they usually went over to an extended family's home late in the afternoon for Christmas dinner. They were concerned about Brooklyn's emotions and thought it best that she not have to deal with many people on this Christmas Day. Mary had prepared a feast, which resembled more of a traditional Thanksgiving menu. Brooklyn tried to help out whenever possible, but was more qualified to make an old-fashioned box of macaroni and cheese than a gourmet meal.

After dinner, the family watched two new movies and played a new board game Mary had bought. The game involved purchasing shares of stock in companies that were formed by the strategic placement of tiles on a square grid. They all laughed as they tried to cut under-the-table deals with one another to gain an advantage. Brooklyn loved the game but found it hard to concentrate because of how quickly the transactions were being completed.

There were times throughout the day when she was depressed. She would retreat upstairs, gather her thoughts, and then come back to rejoin the family. She was thankful that the Thompsons' traditions were so different from what her family used to do, and she was especially thankful that it was just the five of them All in all, considering that her favorite time of year was now the time she dreaded, Brooklyn thought the day turned out better than expected.

CHAPTER 19

Two days after Christmas, Brooklyn and Blair were sitting in Brooklyn's room. They had been talking constantly at school or on-line since the day that their friendship had begun. They were much alike in so many ways: athletic, studious, compassionate, unwillingness to get pushed around, very selective in picking other friends, with minimal respect for Ben's girlfriend Sara.

Brooklyn considered Blair to be her best friend in Michigan. There was a wide array of nail polish bottles dumped out on the floor. The girls were looking through them trying to determine the perfect color to paint on their toes.

"So, what do you think of Adam?" Blair asked, comparing a hot pink to a satin-red bottle.

"He's nice," Brooklyn replied.

"Nice? That's not really what I was going for."

"What are you going for? Are you asking me if I like him?" Brooklyn replied, her cheeks getting a little flushed.

"Maybe. Do you?"

"I don't know. I didn't realize that I was on trial here."

"Come on. Adam doesn't really do the whole 'go out of his way to try with girls' thing since he's usually the one being chased."

"We're just friends. We talk at school and once in a while we walk to a class together, and we have chatted on-line. We have not ever been alone together. Isn't that what friends do? Wait, do you think he likes me?" Brooklyn felt a surge of excitement upon hearing her own words.

"I think that Jordan would kill me if he knew we were having this conversation right now. He hasn't said anything. Not like Adam would really tell Jordan. I tend to get involved particularly when I have a stake in things. I really don't know anything other than I think you two like each other. Just do what feels right. You don't have to keep everything inside so much."

"You're right," Brooklyn said, looking down. "I'm trying to work on that."

"I'm sure you don't want to settle down too much. I mean, when are your parents coming back, anyway? I wouldn't want to get too attached to anyone here, except for me, of course." Blair smiled cheekily. "I, for one, don't want to see you go. How am I going to make it through the rest of high school without you if you go back to California?"

"I'm sure you would be fine without me. Besides, I don't know when I'm leaving."

"Can you even imagine what Sara is going to be like next year when she has a car?" Blair stuck her tongue out and pointed in her mouth as if she were going to be sick. "Hopefully, she'll be so distracted by the upper-class boys that she won't have time to make my life hell!"

"That would be awesome!" Brooklyn said. "But you're dreaming, and I think she'll probably be ten times meaner to us. Maybe some senior girls will lock her in a locker."

"Or better yet, we can hope that some good-looking senior will get her in trouble and she'll have to leave school for a little while!" The girls laughed hard. "Oh, bathroom break, be right back."

Brooklyn went over to her bookshelf and pulled out the book that hid Sasha's picture. She flipped through the pages until she found the picture. She gazed down at it whispered, "I don't know what to do."

The bathroom door opened and Blair was still smiling. "What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Nothing." Brooklyn folded the picture up.

"That doesn't look like nothing. What is it?"

Brooklyn took a deep breath. She wanted to be able to trust Blair. She needed a best friend in her life. "Please don't say anything."

"About what?"

Brooklyn unfolded the picture and handed it to Blair.

"Who is this?"

"This is Sasha," she answered glumly. She walked over and sat down in her chair.

"Who is she? Someone from back home?"

"Sort of," Brooklyn took a deep breath. "She was my best friend...before I came here, anyway."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you get to talk to her a lot?" Blair asked, thinking this was a typical long-distance friendship. She sat down on the floor in front of Brooklyn.

"It all happened so fast. I mean, one minute I was there and everything was good. And the next minute I was being shuffled out the door to come here."

"Do you still talk at all?"

"No. She doesn't really know that I'm here."

"Is that why you keep her picture hidden in that book?"

"Blair, if my aunt and uncle found out . . . I don't think they would understand."

"Understand what? That you were uprooted from your friends and family and it's harder to adjust than anticipated? There's nothing to be ashamed of. I don't see why it's a big deal, but I promise I won't say anything."

Brooklyn sighed. She appreciated Blair's discretion, and was lucky to have found a good friend like her. "Thank you for understanding about this, and just about everything else that I share with you."

"You're a mysterious girl, Brooklyn Thompson. But the more I learn, the more I like. I just wish you would trust me more, especially when it comes to Adam."

"It's not really about how much I think I can trust you, it's more about me and about how complicated my life became so quickly. I do like Adam, but I just don't know if it's right. There are some things I need to deal with first."

"Well, I think that you should talk to your friend back home. Maybe she won't get why you're here, but I think that you should try to resolve it. At least to put your mind at ease so you can have some closure. Then you can move on, when you're ready."

"I'm trying to find a way. I just need to figure out a way so that nobody finds out about it."

"Why does it have to be such a secret?" asked Blair. "Is there something more you're not telling me?"

There was a long pause. Brooklyn looked down, feeling completely uncomfortable, when she was saved by a knock on her door.

"Come in!" she shouted quickly. It was Ben.

"Movie anyone? I'm bored," he said.

"Sure," Brooklyn answered, looking at Blair. "Is that okay with you?"

"Yep, but only if we can watch something girlie."

"I can see I made a mistake coming in here. Why can't we see something with some action in it?" asked Ben as he walked out the door with the girls following him.

Over the Christmas break, Brooklyn spent a lot of time with Blair's other close friends, Mackenzie and Ashley. Mackenzie, with her big brown eyes and tight blond curls, was very warm and welcoming. She enjoyed telling stories and jokes and her smile and laugh were contagious. Like Brooklyn and Blair, she was athletic and understood every sporting event that they watched together. Ashley was the boy-crazy one of the bunch and she noticed everything about everybody. She loved to discuss who was dating whom, which of the boys had the most attractive eyes, who had the best-looking clothes, etc. Brooklyn was comfortable that her circle had expanded but she still felt closer to Blair than anyone else.

CHAPTER 20

It was a sunny day at the end of January. The weather was cold and bitter, but Brooklyn was slowly adjusting. The cold no longer chilled her bones like it had when she arrived in Michigan almost two months earlier. She was excited for spring, when the flowers would bloom and the leaves would fill in the dead spaces between the tree branches. Her nightmares were becoming less frequent, and there were time she actually slept through the whole night without waking up. That was in large part thanks to Ben, who was staying with Brooklyn until she fell asleep almost every night. Since that first night, however, Ben sat in the cozy chair, not on her bed, and the door was always left open. Most nights, when she fell asleep first, he would immediately leave to sleep in his own bed. There were the occasional nights when he spent too many hours in her chair if he accidentally fell asleep first. He always set the alarm on his cell phone to go off at one, so he could go back to his room to salvage a few hours of good sleep. Helping her in this way was the most sincere, selfless, and rewarding act that that had ever performed. His parents perceived that to be the case as well. They allowed the custom to continue, but always checked that he was in the chair with the door open.

Ben and Sara had broken up and gotten back together at least seven times since Christmas break. The drama that consumed them was incredible. Brooklyn never understood why he put up with Sara's antics, but she figured he would move on when he was ready. Her general comfort level at the high school was increasing. She was hesitant about standing out at first, but realized it was okay as long as it didn't change who she was. Her biggest asset was that she was nice to everyone, just as she had been at her previous school in California.

Her friendship with Adam Ashmore was growing each day. People often speculated that they were more than just friends, but it wasn't something they ever talked about. There were times when she thought he was looking at her with a little something more behind his blue eyes, but he had never said anything to make her think they were more than friends. Brooklyn often daydreamed about what it would be like to be his girlfriend. To her, he was the most attractive boy she had ever been around, not counting her favorite poster of Andy Roddick on her bedroom wall. Adam had sandy-blond hair which was a little longer in the front, sometimes brushing his deep blue eyes. He didn't smile often except when he was talking to Brooklyn. She loved his dimples, especially the one on his right cheek, where it was more pronounced. He was over six feet tall, the tallest of her friends, and he was solid, not lanky like Ben. Their conversations were very interesting, because neither of them liked to talk about the past very much. Instead, they found themselves consumed for hours talking about school, their mutual friends, her love of swimming, his love of football, and wondering about their futures. They discovered they had a lot in common, and the more they talked, the more she became interested in knowing more about him.

"OK, so you're saying if you were in college, you wouldn't like the attention you'd get from all the girls throwing themselves at you?"

"Nope," answered Adam abruptly. They had been on the phone for over two hours talking about college.

"Most guys would."

He laughed. "Well, I'm not most guys. I'd rather have a serious long-term girlfriend who I can talk to about anything. Loveless relationships seem boring and empty."

"What if a hot celebrity was hitting on you?"

"I'm a quality-over-quantity guy. No trash. I want class."

"How many girls have you dated?"

"Lots. None of them lasted over two weeks."

"Why not?" asked Brooklyn, very curious.

"None of them had any substance. I didn't like any of them."

"If you didn't know Sara, would you like her?"

"No."

"Do you think she's pretty?"

"Nah, she doesn't have what I want."

"What do you want?" she asked slowly.

Adam paused. "Someone with a good heart."

"Oh," she answered, a little disappointed that he didn't blurt out her name. He was always careful not to give too much away.

"B?"

"Yeah?"

"She's a blonde. I'm not really into blondes."

Brooklyn smiled. There was still hope. Ben came into her room about ten minutes after she had gotten off the phone. She was already sitting on the edge of her bed waiting for him.

"You're late! I was getting worried." He forced a quick smile as he settled into the comfortable chair. "I was talking with my dad."

"It's okay, I was talking to Adam."

He turned away from her and rolled his eyes. The closer she got with Adam, the less need she would have for him. He liked that she depended on him. It made him feel good to have someone trust him that much. The last thing he wanted was for her to decide she needed Adam more than she needed him.

"Ben? Do you think he likes me?"

"Do you like him?"

She clutched her bear and stared at the book on her bookshelf containing Sasha's picture. "Are you going to tell him?"

"No," sneered Ben. "You should trust me by now."

"I do trust you," she said hitting him with her bear. "You're the only one I trust!"

"Ouch!"

She took another swing. "That doesn't hurt, you big baby!" "Yes it does! Ouch! Stop! The nose on that ugly thing is hard!"

Brooklyn rolled her eyes and turned over. "You hurt Nicky Bear's feelings. I hit you with his back, not his nose."

"Well, he has a hard ass then. And he needs surgery. His insides are leaking." He threw a piece of cotton fuzz at her, which fluttered to the floor between them.

"Aw," she pouted, tightening her grip around the white bear. "He must have a hole. I'll fix him tomorrow. Good night."

Although Adam never told Ben that he liked Brooklyn, Ben knew that he did. It was evident by the way he looked at her, even when she wasn't looking at him. Adam didn't act like that around his other female friends. Brooklyn was smart, pretty, funny, and nice. She was the type of girl who most guys would want to date: she was even athletic, and she really went out of her way to try to be nice to everyone she met. He could not say that about too many of the other girls he knew, and certainly not about Sara.

"Sure," said Ben.

"Sure, what?"

"I'm sure Adam likes you. Only a fool wouldn't like you."

They were both silent for a few minutes as they considered what he had just said. She was positive that he did not consider Adam to be a fool so Ben just said that Adam liked her. But Ben certainly did not consider himself to be a fool so did he just say that he liked Brooklyn too?

Finally, Brooklyn broke the silence, "Ben, are you sleeping?" she asked.

"Not anymore," he replied, sitting up.

"Hey, I was thinking, I sort of need your help."

"What now?" Ben asked.

"I'm going to e-mail Sasha." The words spilled out almost as fast as they had come into her head and she bit her lower lip, looking to him for some sign of approval. "Are you nuts?" He jumped out of the chair. "You'll get caught. And then what? Forget the fact that my dad will kill you. There are people out there who will actually kill you if they find out you're alive!"

"I've considered all that," she answered. "But I am really concerned about the impact my sudden departure has had on Sasha. She was like the sister I never had; we were inseparable. She must be devastated, so I think it's worth the risk. I need to do this, just once. I just need to let her know that I'm okay. That's it. That will be the end, I promise."

"Just Sasha?" He shook his head. "There is no way this can be a good idea." There was skepticism in his voice.

"Are you going to help me or not?" she asked one more time.

For some reason, he could not bring himself to say no. "Yeah, fine," he answered. "What's your plan?"

"Good," she said confidently. "I don't have a plan yet. I'll let you know when I come up with something."

"You better make it good. I don't want to get grounded."

CHAPTER 21

The wind howled as the cold rain pounded the windows. Brooklyn was fast asleep snuggled under the down comforter, clinging onto her bear. Ben was asleep in the chair to her right. She had been sleeping a lot better for the past few weeks. She felt much more secure with him in the room only a few feet away. But she had also developed a meticulous nightly routine that had been working to help her relax before going to bed.

Every night, she would lotion her feet and cover them with moisture socks. She would lotion her hands, use a special night balm on her lips, and spray the pillows on her bed with a special relaxation aromatherapy pillow mist. She also began sleeping with an eye mask on. This routine helped to mentally prepare her mind and body to go to sleep. But on this particular night, her mind was wandering and her nightmares were intent on coming back to haunt her.

Amber was frozen on the closet floor. Fear had paralyzed her body and she wasn't able to muster the strength to scream. The man stood at the door with the gun pointed directly at her, the light from the bedroom spilling all around him. She clutched her bear tighter to her chest and rested her head on her knees. This was it, she was going to die. Her eyes began watering as she prayed that it would go fast so it wouldn't hurt.

A minute went by and Amber hadn't moved. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it against her legs as she sat, curled up. She gently lifted her head, only to find the man still standing at the closet door with his gun still pointed at Amber. The tears were welling around her eyes so heavily that it was getting harder to see. She began sobbing.

The man held up his hand, motioning for her to stop. He looked over his shoulder and then held his finger up to his mouth, trying to signal to Amber to be quiet. Amber sniffled and tried to stifle her tears. She wasn't sure why the man hadn't shot her or what he was waiting for, but Amber tried to cooperate as best she could, thinking that it might just save her life. She covered her mouth and muffled the last few sobs.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the man whispered, lowering his gun. "There are some people downstairs that don't want you walking out of this house. So whatever you hear, don't move from this closet and don't make a sound. If they find out I didn't do my job, they are going to send someone else to do it after they kill me. Do you understand?"

Amber nodded. The man held up the gun and Amber flinched. He fired two shots into the closet ceiling and slid the closet door closed, leaving her alone and in the dark once again. "It's done," Amber heard the man shout from outside of Nick's room.

Amber fought the urge to move from the closet, to run and get help or to find a new hiding spot, but she hesitated, because she had no clue how many people were still inside the house or where else she would even be able to hide. Amber buried her head in her knees again and willed herself to stay perfectly still, realizing that even the slightest motion could jeopardize her life. She closed her eyes again and prayed that she wouldn't be found.

Silence had settled into the house a few minutes after the man with the gun had walked away. Amber tried to listen for any hint as to what they were doing there. But the answers never came. It felt like hours had gone by. Now the house was once again filled with the sound of voices. Amber was almost sure that it was the police, but she didn't dare move from the hiding space that protected her. She struggled to hear what the voices were saying, trying to make sense of the events that had unfolded earlier.

The words and noises coming from the floor below were muffled and Amber was completely exhausted. Her eyes were stinging and swollen from crying. Her back was sore from sitting on the floor, and her arms and hands tired from clutching her bear. Amber set her bear down on the floor and rolled over onto her left side, and rested her head down on the bear with her neck on its stomach. She curled into a fetal position with her right hand still clutching the bear's head and pulled several of Nick's clothes over her to hide under. She closed her eyes and prayed one more time that her nightmare would soon be over.

When they had arrived, the police surrounded the house to cover all the doors and windows, blocking any potential escape. When they were organized, they went in through the front door. The scene was immediately disturbing. There were two adults and a young man lying in the middle of a horrific scene. The police fanned out and combed every inch of the house looking for suspects, clearing each of the rooms as they went.

As they methodically continued their search of the house, one of the officers came running toward the lead detective. "I think there's a missing girl," he said, handing off a framed picture to the detective. There were four people in the picture and the lead detective knew that only three of them were lying in the foyer.

"Keep looking," said the detective. "Check the attic, the basement, under the bed. If she's alive, where would she be hiding?"

Amber remained as calm and stiff as she could as the noises kept getting closer to her hiding spot. When the closet door opened, Amber stopped breathing. Knowing that the clothes completely covered her body, Amber didn't move as she listened to the hangers swing back and forth as they were being touched.

"I got her!" a voice shouted from above. "She's up here, in the closet."

"Is she alive?"

Please think I'm dead, Amber prayed. Her body began to shake remembering what the man with the gun had told her about the other people in the house wanting to kill her. "I can't tell. She's wedged herself pretty good in the closet. She's not moving, so she's either sleeping or . . ."

"Check, damn it!" the distant voice interrupted.

Oh no, Amber thought! This was it! She jumped up just as the man was leaning down, and grabbed a wire hanger between her fingers. The man, not expecting a confrontation, fell backward out of the closet. Amber was now on her feet, holding the quivering hanger out in front to defend herself.

"D-don't move," Amber stuttered. The man held up his hands. "You have it all wrong. I'm here to help you. I was looking for you." He reached in his pocket and held up his badge. "It's okay now. We're here to help you." The room began spinning and Amber became lightheaded. The hanger slipped between her fingers and she fell backward into darkness.

CHAPTER 22

After school, Mary dropped Brooklyn and Ben off at the library so they could work on a school project. They had told Mary the truth about the project, but they had omitted the part about their plan to contact Sasha Matthews. The group project involved two students besides Ben and Brooklyn. They had to pick one famous mathematician, write a paper about his discoveries or inventions, and make a presentation to the entire class at some future date. Each student had to write a section of the paper and present that portion to the class. They had already picked Archimedes as the mathematician and Ben had chosen to write his portion of the paper on the Archimedes Screw, which is still used to day to pump liquids and granulated solids.

Brooklyn stayed at the library kiosk with the other student to help them decide on their subjects, while Ben walked away to use one of the public computers. He created a new e-mail address under the name surfergurl88. Neither of them had ever surfed before, so they thought the name was an excellent cover. He returned to the group to find that she had matters well in hand. They had decided what to write about, the order in which their sections would appear in the combined paper, and who would write the introduction and final summary. They established a deadline for completion of the written work that would allow a reasonable time for review and editing by the entire group.

When they had finished the conversation, the other two students in their group left together, and she called Mary to let her know they would be done within the next thirty minutes. Brooklyn and Ben then sat down at one of the computers and looked up people on Facebook who were living in New York City and were freshmen in high school. "I hope this works," she said nervously. "Do you think we should ask a boy or a girl?"

"Definitely a boy," Ben replied. "I think a girl would become suspicious and ask a lot of questions. A dude will either agree or disagree for a chick, but he'll never give it a second thought either way."

They sent out an e-mail to six different boys, asking them to please forward a piece of mail with instructions to a friend in California. The e-mail explained that "surfergurl188" was not allowed to talk to her friend in California because her mother had dated the friend's father and when the relationship ended badly, her mother forbade her to ever talk to her friend again. The story, of course, was derived from Blair's situation with Sara, only the details were changed to match Brooklyn's needs.

"Now we wait," said Ben.

After dinner, an hour and a half after the e-mails were sent out, Brooklyn anxiously ran into Ben's room. "Did you check for messages yet?"

"Yeah, and so far, nothing. I'm checking every hour like you wanted."

"Okay, thanks," said Brooklyn. She walked back to her room and changed into her suit to swim some laps. She swam at a very serious pace for about fifteen minutes, and then floated back and forth across the pool. Her mind was racing and she was beginning to question how dumb the decision to contact Sasha really was. The possibility of getting caught was a very big reality. What would happen to them if they got caught? Then she decided not to ponder the situation any longer and went upstairs to shower.

While she was in the shower, there was a knock on her bathroom door. "I'm in the shower," she shouted.

"When you're done, come to my room," said Ben with his back to the two-inch opening. "We got a reply. It's on."

She tried to rinse the conditioner out of her hair as quickly as possible, and then threw on her pajamas and ran a comb through her hair. The cold air hit her in the face as she opened the bathroom door. She grabbed her slippers and hustled down the hall to Ben's room. As she walked past the spare bedroom, she noticed Gabe sprawled out on the couch glued to the television.

"What are you doing?" he called out without even looking up at her.

"Nothing, what are you watching?"

"Nothing good," he replied. "Do you want to play a video game or something?"

She smiled. "Not right now. I'm working on something for school with Ben."

"You guys are always doing stuff without me."

"I'm sorry, Gabe. Tomorrow, I promise," she said as she walked into Ben's room and closed the door behind her. He was on the computer, talking to Sara.

"Are you kidding me right now?" asked Brooklyn. "I thought we were doing this thing."

"You were in the shower! I can't just ignore her because you might be coming to my room at any given moment. I'm getting off right now."

"Sorry, I'm just nervous," she said, sitting on the floor at the foot of Ben's bed. He joined her with a notebook and a pen.

"The kid who wrote back and said he would help us is named Joseph. Here's his cellphone number," he said, handing her a piece of paper. "He's fourteen and goes to P.S. 234. Can you believe that all the public schools in New York start with P.S.?"

They sat on the floor trying to come up with the perfect letter that would eventually be mailed to Sasha Matthews. They needed to convince Sasha through this unknown person to create a new e-mail address from a public computer outside of her house, without letting her know yet that Amber Cole was really alive. They had figured that this approach was safer than sending an anonymous letter through snail mail which might be intercepted and could be tracked back through the post office location.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he said, worried. "I don't think that girls can be trusted not to tell other people. You guys can't even go to the bathroom alone. If she gets an anonymous letter, she'll probably tell her entire school."

She thought the less information, the better, so they wrote a brief letter with only four instructions. He wrote the letter in his handwriting as she dictated.

1) Go to public computer

2) Create a new e-mail address

3) Text the new e-mail address to 555-221-7990

4) If you tell anyone, you'll never know . . .

When the letter was complete, they folded it up and placed it in an envelope, along with another piece of paper containing Sasha's address, a few stamps, and fifty dollars in cash to send to Joseph.

"So Joseph is going to fill out the envelope and put his dad's job's PO Box as the return address, so it will be really hard to trace," said Brooklyn. "His cell phone is prepaid. Once he gets the text from Sasha with the e-mail address, he'll e-mail us back. And then it will be safe for me to e-mail Sasha to tell her the truth."

"Sounds like it should be safe enough. "I guess now we just wait and hope that Sasha does it."

"Yeah, I guess."

The next few days were nerve-racking. Brooklyn had Ben logging on to the e-mail belonging to surfergurl88 as often as possible. They thought their plan out carefully, but they began checking the e-mail address from his computer—rather than at the library—because they were impatient. To their dismay, the inbox was always empty. Every once in a while, Brooklyn would beg Ben to e-mail Joseph asking if he had received any text messages, but his reply was always the same. Sasha had not sent any text messages to Joseph, and the possibility that she might never reply was becoming more and more apparent.

"What if we sent another one, you know, just in case she didn't get it the first time?"

"Come on, B, what would you do if you received a letter from New York City with crazy instructions? You tried and there's nothing more that can be done. Quit driving yourself nuts."

"There has to be something more we can do," answered Brooklyn. "We need another plan."

"No." Ben shook his head. "I'm sorry . . . I know that you . . . look, you have to stop. You'll go crazy. Don't be mad at her. I don't want to be a downer, but maybe that part of your life is meant to be over. Maybe you're supposed to leave it all behind and move on. Maybe you're not supposed to try to go back."

"Yeah," answered Brooklyn. "I suppose you're right." She had believed that she would feel some closure to her previous life if she could just let Sasha know that she was alive and well. She knew that she could not speak to Greg and Mary about it, and that they would not help her in that task because they would feel that the risk was not worth taking.

CHAPTER 23

The cold March weather was uninviting and bitter. It was the time of year when most people were imagining flowers blooming, but brown grass lay under the melting snow. The investigation into the murder of Brooklyn 's family was still open, with only a few active leads still being pursued. She often asked Greg about the case, but his answer was always the same: there were no new details to tell. She wondered if the case was ever going to be solved.

She had also tried her best to forget about Sasha's not responding to the letter that she and Ben had sent, knowing that if she had received a random letter, she would have most likely ignored it as well. She tried to check Sasha's Facebook account every once in a while with Ben's assistance, but it didn't look as though she logged on often, and she had not updated her profile in a very long time. Ben tried to convince Brooklyn to understand that she could not return to her past. He was afraid that if they continued with their attempts that somehow it might cause a problem for her., but she responded that her need for closure was still strong and that she was not yet ready to abandon the task. So Ben promised to continue helping her as long as they didn't attempt anything too crazy.

Brooklyn realized that he had not been talking much about Sara recently. She and Blair had noticed Sara hanging in the halls with a tall, dark-haired junior who happened to be the captain of the basketball team. But Brooklyn had decided not to bring up the subject to Ben. She was perfectly content with not having to hear Sara's name. A few days later, after all the whispers were in full circulation about Sara and the captain of the basketball team, Sara cornered Ben in the hallway between classes.

"We need to break up," she said, sounding self-assured. "I mean, it's not like we're even really going out right now anyway."

"Okay," he said.

"You don't care?"

"Nope." He shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

The news of the break-up spread quickly among the students, with Brooklyn hearing it from Blair via text message. When she and Ben were walking together to a class, she decided to bring up the subject.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trying to sound sympathetic. He claimed to have been a few short hours away from pulling the plug on the relationship himself because he was tired of the effort that he had to put into the relationship. But Brooklyn sensed a hint of disappointment in his voice. She knew that he had enjoyed the fame that was associated with dating Sara, which he would likely miss. Their conversation ended as they caught up to another group of students.

"Hey Ben, don't sweat this Sara thing. There are hot chicks that are also nice," encouraged Nate. "Just look at your cousin."

It was no secret that Sara would never win a popularity contest, and that was especially true when it came to Ben's closer friends. Brooklyn always thought that he liked the idea of dating Sara more than he actually liked Sara. Brooklyn kept her opinion to herself, and congratulated Ben on once again being a bachelor.

CHAPTER 24

The weeks continued to pass without any contact from Sasha. The harsh March winds and constant snow flurries had finally given way to some beautiful spring days. It was on one of those days that the idea of having a pre-summer party at his parents' house was conceived by Ben.

"You will be very influential in helping ninth-graders enjoy the first pre-summer party of the year," was his initial pitch to his parents.

"I don't want dozens of crazy kids running around my house," answered Greg.

"Eighth graders, too," said Gabe. "We also want a pre-summer party."

"I am not sure that is such a good idea," responded his father.

"Come on, Dad. It will only be a few kids. You know them all, and besides, you and Mom will be here," Ben replied.

Greg was not quite sure why he did not like the idea of a party at the house, except that it definitely had something to do with Brooklyn being there. Since she had arrived, they had not been entertaining friends and family at the house the way they had in past years. Was he being too protective? He wanted everything to seem normal and natural for all of them but his fatherly instincts should not be minimized, should they?

After failing to come up with a good reason to support a "no" decision, he caved. "Okay boys, but just a few kids, and Brooklyn gets to do some of the inviting too."

A week and a half later, on a Saturday afternoon, there were about thirty friends of Ben's, Gabe's and Brooklyn's, gathered around the indoor swimming pool in the basement. Mackenzie and Ashley did not stray too far from Brooklyn and Blair for most of the time. But Mackenzie could not resist a challenge from Gabe in Dance Dance Revolution, a game where you had to follow the designated dance steps as quickly and accurately as possible. Mackenzie bounced on the dance surface at a dizzying pace. Her eyes sparkled at the prospect of beating Gabe because everyone knew what a good athlete he was. He was also glowing because a high-school girl other than Brooklyn or Blair was spending time with him, actually talking to him.

"So, Brooklyn," said Ashley, smiling. "What's the deal with you and Adam? He's a hottie."

"We're just friends."

"Is that why he keeps looking over here at you giving you the eye?"

Blair began laughing, but didn't dare to say anything on the subject. She had given up on talking to Brooklyn about Adam. The two obviously liked each other, and she figured it would happen eventually when one of them got up enough courage.

"What's the eye?"

"You know," answered Ashley. "When a guy keeps undressing you with his eyes."

"Who's giving Brooky the eye?" asked Mackenzie. "Oh, and your cousin just kicked my ass in DDR."

"Ashley thinks Adam is giving Brooklyn the eye," said Blair, still shaking her head.

"Oh yeah, he is," answered Mackenzie, sitting down. "We've noticed that before. He for sure has a thing for you. And he's a hot jock. Let me know if you're not interested."

"Get out of here, Mac," said Ashley. "I'm making my move first!"

"There's really only one way to know for sure," said Blair, standing up. "He's in the pool right now!" She took off running toward the deep end of the pool with the other girls following close behind.

"Girls!" shouted Jordan as they finished stripping down to their bathing suits and dove into the water. This activity created a high level of energy throughout the pool, which led to a splashing water fight, followed by a handstand contest, and then a physical game of pool basketball, with the boys on one team and the girls on the other. Robby and Nate flirted with Mackenzie and Ashley by purposely allowing them to intercept the ball. Jordan tried his best to dunk Blair, but she reacted too quickly for his actions and he was never able to get a solid grip on her. Adam, meanwhile, was trying to keep a safe distance from all the commotion.

After the boys beat the girls at basketball, a group of them decided to relax in the hot tub. Adam sat next to Brooklyn, holding the rubber basketball in his hands, but he did not say anything to her.

"This water is way too hot," said Brooklyn. She stood up and walked over to the stairs in the pool and sat down on the top step. She could hear the other kids as they started complaining about homework and finals. She had lost her family, moved to a new state, and started at a new school in the middle of her freshman year. She was confident she would be able to make it through finals, no problem.

Adam came over a minute later, still holding on to the basketball. He sat on the stairs next to her and shot the ball toward the hoop that hung on the side of the pool. It bounced off the rim, and rebounded back in their direction, splashing the water as it landed. Brooklyn walked down the stairs into the shallow end of the pool and grabbed the basketball.

"Try it again," she said, throwing the ball back to Adam. He lined up his shot again, taking his time to aim more precisely. His patience paid off, and the shot went in.

"I bet you can't hit it twice from the same spot," she said as she retrieved the ball again. "Oh yeah?" he answered, tempted by her dare. "What's the bet?"

"What do you want?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders innocently as she tossed the ball back in his direction. Her toss was short, and it splashed water in his face as it landed.

"Oops," she said, laughing.

Adam could tell she did it on purpose. He held the ball up again, lining up his shot. "You better make it count, Ashmore," she taunted. "You only get one chance."

"I'm not worried," he answered back confidently. With a flick of the wrist the ball was released and soared through the air, landing in the net without hitting the rim or the backboard. Brooklyn grabbed the ball again and threw it at him. "That was pure luck," she said, ducking as he threw the ball back at her.

"It's not luck. It's skill."

Adam began walking toward her. Brooklyn grabbed a raft and tried to shove it at him. He pushed it out of the way as he continued to make his way toward her. She dove down under the water and swam to the deep end of the pool, not even surfacing for a breath of fresh air. When she reached the wall, she popped up and he was nowhere to be seen. A few seconds went by and Brooklyn felt something pull her foot. She yanked her foot back as Adam surfaced.

"You are fast," he said, gasping for his breath as he hung on the wall with both hands. "You're not so bad, either," she answered, holding on with one hand while facing him. She wondered if he was feeling as nervous as she was.

"Were you avoiding giving me my prize?" he asked as he moved a few inches from her. "Why would I do that?" she whispered back. Her heart fluttered faster. Adam leaned in and barely grazed her lips with his.

"Sorry," he mumbled under his breath as their lips gently touched. Brooklyn finished what he started. She kissed him back. They were interrupted by Nate a few seconds later.

"Oh, shit, they're kissing!"

Adam kissed her cheek as the rest of the group dove and jumped into the pool. Mackenzie, Ashley, and Blair all flashed Brooklyn the look of I told you so as they got in.

CHAPTER 25

Brooklyn slept in the next morning. She was still savoring the thought of her first kiss with Adam. It was as if she were trapped inside a fairy tale. But what did it all mean? It was almost eleven by the time she went downstairs for breakfast. There were pancakes already on the table, and Mary was sitting at the table sipping on her coffee while reading the newspaper.

"Oh, you're up," she said, smiling. "I think this is the latest you've slept since you've been here. Are you ready for some pancakes?" "Yeah," answered Brooklyn. "I must have been really tired. I slept really well." It took her almost three hours to fall asleep the night before because she couldn't stop thinking about Adam, even though Ben had fallen asleep on the chair in her room.

"That's good because your body was probably telling you that you needed it. Greg had to go into the office this morning. When the boys wake up, you are all on clean-up duty."

"Okay," said Brooklyn, pouring a glass of milk.

"No juice this morning?" asked Mary.

"Not with pancakes. Acid and pancakes don't go well."

After eating a short stack, Brooklyn cleaned up her dishes and turned on the television in the great room. She was flipping through the channels when Ben came charging down the back staircase, shouting her name.

"I'm in here," she answered, still flipping through the channels. He grabbed the remote out of her hand and turned off the television.

"Hey, I was watching that."

"Ben, pancakes!" shouted Mary from the kitchen.

"Yeah, Mom, I'll be there in a second," he yelled back. "We need to go to my room now," whispered Ben. "Joseph e-mailed us. Sasha made a new e-mail address. Hurry!"

They flew up the stairs together. Ben closed his bedroom door behind them and quickly pulled up the e-mail from Joseph. Brooklyn sat down at the computer and read the short message containing the e-mail address that Joseph had received via text message from Sasha Matthews.

"This is all cloak-and-dagger stuff," said Ben, excited.

"I think I'm going to go back to my room and take some time with this," said Brooklyn. "I'm not sure what to tell her."

"Fine, I'm starving. Call me if you need me."

Back in her room, she sat in front of her computer searching for the words to write to Sasha. It took her several long minutes to compose the following:

Dear Sasha,

I am sorry I couldn't tell you this right away.

It's important that nobody ever finds out about this.

My life could be in danger.

But it's worth the risk for you to know the truth.

I am alive. I am living with a family. They are taking

good care of me. I don't want you to grieve any

longer for me. I can't answer any more questions.

Just please know that I'm okay.

And, tell my grandma I love her.

Love always,

Sharkb8

Ben looked over the e-mail after he ate breakfast. If the e-mail were intercepted, he knew that it would be pretty obvious who had written it. But Brooklyn still thought some degree of cover would be maintained if she signed the e-mail using the nickname Sasha had given her years ago in grade school. Sasha had named her "Shark Bait" after learning that Brooklyn was fond of swimming in the ocean. The nickname had stuck ever since.

"That's such a stupid nickname," said Ben, lying on the floor.

"Adam doesn't think so," she replied.

"What? He knows?"

"No, just that Shark Bait was my old nickname."

"So, what are you two, like, dating now or something?" Ben asked, rolling his eyes.

"No, we're just friends."

"I saw you guys making out in the pool last night."

"That's not true," she said, miffed by his sudden interest. "He sort of kissed me and then we sort of got interrupted."

"I'm happy for you," he blurted out, not sure if he really meant it or not. "Adam's a good guy."

"Do you think Sasha is going to reply?" she asked him, changing the subject.

"I don't know, but don't get caught. My dad is not the nicest man when he's angry."

Just a few hours later, Brooklyn read Sasha's reply to the e-mail that she had sent that morning.

Is this some sort of sick joke? Amber's dead! Why are you doing this to me?

"That didn't go so well," whispered Ben.

Brooklyn was having a silent stare-down with the computer monitor. "Why don't you think she believed me?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said. "Maybe because her Facebook page refers to you being dead. For all we know, someone may have staged a memorial service for you just to throw the bad dudes off your trail."

Brooklyn shot him an icy glare. "I'll just have to convince her, that's all."

"This can't be good. You know that we should not be using our computers to communicate with anyone from your former life."

"Who cares? I can't wait to go back to the library."

In the past, when she and Sasha used to e-mail each other, they would type a numbered list of clues, a game of sorts, replying or commenting to each line as they went back and forth until more details were divulged. She figured this word game would be a good and safe method of further communication and that it would also convince Sasha she was telling the truth. Brooklyn picked the following five phrases because Sasha would recognize that answers as belonging to Amber Cole.

1) My brother's name rhymes with TRICK

2) I am an ACE

3) Mexican food

4) I sleep with my best friend

5) DAWN over DUSK

By the time Brooklyn woke up the next morning and logged on to her computer, she found a response. Sasha had continued the word game sequence with the following phrases:

1) Rhyme the Name

2) Scramble the ACE

3) Order the Food

4) Best friend talks too much

5) Sunset on Mountains

Brooklyn read the reply and instantly knew that Sasha had caught on and was playing the word game as they had played it in the past. Instead of direct answers, Sasha had provided more clues to parts of Amber's life. Sasha's five-line response was intended to prolong the word game a little longer as well as to bring out the answers that would confirm whether or not she was really communicating with Amber. This method was not free of risk, but Brooklyn chose not to dwell on the down side. Only someone who knew her well would know the answers in her next five-line response. But this time, she waited until she could send her response in safety at one of the library computers.

1) Sometimes we do what we are told with no alternative.

2) Elizabeth was my given name at birth. Three years ago,

my mother had my first name & middle name legally

reversed because everyone called me by my middle

name.

3) My favorite Mexican food is a chilaquiles recipe that my

mom made.

4) My best friend is a teddy bear who never talks back.

5) Nothing compares to the beauty of a sunset over the

ocean.

After returning home, however, Brooklyn could not resist the temptation to sign-in as surfergurl88, convincing herself that checking one time would not be a problem. But as the day wore on, Brooklyn signed in as surfergurl88 several more times. Ben occasionally came straggling into her room, shaking his head at her. He knew what she was doing, and they both knew that it could be a problem, but neither of them mentioned it out loud. Sasha's reply came late in the afternoon. They were in two different time zones. Her email was short and to the point.

This is absolutely crazy . . . there's so much that I need to ask

you but I don't really know that you can even answer me. Your

secret is safe. I'm just really confused right now but whatever

it's worth, I'm really glad that I know the truth.

Brooklyn read over Sasha's response at least a hundred times, trying to make sense of it. Her initial reaction had been disappointment that Sasha was not jumping for joy to know that her friend Amber was alive. But the more she read the response, the calmer she got. By trying to imagine what Sasha was thinking or feeling after receiving the initial e-mails, Brooklyn began to understand what her friend must have felt. Her world had not been the only one that had changed in an instant. Sure, maybe she was the one who suffered the most by losing her family and friends, and being uprooted to live with strangers. But in the blink of an eye, Sasha had also lost her best friend. And now, out of nowhere, she had learned that everything she had gone through in the last four months was not really as it had first seemed. The two of them had shared so much together, and then one day Amber Cole was gone. Sasha must have been on an emotional rollercoaster since that day. And now, Brooklyn had probably made those terrible emotions resurface. For the first time since coming to Michigan, she considered the possibility that it might be better for her that she was dealing with this changed life far away from where the incident had occurred.

Then the guilt started to settle in. She knew that she had broken her promise to Greg by making contact. But she couldn't help but feel as though she had done the right thing by trying to help put Sasha's mind at ease.

She said she was thankful, but maybe she was also trying to protect Brooklyn in her own small way by not fully opening the lines of communication. Perhaps Sasha understood even better than she did that the more they e-mailed each other, the greater the risk of her being exposed.

CHAPTER 26

Brooklyn had been faithfully attending her bi-weekly sessions with Dr. Spencer, despite the fact that he did not believe that he was making much progress, and she felt that he covered the same ground every time they met. He had a knack for bringing up things that she didn't want to talk about, and he was especially good at digging deeper, which she found completely frustrating. She felt uncomfortable, always trying to resist when he took the conversation in a certain direction. Brooklyn was concerned that the interrogation sessions, as she called them, would ever end.

"How is school?" Dr. Spencer asked.

"Same as last time." It was at least the tenth time he had asked that question in the last few weeks.

"You don't have any concerns? It would be normal if you did."

"I've been through harder times, Doc. This place is not so bad."

She didn't want to talk about school, or how she felt in general. She wanted to talk about something that made her feel light and airy. Someone who made her heart skip a beat at the mere mention of his name. Why hadn't he called? Why hadn't he sent her any instant messages? She had been online, more than usual, waiting for him to make his move, but he had not yet fallen for the bait. He had kissed her first. Didn't it mean anything to him?

"Obviously, you don't want to talk about school."

"Obviously," she mumbled.

"Look, Brooklyn, we've been meeting now for almost three months, and being here doesn't seem to get any easier for you. From now on, I'm just going to let you do the talking. If you want to sit here in silence, that's fine with me."

She had been staring at a paper clip on the floor but had been unsuccessful in her efforts trying to will it to move for the last ten minutes. "I met a boy," she said, shocked by her own admission. "Well, I didn't really meet him. I've sort of been friends with him for a while now, but something maybe happened the other day."

"What happened?"

"Um . . . he kissed me. I think he was sort of flirting, and then he leaned in and kissed me."

"Did you kiss him back?" he asked.

"Of course I did. Well, he sort of stopped . . . he apologized. I think he wasn't sure if I wanted him to kiss me. He's like that, always putting what other people want ahead of himself, even though he's big and strong and popular and all the girls think he is good-looking."

"What did you do when he stopped?"

"I told him it was okay and I kissed him back."

"And then what happened?"

"Well, we were kissing, in the pool, and Jordan Dalton saw us and made this big deal about it. So we stopped, and then we played basketball with everyone else."

"Did you kiss again?" he asked.

She looked down, her palms were sweating. "No, not that night . . . Not again . . . no. It's been two days and I haven't talked to him, which is odd because we usually talk. Is that bad?"

"No," answered Dr. Spencer.

"He doesn't like me, does he? He probably just kissed me because everyone always talked about us liking each other. Great. By the way, now I'm nervous about school. I kissed Adam Ashmore and he doesn't like me, and now I have to see him at school."

"From what you have told me, it sounds as if he likes you, but might not be sure about how to act with you now," he answered reassuringly.

"What? How do you know?"

"It is not unusual for a boy his age to be nervous at this stage."

"I don't make him nervous," she said.

"I don't necessarily mean that you make him nervous. But quite possibly the situation has made him nervous, as evidenced by the reaction from your first kiss. You've known him for a while, so he was seeking approval. Putting your friendship on the line for any relationship is nerve-racking enough, but if you add in relationship inexperience, pressures coming from your friends, and a beautiful young woman, you can easily have one nervous young man. Don't get worried, because my guess is that everything will seem fine when you see him."

Brooklyn was happy to hear the words, but was not sure that he was right.

CHAPTER 27

For the next two days, Brooklyn and Adam barely interacted. She had sent him a text message but his response was not warm or inspiring. Blair had told her that he was very busy with baseball practice every afternoon, so he did not have much free time on his hands. Brooklyn nonetheless felt that he should have found the time to contact her so they could have a conversation.

After gym class, Brooklyn showered, changed, and walked out of the locker room. As was their routine, Mary would be waiting for her in the parking lot. As she walked into the hall, Adam was coming out of the boys' locker room.

"Hey," she said nervously.

"Uh, I've been meaning to call, I've just been really..."

"Yeah, me too," she interrupted him unintentionally. Her nerves were beginning to take over.

"So, um . . .," he smiled.

"Yeah," she said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable about her appearance. She was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt. Her hair was disheveled, and she had no makeup on.

"So, are you on your way out?" he asked her. "Yeah, I'm sure my aunt is outside waiting for me."

"Oh, um . . . I'll walk with you," said Adam as he reached out for her bag. "I can take that for you. I should probably work on getting stronger anyway," he said, smiling.

Brooklyn handed her bag to him and he threw it over his shoulder.

"What do you have in here?" he asked as the two walked down the hall toward the parking lot.

"Suits, towels, fins, paddles, shampoo and conditioner, clothes," she laughed.

"So, uh, do you have plans tonight?" She could tell he was nervous as well. "Um, no, I don't have any plans," she replied.

"Do you maybe want to come over and watch a movie or something, and have dinner

with me?"

"Yeah!" she answered, quickly and loudly. She realized how funny that must have sounded, but he was beaming at her. "Okay, well, apparently everyone in the building now knows that I'm coming to your house tonight," she joked.

They walked outside slowly on the sidewalk in the direction of where Mary's Range Rover was parked. They stopped walking a few feet from the car. Brooklyn looked at Mary, who appeared to be reading a book.

"I'm going to go ask her really quickly about tonight," Brooklyn told him. "I'll be right back."

She opened the car door and climbed in the front seat, leaving him on the sidewalk still holding her bag.

"Hi," said Mary. "How was school?"

"Oh, it was good. Can I go over to Adam's house tonight?" she asked, her nerves searing through her entire body.

Mary smiled at her. "Is this a date?"

"No," blurted out Brooklyn, "Of course not . . . I don't know. It might be . . . I'm not sure. Is it okay if it is a date?"

"Do you know for sure that his parents will be home while you are there?"

"I didn't ask him, but I won't go over there if his parents aren't home," she responded.

"If his parents are going to be home, you can go. I'll drive you over there and pick you up later. Adam's a nice boy."

"Thanks," said Brooklyn. "I need to go tell him really quick." She retrieved her bag and told him she'd be at his house around seven.

When they got home, Mary went to finish dinner and Brooklyn went upstairs to straighten her hair. She came down to sit at the kitchen table and paint her nails, asking Mary for advice on what to wear and how to do her makeup.

"Okay, so I don't want to look like I'm too excited, or like I've never done this before or anything."

"Is this your first date, Brooklyn?"

"Um . . . well, sort of. I mean, I went out with this one kid once, but we had been friends since first grade, so I mean, I never really got all nervous and stuff around him. We didn't have dates, just the two of us, except at a school dance or something, but even then we were still surrounded by our friends."

"Well, you won't be surrounded by friends tonight. I am not sure, but my guess would be that Adam has not been on too many dates either. So you should not be surprised if you too have a hard time finding things to talk about. You should ask him about his hobbies and the types of vacations he takes with his family. That will make him feel comfortable with the flow of the conversation. Make sure you're careful with your answers when he asks you the same questions."

"I will be careful. Will he ask me to pick out the movie?"

"Only if he is very smart for his age, but I wouldn't be surprised if he asks you what kinds of movies you enjoy."

After discussing several options, they finally settled on jeans and layered long white and long light-pink T-shirts. She wore brown flip-flops, clear lip gloss, and pink frost eye shadow to brighten her already glowing blue eyes. When Brooklyn came back downstairs ready to go, Greg and Mary were cleaning the kitchen from dinner.

"You look nice," said Greg. "Are you ready for your big night?"

"Um . . . it's not that big of a deal."

"It certainly is," said Mary. "It's your first date."

Brooklyn gave them a nervous smile. A few minutes later, she and Mary were driving in silence. Brooklyn began fidgeting in her seat. "You've known him for a while now, so I'm sure your nerves will settle down once you are there."

"Am I supposed to kiss him?" Brooklyn blurted out.

"Kiss him? Why do you ask?" "Okay, well, I sort of kissed him the night of the party." "You did?" Mary asked, not quite prepared to have this conversation. She hadn't really talked about boys and relationships with Brooklyn. She had assumed it would not be necessary for at least another year. She now realized how wrong she had been. She tried to convince herself that the fact that Brooklyn had begun a conversation about kissing and relationships was a good thing because it somehow meant that the girl trusted her. But she quickly focused on the reality. Brooklyn was still so young and she had been through an emotional rollercoaster. Mary wasn't sure how to respond.

"Are you going to tell me anything more about this kiss?"

"Awkward," Brooklyn mumbled.

"Kissing is awkward at that age."

Brooklyn looked over at her, not sure why she had blurted out her statement about the kiss in the first place. "Oh, geez . . . I meant this conversation is awkward. Not kissing Adam. That was good." She smiled, until she realized that Mary was now staring at her with curious eyes. "Um . . . uh . . . like lips and stuff, I guess. It was like a second or so, maybe more, and then people sort of, like, distracted us."

"So you're wondering if he's expecting you to kiss him again."

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm wondering," sighed Brooklyn. "We didn't really talk about it—the kiss, I mean. I sort of wasn't expecting it, and we haven't really talked much at all since. I mean, we have, but not like we did before. I didn't know he liked me before that, and then I began to think that the kiss wasn't good, since it was my first kiss and all. But, he invited me over, so I think that he does like me, but what if he's expecting me to kiss him again? What do I do?"

Mary flashed a broad smile. "I'm sorry, honey, but nobody has written an accurate book on boys and relationships. It would make life a lot easier, I know. All I can tell you is that you should never do anything you don't want to do, or something that someone is trying to pressure you into doing. You did say that Adam's parents are going to be home tonight, right?"

Brooklyn began laughing. "Yes, I did say that they will be there the entire time."

The SUV pulled into Adam's driveway. Brooklyn opened the door and got out. She looked at Mary with one hand on the door, waiting to close it. "So, I'll call you to pick me up later?" asked Brooklyn.

"Yeah, around ten or eleven."

"Okay, that sounds good."

"You look beautiful, Brooklyn," said Mary cheerily. "You'll do just fine tonight."

Brooklyn walked up the stone sidewalk toward the maroon double doors. The house seemed very large to her, with a light-colored brick on the entire front of the house and a lot of windows. Before ringing the doorbell, she waited to hear any noise from inside the house that could tell her what she might be walking into. After a few seconds had gone by she reached for the doorbell, but Adam opened the door, smiling.

"I just saw you. Were you here long? I was with my brother, and my mom's on the phone, so . . . uh, well, come in," he said.

She walked in and left her flip-flops at the door. A little boy with bouncing blond hair came running down the hall and grabbed the back of Adam's leg.

"Braden, can you say hi to my friend, Brooklyn?"

"Nooooo," the little boy answered, pretending to be shy. Adam picked him up, and Braden laughed uncontrollably as he was being swung around in circles. Adam put him back down and the boy ran back down the hall shouting,

"HELLOOOOO," as he ran.

"He's adorable," she stated.

"You have no idea. Do you want to meet my mom before we go downstairs?"

"Um . . . oh, yeah," she said.

At this moment, she felt extremely happy to be at his house. She allowed herself a broad smile as they walked down the hall to the back of the house. Braden was lying on the floor in front of the television, coloring in his book. There was a woman's voice talking in the background obviously continuing a conversation on the telephone.

"Mom?" Adam asked as they walked into the kitchen. His mother was sitting on the kitchen counter with her legs crossed. She was an attractive woman, and appeared to Brooklyn to be much younger than Mary. She was twirling her honey colored hair, and the phone conversation was definitely putting her in a good mood. She absently waved at them while continuing to talk on the phone. Adam looked down. Brooklyn could tell that he was slightly embarrassed or disappointed in his mother's lack of interest in her. She would have preferred to get the introductions done sooner rather than later, but it was not a big deal in her mind.

"Well, I have everything ready to go downstairs," said Adam, turning his back to his mother, "if you're ready."

"Sure," said Brooklyn. "Maybe I can meet her later."

"Yeah, maybe. What would you like to drink?"

"Water is great," she answered.

Adam pulled out a few bottles of water from the refrigerator, and walked out of the kitchen with Brooklyn trailing directly behind him. She tried to take in as much about the house as possible without being obvious. She noticed that the floors were stone, large portions of the walls were covered with paintings, and there were picture windows in every room. Adam turned a corner and began walking down a set of stairs leading to the basement. There was a big-screen television hanging from the wall with several video-game systems on the floor in front of it, just like at the Thompsons'. The coffee table was set up with paper plates, plastic silverware, plastic cups, and napkins. The pizza box was already in the middle of the table, along with a medium-sized container filled with salad.

She was impressed by his attention to detail. If Ben had been setting this up for Sara, he would have forgotten everything but the napkins and the food. Brooklyn sat on one end of the long brown suede couch while Adam fidgeted with a of couple movie cases.

"Scary or funny?" he asked, looking through the cases. "I rented a couple different ones." "What do you have in the funny category?"

"I have only two choices for you, Dumb and Dumber or The Hangover."

Brooklyn felt her stomach tighten. She had seen both those movies endless times. "Um . . . how about scary?" She had not watched a scary movie since her parents' murder, but perhaps there would be a decent option in this category.

"Yeah?" he said looking up. "Cool. Gory or thriller?"

"Thriller," she answered, thinking that she would be able to handle a thriller better a gory movie. She couldn't avoid scary movies forever, so she hoped that being with Adam might provide an adequate buffer. Adam set the movie up, and they both sat on the floor in front of the coffee table eating dinner while leaning against the couch. Brooklyn, never embarrassed to share a meal with a boy, ate two pieces of pizza and a healthy helping of salad. He, on the other hand, had three slices of pizza, a forkful of salad, and an hour later ate another slice.

When they had finished eating, they moved onto the couch, where they sat a comfortable distance away from each other. She was nervous, but tried to hide her anxiety as best she could.

"Are you all right?" Adam asked her several times, grinning.

"It's just the movie," she would answer each time.

Halfway through the movie, he took her hand in his and whispered, "I'm right here if you need me." He didn't let go. He just sat there holding on to her hand, letting her know that he would protect her. Her recent conversation with Dr. Spencer suddenly popped into her head and she began to feel more comfortable and relaxed. She moved up against him, fitting her body against his as he lifted his arm out of the way. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, her heart beating rapidly. He put his arm around her and held her close. She felt a strong sense of security and warmth by just being in his arms. She barely focused on the rest of the movie; she was too absorbed in the comfort of his embrace.

"What did you think?" he asked as the closing credits rolled. "Too scary for you?"

"Actually, the movie was scary. But I think that this whole thing is scarier," she said as she grabbed him tighter.

"What whole thing?"

"Well I guess it is just being here alone with you, but we haven't really talked about how we feel about each other, so I'm nervous."

Adam smiled at her. "Does that maybe mean that you, uh, maybe like me, uh, as maybe more than a friend?"

Her heart beat so fast she felt that it might take off flying at any moment. Her hand was still trapped in his.

"Look, I don't really . . . this is sort of new to me, so . . ." she began.

"Do you want to go out with me?" he blurted out.

"What?" she answered. It was a stupid answer because she knew what he was saying, but it was the first thing she could think of. "Like, a couple?"

He nodded. "Yeah, will you be my girlfriend?"

A smile came over her face. She tried to hide the fact that her insides were glowing, but he seemed to be having the same problem.

"Yes," she said, still smiling.

"Yes?" he asked again, just to be sure.

She nodded. "Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend."

He ran his hands through his blond hair and leaned his head back on the couch. "I was so nervous!"

"You? You have no idea how nervous I still am! Wait! Did you think that I might really say no?"

"No," he answered. "I don't know, I was just nervous. I didn't know what I was going to say. I've been playing what I wanted to say over and over in my head like a broken record, but I had no idea what you were going to say."

She smacked him on the side of the head with a pillow from the couch, hoping to add some humor to the moment. Then, as he threw the square pillow back, she jumped off the couch and ducked.

"You're going to get it!" he shouted, leaping off the couch and trying to catch her. The chase only lasted seconds.

"Okay, okay, wait, you win!" she said, putting her arms up in front of her face to avoid any pillows being thrown at her.

They stood there staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, both still smiling from the excitement of finally getting their feelings out in the open.

"What do we do now?" she asked, her face inches from his.

"I don't know. I think it will come to us." He wrapped his long arms around her body and gently, yet passionately, kissed her.

CHAPTER 28

That night, Ben was half asleep in the chair by the time Brooklyn had finished her hot tea and slipped under her down comforter. It had been a great night, she thought to herself. Adam had been kind and considerate the entire evening, and he acted as if he liked her as much as she liked him. She pulled her bear close and easily drifted off into a deep sleep.

Amber began to wake up, but for some reason her body didn't want to move. She could hear voices talking in the background, and she felt chilly. Assuming she had fallen asleep in front of the television, she called for her mom to cover her with a blanket. Nobody answered.

"Mom?" she called again.

When there was no response, she forced her fingers to feel around for something to pull over her. That's when she felt the thin sheet that covered her trembling body, and suddenly she opened her eyes. She realized that she was in a hospital.

"Mom!" she screamed as she pulled the oxygen tube from her nose and began tugging at the wires that were stuck her chest. Two nurses quickly came running into the room, and tried to hold her down.

"What are you doing?" one of them shouted. "Where's my mom? I need to talk to her!" Amber screamed back.

"Amber, you need to remain calm," the nurse said awkwardly. "I'm so sorry. Someone has been waiting to talk to you."

Amber's mind involuntarily travelled back to the time that she had spent hiding in the closet. She felt broken but unable to cry, unsure of how she was supposed to act or even what to say. The feeling was indescribable, the pain unbearable as she hung on to the final images of her mother and Nick walking out of his room. Were they all dead? A very official-looking person entered the room, and Amber was silent.

"Amber, my name is Detective Johnson. One of my partners or I will be staying right outside that door while you are here."

"It's not real," she finally whispered, swallowing hard. "I want to go home. I want to see them."

"I'm sorry . . . you can't go home," he answered quickly.

"Then I want to see them."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I want to," said Amber adamantly.

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not safe."

"I want to go to my grandma's house."

"That's not a good idea."

"Then I'll go to my aunt's house," she said, frustrated.

"I'm sorry, you have to stay here for a few days until you're better and then we'll take you someplace else. A grief counselor will be in later to talk to you." He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"You can't tell me what to do!" screamed Amber, pounding on the railing of the bed. "Get back here! You're not the boss of me! I want to go home!" Tears began streaming down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably, "I want to see them! I need to say good-bye!"

Amber stared at the door, waiting for it to be opened by somehow who would make the nightmare go away. She had worked the buttons on the bed in a way that she was in a sitting position and was ready to face anyone who ventured into the room.

Around seven in the morning, someone from the food service department dropped off breakfast. Amber began to rant about the fact that no one else had come to see her the previous night but the food service employment hastily retreated out the door. The breakfast was runny eggs, dry oatmeal, colorless fruit, orange juice with pulp, a small container of water, and cereal with whole milk. She didn't like pulp in her orange juice and she hated whole milk. She drank the fresh water, went to the bathroom, and then assumed her sitting position in the bed, sobbing and praying that someone would come rescue her soon.

At nine the door finally opened again. A tall woman with blond hair came into the room, closing the door behind her.

"I heard you had a rough night. How are you feeling?" the woman asked.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Rachel," she answered, walking over to the full breakfast tray. "You weren't hungry?"

Amber looked at her and pushed the tray onto the floor, sending the eggs flying and the oatmeal to the floor in one chunk.

"Yikes, that looks pretty bad. I bet I can find you something else. What would you like, a bagel maybe?"

"Who are you?" asked Amber once again.

"I've already answered you. I'm Rachel."

"Why are you here? Is this your job?"

"I get it. You're angry and you have every right to be. You lost everything. Your family, your life, and every comfort you've ever known. But I'm not your enemy. And I know that it seems like you are being punished, but I am actually here to protect you. Perhaps I came here too soon and you are not ready for a conversation yet so I am going to leave. Here's my number for you to call when you are ready. If you don't call me, I'll come back with some real food after you have gotten some sleep and we can talk then."

Amber had no intention of calling her, but Rachel came back as she had promised after Amber had slept for a few hours. Amber was still on an emotional cliff, but she did not yell at Rachel. Rachel sat in a chair and starting delivering the news as if she had rehearsed it a dozen times: your brother and your parents were killed two nights ago, we're not sure who, we're not sure why, we are guessing that they were looking for something specific, we have no clue if they found it, we really have no clues at all at this time, but we think you might also be in danger, we've taken you to this hospital in a different state as a precaution, you need to go someplace where no one will know you, we will do everything in our power to protect you and find out the answers to this riddle. She also was told that she was being treated for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Rachel promised her that she would be released from the hospital once they found a good course of treatment for her. Rachel announced that Amber was not allowed to go to her family's funerals, which caused her much pain because she still could not fully comprehend why it was necessary for her to be cut off from her extended family. Amber was numbed by the information but realized that she needed to act calm and unemotional in the presence of others in order to leave the hospital.

Two more grueling days passed and finally, Amber was told that she was being moved to a different part of the country to live with a family who would watch over her. She had already resigned herself to the fact that this stage was totally out of her control and she would have to come up with a plan to get back to her grandma on her own.

That afternoon, Amber was released from the hospital and moved to a hotel suite, where she was confined to a room with two police officers. She spent most of her time that day sleeping or crying, although a psychiatrist came in to ask Amber some questions and he prescribed medications for depression and anxiety.

Later that night, Rachel knocked on her bedroom door and Amber was told that she was being moved, under the cover of darkness. Amber dressed quickly and was surprised at the number of people waiting for her in the living room of the suite. A couple of the men nodded at each other and the group quickly exited the room, entered the service elevator, exited at the ground level, marched through the staff hallways, and out the employee entrance into a caravan of large black SUV's. Amber wondered where they were taking her and hoped that her grandma would be waiting for her when she got there.

CHAPTER 29

Brooklyn's bedroom and bathroom windows were wide open, and a cross breeze was blowing her curtains in the middle of the night. She stirred in her sleep, noticing the fresh summer air as she rolled over onto her right side. She gripped the pillow in the middle of the bed and fell back into a deep sleep.

Brooklyn stood in front of the mirror as she ran her hands through her hair. She applied her lip gloss again and smudged her fingers under both eyes, making sure her makeup was flawless. When she was satisfied with the way she looked, she slipped into her strapless white sundress and walked out of her hotel room. She stood atop the multistory staircase looking down at the crowd of people. They were staring up, in awe of her beauty and poise. She carefully made her way down the stairs, smiling back at her captive audience. As she walked across the lobby of the hotel on a red carpet, people clapped and cheered for her.

The bellmen opened the glass French doors for her. Waiting outside was a carriage with two white horses. A good-looking man in a tuxedo took her hand and assisted her in getting in the carriage. He covered her legs with a white fur blanket and steered the carriage through the city. She sunk into the cushion, looking up at the massive buildings above her.

The carriage arrived in front of a three-story brownstone. Brooklyn checked her hair again and folded the blanket next to her, revealing her tan legs underneath. The good-looking driver winked at her. She smiled back at him and waited. Minutes went by and there was no movement from inside the house. She flashed another nervous smile at the driver as he looked at her, waiting for some indication for his next move.

"We're early," she said, standing up after a few more minutes. "I'm going in to surprise him."

The gentleman helped her out. He moved a piece of her hair back into place and smiled at her again. "That's better, madam. You look stunning. He's a lucky man."

Brooklyn straightened her white dress. "Thank you, sir. I'll be right back." She made her way up the front steps of the house only to discover that the front door was locked. She stood there for a second, deliberating whether or not to ring the doorbell. But something told her that the element of surprise was better. She began to walk down the stairs again as the driver ran up to escort her.

"It's okay, I have it," she said, slightly annoyed that her perfect day was not going according to the plan. The driver took a few steps back toward the carriage and waited with perfect posture.

She went around the side of the brownstone, which was on a corner. She walked down the side street and tried the back door, which was also locked. She retrieved a spare key from a flowerpot that hung high above the door. Had she not been clear on what time he needed to be ready? She was now beginning to worry that something had happened to him. She quickly opened the door, only to see no indication from the entranceway that anyone was home. She walked around the first floor, going room to room, careful not to make a sound.

She reached the front entranceway, about to walk out the front door, when she heard the faint sound of music coming from upstairs. She looked up to the second floor from the bottom of the stairs, and all was silent again. Deciding to check it out, she quietly made her way up the stairs, and when she reached the landing, she saw the closed door. The music was back on, a little louder now. Putting her hand on the knob, she took a deep breath and turned it. She took one step into the room and was re-focusing her eyes when she realized that Adam and Sara were together in his bed!

"NO!" she screamed. "Not on our wedding day!"

She ran down the stairs, sobbing uncontrollably, and flung open the front door to reveal a crowd once again cheering for her.

"Go home!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "There's nothing to see! There isn't going to be a wedding!"

"Oh, yes there is," said a woman's voice from behind her. Brooklyn turned quickly only to see that Sara was now standing directly in front of her, wearing the same white sundress that Brooklyn was wearing. She was smirking. Adam came out and stood on the other side of Sara.

"Adam and I will be married today instead of you," she said, pointing to Brooklyn, whose makeup was carried down her face with her tears.

"Why?" Brooklyn pleaded, now grabbing on to Adam's arm. "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you marrying her instead of me?"

Adam pulled his arm away from her grip and glared at her with what felt like ice daggers shooting from his eyes. "Because you lied to me about whom you really are. Your whole life is a lie. I know your name is Amber."

Brooklyn collapsed on the front steps of the brownstone, sobbing uncontrollably. Adam stepped over her quivering body to take Sara's hand in his, and whispered to Sara, "I will always love you."

Brooklyn woke up screaming, "You bastard! I loved you!" Ben was startled out of his deep but quickly jumped out of the chair and grabbed her arms. "Wake up, please wake up," he pleaded.

She finally opened her eyes and looked at him with tears streaming down her face. They heard his parents' bedroom door open, so he leapt off the bed, running into the bathroom and hiding behind the shower curtain. He was still under the impression that they did not know about his nightly vigil in her room.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath.

Mary ran into the room wondering what was going on. Brooklyn hadn't had nightmare in quite a while. She was clutching her bear, rocking back and forth on her bed. "Honey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she sniffled. "I'm fine. It was just a bad dream." "About your parents?" Mary asked.

Brooklyn shook her head. "I don't really remember," she lied. There was no reason to tell Mary about her bizarre, outrageous nightmare.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," she answered, lying back down on her side, still clutching her bear.

Mary kissed her on the forehead, turned off the light, and closed the door behind her as she left the room. Ben waited for a few minutes before returning to the room.

"B, are you okay?"

"I was going to marry Adam," she whispered back, still not looking at him.

"What? Are you nuts? You're fifteen years old!"

"No, I meant I was going to marry him in my dream. I was older and I think I was famous. Or we were famous . . . it's sort of foggy right now. The point is, I found him on our wedding day, in bed with Sara," she turned to face him. "And then, he announced in front the whole world that I was Amber."

"That's not a nightmare, that's a comedy!" said Ben, shrugging his shoulders. "Forget about it. Adam hates Sara. There's no way that would ever happen."

"I know that, but the dream felt real when it was happening," she said.

"Get real Brooklyn. That's why they are called dreams."

"I think you should go back to your room, Ben," she answered.

"What did I do?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied. "You really helped me get through that initial stage, but I'm beginning to think it's not right that you're in my room."

He got up without saying another word. She turned on her ceiling fan with the remote control that rested on her nightstand, and watched the fan spin around and around. Then thoughts of Sasha popped into her head. Brooklyn turned on her light and pulled Sasha's picture out from its hiding place in her bookshelf.

Her head was spinning with visions of her past as well as the present. She could not tell her new friends about her past because she would be putting herself in danger. Not to mention the fact that she would be violating the promises she made to the Thompsons. But she had already taken a great risk to communicate with Sasha. Would she really be in any greater danger if she told Blair and Adam about her former life? Her mind swirled around these thoughts, around images of Adam, Blair, Ben and Sasha.

All this was too hard to process, so she jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom. For a few minutes, she washed her face with very cold water. After getting back in bed, she drifted back asleep, her bear clutched in her arms and her hair gently blowing in the cool night breeze. Over the next week, Brooklyn tried to come up with a plan to break up with Adam, despite the fact that she cared about him. She could not convince herself that she could tell Adam or Blair about her prior life.

But she had also decided that she could not keep up the relationship with Adam, with a foundation built with lies and half-truths. With each passing day, it was becoming more difficult to hide her past from the people she cared about. She pondered the right words to say, what reason she should pretend to use, because admitting that she had been keeping information about herself from him didn't seem like the right way to end the relationship. It would only lead to more questions that she could not answer.

She began to try to distance herself from him by not spending as much time on the phone and the Internet with him, even avoided making plans in advance. But that proved to be harder than she could have imagined, because Adam was in her group of friends. Knowing that breaking up with Adam would relieve much of the stress she was feeling was one thing, but actually doing it went against everything that she felt inside. She realized that there was no ideal way to do something she really did not want to do, and, finally, she worked up the nerve to have the conversation with him. She had rehearsed the words dozens of times in her head, but no matter how hard she tried to remember what to say next, the endings never turned out the same.

Brooklyn rode her bike over to Adam's one afternoon when she knew he would be home alone. She walked to the back of the house. She was right: he was lying near the pool in his swimsuit, listening to the baseball game on the radio. "There's a double-header today," he said, smiling as she approached him. "The Tigers are up in the first game."

She took a seat on the adjacent chair and tried not to look into his blue eyes. His blond hair was lighter from the sun, and his skin was beginning to tan. She felt a lump in her throat. She had to get this conversation over with as soon as possible before she lost her nerve.

"You look so serious," he said, sitting up. He leaned over and turned the radio down. "Water?" he asked, handing her his half-empty bottle. She shook her head and watched him take a big gulp.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," she said, looking down at the cement patio.

"That's good," he replied, confused. "Keeps you smart."

"That's not what I'm saying, Adam. It's . . . I'm not going to be here forever. This is a temporary thing that turned into a little longer. And I just think that maybe . . . maybe I shouldn't get too attached to you." Her blue eyes were hidden beneath her sunglasses, but it was clear that Adam could barely contain his shock. He turned from her and looked straight ahead toward the pool. "I think that, ultimately, we're both looking for the same thing," she began again. "I mean, we both want to be happy and have lots of friends. I want to be important to somebody, somebody like you. And I think that you probably want that, too. But sometimes when I look in the mirror, I get really confused because I know this isn't going to last forever. And my parents . . . well, it's been really hard on me, particularly this year because I'm with you, and who knows when they might decide to bring me home. Sometimes the mirror shows me what I don't want to see: this girl—well, me—who's going through the emotions of being in a relationship because I feel it's the right thing to do, when I really know it isn't. So, I don't really know what else to say except this isn't for me anymore."

"That's it?" He turned and stared directly into her eyes, as if he were trying to analyze everything that was going through her head.

"What's it?" she asked with hesitation.

"You just woke up and decided that since one day you will go back to California, you might as well give up the friendships you've made since you've been here?"

"Look, it's just that . . . "

"Brooklyn it's a yes or no question. Are you going to stop being friends with Blair now, too?"

"That's not fair, Adam."

"Fair?" he asked. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just I thought you already took fair out of the equation when you selfishly made a decision without for one second even considering how I might feel or what I might want." He stood up and picked up his towel. "I really hope that this decision brings you the peace of mind you're seeking, whenever it is that you might be leaving us foolish Michigan people for," he said angrily. He walked into the house, slamming the door behind him.

Brooklyn slowly made her way around the house and by the time she had pedaled home, she was sobbing. Mary came running out of the house. "I broke up with Adam," Brooklyn managed to say through her sobbing. "Why, honey? Did something happen?"

"Yes," she blurted out between sniffles. "We were getting so close. How can we ever have a relationship when I'm not the person he thinks I am? He doesn't even know my real name!"

Mary held her while Brooklyn cried on the front porch for nearly an hour. After her tears subsided, she said the crying had caused a headache. Mary got up and came back with two aspirin. "Take the aspirin, go upstairs and splash some cold water on your face, and then lie down for a while," she recommended.

Brooklyn hugged her and went up to her room. Mary decided that some comfort food was in order - macaroni and cheese with a special ingredient, a slice of American cheese, mixed in. Mary also boiled and sliced up a hot dog in a separate bowl. She loved hot dogs in her macaroni and cheese, but wasn't sure if Brooklyn would feel the same way.

Mary went outside and picked a few apple blossoms from the yard. She put them in a bud vase and placed it on the tray with the food and a bottle of water, a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk, and a can of Coke. It had been an hour since Brooklyn had gone up to her room, so Mary took the full tray and headed upstairs.

Brooklyn came out of the bathroom just as Mary walked in the room. She set down the tray on the nightstand and took a seat in the armchair next to the bed.

"I thought a shower would feel good," Brooklyn said, brushing her hair. She pulled her robe tight to her chest and sat down on the bed. "What's all this?" she asked with a small smile across her face.

"Comfort food," she said. "It's my secret recipe. I wasn't sure how you felt about hot dogs mixed in, or what you wanted to drink."

"I think it's great." Brooklyn covered her mouth while she chewed a bite of the macaroni. Then, she set her fork down in the bowl and sighed. "What have I done?"

"I can't help you with that," Mary said as she walked over to the girl and gave her a big hug. "But I have learned not to second-guess the hard decisions because those are the ones that come from our hearts," she said. "I'll be downstairs if you need me," she added, before walking out of the room.

CHAPTER 30

Word of the break-up spread quickly among the group. Blair had harassed Brooklyn to the point of exhaustion to figure out why she had broken up with Adam completely out of the blue. One minute, the couple had appeared to be in a great relationship, and then the next minute, Brooklyn was telling her that it wasn't working out.

"I just don't understand," echoed Blair over and over again. "I thought everything was great between you guys."

Being part of the same social circle with Adam was both positive and negative. He didn't completely ignore her, probably because he had to be in the same vicinity so frequently. Blair told her it was because he still cared about her, and wanted to leave the door open.

"Blair, I'm sorry, but this fantasy that you have of Adam and me getting back together is just not going to happen."

"Do you think there's a chance in the future?"

"No!" Brooklyn shouted back at her. "Please don't ask me one more time. This is tough on me too, and I need to move on. If the situation changes, you'll be the first to know." Throughout the day, thoughts of Adam continually popped into Brooklyn's mind. Since that first date, they had spent many hours together each day: they met in the hallway at school in between classes, they ate together at the same lunch table, she had gone to several of Adam's baseball practices and all of his home games once the season had started, and they communicated via the phone or Internet when they were apart. Although she missed him, in her mind she still felt that breaking up with him was the best decision for her.

She began to dread getting up in the mornings to swim. Her energy level was not where it needed to be, because her heart just wasn't in it. Aside from that, she believed that she was doing fine in coping with her own sadness.

She was slightly concerned that Adam might start going out with Ashley. They seemed to be spending more time together at school. She mentioned it to Blair one day as they were walking toward the lunchroom. She was not really surprised by her friend's quick response.

"You dumped him," she reminded her, "so you gave up the right to say anything about what he does with his life."

When Brooklyn would begin to sulk, Blair would say, "Fine, I know for a fact that he doesn't think Ashley is as cute as you and he's really still into you, so just swallow your pride and tell him you were wrong."

Brooklyn would simply shake her head and reply, "It's complicated."

This only caused Blair to roll her eyes.

As they approached the lunchroom, Ashley and Mackenzie were standing by the doorway waiting for them, which was their normal custom.

"If you're done with him, do you mind if I. . . ?" asked Ashley before being punched in the arm by Mackenzie. "He's just such a catch, and I'm not sure why you would ever break up with him."

Brooklyn didn't even find it necessary to respond. Blair was right. She couldn't tell other people to stay away from him or worry about who he was hanging around with. She had broken up with him because in her heart she felt that it was the right decision. She just needed to remind herself of that more often.

During April and May, freshmen could take a driver's education course at the high school from, between three and five o'clock. They needed to attend lectures, watch videos, spend hours in driving sessions with an instructor as well as with their parents, and pass written and driving exams,. Brooklyn was anxious to learn how to drive. It would represent that she was moving into another stage of her life. She had been thrilled to become a teenager, and now she would be learning how to drive. Turning eighteen and later twenty-one did not seem so far away.

On Saturday, when the small Chevrolet Cavalier pulled into the driveway, Brooklyn, Gabe, and Mary peered out the window. Blair got out of the car, and waved toward the house.

"She's so pretty," mumbled Gabe. Brooklyn headed out the door wearing her favorite jeans, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. She had on no makeup, except for the clear lip gloss that glistened in the morning sunlight. She put on her sunglasses as she approached the car. Blair had on a sundress, wedges, and big plastic sunglasses.

"Hello beautiful," smiled Blair. "Are you ready for your first lesson?"

Brooklyn laughed, "What are you wearing? I didn't realize this was a formal event." "Hey, you never know who you are going to run into on the road," replied Blair. "The instructor guy, Fred, wasn't too happy about the heels, but he's old." She climbed into the back of the car as Brooklyn got in the front.

"Name?" the old man asked, holding a clipboard and pen.

"Brooklyn Thompson," she replied.

"Thompson?" he asked, looking through his list. "That's odd, you signed up twice."

"Oh, there are two of us. My cousin Ben has a later lesson."

"There it is, Benjamin," he said with sudden clarity.

Brooklyn took her position behind the steering wheel and closed the door. After following the instructions about adjusting the mirrors and the seats and hearing the instructor's monologue concerning the importance of seatbelts, they were finally off to Blair's house. She lived less than a mile away, and Brooklyn navigated easily, crossing only one busy road.

"Good luck!" shouted Blair as they dropped her off. "Call me when you're done!"

The rest of the lesson went fairly well. Fred had Brooklyn driving up and down a divided highway, practicing a Michigan left turn every couple of miles. They slowly made their way to Adam's house, going through downtown Birmingham which seemed to have a stop sign or traffic light every hundred feet. She pulled into Adam's driveway and saw him sitting on the porch, waiting. Her heart sank as he stood up, and for a split second she regretted breaking up with him. His blond hair sparkled as he walked down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets.

"Brake!" shouted Fred.

Brooklyn slammed on the brakes and the car came to a shaky, sudden stop. Adam stopped on the sidewalk and peered into the car, trying not to laugh.

"What was that?" shouted Fred.

"I'm sorry, I got distracted," she replied sheepishly. She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car.

"There is no room for distractions, young lady!" bellowed Fred as she opened the back door.

"Trying to run me over?" grinned Adam.

"I must have misjudged the driveway," she replied with an awkward smile. Adam got in the car and listened to the same instructions Fred had given her on mirrors, seat positions, and seatbelts. When he put the car in reverse, his foot touched the accelerator, and the car sped backward. Instinctively, he slammed down on the brakes, and the car came to a screeching halt. He sat there laughing with his hands positioned at ten o'clock and two o'clock on the steering wheel.

"Do you think this is funny, Mr. Ashmore?" asked Fred.

"No, sir," he answered. "It's not as easy as I imagined. That won't happen again." Whether or not he had done that on purpose, she was thankful that he had deflected the attention away from her mishap.

"All right, let's try again," encouraged Fred.

Adam eased out of the driveway with no further setbacks and successfully drove Brooklyn back to the Thompsons' house. She quickly opened the rear door, and got out of the car. "See you next time," she said, before closing the door.

"How was it?" Ben had been anxiously awaiting her return.

"It was fine," she answered. "Fred, the instructor, is sort of high-strung, but he's okay. I would be that way if I were teaching us how to drive, too."

At lunch the following Monday, everyone in the group made fun of each other while discussing their first driving experiences. It seemed as though no one had gotten away with a perfect first lesson.

"Brooklyn, you tried to run Adam over?" asked Nate.

Adam grinned with his arms folded as he tried to respond for her. "It wasn't really like that."

"I . . . I got distracted, okay?" she exclaimed in her own defense.

"By Ashmore or his garage door?" asked Robby sarcastically.

Blair shot her a curious glance, and she knew exactly what it meant. Brooklyn shook her head no, trying not to make it obvious, but Blair simply rolled her eyes, mouthing the words, "I know what distracted you."

Brooklyn was determined to pass her driver's test the first time around. She was behind the wheel with Mary or Greg as often as possible, and she had memorized almost the entire instruction manual. By the end of the course, they core group of friends had all successfully passed their driving portions of the class with no more close calls. The written test took nearly two hours, and they patiently waited in a separate room for the machine to spit out their results.

All of them had passed, and they were granted permits to drive with an adult over twenty-one in the car.

"I'm driving home," said Ben as he and Brooklyn walked out to the parking lot.

"I don't care," she replied, squinting up at the late afternoon sun. They reached the car, and Brooklyn sat down on the cement wall. She closed her eyes with her head facing toward the sky as the hot May sun beat down. She was trying to remember how it felt to kiss Adam, what it felt like when his lips touched hers, when his arms were wrapped around her.

Ben stood in front of her with his hands on his sides. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," she snapped at his unwelcome distraction.

She felt something cold touch her arm. To her surprise and delight, Adam was standing in front of her holding out a bottle of water. She gazed into his blue eyes and sat there without saying a word.

But Ben grabbed the bottle. He took a big swig, and said, "Thanks, bud."

Brooklyn glanced at him, but did not say anything. Adam was still standing directly in front of her. Then Nate and Robby arrived, and climbed up on the wall as well.

"Where's Jordan?" asked Robby. "He's my ride."

"I don't know," Ben answered. The rest of the group shrugged their shoulders.

Adam positioned himself on the wall next to Brooklyn, and drank his water. She was trying to watch him out of the corner of her eye without being noticed. His bottle had begun sweating from the heat, and a bead of water dripped down his chin onto the curve of his neck. As she watched, her heart pounded inside her chest.

"Man, it's hot out here," complained Robby, pouring his water over his head and gulping

down the remains. A shorter girl with glasses from their driver's education class came walking over. "Excuse me, can you tell me what time it is?"

Ben put his watch behind his back and looked away.

"Sure," answered Brooklyn, looking at her cell phone. "It's about ten to four."

"Thanks a lot," the girl said. She walked across the parking lot and took a seat on the other side in the shade.

"Ben," whispered Brooklyn. "That was really rude. Why did you do that?" "She is one of the geeks like Lizzy," answered Ben.

"Maybe she doesn't know anyone else here. Besides, what if that was you and someone turned their back when you needed something?" She knew how cold her voice was.

"That wouldn't happen." He smirked at her. Then, pointing to himself he said, "I'm the king and she's just a villager."

"Are you kidding me right now?" she asked, stunned. "She's not a villager, she's in our class. And you're not even close to being a king."

"Chill out, Brooklyn, she's just a geek," said Nate. The boys all started laughing.

Brooklyn turned to Adam. "I can't believe you think they're funny. You never used to act better than anyone else."

"They're just kidding around," he said sternly. "Nate's right, chill out."

"Sorry," she snapped back. "I guess I just expected a little more from you, like, to back me up or something."

"Oh, I see, now all of a sudden you care about what I think, huh?"

The laughing stopped immediately. The ex-couple was sitting side by side having a stare down as the rest of them sat in silence watching them. Brooklyn broke her stare and hopped off the wall. She started walking back toward the school.

"Brooklyn," shouted Robby, "how about dinner tonight?"

She flashed her middle finger at him, and kept walking. "Way to go, Ashmore," said Nate, patting him on the back. "You have to stand up to chicks or they'll ruin your life."

"What would you know, Nate?" said Ben. "You've never had a girlfriend." He turned to Adam. "You better apologize now. The more she thinks about it, the angrier she gets, and she's an angry, angry person, if you get my drift."

"Did you forget that we are not going out anymore? The minute she dumped me, she stopped being my problem," Adam said, standing his ground. "If she doesn't like it, tough, because I didn't say anything that I didn't think was true. She's your cousin and therefore your problem. Besides, lately you've been a jackass to everyone but her. What's with that?"

"Dude, nothing. She's just my cousin."

"I'll get her," said Nate, standing up.

"Forget it," said Ben as he jumped off the wall. "I'll do it." As he approached the school doors, Jordan and Blair were walking out.

"Where are you going?" asked Blair.

"To find Brooklyn," he replied, holding the door open.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"No, we were just messing around. She was mad at me and then mad at Adam, and he said something she didn't want to hear, so she got all crazy and emotional."

"I'll find her," offered Blair.

"By the way, Ben, when it comes to girls, don't call us crazy and emotional. We don't like that very much, especially since we're like that because of what you guys put us through." She disappeared through the door.

"Dumbass," said Jordan, rolling his eyes as they walked to the parking lot. "You said crazy and emotional. Big mistake, my man," he laughed. "Big mistake." Blair opened the bathroom door and didn't spot Brooklyn. She tried another bathroom before deciding that she was probably at the pool. Her hunch was right, and she found her sitting in the bleachers, staring down at the calm water.

"Hey. What are you doing in here?" Blair asked, pretending like she didn't already know about the incident.

Brooklyn didn't answer at first. She rubbed her eyes. "I thought I knew what I wanted, but I'm starting to think that maybe I didn't."

"So quit playing around and go after what you want," encouraged Blair with her arm around Brooklyn.

"I can't," mumbled Brooklyn. "It's . . ."

"Complicated, I know." Blair finished Brooklyn's sentence. "You keep saying that. Just un-complicate it."

"It's not that easy. You don't understand."

"I understand that if you really wanted it, you would try to find a way."

"What if I can't?"

"I can't pretend to understand what you're not telling me. But if there's really no other way and you've tried everything you can, then you have to accept it and move on."

CHAPTER 31

The Thompsons threw a pool party the Friday that school let out for the summer. Gabe and his friends were discussing what it would be like, going from being the top dogs at the middle school to being the novices in high school. Brooklyn decided to join in.

"The schedule is going to be the hardest to get used to," she told him. "Mostly because of the long classes. And if you aren't on the same schedule as your friends, you might go an entire day without even passing them in the halls. But once you get used to it, it's not so bad."

The conversation continued -- how to keep up with three different class schedules, why they would not be eating lunch at the same time every day, why they did not get gym class every day, and a variety of other topics of interest to Gabe and his friends. Toward the end of the conversation, Blair, Ashley and Mackenzie had huddled near Brooklyn.

"What if Jordan and I don't have any classes together?" asked Blair.

"Oh, I might have a class with Nate," said Ashley, grinning.

"You like Nate now?" asked Brooklyn. "I can't keep up."

"I don't like him," answered Ashley. "But there's something about him."

"Yeah, he's immature," replied Blair.

"What are you going to do if you have classes with Adam?" Ashley asked Brooklyn.

"Nothing," replied Brooklyn. "I just want us to act friendly toward each other so we don't have to deal with of all of this awkwardness. I'm not going to spend a minute of my summer break wondering what the schedule is going to be next fall. This has been a long school year for me, and I'm happy to forget about school for a few months."

"I know, but what if we have the same schedule as Sara and her friends?" asked Ashley. "Are you kidding?" shouted Blair. "My life would suck!"

"Speaking of Adam," pointed Ashley. "Who is he with?"

The girls all turned around to see Adam sitting on a bench on the side of the house with a brunette. He was talking while she was twisting her long, light-brown curls and giggling at every other word he said.

"She's ugly," said Blair, annoyed. "Did he come with her?"

"She looks familiar, but I can't remember her name," said Mackenzie. "She's definitely younger."

"Well, Jordan would have said something if Adam were dating someone new," answered Blair. Ashley put a friendly hand on Brooklyn's shoulder. "He's just trying to make you jealous," she whispered. "Go interrupt him. He won't mind."

"He'd kill me," she whispered back. "He looks like he's in his element right now."

"Then why does he keep looking over here at you?" Ashley whispered back with a wink.

"Blair," Brooklyn held out her hand. "Please lip-gloss me."

"That's my girl," Blair said as she retrieved the shiny tube from her purse.

Brooklyn applied the gloss and ran her fingers through her hair. She adjusted her swimsuit and pulled her strapless cover-up down bit lower, revealing a little more cleavage, even though the halter top to her swimsuit was fastened securely behind her neck. She made her way up the driveway toward the bench. Adam was laughing at something the younger girl was saying. He must have noticed that Brooklyn was on her way over because he glanced up. For a split-second, she thought he might have been nervous at the prospect of a confrontation.

"Ahem," Brooklyn cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Adam. Can I talk to you for a quick second?"

"I guess," he responded, not appearing eager to listen to her. The girl sitting next to him didn't move.

"I'm sorry, I meant alone."

Adam sat back on the bench with his arms now folded across his chest. "It's fine," he said to the girl. She got up and walked away, turning around a few times to see what was happening.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or do you have something to say?" Adam asked her.

She sat down and placed her hands on her knees. "I thought that maybe it was time that we fix things between us," she said.

"I didn't know there was anything to fix," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"That's exactly the problem. I guess I didn't expect that we would be best friends, but I sort of thought that things wouldn't be as awkward as they have been. We have too many friends in common, so we've made it awkward for them too."

"I understand what you're saying about it being awkward for our mutual friends," he replied. "In the beginning, I just thought you needed a break from me, and then we would go back to the way it was. I never expected it to last this long, so I just sort of wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me."

"Adam, I didn't mean to hurt you. That was never my intention."

"Well, whatever," he answered. "I guess I haven't made things easy. If I have to make a choice, I would choose to have you in my life as just a friend rather than not at all."

She sighed. "I miss you."

"Yeah, I miss you, too."

"I didn't intentionally try to hurt you. I just . . . I feel lost." She hugged him as she said this.

"I don't know why you did what you did, Brooklyn," he answered, "but I know that I can't stop thinking about you. I haven't stopped since the moment I met you. Please, let's just try again. I know we can be really good together."

His words were tearing away at her defenses. How could she have been so unprepared for this type of conversation?

"Adam, the break-up was not about how I feel about you. It was about all uncertainty in my life, and where I might end up tomorrow. Too much is not in my control."

"Why do we have to worry so much about tomorrow? We can deal with what happens when it actually does happen. I'm willing to live with the uncertainty if it allows us to be together now. Please, just say yes."

"Okay," she answered, without hesitation. "You're all I want."

They began to kiss gently.

Ben watched from a distance. For the first time, he felt jealous of Adam.

He wasn't exactly sure why he was so upset seeing them back together. But one thing he knew for sure: he didn't like it.

CHAPTER 32

A week after the pool party, Greg took a ride into the regional FBI office. He had mentioned to Mary that the agents were working a lead in regard to Brooklyn's family, but he was not sure if they were on the right track. When he got home several hours later, he led his wife into his office.

"We think that the murders weren't random," he said. "Apparently Nick was in an alley in Los Angeles around the time a murder was committed. But it wasn't just any murder. It was the murder of an undercover police officer. His body was dumped in the alley that night and found the next morning. Nick was there with his girlfriend and some other friends to see a concert at a bar. Apparently, the friends were using fake IDs and when the bartender finally figured it out, he refused to serve them anything else. Apparently, they were worried about the bartender, so the four of them went out the side door into an alley. They were saying goodbye to each other, and Nick was snapping pictures in the alley with his cell phone. Our theory is that the killers were still in that alley when Nick and his friends were there, and that the killers think there might be incriminating evidence against them on those cell phone pictures. We're pretty sure that Michelle didn't focus on what was going on in the background. But the killers were able to find out where Nick lived, and they went to the house that night to clean up the loose ends. We're not sure if there's any evidence in those pictures. And we have no idea if the killers were able to retrieve the pictures from Nick that night."

"If the killers found the pictures from the alley that night, they don't have any reason to look for Brooklyn," Mary stated.

"That would just mean that they don't have to worry about evidence in the alley murder. But Brooklyn is a potential witness in the murders of her family," Greg responded.

"How do you think she's going to handle the theory that the murder of her family members was not a random event?"

"I really don't know. But we have to focus on the fact that we're closer to solving the murders than we ever have been. I think we should have the conversation together. Is she upstairs?"

"Yes she is," Mary responded and they headed up.

Brooklyn was sprawled out on her bed watching a movie. Her window was open and she was wrapped up in her favorite pink blanket. She stopped the movie as soon as Greg and Mary knocked on her door and entered the room.

"What?" she asked. "You guys are making me nervous."

"I just returned from a meeting at the regional FBI office," Greg said. "Brooklyn, we think we have a pretty good idea of what happened that night."

"Are you serious?"

She was stunned at what Greg had to tell her. She had not been holding out much hope that the criminals would be found. She was the only survivor, yet she had no information that could be useful in the investigation. She needed to know the whole story. Maybe getting the facts would give her some closure.

She sat up, and pulled her knees to her chest, clutching her bear tightly. Mary sat down on the bed next to her. She held her hand on Brooklyn's back. "Did your brother tell you that he was in Los Angeles a few days before the murders?"

"No, that's impossible. He wasn't allowed to go there without my parents, and I know they didn't go without me."

"Do you remember Michelle Wilson?"

"Yeah, she was Nick's girlfriend."

"She told us that she and Nick went to a bar in Los Angeles to see a concert with some friends." Brooklyn looked down and closed her eyes. "Two of their friends were drinking at the concert using fake IDs. Then the bartender refused to serve them any more alcohol. They panicked, and went out a side door, to an alley. Michelle and Nick joined them, and she started taking pictures with Nick's cell phone."

"I don't understand."

"Brooklyn, the body of an undercover police officer was dumped into the alley that night. There's been a turf war between rival gang members in that area. The local police were able to get an undercover officer into the Carlos Montag gang to keep tabs on what was happening. He's the one who was killed that night. We think his cover was blown, so they murdered him. Of course, we have no proof, only a theory. Right before your family was killed, Michelle reminded your brother that the pictures from the alley were on his cell phone. She asked him to e-mail them to her, but he never did. We think the killers were still in that alley when Nick and his friends were there, and they believe there might be incriminating evidence against them on those pictures. We're pretty sure that Michelle didn't realize what was going on in the background. We're also pretty sure that if the killers were actually seen committing the crime or dumping the body, Michelle, Nick, and their two friends would never have gotten out of that alley alive. Anyway, the gang members must have realized that they'd left a loose end. They got Nick's address, somehow, and came to your house that night. We're not sure if there's any evidence of the murder, and we have no idea if they were able to retrieve the pictures."

"So the pictures might have shown something to connect them with a murder?"

"We can only speculate right now. The pictures weren't stored on Nick's cell phone, so they must have been on a memory card. Or maybe transferred them to some other type of media storage device. It's not likely he would have hidden them outside his room. We don't think they had time to search Nick's room or the rest of the house. The local police responded very quickly. If your brother's room had been ransacked, we would have seen more evidence of it, and you would have heard it. We're working under the assumption that the pictures weren't found. If we can recover them, there might be something that would help us to track down the people who were in the alley that night. I know it sounds like a long-shot, but I've never believed that what happened to your family that night was a random event. Brooklyn, you were in Nick's bedroom that night. Now that you know what we think, is there anything that you can remember that might help us?"

"I...I don't know," she stammered. She tried to remember, but her memory was fuzzy. "Brooklyn, please think hard."

She closed her eyes again and tried to focus. Images began to emerge as she tried to recall walking into his room. Nick's desk was straight ahead along the wall. She pictured his iMac sitting on the desk. There was a picture of the family to the right of the monitor. The shelves above the desk were lined with trophies from his years of playing baseball and soccer. She looked down at the modern, drawer-less desk. Her vision started to blur again, and she opened her eyes in a panic.

"I . . . I can't see anything. How am I supposed to know where Nick hid stuff?"

Greg put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. I know it's not easy. Perhaps if we use the timeline it will help. We know Nick was talking online to Michelle about the pictures when you came in his room and told him what you saw outside. Did he walk over to his bed or his dresser or his closet before he left the room?"

Brooklyn tried to remember, but nothing came to the surface.

"I don't understand why he didn't tell anyone, or ask for help," Brooklyn said, shaking her head.

"It sounds like Michelle and Nick didn't know what was going on while they were in the alley, and later on he didn't get the chance." Mary answered this time.

"I sort of thought that knowing the truth would make me feel a little better, but right now I feel even worse." The sadness in Brooklyn's eyes told Greg and Mary all they needed to know.

It was July 4th, just before three in the morning, and everyone in the house was asleep except for Brooklyn. She signed on to her computer, but nobody was online, so she put on a robe and slippers, grabbed her blanket, and quietly walked downstairs. She had been at the Thompsons' for a little more than eight months. Most days she was happy, but she also felt a pang of guilt, as if she were forgetting her parents and her brother too quickly.

Downstairs, the living room was dark. It was the place she always came when she couldn't sleep. In the daytime, it was like any other room, but but she found it very comforting in the darkness. The porch light sparkled through the window, awakening the crystal vase above the mantle. She watched the rainbows dance on the wall, and admired the beauty created by something so simple. The silver frame surrounding a photo of Ben reflected light in her direction. She picked it up and stared at it.

Since the end of the school year, Brooklyn felt him becoming more distant. She had wondered if it had anything to do with her getting back together with Adam. They lived under the same roof, and had so many friends in common, so she hoped she was wrong about it. After all, Ben was the only one of her friends who knew about her past. He also was the only person who knew that she had contacted Sasha. He was her confidante, and even he had no idea how much he had helped her through the worst time of her life. Nobody could ever know. She set his picture back down on the mantle, and sat facing the window in the oversized chair.

She began to think about her parents and Nick. She wondered if her brother had figured out that his Los Angeles adventure had set in motion all that happened to their family that night. She began to cry as she thought about how something so innocent could lead to such devastation.

She wept for what was lost, for the friends and family she would never see or talk to or hold again. And for the memories that she feared were fading. She knew how lucky she was to have ended up with the Thompsons. Greg and Mary were warm and caring. Ben and Gabe did not treat her like an outsider. They seemed proud and happy that she was their "cousin." She felt a hand on her arm and looked up. It was Ben. He sat down on the footstool in front of the chair, his hand still on her arm.

"Hey," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she sniffled. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep. You weren't in your room, so I came down to find you."

She smiled, and more tears flowed down her cheek.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he tried to wipe the tears away.

"I don't know. I'm all confused. There's this pressure for me to remember what happened, and I am forgetting everything."

"You've been through a lot, B," he said, sweeping the hair off her face. He took her hands and pulled her forward, so she was now sitting on the edge of the chair. "People have been talking about summer vacations and doing stuff with their families, and this has to be so hard on you. I don't know how you've been able to get through it. You're amazing."

She sighed. "I assumed that any sort of change when my family was murdered could only be for the worse. Lately, I sort of feel like maybe that's not true. Maybe whatever direction my life is heading isn't all that bad. Like maybe it could be good."

There was a moment of silence, and Ben gazed into her eyes. The tears stopped falling and Brooklyn realized that he was still holding her hands. They were sitting close to each other. She felt her heart strum. He started to lean in, and then paused. Her heart was pounding louder and faster with every second. She looked down and bit her lip, afraid of what would happen if she looked up.

His hand grazed her chin, lifting her face upward until their eyes met again. She closed her eyes, and he leaned in and kissed her. It was slow and gentle at first. And then it became more passionate, more involved. There was no turning back. She moved her tongue forward, and Ben responded, caressing her tongue with his. The kiss lasted for several minutes until Brooklyn pulled back suddenly and touched her lower lip.

"Ben?" Brooklyn asked. "Did you fall asleep?"

The dream had come out of nowhere. Never before had he dreamed about kissing Brooklyn. Thoughts of her as more than a friend had come into his mind before, but she had always been off-limits for every reason imaginable. Was he really so selfish that he could have a dream like this when Brooklyn had been in tears just moments before?

CHAPTER 33

Brooklyn's cell phone vibrated on the nightstand, waking her up. She rolled over and kissed her bear good morning as she reached for the phone. She knew it would be her usual good-morning text from Adam, but it was still thrilling to read them. She replied to his text, then crawled back under the down comforter, not wanting to get out of bed.

She looked to the chair on the other side of her bed, and saw that it was empty. She thought about the times Ben had fallen asleep there while he waited for her to sleep. She could not overcome the feeling that their relationship had grown colder since she had gotten back together with Adam. She thought that Ben was avoiding her, but every time she tried to talk to him about it, he told her she was paranoid and she had nothing to worry about. There was no doubt in her mind that he was acting strangely, but there was nothing she could do about it if he kept refuting her claims.

Later that morning, she found Gabe downstairs swimming laps. He had been waking up early a few mornings a week to use the pool, eager to attain a swimmer's body like his idol, Ryan Lochte. She began her workout with Gabe still in the pool, but soon he got out and went to the hot tub. She let her mind wander to the evening ahead. She was nervous about going to Blair's house for dinner. The girls were supposed to cook dinner for Adam and Jordan around six, and then the rest of their friends were planning to join them. Blair's mom was going to be at her boyfriend's house, which was the only reason she had agreed to let the kids gather there. She was concerned about what she would say to Mary about the evening.

Her relationship with Adam had become a little intense since they had gotten back together, and it seemed like the only time Ben really spoke to her was when he had questions about Adam. It wasn't that she didn't want him to know what was or was not going on, but it was awkward talking to him about Adam.

When she finished her workout, she went over to the hot tub to join Gabe. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked.

"Blair and I are cooking for Adam and Jordan at her house."

"Is Ben going?"

"He's coming after dinner, I think. He didn't really say."

"Are you talking about me?" snapped Ben, walking in. "Or are you talking about doing Adam? I'm sure he'd like that."

She looked up from the hot tub absolutely stunned. Ben had danced around the subject of sex before, but he had never said anything so blatant. She could see that Gabe was shocked as well. Usually these conversations didn't take place in front of him.

"Umm . . . ," she swallowed hard.

"Well, are you going to do Adam tonight?"

She shook her head and looked down, fidgeting with her hands under the warm water. "No! I mean it's not like we've talked about it or anything . . ."

"But, you might," he snapped "...sleep with him."

It felt as if the room were spinning. She could feel her heart pounding and her muscles tightening. She looked up at Ben. He was staring past her, not making direct eye contact. Why was it so hard to talk to him about this? She used to be able to tell him everything. Why was he interrogating her?

"Stop it," begged Gabe. "Ben, just leave her alone. She doesn't have to tell you anything."

"Regardless of what you think, Ben, I'm not planning to have sex with Adam tonight."

"You've been together for a few months now," he answered. "It's only natural that you take the next step before he finds someone else who will. He's the most popular guy in our class. Don't forget that." He walked out the door.

"He can be such as ass sometimes," said Gabe. "I'm sorry he was like that."

"It's fine," she mumbled. "You don't have to defend him."

Gabe nodded. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"This might be a little weird . . . but sometimes I think that Ben might like you."

"Really?" She was shocked. "What . . . umm . . . what makes you think that?" She felt blind, naïve, and stupid.

"Just the way he's been acting lately. I catch him staring at you and stuff. I used to be so jealous that the two of you were always together, but now he's usually hiding in his room. He always used to talk about girls, but now he's as quiet as a mouse. Don't tell him I said anything. He'd say I was crazy. But if he does like you, it might explain why he's been acting like such an idiot."

Brooklyn ran upstairs and slammed her bedroom door behind her. She did not need this extra drama when she was trying so hard to concentrate on her relationship with her boyfriend. Adam was perfect; he always had been. But as much as she wanted to think that their second try would be easier for her to deal with, she still felt guilty about lying. Worrying about that was hard enough without throwing Ben and his out-of-control feelings into the middle of it all.

She looked in her dresser drawer for the bottle of sleeping pills. She had not taken any medication except aspirin for months, but she had some pills left from the last time Dr. Spencer wrote the prescription. She swallowed two pills with the half-full glass of water that was on her desk. Then she picked up her cell phone, noticing that it was filled with text messages from Blair, plus a voicemail message from Adam saying how excited he was to be seeing her tonight.

As she was reading it, an instant message popped up on her computer screen. It was from Ben, apologizing for being a jerk. She tossed the cell phone across the room, and collapsed on the floor next to her bed, curled up in a fetal position. She lay on the floor, motionless, just staring up at the white ceiling, trying to calm her nerves. She thought about Ben and wondered whether Gabe was on target with his assessment. But that should not matter to her, should it? Weren't they supposed to be cousins? Shouldn't he really be treating her like a sister? She was going out with Adam, and he was Ben's friend so why would Ben allow himself to think of her as anything other than Adam's girlfriend? Would he dare to tell Adam that Brooklyn has been lying about her past? She pulled her bear off her bed and fell asleep with the soft, furry stuffed animal in her arms.

The bedroom door opened a few hours later, with Gabe and Mackenzie peeking in on

Brooklyn.

"She's asleep," he whispered.

"Let's wake her," she suggested. "I've been trying to call her for hours now and Blair has been trying to reach her about tonight. I'm going in," She pushed the door wide open. "Wake up, sleeping dragon."

"Go away," mumbled Brooklyn.

"If you don't get up, you're going to sleep right through your date with Adam," Gabe said. She sat upright, concerned about being late or worse—not having enough time to get ready for the dinner party.

"Are you okay?" asked Gabe. "You've been asleep all day. And why are you on the floor?"

She got up, still groggy and slightly confused about why she had been on floor. "I guess I was tired." It took her a second to notice that Gabe and Mackenzie were dressed to go out. Why do you guys look so nice?"

Gabe blushed, then looked at Mackenzie. She simply smiled back at him. "We, um, we're...uh, dinner...us...tonight."

"You two are going out tonight?"

"I . . . sort of," started Mackenzie. "Well, I mean it's going to be you and Blair tonight and your boyfriends. And then everyone is invited afterward, but I can guarantee that people are going to be coupled off, and those that aren't are going to be standing in the corner feeling out of place."

"Yeah," sighed Brooklyn. "I can see that happening, unintentionally, of course, but . . ."

"So Gabe offered to take me out tonight. But then your aunt and uncle were going out, so he invited me over here for dinner instead."

Brooklyn looked at Gabe, who was shifting around uncomfortably, standing next to Mackenzie. "You're cooking?"

"Pizza and salad. Delivery of course," he answered. Brooklyn smiled, wondering if that was the universal first-date dinner.

They left her in her room to shower and get ready. After she returned all her phone calls and text messages, she finished getting dressed and ran downstairs so Mary could drop her off.

"I'm sorry." Ben cornered her at the bottom of the stairs. "It's none of my business what you do with your boyfriend."

"It's okay," she mumbled.

She was still wobbly on the walk to the car, but she managed to get into the front seat without incident. She was thankful that Blair lived so close by. Mary initiated the conversation. Ben said that he plans to drop by Blair's house in a few hours."

"Yeah, a bunch of kids are coming a little later," Brooklyn replied.

"He said that Blair's mother is going to be there the entire time." "That's what the plan is," Brooklyn confirmed.

"Well, give me a call if that plan changes," were Mary's final words.

Blair, Jordan and Adam met Brooklyn at the front door. As they walked toward the kitchen, Blair announced that her mother was already gone and that they had opened a bottle of wine. Brooklyn was still feeling the effects of the sleeping pills but was determined to join the fun, so she started to drink the wine from the glass that Adam poured. Blair had been warming up the sauce, and had the water boiling for the past, so Brooklyn began to set the table continuing to drink the wine. Within minutes, she began to feel lightheaded, but she figured it would pass. By the time they had finished putting the food on the table, she had consumed two generous glasses, and her head was spinning.

Brooklyn woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. Before she even opened her eyes, she could hear the faint sound of breathing very close to her. Still half asleep, she opened her eyes expecting to see Ben in the chair across the room, as he used to be not so long ago. This time, it wasn't Ben—it was Adam, and he was lying right beside her.

Instinctively, she covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes wandered around the unfamiliar room, hoping to remember how or why she was waking up next to Adam. Concentrating hard to remember what happened, she realized that she didn't remember anything after dinner. Adam stirred, moving closer to her and rolling on his side. Now his arm was across her stomach, and his head nestled against her shoulder. Not wanting to move, she lay there for a few minutes, as still as possible. Then she pleaded with herself to get out of there as quickly as possible. All she could think about was how special this exact moment was supposed to be, yet she didn't remember anything that had happened.

"Hey," Adam mumbled, grinning.

She jumped into an upright position, tugging at the sheets to ensure that she was covered.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to bed."

He rubbed his eyes. "Where are you going? It's not even six yet."

"I have to go," she said, obviously nervous. "I usually get up pretty early, and for some reason I can't sleep."

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

Her insides twisted. She would break his heart if she told him she didn't remember anything about the previous night.

She smiled uneasily. "Of course," she whispered. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Adam smiled back at her. "Lie with me for five more minutes. I'm not ready for this to end just yet."

She obliged, lying back down, this time cozying up to his warm body, slightly afraid that he might feel her heart pounding through her chest. Her thoughts drifted to Ben. Was he there somewhere in Blair's house? What would she say to him? What would she do?

"Brooklyn, last night was amazing. I love you so much."

"Yeah," she managed to say. Had he ever muttered those words before? Words that every girl wanted to hear? Adam brushed a strand of her dark hair off her face. Stroking her cheek with his hand, he stared into her eyes. She felt completely comfortable wrapped up in his arms, and did not want that moment to end. But she knew she had to get out of the house fast. Adam offered to walk her home, but she declined. Blair's house was empty except for Blair, Jordan, and Adam, so she knew Ben would be home when she got there. She had no idea what he would say to her. It was inevitable that he was going to confront her about what happened the night before. She did not even remember talking to him. She did not want to lie to Ben, but she really did not know what the whole truth was.

Okay, she thought, I don't really know. But given that she woke up alone in bed with Adam, she could certainly make some assumptions. Brooklyn walked the mile from Blair's house, spending the entire time trying to jog her memory. As she got closer to the Thompsons' house, she got more frustrated with her inability to remember. How could she possibly bring back the small things that happened the night her parents were murdered when she couldn't even remember what happened less than twelve hours ago?

The house was still dark when she opened the front door. She quickly changed and then headed to the basement to work out. She started running on the treadmill, but did not turn on the television. She was hoping that the pounding on the treadmill would shake the cobwebs out of her mind.

After almost 45 minutes, her legs felt like jelly. She ended her run, and walked out into the pool area, leaving all the lights off except for the ones in the pool. She jumped into the water and began her workout. With every sloppy stroke she took, she tried to justify her behavior for the part of the evening that she did remember. She had been drinking after taking medication, which was a dangerous combination. There were warnings all over the labels against doing that very thing. She remembered feeling lightheaded by the time they had served dinner; she didn't really remember feeling drunk.

Brooklyn reached the wall and did a flip turn. Her first stroke off the wall, her right arm came out of the water and over her shoulder. She made a fist and punched the water. After several angry strokes, she stood up in the middle of the pool and pummeled the water furiously with both hands. The drops splashed up around her as she let out a scream that echoed across the room. She continued to punch the water until her arms were exhausted. Then she swam over to the side of the pool.

After a few minutes, she saw a swimsuit-clad Ben through the glass windows walking toward the pool with a towel in his arm. She felt a lump form in her throat, growing with every step he took toward her. He opened the door and set his towel down. No words were exchanged. He walked over to turn on the timer and then got into the hot tub. She was still hanging on the side of the pool. She didn't know if she had the strength to carry on a conversation with him.

"You're home early," he said, finally breaking the awkward silence. He squirmed a little, trying to get adjusted to the hot water.

"I'm always up early," she answered. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep."

The anxiety was causing her to shake a little. She worked her way down the side of the pool so she was closer to the hot tub. When she stopped, she leaned against the side of the pool and put her arms on the deck.

"Are you coming in?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Did you have fun at the party?"

"I didn't go. You didn't even notice I wasn't there?"

She avoided the question. "How come you didn't go?"

"I didn't want you to think I was there for the wrong reasons. Like I was trying to come between you and Adam or something."

"But they're your friends too."

"I know." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm okay with Adam being your boyfriend. I just didn't want to be there. I didn't want to see what was going on. You can do better." The knot in her throat felt so large she couldn't speak. Her stomach began to ache. She knew the cause was guilt. "Look, B, I'm not trying to lecture you here, because I know you can do whatever you want," he said. "But I'm just saying that you shouldn't rush it. Sex just complicates everything and I don't think . . . maybe you aren't ready for that, because there can be no taking it back. It will always be there, part of you forever. Over time things always change, and it's inevitable that someone gets hurt. I just don't want to see that happen to you."

"What makes you such an expert on what's right or wrong?"

"Nothing, I guess," he answered. "It's just what I feel. I guess that maybe part of me always expected that you would wait a long time. I know that sounds stupid, and I know that I've made my own mistakes, so I have no right to tell you when you're ready. Really, there's no going back there for me. But when I thought last night that you might . . . I felt, like, all confused, and I was just kind of pissed."

"I didn't," she blurted out.

Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was the instinct to save Ben from his own thoughts. But the words flew out of her mouth before she had time to prepare them. It was over in an instant. But there was still no relief, and the pain in her stomach worsened. Ben was selfish by nature. She had seen all sides of him, but really she'd only known his kind side. She was afraid that he would turn on her if he found out what went on at Blair's house.

She watched as a miniature smile crept across his face, as if an incredible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I need to shower," she said as she climbed out of the pool.

"Brooklyn?"

She turned around. It was difficult to look at him.

"Never mind," he answered. "I'll see you later."

CHAPTER 34

"Damn." Ben said as a scoop of ice cream rolled off the top of his small sugar cone. "That always happens to me."

"That's what you get for putting three scoops in one cone," laughed Robby. Ben picked up a napkin and tried to wipe the chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream off his hands. "Give me your water," he said to Nate. Ben dumped the cool bottled water on his hands. "I paid two dollars for that," Nate complained.

"Get over it," Ben snapped.

"Fine. You get over Adam and Brooklyn."

Ben threw the napkin in the trash can next to the chairs they were sitting in outside the ice-cream shop. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Who are the Tigers playing tonight?" Robby interjected, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Answer me," demanded Ben.

"I thought you knew already," Nate said, backtracking. "It's no big deal."

"Then tell me."

"Adam and Brooklyn seriously hooked up last night at Blair's."

Ben had heard enough. He picked up his bike off the sidewalk and put his helmet on.

"Are you mad?" Nate asked. "I'm sorry, I really thought you knew."

Ben looked at his friends. "It's her reputation. I don't give a crap about her." He jumped on his bike and pedaled as fast as he could.

Brooklyn was sound asleep napping when her bedroom door flung open, and Ben charged into the room.

"Why did you lie to me this morning?" he shouted at her.

Brooklyn wiped her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"You had sex with Adam," he said, shaking his head. "Last night at Blair's. I feel so stupid. Why did you lie to me?"

"Who told you?"

"Are you kidding? It doesn't matter who told me. I told you how I felt and you looked me straight in the eyes and lied to me."

"Ben," she said, reaching out to put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was just that you were feeding me this speech, and I just didn't want to disappoint you. It slipped out of my mouth and I didn't know how to go back and correct it."

"That's the stupidest reason I've ever heard."

"Ben, you were right," she said. "I should have waited, but I can't take it back. I care about you so much. You've been such a good friend to me. If I ever lost you, I don't know what I would do. I'd be standing here totally alone, without anyone else I trust in my life. Don't you get it? I can't let you in as more than a friend. You can't be everything to me."

He stood next to the bed, his shoulders drooping, and his arms hanging by his sides. "I think that if you wanted to sleep with him, even for only a second, then maybe it wasn't wrong for you after all. Maybe he was supposed to be the one for you." He had said the words he felt she would want to hear. But he delivered them in a monotone voice with no enthusiasm. He walked toward the door. "It's my fault, really. I fell for you, knowing that there was never any possibility of being with you." He closed the door behind him.

Brooklyn began to sob. She had just lost the one person who knew she'd contacted Sasha. But she also felt betrayed by Ben. It was selfish of him to think that they could be anything more than friends. Mostly, she felt a sadness that was completely overwhelming.

CHAPTER 35

The rest of the summer was uneventful for Brooklyn. Greg had religiously provided her updates on the investigation, but not much progress was being made. Brooklyn and Adam spent time alone together as well as with the group. She never told him that she could not remember the details of what had happened that night at Blair's. Ben did not offer another lecture on life, but he was clearly keeping a distance from her.

Swim practice for Pine Lake High School began two weeks before school started. The team held tryouts, even though the rumor was that everyone who tried out would make the team. It was reassuring to those who did not actually have a swimming background. Brooklyn was assigned to lane six, the butterfly lane, the only sophomore in a group of a junior and two seniors. The four of them were required to be at practice twice a day until the start of school, with the two long-course girls in lane five, and six seniors in lane four. The rest of the team was assigned to the first three lanes and were only required to be at morning practices.

Brooklyn wasn't the fastest girl on the team, but was very close to it. The Friday before the first day of classes was orientation, with all students required to show up at nine. Ben's had a theory about why orientation was held on a Friday; namely, that the school wanted to ruin their last weekend of freedom before torturing them for the next nine months.

"I don't understand why we can't do it on Monday instead," he kept repeating for days before orientation. The group of girls ducked into the bathroom before filing in the auditorium, while the boys had already settled comfortably in a corner, not bothering to save the girls seats.

"Don't get up," said Blair when they arrived, glaring in their direction. "We'll get our own seats, jerks." The boys sat there speechless as the girls sat in available seats in the middle of a row on the other side of the aisle. Brooklyn kept turning around to sneak glances at Adam, and found him also looking at her.

"Stop it," said Blair, smacking her arm. "He'll know you want him. Make him tell you how much he wants you."

"He already does that,"

"So what's the deal with Ben?" whispered Ashley. "Is he dating that Courtney chick?"

"No," whispered Brooklyn back. "Never."

"I kind of think so," suggested Blair. "Jordan says they talk every night."

Brooklyn looked back at Ben. It seemed if they were in an indirect competition. She wondered if they were ever going to be able to get past things, or if that conversation in the pool had forever changed their close friendship. There they were, Ben and Adam, sitting side by side, completely oblivious to the idea that Brooklyn needed them both in her life.

"Do you care if I go for him?" Ashley asked Brooklyn.

"Huh?"

"Do you care if I go for Ben?"

She shook her head. "No, I'd rather you than Courtney."

The girls pulled out their schedule assignment sheets. Luckily, Brooklyn, Blair, Mackenzie, and Ashley were all assigned B schedules. But it appeared to the girls that everyone else they knew had the A schedule. The schedule assignment was critical because it dictated who else was available for the same lunch session as you.

"I can't believe we're stuck with this schedule all year," said Blair.

"At least we have lunch together," said Mackenzie.

"For, like, thirty minutes," Blair said, reapplying her raspberry-colored lip gloss.

"What schedule does Ben have, Brooklyn?"

"A. Everyone has A," she answered.

"Huh, that might foil my plan slightly," Ashley said, smiling.

Everyone started laughing as she pretended to think hard about her next move. Monday morning, Brooklyn was up at 5:15. After brushing her teeth and making her bed, she changed into her practice suit and sweats, grabbed her swim bag and her book bag, and went to the kitchen. She pulled her lunch out of the fridge and a small paper bag off the counter, containing a fiber muffin, a banana, and a small container of fat-free milk. She ate the banana in the dark. Greg came down in his sweats a few minutes later.

"Oh, this is early." He grabbed his keys off the counter. "Are you ready?"

"Yep," she answered.

The drive to school was dark and practically silent. Greg kept rubbing his eyes as Brooklyn ate her muffin and drank her milk in silence. She half-expected to find the doors to the school locked so she could go back to bed, but to her dismay they were open. She wasn't in the mood to swim. The lights were bright over the pool like a curse for being up so early. There were already a few girls coming out of the locker room, ready to go.

Brooklyn decided to push herself in the workout, hoping it would ease some of her apprehension about the new school year. She was surprised when seven o'clock came around, and it was time to get out of the pool and get ready for classes. The locker room was cold. After a ten-minute shower, she hustled back to her locker, wrapping her now-chilled body with her oversized towel. She looked up at the clock, and realized she only had fifteen minutes before the first bell would ring. She got out of her swimsuit, and clung to the towel for warmth and cover.

"Are you nervous, Brooklyn?" asked Casey, a fellow sophomore. She was already dressed, holding a hairdryer in her hand. "I am. What schedule do you have?"

"Oh, I'm a B," replied Brooklyn, pulling her jeans over her underwear.

"I swear I'm the only A. Everyone I've asked is a B," she mumbled, walking away to dry her hair.

Brooklyn rolled her eyes and clasped her bra. Casey must have different friends. Most everyone Brooklyn knew, except her three best girlfriends, were A's. She pulled a white V-neck T-shirt over her head, then replaced her wet flip-flops with a dry pair from her bag. Wrapping her wet suit in her damp towel, she checked the clock again. She had a little less than ten minutes left. She opened her locker a little wider and stared into the magnetic mirror on the inside of the door. The overhead light reflected off the mirror, illuminating her face.

"Not enough time to fix this," she whispered. She applied lotion and a bit of makeup, and then grabbed her swimming bag, closed her locker, and headed off to her school locker. Halfway through English, she could hardly keep her eyes open. Mrs. Simons was going over the syllabus line by line, as if the class couldn't read it on their own time. Brooklyn didn't mind. She preferred spending the class time doing something simple rather than having to concentrate on something important. At least sophomore English was a composition class. She was creative, had always gotten good grades in writing classes. She hoped that the required reading for the class would not be boring or overwhelming.

Her next class was math, which was located in a room on a parallel hallway. She and Mackenzie walked together, but their classes were in different rooms. "I don't know why we can't be in the same room, but good luck!" Mackenzie shouted loudly as they separated. For this class, the seats were assigned by the teacher in alphabetical order. Brooklyn was in the back of the room along the window row, which she loved. Being along there enabled her to daydream. It made her feel less trapped in the class. Math was a subject in which she excelled, and it tended to be individual. If she had to pick one class in which to not have any friends, it would be math.

Unlike Mrs. Simons, Mr. Thayer began teaching after handing out the syllabus. He started by reviewing the basics of algebra, which Brooklyn was pretty knowledgeable in, so she began working on the homework assignment that was on her syllabus . She was thankful that her desktop was out of sight from where Mr. Thayer was standing. With Brooklyn spending time on the homework assignment, the math class seemed to go by quickly.

"That was terrible," said Mackenzie, pouting as she emerged from her classroom. "I can't take an hour and a half of that old woman every day. She was having trouble reading the overhead! Her eyes are so bad she didn't notice the numbers were upside down!"

Brooklyn made her way to history class, and found Blair at the door waiting for her. Mrs. Pulte allowed her students to choose their own seats. Brooklyn and Blair selected adjoining seats in the second-to-last row. They listened as Mrs. Pulte went over the syllabus and her expectations for their class. It sounded as if she had done it a hundred times.

"Did you see Sara?" whispered Blair. "She has a dress on and all sorts of clown makeup. Does she think school is a fashion show?"

Brooklyn smiled. Compared to Blair, Brooklyn looked like a bum in her jeans and plain T-shirt. Blair had on a black skirt and violet blouse with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was curled and her lips were shining with her trademark raspberry-colored lip gloss.

"I'm starving. Did you bring lunch?" Blair whispered again.

Brooklyn nodded back. "Yeah, did you?"

"Girls, in the back, please stop talking," Mrs. Pulte said, pointing to them. Upon being identified by Mrs. Pulte, Blair and Brooklyn realized that they needed to concentrate. So, for the remainder of the class, they did not attempt further communication.

By the time lunch rolled around, Brooklyn was ready for a nap. The combination of the early workout and having to concentrate on the first day of school had worn her out. She and Blair walked around the cafeteria until they found Mackenzie and Ashley already sitting at a table. "I love sophomore year," said Ashley as they sat down.

"Are you kidding?" Mackenzie tossed a carrot at her. "Have you seen all the hotties?"

Blair pulled out a plastic Tupperware container, and began shoveling big forkfuls in her mouth. "I'm so hungry," she said between bites.

"What are you eating?" Brooklyn asked her.

"My famous tuna salad recipe. Tuna with light mayo, celery, red peppers, yellow peppers, orange peppers, and whole-wheat spiral noodles."

Ashley looked at her cheeseburger and French fries, and made a face back at Blair. "I think it looks good," said Brooklyn.

The girls talked for the rest of the lunch period. After lunch and homeroom, they all went to gym lockers to change into their uniforms. The first day of gym was always a surprise, since each student was given one of two uniform selections. Ashley's uniform had hunter-green shorts and a white shirt with green writing, while the other three girls had maroon shorts and a white shirt with red writing. The students in the class were separated by uniform color. A short, muscular woman was standing on one side with a maroon sign.

"Great, we have muscle-zilla as a teacher," whined Blair, as they took a seat in her section of the bleachers. "I miss Mr. Peters."

"Look at Ash," said Mackenzie, laughing and pointing over to the green group where Ashley had inserted herself between a group of boys. "She's already made some new friends."

When everyone had filtered into the gym, the teachers began speaking to their groups individually in the separate corners. "I'm Mrs. Jones" their instructor said, handing out a schedule. "Memorize this. This is a pass-or-fail class. You will work hard. You will be sore. You will participate every day. Any questions?"

"Someone needs to deflate her muscles so she lightens up a little," whispered Blair. Attendance was taken, the class headed up to the second floor of the gym where Mrs. Jones had hand weights set up.

"I hope you all like aerobics," she shouted. She turned up the volume on the music that was playing in the background. "Line up, let's go!" "I'm a dancer," whined Blair. "And I don't want to go to ballet all sweaty. This sucks. I want to go back to playing games in gym with Mr. Peters."

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Ashley met up with all of them in the locker room. "I have a date on Friday," she said, beaming.

"Already?" Mackenzie asked, stunned. "When did that happen?"

"Just now, in gym class. What happened to you guys? You're all gross and sweaty."

"Stupid aerobics," complained Blair. She noticed Ashley's blond hair still neatly pulled back in a ponytail. It didn't look as if she had lifted a finger. "Wait, what were you doing?"

"Learning stretches. This kid Colin was next to me, and he was complimenting me on being flexible, because he so wasn't. And then he said we should get together Friday night."

"And you just said yes, just like that?" asked Mackenzie.

"Well, yeah," answered Ashley, laughing. "We're sophomores now. It's just one night. Besides, if I start going out on a few dates, maybe Ben will be jealous and profess his undying love for me."

"Just ask him out," implored Brooklyn. "I know he thinks you're hot, but he's just not looking, I guess."

"Oh, honey," answered Ashley. "He'll have to come to me when he's ready. In the meantime, I'm going to have some fun. Mac, you better get moving because you and I are the only ones who don't have steadies."

"It's okay Ash, we're only fifteen," Mackenzie responded."

When she returned home following the afternoon swim practice, Brooklyn went up to her room to finish her homework. She had almost completed her math assignment in math class, and as long as she could continue to do that as often as possible, she would have less to do in the evenings. She finished the remaining two problems and then her cell phone rang.

"Hello?" answered Brooklyn.

"I didn't see you all day, beautiful," said Adam.

"I know! Can you believe that we were both at school today and didn't see each other at all?"

"It is strange. I just got back from football. How was your first day?" he asked.

"It was okay. The classes were fine. Except that they're so long. Blair and I were starving by the time we went to lunch. How was it for you?"

"Besides the fact that I didn't get to see you at all, I guess it was all right." She blushed and felt the butterflies coming back. She wasn't sure how to respond. "I have one too many classes with Sara, though."

"I heard she was all decked out for her first day of school," said Brooklyn.

"Yeah, and I heard that she already has a new boyfriend who's a senior."

"A senior?" Brooklyn was not surprised. "What is he doing with her? What happened to the captain of the basketball team?"

Adam laughed. "I don't know. Of course she strolled right up to Ben to rub it in his face that he is single and she isn't."

"Well, if he's out to get some revenge, I'm sure Ashley would gladly oblige to be his assistant."

"Ashley? Really? I keep hearing about all these chicks wanting him now that he's not with Sara."

They talked for an hour, and when Brooklyn finished her homework she called him back. Then they talked for another hour. Before going to bed, they chatted again to say good-night and wish each other good luck the next day.

CHAPTER 36

Brooklyn was beginning to get used to waking up early and sitting in those long classes, but they were not to her liking. She discovered that eating a piece of fruit after her first class helped hold off her hunger until lunch. Right after the swim practice she really wasn't hungry, but her metabolism would kick into high gear during class. Sometimes it felt as if there were an angry woman in her stomach pounding for food.

Every night after football practice, Adam would call Brooklyn and they would spend at least two hours talking. They rarely saw each other during the week, which made the anticipation of seeing each other on weekends that much more intense.

She had her first swim meet on Tuesday of the second week of school. Lauren Kaiser, the senior team captain, gave the team a pep talk in the locker room before they paraded out together onto the pool deck. Brooklyn was scheduled to be swimming in three events: the 100 butterfly, the 200 individual medley, and the 50 butterfly leg in a relay. She was putting on her swim cap when she looked up and noticed Greg, Mary, Gabe, and Ben sitting in the stands. Mary looked so excited she was practically flailing her arms in her attempt to get Brooklyn's attention. Brooklyn smiled and waved back before diving into the water.

After finishing her warm-up, she got out of the pool, dried herself with her towel, removed her swim cap, and put on her parka to stay warm. Casey, a first-time swimmer, stayed close to her. She was worried about missing the one event that she was swimming in because she wasn't familiar with the order of events in the meet. Brooklyn had offered to let her know when she should get ready and head up to the starting blocks for her event.

A few minutes before her first event, Brooklyn put her swim cap back on and walked down to the starting blocks. When the gun went off and the swimmers for that event dove into the water, she lined up behind lane number three and removed her parka.

Tiffany Harris, the coach, walked over to her. "I expect great things from you, Thompson. Good luck!"

Brooklyn looked up to the crowd again. Mary was waving energetically. She could see Ben pleading with her to stop, embarrassed at all the commotion she was causing in the bleachers. Brooklyn scanned the audience for any trace of Adam. He had promised that he would come after football practice, but she didn't see him yet.

The gun went off and the swimmers in the event prior to hers raced in competition to earn their school the most points. Brooklyn looked back toward the water, now splashing up against the side from the wake of the swimmers. She stretched her arms high above her head and then jumped up and down a few times to warm up her legs. She continued to stretch until the swimmers reached the wall and climbed out. She approached the block in front of her and grabbed the front of it, stretching her back one last time.

"Swimmers up!" shouted the official.

She secured her teal goggles and carefully stepped onto the tilted white platform, which was supported by a single leg pedestal. The grip of the surface was grainy on her bare feet.

"Timers ready!" the official shouted, holding the start gun high in the air. Brooklyn stepped toward the front of the starting platform, one foot at a time, careful not to lean too far forward, since a false start would result in an automatic disqualification.

"Take your mark!"

Brooklyn's toes curled over the edge, her right foot inches behind her left. She gripped the edge of the platform with both hands on the outside of her feet, leaning slightly backward so that she was ready to propel forward at the right instant. The gun sounded and she pushed off, soaring through the air with her body perfectly tightened. Her hands sliced through the cool water first, with her head tucked between her arms.

Before she knew it she was completely submerged, her hips, legs, and feet kicking underwater in a tight streamline toward the surface. This streamlining allowed her to maximize the energy from her diving start and to conserve strength in her arms. After several seconds, she exploded to the surface like a coiled cobra lunges at its prey, and propelled her body forward with a whipping kick motion—the perfect butterfly stroke. After a few strokes, she was ahead of the competition in the other lanes.

By the time she reached the first turn of the four laps, she was a body-length ahead of the closest swimmer. At the end of her third lap, her arms and legs were burning from the strain, but she drove into the wall and was half a pool-length ahead when she came out of the turn. She maintained that lead through the finish of the fourth lap.

The Pine Lake fans in the crowd cheered for her as she climbed out of the pool. Coach Harris and Lauren Kaiser hugged her in congratulations. She looked up into the crowd and spotted Adam sitting with Ben and the rest of the Thompsons. They all were clapping and smiling, waving their arms and looking proud of her. She knew that her family would have been proud of her as well.

She was very relieved that Adam was there. She felt a bit insecure since she had broken up with him. She wondered if that made it easy for him to break up with her whenever he cared to. They had never spoken seriously about the night at Blair's house, and she still had not told him anything about her previous life.

Her next event ended with the same result as her first one, with none of the other swimmers posing a serious challenge. Her final event was the medley relay where four swimmers on each team swim a different stroke in a designated order. Brooklyn swam the butterfly again, which was the third stroke of the relay. When she went into the water, her team was about ten feet behind the butterfly swimmer from the other high school, but she was able to make up that gap and finish her leg of the race about five feet ahead of the others. However, the anchor leg swimmer from Pine Lake was unable to maintain the lead that Brooklyn had provided so the relay team came in second for the event. No team likes to lose the final event, but Pine Lake won the swim meet because of the strong performance by some of their swimmers in other events.

When she came out of the locker room, Brooklyn was greeted by Adam and the Thompsons. Greg told her that several of the swimmers' families had said that it was a tradition for the swim team to go to a nearby Italian restaurant for pizza and salad after the meets, and invited Adam to join them. He declined, saying that he had too much homework to get done. He told Brooklyn he would talk to her later.

When they arrived at the restaurant, they found several long tables arranged for the team in one of the back rooms. Greg and Mary went to the parents' table while Brooklyn, Gabe and Ben went to sit with the other girls. Brooklyn enjoyed these girls, and she was glad to see that Greg and Mary got along with their parents. It felt natural, and she had a firm sense of belonging.

She wasn't sure what it was or exactly when it happened, but she had come to realize that she felt like part of a family, instead of like an outsider looking in. It had warmed her heart to see the entire Thompson family sitting in the stands for her first swim meet. She knew that real families were there to provide support and encouragement. Mary's energy and enthusiasm in the stands was a bit over the top for a swim meet, but it reflected a genuine sense of pride, and made Brooklyn feel like a daughter, not an orphan.

As the days passed by, she realized that she didn't mind how the new school year had begun. She would have liked to have lunch with Adam, since she barely saw him during the week, but she was secretly happy not to have any classes with him. He would have been a distraction.

Every Sunday, Brooklyn and Adam would go over their schedules for the upcoming week. They tried to go to each other's events as often as possible, and they tried to get together once or twice during the weekends. When they were together, he always held her hand, opened doors for her and was courteous and respectful. Every morning, she woke up with a "Good morning, beautiful" text message from him. And every night she went to bed with a "Good night, princess" text message. Every single day, she read those words. And every single day they made her light up, just knowing that he was thinking about her. While she was surprised that he had never initiated a conversation about the night at Blair's house, she chose not to make an issue about it. She still was unable to recall anything past the time that dinner was served.

CHAPTER 37

Late one weekday evening, Brooklyn was in the kitchen pouring a glass of orange juice when Ben walked into the room, headed straight to the refrigerator.

"Hey," she said, smiling.

He ignored her. He pulled out a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walked out of the kitchen. He had been temperamental since finding out that she had lied to him about the events at Blair's house. She had apologized over and over, and, although he said he was not upset, his unfriendly behavior started after he found out the truth. Over the past few weeks, she had been tempted to tell him that the reason she had not told him the truth was because she still did not know what the truth was. But she gave up on that plan. She could not tell Ben that without having admitted it to Adam.

Brooklyn stormed out of the kitchen and flew down the basement stairs after Ben. By the time she caught up to him, he was on the couch flipping through the channels on the television.

"Don't walk away from me!" she shouted. He didn't even turn to look at her. Instead, he took a sip of water and continued to stare at the television.

"How long are you going to punish me?"

"Forever."

She moved in front of him and yanked the remote control out of his hands. "What more do you want me to say to you? I've said I'm sorry, like, a hundred times! I'll say it again—I'm sorry! I made a mistake by not being straight with you. What else do you want from me?"

"Quit being so dramatic! I don't care what you do or who you do it with. I don't care about you anymore. You're a liar and you only told me the truth because you got caught." He was glaring back at her.

"Fine," she snapped back at him. "I'm over you, too!" She stormed past him toward the basement stairs.

"Okay, wait . . . I lied," he stammered, standing up. "Look, I'm trying really hard here, but sometimes I have all these thoughts that are, like, trapped inside my head and I can't turn them off. I feel like I'm going crazy."

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs with her back to him. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that . . . that I can't stop thinking about you."

Brooklyn felt her cheeks grow flushed. She felt dizzy, and turned to walk over and sit down on the couch. He took a few steps toward her, but she held up her hand, signaling him to stop.

"Please say something," he mumbled with urgency in his voice.

"I have a boyfriend! A boyfriend who happens to be your friend," she snapped at him.

"I know, okay?" he shouted back. "It's not like I meant for this to happen! I didn't wake up and decide to screw everything up!"

"Then why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because I can't take it anymore! I feel like if I don't get this out, I'm just going to explode or something! It's just, it's sort of been happening for a while now, where I picture you and me as more than . . . "

"Stop! I've heard enough!" She paced in full circles around the room. "I love Adam, and I'm not going to do anything that is going to put my relationship with him in jeopardy!"

He nodded that he understood, then closed his eyes and held his head as if he were in physical agony. And then it happened. Out of nowhere, his words failing him, he felt the urge to go after what he wanted. He opened his eyes and went straight for Brooklyn. She barely saw him coming. He took her in his arms, gently spun her around, and kissed her.

She didn't immediately stop him. Part of her wanted to push him away - the part that was genuinely happy being Adam's girlfriend. But something stirred deep inside her. Was it Ben, or was it merely the fact that someone else had shown strong interest in her? Was she really kissing the boy in whose house she lived? Her "cousin?"

"Ben, stop!" she finally yelled, pushing him back. "You know I care about you, but not like this."

He did not argue or respond. He merely wiped his lips and walked away. She had assumed she would feel better if she and Ben had a conversation about his acting so cold. But there was no doubt in her mind that she felt much worse now than she had before.

The next day, Brooklyn came through the door at Dr. Spencer's office and sat in her usual chair. Because of the blow-up with Ben, she had decided that she would finally discuss that night at Blair's house with the therapist. She crossed and uncrossed her legs several times before taking a deep breath, and let out a big sigh.

"Having a bad day?" he asked.

"Try a bad life," she replied.

"What happened?"

"I messed up, really badly. I . . . me . . . and Adam . . . well, we . . ."

"You had sex?" he interrupted.

"No . . . I mean, yes, a couple weeks ago, but not now, but that's not it." Her cheeks were fully flushed with embarrassment pic. "I feel like I've stumbled and picked myself up so many times that I'm dizzy. I was afraid to discuss it with you in our other sessions, and I haven't really discussed it with anyone. The fact of the matter is, I don't remember having sex. I hardly remember anything from that entire night, and it's driving me nuts. When I woke up the next morning, I was in bed with my boyfriend, and he told me that the night was amazing. I don't really know what to do or where else to turn. What do I do?"

"You could start with breathing," he answered with a smile.

She sighed, but, having begun the conversation with Dr. Spencer, she was already feeling less anxiety. They sat there for a few minutes in silence as she replayed in her mind waking up next to Adam that morning, her failure to remember the events of the previous night, and then not being honest when she was confronted by Ben. "I lied to Mary and to Ben," she said, fumbling with her hands. "I lied to both of them, and mostly, I was disrespectful to myself." She looked up, and the doctor motioned her to continue. "Before I went over to Blair's house, I knew that Adam was going to be spending the night there. I didn't intend anything to happen, but I didn't admit to myself there was a possibility that something might." She sighed again. "But Ben . . . he confronted me before I went. I got so confused about what I wanted to do with Adam and what he said I should do that I became so preoccupied with what everyone else wanted. I forgot to worry about what I wanted."

"What was it that you wanted?" he asked her.

"I don't know . . . I mean, I still don't think I know. But that's probably because I blew it before I even made up my mind. I was so nervous about the possibility of being a disappointment to someone. I was freaking out . . . so I took some of my anxiety medication right before I went over there."

"Brooklyn, that medication was prescribed to help you deal with anxiety when I first started seeing you. But I thought you had said that you had completed the medication from the last prescription."

She avoided direct eye contact with him. "Yes, I said that, but I had not finished the entire bottle. When I got to Blair's, she had this box of wine, and there were no adults around. I got caught up in the moment and I wasn't thinking about the medication. I had a glass of wine while I was helping her prepare the dinner, and at first I felt lightheaded but not really drunk. But I don't remember anything past the dinner, and I woke up in bed next to Adam the next morning."

She looked up at him, waiting for him to say something. He sat there looking back, as though he were at a loss for words. "Well?" she asked. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"I'm not going to judge you, Brooklyn. You've already admitted making a mistake. But I am concerned about the fact that you consumed alcohol, as a minor I might add, after taking the medication. I thought you understood that the combination was not only dangerous, but could be lethal. You can't remember anything past dinner because that's how the alcohol reacted with the drugs in your system. Believe it or not, you're lucky you only suffered a short-term loss of memory. You were unable to think for yourself under those conditions, so you left yourself in a vulnerable position. But what's done is done, and there's nothing you or I can do to change that today. When you're fifteen years old, many of your choices are motivated by the apprehension that one wrong move will ruin your life forever. Life is full of mistakes. Don't let the mistakes define you. What's important is how you recover when you do make mistakes."

"And just how do I do that?"

"First, you need to be honest with yourself, and figure out why you put yourself in that situation in the first place. Identify the source and then work on a solution to prevent this from becoming a problem. Then you need to forgive yourself and move forward."

She moved up to the edge of the chair, and responded in a low voice. "I think that I will be able to forgive myself much more easily than it will be for Mary or Ben or Greg to forgive me. I sure regret how I handled that night, both before and after arriving at Blair's house."

"Regret comes to all of us at one time or another. Sometimes it's not that significant, like when we do something that we believe is a good thing, but others might not see it that way. Other times, regret is much larger, like when we let someone down for our own selfish reasons. Nobody is perfect, but some people are able to avoid regretting the decisions they have made by making a commitment to themselves to select the better choice the next time. Whatever the regret is, or how you deal with it, don't spend so much time beating yourself up about what you can't change. Instead, focus on what changes you can make."

She leaned back in her chair, allowing her shoulders to slump forward and biting her lower lip. She tried to digest the incredible words that he had just spoken to her. He was right, of course. She had made a series of mistakes, but there was nothing to be gained in beating herself up over it. She had to forgive herself and fix the real reason she was trying so hard to please both Ben and Adam.

"I think I understand what you are saying," she finally said. "I think that I need to understand who I am before I start focusing on everyone else. And I shouldn't be so hard on myself, because I'm learning."

He smiled at her. "We started these sessions because you had just emerged from a very traumatic stage in your young life. I think that the events you just shared with me indicate how very vulnerable and impressionable you still are. You need to decide what's important for yourself, how you want to live your life and set your own moral compass to follow that path. Trust me, Brooklyn, you never want to wake up again without knowing what happened the night before." She left the session with a bounce in her step and a steadfast resolve to be true to herself.

CHAPTER 38

As the final afternoon bell rang, Brooklyn made her way through the crowded hallways to her locker. Adam was waiting for her.

"Are you coming over tonight?" he asked, putting his arms around her.

"No," she said, breaking free from his embrace. "I have homework to do." She started to walk away from him, but he grabbed her arm before she could escape.

"What is going on with you?" he asked. "I feel like you've been pulling away from me. I thought this was what you wanted. I thought I was what you wanted."

She stood there looking at Adam. She had no idea what to say. "You're right," she said. "I know that I have been distant. I'm sorry."

"Sometimes I don't even recognize you. Who are you, Brooklyn Thompson?"

"She's a liar," a familiar voice echoed from behind Adam. Sara appeared, like a mountain lion about to pounce on its prey. Kaylie and Stephanie were following right behind her.

"What are you talking about, Sara?" Adam asked, obviously annoyed. "We don't have time for your games."

"Why don't you ask her?" Sara's tone was cold. Chills ran down Brooklyn's spine. Did Sara stumble onto something from Brooklyn's past life, or did she know about Ben's secret crush on her? She couldn't let Sara cause a scene in the middle of the hallway.

Adam defended her once again. "Go away, Sara! This is none of your business."Sara began to glare, but suddenly she smiled. "Where did you say your parents are again? Europe, is it?"

"What's your point?"

"Why are you still here? I mean, are your parents on a really long vacation, or did Mommy and Daddy abandon you?"

"Stop it, Sara," Adam said. "Leave her alone."

"I have a friend," Sara started, "who has a cousin, whose stepbrother goes to high school in San Francisco. He says that none of his friends have ever heard of the great swimmer Brooklyn Thompson. I mean, if you were this amazing and talented swimmer, wouldn't somebody in the high schools know who you are? Indulge us, oh great one. We're all waiting for an answer. Who are you, really? Did the Thompsons find you in a trash can and decide to save you?"

"San Francisco is a big city, Sara. I didn't know everyone."

"But can you name someone that you went to school with? I've befriended dozens of kids from high schools in San Francisco, and none of them have ever heard of you. But just in case, I'm willing to listen to your phony explanation."

"It's just as I said, Sara. I don't know every teenager who lives in San Francisco and the ones I know certainly would not want to be friends with you."

"That's not good enough, and I am going to get to the bottom of it," Sara replied. Several other students, including Blair and Jordan, had begun to form a loose circle, trying to understand what the altercation was about. Brooklyn swallowed hard. She wanted to run away and never come back, but she was pinned against the locker, trapped by Sara and her friends. Adam put his arm around her, but she tried to break free. Sara started yelling at her to tell the truth, but tears were the only form of communication that Brooklyn seemed able to use.

"What the hell is going on?" Ben screamed as he came charging down the hall. "Get the hell away from her, Sara!" He approached the small group.

"Of course," Sara laughed. "Our hero Ben always shows up to rescue the little princess. Now that you're here, maybe you can clear this whole mess up. What exactly is your relationship to Brooklyn?"

"She's my cousin," Ben snapped. "You think you know better, Sara? Who is she?"

"I think she's a liar. I think she's pathetic. I mean, she's obviously not who she says she is."

Brooklyn started sobbing. She managed to shove her way past Sara and ran out into the parking lot. Sara smiled broadly, very proud of herself that she could get Brooklyn to crumble so easily.

"Look what you've done!" Adam shouted.

"I know she's lying!" Sara tried to make excuses.

"Do you want to know the truth?" Ben walked toward her, backing her up against the lockers. "Her parents are not coming back because they are dead! Maybe it's easier for her not to talk about it, or maybe she didn't want people to feel sorry for her. Either way, you're not her friend, and her life is none of your business. If you so much as look in her direction again, I'll make the rest of your high school experience miserable. I promise you that. "Sara and her friends were shocked at Ben's reaction. She stood there with a blank expression on her face. He started to walk away, and then he turned and gave Sara a cold stare. "Oh yeah," he said. "And the reason you didn't find the school she went to is because she was home-schooled after fifth grade. You would have never known that, though, because you never bothered to ask. You just assumed. She never swam for a school because she swam for a club team. And any future questions should be directed to your ass, because that's where you seem to get your information. Now it's your turn to cry."

With that, he turned around and walked down the hall.

"What are you looking at?" Sara snapped at Adam.

Adam shook his head in disgust and ran to the parking lot to find Brooklyn. By the time he got out there, she was already out of sight. He stood on the sidewalk, completely baffled about the conversation that had just taken place. Her parents were dead, but she had never mentioned it, homeschooled . . . none of it made any sense. He was starting to believe that he had no idea who is girlfriend really was.

When Ben got home that evening, he told Mary what had happened. He admitted that he had blurted out to the group that Brooklyn's parents were both dead. Mary had concealed her shock that he had provided such critical information over something that seemed so trivial, but she knew he had done it to protect Brooklyn.

After their conversation, Mary went into Greg's office to break the news to him. His reaction was not unexpected. "How could Ben have said that in front of all of those other kids? I need to talk to someone about damage control. I would not be surprised if we end up considering this a major problem and determine that Brooklyn has to be moved." Mary gasped at his words, but said nothing. She knew that Brooklyn's safety was the only real priority.

CHAPTER 39

It was a beautiful September day. The air was crisp, the sun was shining, and the leaves were changing color on the trees. Brooklyn was sitting on the front porch steps, wrapped in her favorite blanket. Mary had let her stay home from school after the drama earlier that week. It was Friday, and Mary thought that she could use the extra day to recover. Mary had told her what happened after she left. Although Brooklyn was surprised that Ben would disclose that her parents were dead, she thought it might actually help to diffuse the tension with Sara. She was grateful that he had come to her defense. And she prayed there would not be another confrontation with Sara.

But Mary had also told her about Greg's reaction. He considered it to be so serious that he needed to discuss it with his superiors. Brooklyn read between the lines. There was a chance she would be moved again, to another state to live with another family. Would she be able to deal with that on top of everything else? She told Mary that she desperately wanted to stay with the Thompsons. Mary had told her that she'd already pleaded with Greg to do everything in his power to enable Brooklyn to stay with them. He had said that he'd made his pitch to allow her to stay with them, but that he, Mary, and Brooklyn would not be involved in the final decision. It would be a waste of their energy to worry about it. Brooklyn knew that it was totally out of her control. And she had more than enough on her plate to worry about.

She was working on a crossword puzzle, which only helped slightly to keep her mind off of the confrontation with Sara. Where had that come from? Why had Sara suddenly taken this interest in discrediting Brooklyn's cover story? She tried to recall Dr. Spencer's exact words from their last session, something about deciding for herself how she should be living her life.

She decided that she needed to apply his advice to properly deal with Sara. Adam's silver Ford Mustang pulled into the driveway and came to a halt midway. She wasn't surprised to see him. He'd been calling her the last two days, and she had yet to return his calls. She wasn't prepared to answer the questions he surely had about the incident. She didn't want to talk about it, but she knew she couldn't avoid it. She closed the crossword book and waited. Adam got out of his car and walked over to the steps. He sat down on the other end, and wouldn't even look at her. His expression was serious, and she braced herself for the inevitable.

Her eyes began to water, and she wiped the tears away so he wouldn't see. "You look so serious," she said.

He didn't answer her.

"Okay, maybe I'm just asking for it right now, but I would rather that you say whatever it is you're thinking and not look at me the way you are right now."

"I feel like since we slept together," he said, "there's been something bothering you. And more recently you started pulling away from me. Like what you really want to say is just too hard to say or something. The reason I came here is that you should know I don't want to do this anymore."

"You're walking away?"

"Brooklyn, I see it in your eyes. This last week, it's like when you're with me, it's like...it's like you're distant. But for some reason you're afraid to lean on me, so you'd rather keep pretending to want to be in this relationship. I thought we grew closer a few weeks ago, but I can sense that something is different between us, and you clearly do not want to discuss it."

"But I don't want to lose you."

"You've been doing just that, and it doesn't seem to bother you. It's obvious I'm not what you want."

"Adam," she said, crying once again, "what I want is to be with you. But you're right about the fact that I've been hiding something from you. The problem is, I still can't tell you the truth. All I can ask is for you to trust me. I understand if you can't, but I really need you to. So if you can't do that, if you came here to break my heart into a billion pieces . . . it's working."

"We used to be so happy. Obviously, I don't know the most important things about you. You never even told me about your parents. How could you keep that from me?"

"Adam, I couldn't tell you . . . I can't tell anyone."

"That's my point. I'm not just anyone. I'm the guy you say you're in love with. Well, maybe I've never been in love before, but I don't think it's supposed to be this hard between us. I just don't know anymore. I love being with you, but I guess I just feel it's not fair to keep me in the dark about something that important."

There was another moment of silence. He stood up and put his hands on his head. Then he took a few steps forward so he was standing with his back to Brooklyn.

"What if I can't tell you because it's a matter of life or death?" she asked.

He did not react to her statement. He walked to his car, and, as he climbed in behind the wheel, she began to sob. She considered running after him, but she knew she couldn't. She had said all that she could say to try to convince him not to break up with her. But she was still hiding a huge secret, and there was no way to tell the truth without putting herself in danger.

She was weeping so loudly that she didn't realize Adam had not driven away. He walked back to where she was sitting and stood directly in front of her. She lifted her head so that she was looking into his eyes.

"Life or death?" he whispered.

She nodded. "You're telling me the truth?"

She took a deep breath and decided to share her secret with him. "My entire family is dead. I'm in the Witness Protection Program."

That was all she told him, but it was enough to convince him that he was dealing with something out of his league. He did not know what to say or do next, so he thanked her for sharing the information with him and announced that he had to go.

One lunch period, Brooklyn and Blair decided to sit outside on a picnic table in the courtyard. Brooklyn had made a conscious decision to keep a low profile at school. She spent time with Blair and Adam, but generally avoided a group setting.

"So you have to come to homecoming with us," begged Blair. "It won't be any fun without you."

"First of all, I am in no mood to go," replied Brooklyn. "And second, Adam hasn't asked me."

"That's because a lot of sophomores aren't going," said Blair. "But Nate said he would go. You should go with him."

"I'm not going with Nate." Brooklyn rolled her eyes. She took a bite of her plain turkey and lettuce sandwich. "Is Adam going?"

"Why are you asking me if Adam is going? What is the story with you guys?"

"I don't really know what our story is anymore. That confrontation with Sara caused everything between us to spin out of control. We really haven't spoken much since then."

"Well, I don't think he's going," answered Blair. "So I'll see if Nate is still interested while you at least consider it. We should go dress shopping this week."

"I have swimming every day. And I already told you I'm not going to homecoming. Why do you want to go so badly, anyway?"

"Whatever," Blair snapped. "You're getting to be a drag. We're supposed to do things like dances and football games together. I don't feel like I go to high school with my boyfriend because I never see him, and now I need a new best friend, someone who's not pouting all of the time."

"Good, go find a new best friend," retorted Brooklyn, angry.

"You don't understand," Blair said. "Jordan and I have been together forever. At some point he's going to wake up and realize that he's missed out on all these opportunities to be with other girls besides me. All the years we've been together, what do I have to show for it? Elementary school, middle school, and freshman year where we didn't do anything that had to do with school spirit. I just think that if I have an opportunity to do something special with Jordan, I want to do it."

"Okay," said Brooklyn. "Stop whining. I'll do it."

"You'll do what?" asked Blair.

"If Nate still wants to go, then I'll go to homecoming with him."

"B, are you serious?"

"Yeah, but don't say I never did anything for you," she answered.

On the morning of homecoming, Brooklyn got up around eight and swam laps as usual. Mary had offered to treat her and get their nails, hair, and makeup done. Mary had said it was tradition in her family, that the women treated themselves to a morning at the spa whenever there was a special event. She said that she hoped this would be the first of many mornings they could share to celebrate a special event. Brooklyn had a wonderful time at the spa. It felt great to be pampered.

Late in the afternoon, Jordan and Nate arrived in a limo to take the girls to dinner and the homecoming dance. Blair had come over so that she and Brooklyn could get dressed together. Brooklyn was wearing a floor-length, royal-blue strapless satin dress, and Blair wore a rose-colored strapless chiffon dress. Greg, Mary, and Blair's mother talked to the boys while they waited for the girls to come down. Gabe tried to hide the fact that he was eagerly awaiting Blair's entrance.

Adam and Ben had spent that afternoon at the skate park. While the kids were still inside the house, Adam pulled into the Thompson driveway to drop off Ben.

"What's the limo for?" asked Adam

"I thought they'd be gone by now. B's going to homecoming with Nate," answered Ben.

"Really?" asked Adam. "Nate didn't say anything to me."

Ben glanced over and nodded. "It was sort of last minute. Blair just wanted another couple to go with, and Nate was the only one who said he wouldn't mind going."

The girls did one last check of their hair and their dresses, and walked down the front stairs. Mary had turned on the chandelier to illuminate the front hall, and the boys darted to the foyer to meet their dates. Blair walked down first, beaming at Jordan, who awaited her arrival at the bottom of the stairs. Brooklyn followed her, less excited than Blair. She flashed a smile to Nate, who responded with a nod.

Just then, the front door swung opened, and Ben made a distracting entrance, with Adam right behind him. They stopped in the doorframe, not expecting to have happened in at that exact moment. Brooklyn's stopped in the middle of the stairs as her eyes connected with Adam's. The awkwardness seemed to last uncomfortably long, until Nate finally walked up the stairs to escort her down.

Ben felt uncomfortable, and started to head back outside. He looked at Greg and said, "I just wanted to tell you guys we're home."

Adam was standing in the doorway, staring at Brooklyn, wishing that he was the one standing by her side, not Nate. Ben punched him in the back to get his attention. Adam responded by turning around and walking out the door without speaking a word.

"Why didn't you ask her to go with you to homecoming?" Ben asked. Adam shrugged his shoulders. "Isn't she still your girlfriend?"

"I guess because I really didn't want to go. I don't know what to say or do anymore to make her happy."

"Did you think to ask her that question?"

Adam shook his head. "No, I guess I didn't."

"You should hang out here until she gets back. You can apologize for not asking her to the dance and tell her what a fool you are."

Adam let the idea sink in, but did not give Ben a response.

Back inside the house, Nate placed a white corsage on Brooklyn's wrist. Still stunned by Adam's unanticipated arrival, she was at a loss for words. There were still unresolved feelings between them. Was his arrival right before she left for the homecoming dance with Nate an unfortunate coincidence, or was it fate?

"Thank you," she mumbled as Nate stood uneasily in front of her. "I just need to get a little water before we go."

Blair watched Brooklyn walk toward the kitchen, with Mary right behind her. She tried to buy a little time for Brooklyn by beginning to discuss the plans for dinner with Jordan and Nate.

"I just can't decide between red or white sauce," she pretended to ponder.

"You always order the lasagna," Jordan reminded her.

Brooklyn leaned against the kitchen wall, and Mary stood in front of her. "Did you see his face? He was in complete shock."

"Maybe he realized that he should have asked you to go to the dance with him," Mary responded. Brooklyn closed her eyes again and began rubbing her temples. "It's not fair to Nate. I need to forget about Adam tonight and try to have a good time. Nate is my friend, and it's not fair to make him uncomfortable just because I have absolutely no desire to go to the dance."

"Brooklyn, you made the decision to go to the dance with Nate, so you have to tuck away the other emotions and try to enjoy the evening."

"You're right. I need to go upstairs really quickly. I'm going to make another entrance down the front stairs."

After gathering her composure, she made her second trip down the stairs to an unanticipated round of applause. When the group walked outside to the limo, Jordan and Nate waved good-bye to Ben and Adam, who were both skating.

As the car slowly pulled out of the driveway, Brooklyn looked out the window at Adam, who had stopped skating and was looking in the direction of the limo.

"Brooklyn, are you going to be okay?" asked Nate.

"Yes," she replied with a smile. "I'm actually more excited than I thought I was going to be. I think we're going to have a really good time."

When the limo dropped her off that night, she thanked Nate for making it so much fun. They had danced and talked and joked around, and the hours flew by. It was raining as she walked toward the front door, but she noticed that Adam's car was parked on the street. She opened the door and heard voices coming from the basement. She decided she did not want to spoil the evening by having a conversation with Adam, so she went up the stairs to her room.

The wind-driven rain pounded against the windows. Shadows danced across the walls from the swaying tree branches. Brooklyn lay there, wide awake, curled up in her warm bed, counting the seconds between the lightning and the rolling thunder, trying to replace her memories of the homecoming dance with Nate with images of Adam instead.

The storm seemed so close that she believed she could feel the walls shake. She thought about her parents in heaven with Nick, and imagined them having a bowling party. That's what her mother used to tell her angels did during thunderstorms when she was a young child. The gap in seconds between the lightning and thunder diminished as the storm rolled by.

She decided that a glass of milk would help her fall asleep, so she left her room and went down to the kitchen. When she got there, she was surprised to see Adam sitting in a chair.

"Adam, what are you doing here?"

"I was just hoping that you would come down," he whispered.

"I couldn't sleep."

"I'm actually glad," he whispered back. "I wanted to see you. Look, I'm really sorry that I've been so distant since our conversation. I guess I don't know how to deal with the secret you shared with me, and I'm not really sure what you want."

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the two of them as they stood in the middle of the room. She took a single step toward Adam.

"Why are you telling me this right now?" she asked.

He approached her, fidgeting with his hands. "You looked beautiful tonight," he muttered. "I was standing there watching you, and I was thinking that I should have been the one with you."

His words had the intended effect. She lunged forward, throwing her arms around his neck, planting her lips on his. Without wavering, he ran his hands up and down her back as they kissed, holding her tightly.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you too, Adam. I want to get back to how we were a few months ago."

"I've never felt this way about anyone, so I don't want to mess his up."

"Adam, let's just take this one day at a time. I promise to keep the drama to a minimum, and to share my thoughts with you so you don't feel like you are on a rollercoaster."

He smiled at her. "I like that plan." He gently kissed her and then added, "Get your glass of milk and have a good night's sleep."

The door to the visitors' room in the federal prison buzzed. Carlos Montag spotted his lawyer scribbling words on his yellow notepad at a table in the corner. With his legs in shackles, Montag shuffled toward the table. These visitations with his lawyer had become his highlight of the week, his only real connection to the outside world.

"You look good," Frank Scarcose said to his client.

"I look like hell. When are you gonna get me out of here?

Scarcose set his pen down and looked at his client. . He knew that Montag had committed far worse crimes than the felony drug-trafficking charge he was currently doing time for. He also knew that he did not want to have this client become his enemy.

"I'm working on it," Scarcose said confidently. "The trial begins in a month. You'll be out soon after that."

"Well, work harder. I'm paying you good money, ain't I?"

"Carlos," he whispered. "There's a rumor about that situation you wanted the boys to check out."

"What did you find out?"

"There might be a loose end."

"There were no loose ends. What the hell are you talking about?" Carlos sank into his chair confidently. "The Feds are setting up a smokescreen, trying to get one of the boys to panic. They got nothing. If they had something, they would have said so by now."

"Yes, I understand that. But the word I'm hearing is that they're still working on the case, and the cops have been turning the house upside down. They've been hauling out computers and boxes full of stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Listen to me," demanded Scarcose. "We've been watching them, all the friends and family, just like you wanted us to. It took a while, but I'm confident that we found a piece of the puzzle that we didn't know was missing."

Carlos sat up straight and glanced around the room. "How can that be? Dean said that all of the pieces of the puzzle were found."

"Well, I'll leave that for you and Dean to work out. Contact was made using a fake email address, which is why it took so long to find, but they left good tracks. Do you want to talk to Dean?"

"No, I don't want to talk to him. Where?"

"Michigan, living with a Fed and his family, if you can believe it."

"Great. Contact Sonny. Tell him what you told me and he'll know what to do."

CHAPTER 40

A week after the dance, Brooklyn sat down at her computer and logged into her Facebook account. She pulled up Sasha's Facebook page and scanned the entries, looking through her comments. She clicked on her friend's pictures and realized that nothing new had been uploaded. She looked through the shots, and then realized that pictures of her had been taken out. She scanned through all 87 of Sasha's photos. There was not one picture of Brooklyn. She clicked on a close-up picture of Sasha, and felt her eyes begin to fill with tears. She touched her fingers to the image of Sasha's face on her computer.

"Did you forget me already?" she whispered.

Her instant messenger window popped up revealing that Blair had sent her a message. "Hey babe, what's up?"

Brooklyn closed the message without responding and continued to stare at Sasha's picture. She was trying to figure out why her friend had removed her from her Facebook page. Her instant messenger window popped up again with another message from Blair. "So I was thinking that we could hit the mall this week."

This time, Brooklyn closed the window, and signed out of Facebook. She needed to have no distractions while she considered the possible reasons Sasha might have had. Brooklyn lay back between the fluffy pillows, clutching her bear in her right arm and snuggling her head against it. She felt something hard against her cheek. She moved her hands across the back of the bear, but decided that the hard object was just something she had not felt before. She continued to think about Sasha as she drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER 41

The next afternoon, Mary walked into the coffee shop, ordered a cup of vanilla-spice coffee and sat down at a table. She often treated herself at the coffee shop when she needed to organize her thoughts about a project or just to take a break.

"Mrs. Thompson?"

Mary looked up. "Hello, Blair."

"Hi. It's nice to see you. Is Brooklyn sick? She wasn't in school today."

"Yes, she woke up with a bad headache and asked to stay home. She did not have a swim meet today, and she said nothing special was happening with her classes. Actually, do you have a few minutes? I heard about her confrontation with Sara, and I am concerned about how she's dealing with it at school."

"Well, she has been keeping a low profile and avoiding the group stuff. She and Adam were on shaky ground for a while, which is why she went to homecoming with Nate. I'm not really sure," she answered. "I mean, I tried to talk to her but she's shutting me out."

"Blair, please, I want to help her if I can. Ben used to fill me in on things at school, but now he acts as if he does not know a thing."

"I'm not sure how to tell you this," Blair replied. "I mean, I don't really know anything for sure. I heard parts of the confrontation with Sara, and I heard what Ben said at the end of it. Sara has continued to talk that same type of trash at school and I think people are starting to believe it because they hear it so often. Stuff about how Brooklyn is lying about who she is and about how Ben is covering for her because he might like her."

"Of course," Mary replied. "They've always been close."

"No," Blair said looking down. "I think he likes her. Like, really likes her. Not as family."

"Oh?" Although Mary was jolted by hearing the words, they did not come as a complete surprise to her. She allowed the thought to sink in. Brooklyn was a beautiful young woman, so it was not difficult to understand how any boy would be attracted to her, including Ben. But he knew the details of her past life and all of the stress surrounding her new one, so Mary had wrongly assumed that he would act like a brother to her. She reflected back to the first time that she had seen him asleep in the chair in Brooklyn's room. She wondered if she and Greg had made a colossal mistake in allowing it to continue.

"I didn't say anything to Brooklyn or anyone else about it, and she's never opened up to me about anything like that."

"If you haven't talked to Ben or Brooklyn about it, why do you think it is true?"

"I see the way that Ben acts around her now. It's so different from how he treated her when she first came to school. I am with her too often to not notice that she's trying to avoid situations that will include him. The funny part is that he and Adam seem to still be getting along just fine."

"Can you recall anything specific about when you first started to believe this?"

"I have no idea, but I think it's sick. Brooklyn is Ben's cousin. She not just any other girl," Blair said. "But you know that Adam's my friend too, and he doesn't deserve to have this kind of blindside hit. He's really one of the nicest guys I know. If he found out that Ben liked Brooklyn, and they were around each other all the time because they lived under the same roof, he wouldn't handle it too well. Adam really has fallen for her."

Mary felt jolted again. Up to this point in the conversation, she had focused her thoughts only on her own family and Brooklyn, and the complications associated with that. But now she realized how strange it looked to Blair, and how it must look to all of the other kids who had heard the rumor. They must think that Ben is a world-class weirdo. She couldn't just end the conversation with Blair without trying to salvage her son's reputation, could she? But Greg would go ballistic if any further information about Brooklyn's past was revealed, especially by another family member. Mary considered her options carefully and remembered what Ben had told her about his role in the confrontation with Sara.

"Blair," Mary said. "What Ben said to Sara about Brooklyn's parents is true."

"I didn't know what to believe about that. Most of the kids thought that he just said that to get Sara to retreat. Brooklyn never said anything to me and I never asked her about it."

"You're a good friend, Blair. I think that Mr. Thompson is going to kill me for telling you this, but I don't want you to continue thinking that Ben is a weird duck. Brooklyn isn't really Ben's cousin."

"So," Blair said, shocked, "she's not related to him after all."

"No," Mary said, shaking her head.

"She has been lying? Wait, if she's not your niece, then who is she?"

"Blair, I cannot tell you anything more, and what you know so far is just the tip of the iceberg. Yes, she has been lying, but so have I, my husband, and my two sons. Wouldn't we only maintain a lie together if it related to something extremely important?"

"You guys have always been one of the nicest families I know. I appreciate you telling me this. What do I do now? Can I tell her that I know?" Blair inquired.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Mary said. "Although, it might be a relief for her to know that you've heard part of the story, she might be tempted to share more of the story with you, and that could lead to issues that we would never want to deal with. Hopefully, what I've just shared with you will allow you to understand Brooklyn and Ben a little better."

"Mrs. Thompson, I really think that she needs someone to talk to, and so far she has not chosen you."

Blair's words stung a bit but Mary knew that they were on target. Despite all of the drama and emotional swirling around in the girl's life, she had chosen not to confide in Mary.

"Blair, I am going to trust you on this. She will want to tell you much more that I have shared with you. For her own good, you cannot let her go down that path."

"I understand," Blair responded.

Later that afternoon, Brooklyn was swimming laps in the Thompson pool. She enjoyed working out by herself. It allowed her to escape distractions when she wanted to think. But she had not made any progress in her effort to figure out why Sasha had removed her pictures from her Facebook page. As she approached the wall, she looked up and noticed that Blair was sitting in one of the chairs on the deck. She was holding a towel.

Brooklyn stopped, pulled off her goggles and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Hey," Blair said. "Want to go in the hot tub?"

Brooklyn swam over to the ladder and climbed out of the pool. Blair was already shedding her clothes as she made her way to the hot tub, making sure to turn on the jets on her way in. Brooklyn walked over slowly, and got in. "How are you doing?" Blair asked.

"I was worried about you. You didn't return my instant messages."

Brooklyn shook her head. "I was trying to figure something out, and I needed to concentrate."

"You can tell me, you know."

Brooklyn was confused and merely said, "What are you talking about?"

"I know about you," Blair said

Brooklyn looked up in confusion. "Know what about me?"

"Mary told me that your parents are dead, and that you are not related to the Thompsons," she said. "She also told me that I can't ask you any questions about it, or allow you to tell me anything more. And I don't really know what to say other than I'm really, really sorry. I had no idea you were going through all of this."

"Why?" Brooklyn asked. "Why would she tell you?"

"I think she thought you needed someone to talk to."

Brooklyn's tears started again. "I'm not sure what to say to you right now. It's just that I feel so alone, and it's not just about my previous family and life. There's so much I can't say."

"Does it have anything to do with Ben?" Blair asked.

"Ben?" Brooklyn sniffled, trying to remain calm. But the look on Blair's face said it all.

"What do you think you know?"

"A few weeks ago, it was kind of obvious that he had a crush on you. You two were basically inseparable. Now he acts as if being in the same zip code at the same time with you is too close. I'm no genius, but I think there's only one explanation for his actions. Mary sort of knows, too."

"Really? How? Blair, they're going to figure out that I've turned their family life into a mess, and they're going to send me away!"

"No, B, they're not. They love you like you've always been part of their family. Did anything happen with you and Ben? I want the truth—what is going on with you guys?"

"Ben wants our relationship to be more than just friends. It is hard for him to see me with Adam. He knows I hooked up with him at your house that night, but he found out about it only after I had lied and told him that nothing had happened."

"So he likes you but there's honestly nothing going on?" Blair asked.

"Nothing," she replied, crying a little harder. "And he completely freaked out on me when I told him I didn't want anything more than friendship with him. He blamed me, as if I had sent him some signals or something. As if I hurt him on purpose.

"You don't believe that he actually meant the stuff that he said, do you?" Blair asked. She moved over so she was sitting next to Brooklyn. "B, he was upset. People say things that they don't mean sometimes. I know it doesn't excuse what he said, or make it hurt any less, but . . ."

"But he hurt me, Blair," Brooklyn interrupted. "I'm not perfect. I'm far from it. And I'm sorry that I lied to you, to everyone, about who I am. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about this drama with Ben, but it all goes back to this big lie that I've been living for ten months now. I just hope that one day you can see why I really had no choice."

"I get it," said Blair. "I get everything. I'm not saying anything and I'm not going anywhere. You're not alone anymore. I'm here for you and Mary's here for you. I know that Ben is here . . ."

"I know you're here for me," Brooklyn replied. "And Mary is always here for me. But I think Ben is too selfish to see anything past whatever it is that he wants."

"I know that he hurt you, but don't you think that he must be hurting, too?" There was a long pause. Brooklyn tried to process everything. The fact that Ben might be hurting as well had not even entered her mind. She had been focused only on her feelings.

"I didn't really consider his feelings," she admitted. "But Dr. Spencer said that life is not about the mistakes we make, but how we come back from them. I know that I need to learn from the mistakes I made. Ben made a mistake in trying to change my relationship with him, and so far he hasn't been capable of anything other than avoiding me. He needs to admit his mistake so we can all move on."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. You've obviously been dealing with more issues than I would care to have in a lifetime. I should have noticed something. I'm so sorry that I didn't."

Blair hugged Brooklyn. "Don't worry. Everything is going to work out."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're my best friend and I believe in you."

CHAPTER 42

There was a knock at the front door, followed by the doorbell. Sasha did not budge from her position on the couch in front of the television, glued to MTV. The doorbell rang again a minute later.

"Are you going to get that?" she shouted, muting the television. She listened for any sounds of movement from the floor above before deciding to answer the door herself. She ran up the basement stairs of the tri-level house two at a time. She opened the front door to find two men in suits smiling at her.

"Is this the Matthews' residence?" the taller man asked.

"Yeah," Sasha answered, annoyed that she had been interrupted while watching a rerun of The Hills for a sales call.

Both men flashed their badges at Sasha. Her eyes widened in shock.

"FBI," the taller one answered again. "I'm Agent Davis and this is Agent Foreman. May we please have a private word with you, Sasha Matthews?"

"S-sure," Sasha stammered, stepping outside and closing the front door behind her.

"What's this about?"

"We've lost contact with Amber Cole, and we're talking to the people she knew to see if we can get any leads," answered Agent Foreman.

"Wait," Sasha said, trying to act as surprised as possible. "Amber died, like, a year ago. How did you just lose contact with her now?"

"That's cute," Agent Davis said, laughing. "Look, we know you're trying to protect her, but the best way to do that is to be honest with us so we can find her."

Sasha paused, trying to decide whether or not to trust these men. They were almost too calm about the fact that they'd lost contact with Amber. That sounded like a pretty big deal to Sasha, so her first instinct was that they could be impostors. At the same time, the idea of lying to the FBI was petrifying. She decided to continue playing dumb until she could speak to Amber and figure out what was really going on.

"Amber's alive?" Sasha said, trying to look like confused and shocked. Both men looked at each other, as if for a second they believed her.

"Amber's been hiding in the Witness Protection Program," Agent Davis said. "Are you really trying to say that you didn't know?"

Sasha sat down on the bench in the front lawn. A small smile spread across her face as she looked up at both agents. "Amber's alive? This whole time . . . I can't believe it. Where is she? Can I see her? Wait, what about her family? Is she with them?" Again, the men looked at each other and then at Sasha, trying to analyze whether or not she was telling the truth.

"No," Agent Davis said. "I'm sorry, her family is dead."

"So you're saying you haven't spoken to her or had any contact with her at all?" Agent Foreman said.

"No," Sasha said shaking her head. "I had no idea. I mean, wow, I can't believe this. This is great! She's been alive all this time."

"You will let us know if she tries to contact you," Agent Forman said. "It's for her own protection."

Sasha sat still on the bench, acting as if she was having trouble absorbing the information about Amber. Finally she looked up and said, "What? Oh yeah, sorry. Yeah, of course I'll let you know. She's alive! I can't believe this!"

"And you need to keep this meeting a secret. Again, for her protection."

"Yeah, of course," Sasha mumbled, shaking her head, still pretending that her world had just been shaken up by these two agents. As they started walking away, Sasha stood up and decided to make one final attempt to convince them that she had not spoken to Amber. "Wait what about your business cards, so I can call you if she contacts me."

The agents slowly turned around and at each other. "Yeah," Agent Davis said, pulling out a small piece of paper and a pen. "Sure thing, kid. Sorry, I forgot my cards, but here's my number," he said, writing on the paper.

"Thanks," Sasha said, putting it in her pocket. She sat down on a chair on the outdoor front porch where the two men could still see her, pretending to ponder the conversation that had just taken place. She could feel her heart pounding as she waited for the black Lincoln Town Car to drive away. It felt like hours had gone by before finally they drove off. She waited another minute before darting into the house.

The final bell of the day rang. Brooklyn could hardly keep herself from breaking down right then and there. She was still reeling from her conversation with Greg the previous evening. The two of them had not spoken about the lead the FBI was tracking, nor about the implications of Ben's disclosure at school. She was anxious to hear something new, something positive, so approached Greg when no one else was with earshot.

"Have you made any progress on my case?"

"No, but these things take time. You can't imagine the legwork that needs to get done."

"What about me? Are you going to have me moved?" Greg took a deep breath and she braced herself to hear bad news. She was relieved by his response, but only partially.

"Brooklyn, no decision has been made yet. I talked to my supervisors and they decided that they needed to talk to their supervisors. I've said everything I could to anyone who dared to listen, but I just don't know what they will decide. I am confident they'll make the correct choice on your behalf."

As she walked away, she wondered whether he already knew the answer, but the time was not yet right to tell her. How likely was it that she would be removed under cover of darkness once again without any chance for closure with Adam, Blair, and her other friends? She realized that this uncertainty in her life had risen to the top of her anxiety list. She was dodging other students in the crowded hallways when she bumped directly into Sara, knocking one of her notebooks onto the floor.

"What's your problem?" asked Sara with an edge. Brooklyn didn't respond. "What's your problem?" Sara asked again.

"I'm not in the mood for you today." Brooklyn said. "Get out of my face."

"You look like shit. What's wrong with you?"

"Don't you have something better to do, like find a new boyfriend or wax your broom?"

Sara took a few steps toward Brooklyn. "You're different."

"I probably deserve that," Sara said under her breath. "I know I've done some things that might justify that theory, but I do care about Ben. And I'm sure if he knew you were dealing with something alone, he would want to help."

Brooklyn rolled her eyes. "You are way out of touch. Ben only cares about himself," she whispered.

"Look, I've known him a long time," said Sara. "For whatever reason, he's changed since you came here. In whatever way you think he's selfish, he used to be ten times worse. That's why I liked him." Brooklyn did not respond, so Sara continued. "You know, I'm not a very good person. I mean, sure, I've always been popular and had people following me around, wanting to do what I did and be part of my life. But as a person, I can get pretty lost in myself sometimes. I guess it's because while everyone is always busy talking about me, nobody really cares about me. Well, they don't care enough to really tell me that I've become, like, this real bitch, who, at the end of the day, doesn't have one person in my life who actually cares about me."

"Ben cared about you," Brooklyn mumbled.

"Yeah, well I screwed that up, just like everything else."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because . . . I'm sorry," said Sara. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you, and I'm sort of sorry about the way I treated Blair . . . and I guess everyone else that I'll probably never apologize to. Blair and I have our differences and probably always will. But I guess I was particularly hard on you, especially when you never ever did anything to me to deserve what I was dishing out at you. So, for what it's worth, I truly am sorry. And I hope that whatever this is that you're going through passes so you can get back to being the Brooklyn that all the guys think is nice and pretty cool, and who all the girls are jealous of." Sara flashed a quick smile and walked down the hallway.

Brooklyn wondered for a second whether or not Sara had been abducted by aliens, and then been returned to earth as a normal human being. Although the apology was completely out of her character and should have brought a smile to Brooklyn's face, it didn't help her feel any better. She started to walk down the hall and decided to duck into the bathroom to see if Sara was right about how she looked. She looked into the mirror and noticed a tired face with no sparkle in her eyes. She felt herself begin to cry, and retreated into a stall to regain her composure.

Adam wandered the halls after class looking for Brooklyn. He ran into Sara and asked if she'd seen her. Sara pointed in the direction that she had last seen Brooklyn, but nobody was there. He had a good guess as to where she might be, and he walked into the girls' bathroom for the first time in his life. He could hear her crying, so he grabbed some paper towel and handed it to her under the door.

"I-it's all I have," he stammered. "But it's clean."

Brooklyn took the paper towel and wiped her nose. The two sat in silence, side by side in different stalls. After a few minutes, it sounded as if she were calming down.

"You haven't exactly been yourself lately," Adam said, staring at the metal door. "You're not the girl I started going out with. Back then, you were strong, happy and confident."

"No, I guess I have been pretty emotional lately."

"What's going on with you, B? Is it something I said or I did? We talk to each other all the time, but I have no clue about what sets off your emotional swings?"

"Look, Adam," she whimpered. "You haven't done anything wrong. Generally my moods aren't related to you at all. The last thing I want is for you to think that I'm emotional because you did something wrong. There is so much trauma and uncertainty about events from my past life, but I can't share any of that with you. And that just makes it tougher on me, because I can't cry on your shoulder when I really need to."

He was silent for a moment. "It isn't easy for me to pretend like I don't wish I knew everything about your past. Back when I first met you and we started going out, you would walk past me and I would simply freeze. My stomach would turn in circles and I would get all choked up inside. You were the only one who did that to me. You used to make me so nervous."

She scoffed. "I never made you nervous."

"Yes . . . you did," he replied. "But my point is that I feel so helpless because I have no idea what you are dealing with on a daily basis. Sure, you told me your parents are dead, and that you are in the Witness Protection Program, but only leads to more questions. Questions that I know I can't ask you. So I really don't know how I can help you. All I want is to make you feel better."

She started sobbing again. "You can't fix me, Adam. I'm broken."

He leaned his head against the cold metal door. "People don't break, B. Bones break. Hearts break. But people don't break. I can't fix what's not broken."

She opened the door of the bathroom stall, and her eyes were red and puffy. "I don't need a hero. I can't be saved."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "No, but you can be hugged and kissed and loved. Just allow me to do that forever."

Brooklyn enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms but after a few moments she said, "Hey, are you really in the girls' bathroom?" He made a hasty exit and promised to call her that night.

CHAPTER 43

It was finally Friday, and Brooklyn was relieved. It had been a long week and she was emotionally drained. The weather was beginning to turn cold, with Halloween only a few weeks away. Mary, Greg, Brooklyn, and Gabe were all in the basement. Mary was engrossed in a home-decoration magazine, while Greg sat at one of the tables reviewing some work on his laptop, surrounded by papers and file folders. Gabe was reading a book for school, and Brooklyn floated in the pool on a raft. The smell of chlorine was comforting as she rested her eyes and thought.

Greg's cell phone rang, but nobody stirred. They were used to the sound of his cell phone ringing.

"Greg Thompson," he answered without looking up from his computer. Five seconds later, he darted across the basement and up the stairs, not bothering to pick up the papers that had dropped from his lap.

Mary sat up and took a sip of her water. "Hot tub anyone?" she asked. She picked up the papers and set them neatly in a pile on Greg's chair. Brooklyn tipped her raft over and swam over to the side of the pool. She climbed out and joined Mary and Gabe in the hot tub.

"I can't believe we never used to come down here," Mary said, leaning back against the hot tub's smooth tiles.

"It's so different now with you here, Brooke," said Gabe. "Not to sound all cheesy, but I'm glad you're living with us."

"Thanks, I'm really happy to be living here too." Brooklyn smiled at both of them. She wondered if she had said that often enough. Her thoughts had been occupied with the drama she herself was dealing with. But she also had brought drama and stress into the Thompsons' lives. She made a mental note to thank them more often. Greg returned, and approached the hot tub.

"Hey, honey, take a break and come join us," said Mary, splashing water on Greg.

"I just got off the phone . . ." he said, sitting down on the side of the tub.

"I'm sorry, honey. I wish you could just have a day off."

"I don't usually expect to get calls about my family," he said sternly. "I didn't do anything," said Gabe abruptly.

Mary looked up at Greg. "Did Ben . . . ?"

"Brooklyn did, with Ben's help," said Greg, staring coldly at Brooklyn.

Mary pointed toward the door. "Gabe. Out. Now."

"But, I didn't . . ."

"Now," she said again. The boy grabbed a towel, and walked out of the room, careful not to close the door all the way.

Brooklyn looked into the bubbly water, and moved her hands back and forth, unsure if she should start confessing everything she had done wrong or wait to hear why Greg was upset. The list of her transgressions was staggering.

"What did you say to her?" Greg demanded.

"Say to whom?" Brooklyn asked, perplexed.

"To your friend back home."

"Greg, what is this about?" asked Mary. B

Brooklyn was afraid to look up. She knew she would find Greg's disapproving eyes. "I know you said no contact, but when I found out that Sasha thought I was dead, I had to do something," she finally blurted out.

Mary turned from Greg to Brooklyn, and a look of sheer disappointment spread across her face. "Oh, Brooklyn, how could you? And Ben . . . Ben helped you? What on earth were you thinking?"

Brooklyn swallowed hard and nodded. There was no point in trying to pretend that Ben wasn't involved. Greg seemed to know it all though Brooklyn wasn't sure where his information had come from. Had Ben betrayed her just to keep her from Adam? Was Sasha the leak? Did it have anything to do with Sasha's removing Brooklyn's pictures from the Facebook page? She was getting agitated, but she realized that the only person she should be mad at was herself.

"Sasha Matthews went to the police station late last night," said Greg. "I don't know all the details yet, but she only wanted to talk to someone from the FBI. Luckily, Rachel was the agent who went to the station. Sasha demanded to see her identification, and asked the local police to verify that Rachel was really an FBI agent."

"What? Why would she do that?"

"Because it sounds like she's a smart kid, and she probably saved your life, that's why. Two guys claiming to be Feds came by her house yesterday afternoon to question her about Amber Cole. She was smart enough to pretend to know nothing. She sneaked out the back of her house once it was dark to go to the police station."

"I had no..." began Brooklyn.

"I'm angry," he interrupted. "I'm furious, actually, with the two of you. The rules were very clear: No contact. It was simple."

"Greg," said Mary, taking his hand. "It's not simple. She left her life behind. You probably would have done the same thing if you were young and in her shoes. So what happens now? What do we do? Is Sasha in danger? Is Brooklyn in danger?"

Greg took a deep breath. "We don't know who came to Sasha's house. She went through some mug shots of people who are connected to the lead we've been tracking, but she wasn't able to identify the two men."

Greg let the words sink in for a moment and then he continued, "We've figured out a way to turn this mess into a positive outcome. Sasha's willing to cooperate with us. She's agreed to call the number the two visitors gave her and tell them that Amber had, in fact, been in contact with her."

"No way! Absolutely not! I couldn't deal with it if something happened to Sasha. She's going to be putting her life in danger to protect me!" Brooklyn proclaimed. "No, I won't allow any harm to come to Sasha. I'm catching the first available flight out to California. I'll be there the whole time, watching and protecting her. And I won't be alone. My supervisors at the bureau have allocated more resources to the case. They feel like we caught a major break with the Sasha contact. We'll get them, Brooklyn. We're going to get all of them for what they did to your family. They won't be able to hurt you anymore."

"Do you . . . do you think they know that I'm here?"

"They were able to find Sasha and where she lives. I assume that Montag has some serious technology geeks on his payroll who were able to track her down through her computer IP address. Please tell me that you and Ben were smart enough to avoid using the computers in this house when you contacted Sasha." Brooklyn's hesitation and sheepish look provided the answer. "I thought so. The bureau has been tailing some of Montag's men, since we still believe that his gang is responsible. It doesn't look like they're planning any road trip to Michigan yet. We'll know if they put something into motion because Rachel has set up surveillance on the key gang members. But, just to be safe, you guys are all going to leave town for a while."

"Really? Where?" asked Gabe, walking into the pool room.

"How is this house not big enough for some privacy?" Mary declared, splashing Gabe as he approached the hot tub. "When are we leaving?"

"Tonight, of course, accompanied by some undercover agents. And, thanks to Ben and Brooklyn, you'ill all be spending a lot of time together cooped up in a hotel room."

"Well, I'd better call Ben and tell him to come home," said Mary, getting up.

"Greg, I'm really sorry about all of this. I guess I was just confused. I didn't really think about all of the consequences."

"Brooklyn, I know this isn't easy," said Greg, putting his hand on her shoulder. "But you're part of this family now and we expect you to obey the rules. I have a wife and two sons to look after as well."

"Yeah, I guess I didn't . . ."

"You're a smart girl. You can't let your emotions dictate what you do. Otherwise, you'll make poor decisions, and have to live in the wake of their consequences all the time. Always think first, and then act."

She nodded, acknowledging what he said. But she fully grasped what he didn't say: that she had put the Thompson family at risk with her selfishness. Back in her room, she pulled out a suitcase and began laying out clothes to pack. She tried not to think about being locked up in a hotel room with Ben, and turned her thoughts to Mary. Up to this point, she had not been giving Mary enough credit for her continual support and confidence. Mary had been acting as a mother to Brooklyn in every way possible. Would that change now that her actions had placed the entire family at risk? Mary had reacted in a relatively calm manner when Greg broke the news. Was that because she had learned to deal with being the wife of an FBI agent that she understood her family could always be at risk? Or was it because Mary considered Brooklyn to be the daughter that she never had?

Although Brooklyn wasn't in the mood to pack, she knew that she had to concentrate on what she needed to bring. She chose a couple of pairs of flip-flops and tennis shoes, along with two swimsuits, some jeans, T-shirts, shorts, and sweats. On the off-chance she would need something nicer, she threw in a few cotton dresses, figuring she could match them with flip-flops, if needed. From what Greg had said, they needed to be prepared to spend a lot of time indoors. She packed a few books and her iPod, then headed into the bathroom to shower and pack her toiletries.

When Ben returned home, he immediately confronted Greg. "How long are we going to be gone?" Ben was already upset about receiving the phone call telling him to come home. "I'm going up north with Nate next weekend."

Greg wasn't happy. "No, you're not. You're going with your mother, brother, and cousin until we tell you otherwise."

"A, I only respond to interrogative statements," declared Ben. "B, she's not my cousin, and C, I will never forgive you for bringing her here. She is ruining my life."

"Benjamin!" shouted Mary. "You helped her because you like her. We don't have our heads buried in the sand. I know you can't help who you fall for, but you needed to protect her, not assist her in doing something that would put her life in danger."

He realized that further denials would prove useless, so he made a hasty retreat up the stairs to begin packing. By the time Brooklyn got downstairs with her suitcase, Gabe and Mary were already waiting by the back door. Neither of them said a word as she silently took at seat at the kitchen table. They didn't have to wait long for Ben and Greg to arrive downstairs.

The ride to the airport seemed to take forever. Clouds covered the entire sky, but Gabe, Mary, and Brooklyn had chosen not to remove their sunglasses. It was an attempt to hide the frustration they were feeling. Ben, however, had no desire to hide his frustration. He was sulking, with his Detroit Tigers baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. The family arrived at the private airport on the east side of Detroit after forty minutes of silence. They pulled into a hangar where a small plane waited.

FBI agents wearing dark-colored suits, sunglasses and earpieces met them. The family exchanged solemn good-byes with Greg and climbed the stairs to board the plane. Ben was the last to board the plane and, after everyone else was seated, he chose the seat farthest from Brooklyn.

Being back on the small plane brought back horrible memories of the night Brooklyn had first flown to Michigan. She reclined her plush suede seat, and curled under a blanket, her iPod drowning out the cabin noise. She wondered how long it would be before she could return home and see Adam. She considered getting up to talk to Ben, but she knew better. He had still not come to grips with the fact that she had lied to him about the night at Blair's. From the look on his face, it was clear that he completely blamed her for the displacement of the Thompson family even though he had provided a significant assist in her actions.

Greg's flight landed at Oceanside Municipal Airport—about thirty minutes from the police station in San Clemente. He had slept during most of the six-hour flight, knowing that he would be working on little or no sleep. Although he was convinced that their plan for catching whoever was after Brooklyn was going to go smoothly, he felt a little apprehensive at his wife and sons being on the other side of the country without him. He got in the back of one of the black SUV's waiting on the tarmac. Rachel was sitting in the back seat, absorbed in the contents of a file resting on a pile of paperwork in her lap.

"You don't even get out to greet me?" he smiled.

"What was I supposed to do with all of this?" she asked, pointing at the pile as it almost toppled over. "Take some of this, please." He pulled a stack off her lap, and set it in between them. "How is she holding up?" asked Rachel.

He looked out the window at the beautiful sunset as the car sped out of the parking lot toward the highway.

"Fine," he answered.

"Are you mad at her, Greg?" asked Rachel.

"Not mad, just disappointed," He turned toward her. "It's only been about ten months. I always knew that this could happen, but I guess I was surprised it happened so soon. And I never expected to be so far from them. Rachel, they're on the other side of the country without me, and there's so much at stake right now."

"We've worked out all of the pieces. They're safely tucked away and the bureau has put a ton of resources to make sure that they'll be okay." She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"What happens to Brooklyn when this is all over?"

"I don't think that we'll know the answer to that question until the whole thing plays out. We'll have to do a threat assessment to determine if there will be any potential for her being in danger in the future."

The caravan pulled into an old church parking lot. "This is my office," said Rachel. "There's not a lot of activity around here. It will be easier to spot if someone's watching."

Just then, her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and recognized the name of one of her agents working the case.

"Talk to me and make it quick."

"The local police just found a floater in the river. They think it might be Montag's brother-in-law Dean Hartley, but they can't be sure. He's a mess. The results of the prints should be back within the hour."

"Okay, let me know when it's confirmed." She closed the flip top of the cell phone and looked at Greg.

"What's up?"

"The locals found a floater, and they think it's Montag's brother-in-law," she responded.

"Do you think Montag was tying up a loose end?"

"It could be that, but Hartley has never been a serious player for Montag. He's never been on our radar. Look, it could be that one of the other gangs figured out a way to get to Hartley, and decided to piss Montag off just for the hell of it."

Greg shook his head and said, "I don't like it. Do we have enough resources to protect Sasha if the operation doesn't play out according to plan?"

"Greg, it is too late to change our minds about this. If she doesn't go forward with the meeting, she may be in even more danger, and we'll never be in a better position to protect her than we are right now."

"Okay, let's do this," Greg finally said.

They got out of the car and entered the church through large double doors. The inside had been updated with new furniture and desks. There were ten people there, all seeming busy with their work. White boards were scrawled with writing, and newspaper articles, timelines, and various pictures covered the front wall. Three people were listening to something through giant headphones sat typing on computer keyboards.

As Rachel and Greg some of them, Greg noticed a blond-haired girl sitting on the chair, flanked by a man and woman he assumed were her parents. He knew that the girl was Sasha Matthews, whose quick, decisive actions had led them to this stage in the case. But right now, she appeared frail and worried. The woman's arm was wrapped around Sasha. Greg just stood there, replaying in his mind the preparations that had been made by the bureau to assure her safety.

Rachel made the introductions. "Greg, this is Sasha Matthews and her parents, Laurie and Steve."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Greg Thompson," he said, extending his hand.

"Can y-you promise me that nothing will happen to my girl?" Laurie Matthews was looking directly into his eyes. "I-I c-can't lose her."

There could be no guarantees in this situation or in this job. Sasha Matthews, sixteen years old, was risking her own life so her friend could have the chance for a future. Greg wondered for a moment if his own sons would be brave enough to do the same thing, or if he and Mary would even allow Ben or Gabe to put their lives in danger like this.

Greg knelt on one knee in front of Sasha and delivered his response in a professional and confident manner. "Sasha, you are a brave young woman. There are not too many people your age who would have the courage to do what you've agreed to do. I know you felt like you and Amber were sisters when you were together. She didn't want you to be placed in danger while she was being hidden safely away. She thinks of you as a sister as well. Sasha, you're our best chance for ending this as quickly as possible. But you don't have to do this for us. We can try to find another way to get the same result if we have to. It is your decision, and what you decide will not change the fact that everyone in this room thinks you're the bravest young woman they have ever met."

Steve stood up and took a step toward Greg. "The Coles were very good friends of ours. We will do anything we can for Amber. I just wish it could be me instead of my daughter."

"Steve," replied Greg. "We are all so grateful to your daughter and your family for getting us to this stage. It takes a lot of courage to come forward the way Sasha did. If she decides to go ahead with the plan, I can promise you that she will not be out there alone. We're going to keep her safe."

Sasha lifted her head and glanced in the direction of her parents. "I'm afraid, but I am not changing my mind. I need to do this for Amber and for myself."

The group stood in silence for a second, until Rachel announced, "Okay then, it's time to go!"

Greg watched hug both her parents. Mr. Matthews had to pry his wife out of Sasha's arms, as if this were a final goodbye. The agents quickly left the church and disappeared into the SUVs in the parking lot. The only ones remaining behind were Sasha's parents, one desk officer handling communications, and the three agents listening on the surveillance headphones. Greg climbed into the passenger seat of a tan Ford Taurus. The vehicle was in desperate need of a car wash and appeared to have been in several fender benders, but Greg was certain it was equipped with bullet-proof glass and a very powerful engine. Nobody would be able to figure out that it was carrying FBI agents. Sasha was in the back listening to Rachel's final instructions.

"I know you're nervous, but you'll do fine," the agent reassured the girl. "Just try to stay as calm as possible. Don't look around for us. There are agents stationed all around the park right now, disguised as joggers, dog-walkers, readers, and families. We'll be there, listening to everything. This is a very public park, so we've been able to establish some great vantage points for the meet. When you listen to our conversations with the other agents, we'll be referring to you as 'Princess.' We'll get you into the library through the same doorway as we picked you up. Your car is parked exactly where you left it. There's no need to worry. You'll be safe."

As they left the parking lot, the SUVs sped off in different directions. Rachel explained that they would be spread out and used to control the perimeter, so Greg did not have to be concerned about their being spotted. After several minutes, they pulled into a parking lot and sped to the back alley of the public library. Rachel handed Sasha a pile of library books.

"Are you ready?" Greg asked her.

"Yeah," Sasha said after taking a deep breath.

He could see the fear in her eyes. "You'll do great," he smiled.

Sasha climbed out of the car and disappeared through the rear entrance of the building. The driver, Greg, and Rachel all put their ear pieces in, and the car moved to its designated location at the park. Minutes later, they heard a voice over the radio. "We have a visual on Princess. She's heading toward her car with a group of kids. She's got the backpack and books."

Greg and Rachel's car came to a stop a block from the park, where they got out and made the rest of the journey to the entrance to the park on foot, holding hands. The undercover couple smiled as they talked to each other, taking note of all the people around them. The park was crowded with people enjoying the beautiful California afternoon. The temperature was in the 80's, without a cloud in the sky.

"The group has separated and gone their own way," said the voice over the radio. "Princess is talking to one other female."

Greg and Rachel started down the jogging trail that went through the park. From all directions, the path offered a clear view of the bench where the meeting had been arranged to take place.

"Princess has separated from the other female and is walking towards her car. Princess is now in her car. Princess is en route."

"We have about five minutes until she gets here," whispered Rachel in Greg's ear, followed by a flirtatious laugh.

"Perfect," he answered, glancing at his watch.

The couple continued on their path, walking at a leisurely pace. To anyone who happened to notice them, they looked like a couple in love, paying attention only to each other. In reality, they were two of the twelve agents who were disguised and dispersed around the busy park.

A few minutes later, as planned, they spotted Sasha making her way in a trot to the middle of the park. They had planned her arrival for a few minutes after four, to appear as if she were a typical teenager, whose afternoon started right after school let out. Rachel was working under the assumption that it would be natural for Sasha to want to get the meeting over as quickly as possible so she could enjoy the rest of her afternoon. Sasha approached the bench and looked around before taking a seat. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to check it, and looked around again before placing the phone back in her pocket. She took a seat and waited, while her heart began pounding through her chest.

"Something's not right," whispered Greg after checking his watch again. She had been sitting on the bench waiting for almost an hour. "Why haven't they shown up? Do you think they figured it was a trap?"

"We were careful," answered Rachel. "But she can't wait here all night. And we've circled this park a half a dozen times. We can't stay here much longer."

"Pull her out," decided Greg. "Tell her to meet us back at the church."

Rachel made the call over the radio. Sasha heard the message over her ear piece, stood up, stretched her arms, and looked around the park one last time. The agents kept a close eye on her as she made her way toward the car in the small, crowded parking lot. She was increasing her pace with each step because she was nervous, more nervous now than when she had arrived at the park. The only thing clear to her now was that the bureau's plan had fallen apart, and she wanted to get out of the park as fast as possible.

She stepped onto the pavement without breaking her stride, reached into her pocket to get her keys, and unlocked the doors.

"Just a few more steps, Sasha," the voice over the radio said. "You're almost there."

A few seconds later, she felt the hot handle of her black car in her left hand. She pulled the handle and then heard a loud pop that shattered the driver's-side window. She dove onto the ground and heard the shards of glass crunching below her. Then she felt a sharp pain in her side. She realized that pieces of glass must have torn through her clothes and slashed her.

"Sasha," shouted Greg on the radio. "We see you, and we're coming to you. Stay flat on the ground and don't move until we can secure the area. You're safe. Don't move."

She rolled over on her side against the car to feel how bad the gash was. She tried to put as much pressure on the wound as possible, but she could still feel the blood flow over her hands.

"Hurry," whispered Sasha. "There's a lot of blood."

"I want him alive," Rachel declared to the other agents as gunfire broke out in the southwest corner of the park. From the moment Sasha had parked her car, the agents had been doing scenario planning. Among many other things, they had concluded that the best vantage point was from the southwest for a lone shooter.. Although they did not spot him before, and he got off his shot, they had cut off every possible means of escape within seconds.

Greg and Rachel watched the scene play out from their position in the park, as the shooter finally stumbled to the ground and the gunfire ended.

CHAPTER 44

"We're being punished," shouted Ben from the other room. "Why else would he put us here and then lock us in?"

Brooklyn was tired of hearing his complaints. She didn't know which was worse: his silent treatment toward her or his perpetual complaining. They were in Wilmington, North Carolina, which under different circumstances would have been a very pretty city to visit. But their current situation kept them locked inside a two-bedroom villa at the Shell Island oceanfront resort. The closest Brooklyn could get to the beach was her bedroom window, which overlooked the waves.

Gabe was sprawled out on the floor facing the television in the living room, while Mary sat in the closest chair with her feet propped up on the ottoman, quietly reading one of her books. It seemed to Brooklyn as if they had both chosen to ignore Ben.

"This sucks!" he shouted again, as he slammed the connecting door to the boys' room. "I have already missed my weekend with Nate. Is this ever going to end?"

Mary looked up from her book, and made eye contact with the agent sitting at the kitchen table. She shrugged her shoulders and walked into the bedroom she was sharing with Brooklyn. She put a hand on the girl's shoulder, then lay on the bed and closed her eyes.

Brooklyn went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, then once again assumed her position at the window. The light was fading as the sun set in the distance. Her stomach grumbled loudly. She was getting hungry. Since arriving, they had used the villa food service for all of their meals.

Suddenly, she felt as if she were being swallowed up. She took another sip of water and continued to stare as the remaining families left the pool, going inside with the last of the light.

There was a knock at the door. "Room service."

"Great, I'm starving," said Gabe as he jumped up off the floor.

"Gabriel, I'm going to have to ask you to go wait in the other room," the agent said.

"I'm starving! It's just room service," complained Gabe.

The agent initiated a call on his radio as he directed the boy to the bedroom. Brooklyn looked up as he came storming into the room with his hands folded across his chest. Ben came into the room a minute later. They were all used to this by now. Every time the room service personnel dropped off their meals, they had to wait in the master bedroom so as not to be seen.

"What did you order?" asked Ben quietly, trying not to wake Mary.

Gabe shrugged his shoulders, "It wasn't me."

"It wasn't me either," answered Brooklyn as they both looked curiously at her.

"Mom," said Ben as he shook her in an attempt to wake her up.

"W . . . what," she mumbled, rolling over.

The agent burst into the bedroom. Mary, frightened by his sudden appearance, jumped out of bed. "What the hell is going on?"

"We have to go," he said, looking out onto the balcony.

"Go where?" she asked.

"Did anyone order room service?" the agent asked.

Everyone shook their heads. The agent opened the sliding screen door. "I can't make contact with any of my men outside. If they know that we're the ones in this villa, then they've figured out the best way to attack us, and we would be sitting ducks. We stand a better chance we can be mobile. We're leaving right now."

"But we're four floors up," said Mary with fear in her voice.

"I'll help the kids. Please call 9-1-1 and let me know as soon as you hear noises coming

from inside the villa."

The agent told Gabe, Ben and, Brooklyn his plan. He would swing them down individually from the fourth floor patio to the patio that was immediately below them. They were not exactly thrilled with his plan, but they knew the patio represented the only other exit from the villa. Ben knew instinctively that he should be the first one to attempt to fly through the air to the patio below: he was the oldest son and he weighed more than Brooklyn and Gabe. He believed that if he was successful, the other two would be more confident in their attempts. He climbed over the metal railing and waited on the other side. The agent got down on the floor and lay flat on his stomach, reaching his arms under the metal railing. Ben slowly negotiated the outside of the railing until he was hanging below the balcony, just holding on to the cement floor. The agent grabbed Ben's arms, one by one, swung him inward, releasing his arms as he cleared the railing one story below. Ben called up that he had made it safely, then told Gabe and Brooklyn it was easier than it looked.

The agent decided that Brooklyn should go next. She was a little slower and more methodical than Ben had been when he went over the railing. Her body was shaking so badly that Gabe had to help with her balance as she inched down the outside. She did not dare to look down. She felt a boost in her confidence when the agent took hold of her hands, and she could see her target. He easily swung her inward, and she cleared the railing and stumbled into Ben's outstretched arms. She crouched in the corner as she waited for everyone else to come down.

Gabe was almost over the edge when they heard a loud noise come from inside their villa. The agent did not wait for Gabe to be in the ideal position. He grabbed the boy's right arm with one hand, and forcefully swung him inward. Ben caught Gabe before his feet reached the floor.

Mary leaned over the fourth floor balcony and said, "You guys have to go now. Get out of this building and away from here as quickly as you can." Her voice sounded calm.

"We're not leaving you," insisted Ben. "Mom, come on, there's still time."

They heard a loud crash. The front door had been smashed in. Mary retreated out of view, leaving the three kids staring up toward the dark balcony.

"Mom," whispered Ben. There was no response.

There were muffled voices coming from the villa above, but no one had come out to the patio. Ben told Gabe and Brooklyn that they had no choice but to continue with the agent's plan. The second floor patio was in a direct line with the third floor, so Ben did not need to swing the others, as the agent had needed to do one story above. He helped Brooklyn and Gabe climb down the outside of the railing, and they were able to just drop onto the second-floor balcony. Before he climbed over, he glanced at the floor above, but he did not hear or see a thing. The next step was the easiest, as the three of them dropped the final story into a large pile of woodchips that was stored behind the bushes on the ground floor.

"Where are we going?" whispered Gabe.

"To the beach," answered Ben. "We can hide there."

They made their way toward the water, following the lighted path around the resort grounds, careful to stay hidden whenever they would see other people. As they approached the wooden walkway, they saw that the path ahead of them, the one that led to the beach, was under construction. The warning sign posted for the construction zone stated that there was another walkway at the northern edge of the resort. The sign also said it was extremely dangerous to enter the marshy wetlands over which the walkway went.

"I'm scared," whispered Brooklyn, grabbing his arm.

"I . . . I don't know what else to do," he stammered.

"What about Mom? What if they're gone, and she's waiting for us to come back?" asked Gabe.

"We can't go back. If they've left, we'll catch up to Mom as soon as we can. But if we do go back and they're still there, we put her in greater risk," Ben answered.

Gabe didn't hear a word his brother said. He took off, running back toward the buildings. Ben and Brooklyn had no choice but to run after him.

"Get back here," shouted Ben.

They ran across the pool deck and heard the crackle of repeated gunshots echo through the darkness. Gabe froze just as Ben caught up to him.

"Mom?" screamed Gabe. Ben grabbed his arm, and started pulling him back toward the beach. "We have to go check on her!"

"We can't!" shouted Ben. "Mom told us what she needed us to do. We have to get safely away from here in order to help her."

Lights turned on in villas throughout the resort complex, and people ran onto their balconies as a result of the commotion. Gabe knew that further resistance would just draw more attention, so he stopped fighting with Ben, and they all ran back down toward the beach. Brooklyn stopped halfway down the path and looked back to the building where their villa was located. Ben grabbed her shirt to pull her along.

"We have to get someplace safe," he urged her.

They made their way to the northern edge of the property line, and found the second walkway over the marshy wetlands. They ran quickly over the walkway, onto the cold sand, and finally stopped to look back. More lights had come on, and they could see numerous people standing on their patios. The half-moon seemed very far away, and the sandy beach appeared very dark in both directions.

"What do we do now?" asked Gabe. "Do you think they'll look for us on the beach?"

Ben did not immediately respond. He stared at the buildings. He thought about telling Brooklyn and Gabe to go ahead while he went back to check out the villa. But he knew he couldn't go back, not now. Brooklyn looked terrified, and Ben understood that the burden of their safety had been shifted to him. He needed to be strong in order for them to survive the night.

"Take off your shoes," he directed, kneeling down to dig a hole in the sand. Gabe and Brooklyn followed his instruction without asking questions. They tossed their shoes into the hole when Ben had made it deep enough. He threw his shoes in the hole on top of theirs. Brooklyn took off her sweatshirt and began digging another hole. She still had on a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt. Ben was wearing mesh basketball shorts and a T-shirt, and Gabe had on jeans.

"Gabe, give me your jeans," whispered Brooklyn.

"Are you nuts?" he whispered back. "I can't run around in my underwear."

"You're not running, you're swimming."

As he was stripping off his jeans, Gabe looked out into the ocean, with its waves crashing heavily onto the beach. He handed his jeans to her, and helped her cover their clothes with sand. The three of them ran until their feet hit the wet, hard shore. They waded out into the icy water, bunched together. The waves crashed into them, forcing them back toward the beach. Ben did not waiver, so they all went forward.

"How far are we going?" asked Gabe.

"Far enough so that we're not easy to spot," answered Ben. "We need to make sure we don't drift back toward the beach. And we need to stay out of the moonlight."

"Great, we could end up in Mexico. How long are we going to be out here?" Gabe asked again.

Neither Ben nor Brooklyn replied. They all began floating. Brooklyn spotted flashlights running over the wooden walkway and toward the beach. At least six flashlights could be seen on the beach spread out to search the shrub brush and shine their lights on the water.

Gabe, Brooklyn and Ben were so far out from the shore, they weren't worried about being spotted. They allowed themselves to drift with the current, which was taking them north.

"There are so many footprints on that beach, there's no way for them to know for sure where we are," said Ben.

"What about our footprints in the wet sand?" asked Brooklyn.

"My guess is that they won't be too anxious to get into this cold water. Unless they have a boat and a huge searchlight, I think we'll be okay."

"I can't do this for very long," gasped Gabe, spitting out a mouthful of water. "I'm not a good swimmer like you guys."

"Hold on to my foot," replied Brooklyn. "I'll pull you. Just try to keep your head out of the water." Ben and Brooklyn drifted side-by-side with Gabe in tow. They moved in silence. She wondered if Ben had any sort of plan beyond staying out of sight. They certainly couldn't remain in the ocean all night. She shivered in the frigid water, but she knew she had to keep moving her arms and legs. It was the only way to maintain adequate circulation. She continued to keep pace with Ben until she felt Gabe's hand loosening its tight grip around her ankle.

"Gabe, what are you doing?" she said, reaching back for his arm.

He halfheartedly put his hands on her shoulder. "I'm okay. I'm just tired."

"Tired?" asked Ben. "You're not doing any work."

"No," replied Gabe. "I'm sleepy tired. Can't we rest a little bit?"

Ben looked back in the direction where they had previous seen the flashlights on the beach and saw only darkness. "I don't see anything on the beach. Maybe they gave up looking for us in the obvious places. What do you think, B?" asked Ben.

"I don't know how long we've been out here, but I'm freezing. We can't do this all night," she answered, careful not to let go of Gabe. "Maybe we can find something on the beach we can use. That looks like another hotel right over there."

Ben took a moment before answering. "Let's go in. I'm freezing too. Maybe we can circle back around, and find out what happened to Mom."

They allowed the waves to do the work in pushing them into the beach, with Ben and Brooklyn on either side of Gabe. When they were all standing on the shore, they could tell there was no activity at the location.

"It looks abandoned," observed Brooklyn, disappointment ringing in her voice. They decided to walk toward the building anyway. Then Ben stopped the group. "What is that noise?"

They stood for a moment before they realized that it sounded like something plastic just blowing in the wind. They decided to get closer to it to inspect it. To their amazement, there were three unopened children's flotation devices in a clear plastic bag: a raft, a ring tube, and one set of water wings.

Brooklyn asked the obvious question, "How do you think those things got here?"

Ben replied quickly, "I don't know. But maybe our luck has turned for the better."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't see any lights beyond this building and this spot seems too risky to me. We're heading back into the water using those flotation devices, and we're going to continue north with the tide. It will allow me some time to think about our next move, and we can watch the beach."

"I get the raft," pleaded Gabe. "I need to close my eyes for a little while."

"How can you think of sleep at a time like this? But you better wear the water wings, too, just in case you do doze off."

"No way!"

"What happens if you fall off?" shouted Ben. "I'm not losing you out there because you decided to take a nap!"

They blew the water wings and the ring tube up in a matter of minutes. The raft required a bigger effort from the three of them, but they were back in the water in ten minutes. Gabe and Ben shared the raft, lying with their chests on the raft as their legs dangled in the water below. Brooklyn put the ring tube around her chest. It was tight and uncomfortable, but she welcomed the chance to rest her aching limbs. Once they had finished kicking out to a safe distance in the ocean, .Gabe closed his eyes. He held onto the raft, and used a water wing as a pillow.

Everything had gone wrong, Brooklyn thought to herself. There was a possibility that Mary was dead and she didn't know if what just happened meant that something had happened to Sasha. Ben and Gabe were floating in the Atlantic Ocean with her, trying to stay alive. She wondered if her life would ever return to normal, but she really did not know what that word meant anymore. The Thompsons had taken her in when she had lost her family, and now their family was being torn apart because of her actions.

"Don't float behind me," said Ben. "I have to relieve myself."

Brooklyn smiled. "I've done that twice already."

He smiled back. Tonight was the first time since their argument that he and Brooklyn had communicated without screaming at each other.

"Ben?" Brooklyn asked. "What are we going to do?"

He shook his head. "Besides trying to keep my brother safe, I have no idea. We need to call my dad. I don't know where he is right now, or what happened in California. My mom and my dad could be dead. I'm not going to scream and cry about it until I know what happened. But we have to keep going until we get answers."

Brooklyn hadn't considered the possibility of something bad happening to Greg as well. What if he were hurt, or worse, dead? Ben and Gabe would grow up the rest of their lives without parents, like her. She felt nauseated. But Ben was right—they had to keep moving. Where could they go? How would they get there with no money, no transportation, and no phones? It seemed as if they should be doing something more than floating in the ocean, but she knew that had to suffice until they came up with a plan.

CHAPTER 45

"Are you Greg Thompson?" the tall doctor at Saddleback Memorial Medical Center asked as he approached in the waiting room.

Greg and Rachel leapt up. "Yes," Greg said. "How is she?"

"Sasha Matthews will be fine. She got a pretty good gash, but we've cleaned all the glass from the wound and stitched her up. We wrote her a prescription for the pain she'll be dealing with, and she'll be ready to go in a few minutes. You can go back and see her now."

The doctor took them to Sasha's curtained area in the emergency room. Two police officers were posted directly outside for protection. She smiled at them when they walked through the curtain.

"My parents are going to be so mad," she chuckled. "You know, my mom is freaking out right now. Twenty-two stitches."

"Does it hurt?" asked Rachel.

"Not if I don't move," she replied, holding her side. "It could be worse. The doctor said it didn't hit anything important."

Rachel stepped out of the room to sign the appropriate paperwork. A nurse's aide arrived with a wheelchair, and she wheeled Sasha down the hallway, into the elevator, and out the front door. Greg and the aide both helped the get into the SUV.

During the drive, Rachel explained that Sasha's parents were not taken to the hospital because the bureau was afraid of another attack. They did not want the risk of needing to protect two additional people in a very public hospital. Her parents were safer in the old church where the initial meeting was held.

Sasha's intuition about her mother was accurate. When the car pulled up, Laurie Matthews came running outside in hysterics. "I'm okay, I promise. Ouch, don't touch it. Nobody hurt me, Mom. I fell on the glass."

Greg wondered whether Mary would behave the same way as Laurie if Ben had come home from a bureau operation with twenty-two stitches in his side. This had not gone according to plan, and Greg was not getting any younger. Maybe it was time for his to consider one of those desk jobs that floated around the bureau on a consistent basis.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. "Greg Thompson," he answered.

"Greg . . ." the muffled voice said.

"Who is this? I can't hear you. Please speak up."

The line went dead. Greg looked at the number on his caller ID and quickly hit the redial button. The call went straight to the voicemail system, and he froze when he heard the recorded message for the Shell Island resort in Wilmington.

"Rachel!" Greg yelled. "When did the last check-in call come in from our guys in Wilmington?"

Rachel turned to the desk officer, and asked him the same question. The response chilled Greg to the bone. The Wilmington group had last checked in more than an hour ago. They were supposed to check in using thirty minutes intervals.

"Rachel that explains why they went for a hit on Sasha. They didn't need any more information from her. They've already figured out where Amber is. They must have sidestepped our surveillance. I think my family is in trouble!"

"I'm really thirsty, Ben," said Gabe. "And I'm freezing. Isn't it safe for us to head back in yet?"

"Give me a break here Gabe. I've been watching the beach, and haven't seen the flashlights coming up this far. There are lights a little further up the coast. Those buildings must be hotels or resorts or something because they are pretty tall. We'll let the current take us a bit further, and then we'll head to one of those buildings."

An hour later, Ben announced that the beach seemed dark and quiet. It was time to head in. Once again, the crashing waves provided major assistance. The large building that Ben had picked out from the distance was in fact a hotel. They wasted no time maneuvering through the grounds to find the main entrance. Ben had told them he would do the talking, but all three of them began chattering when they spotted the clerk behind the front desk. Through all of the talking and animation, the clerk heard one of them mention the Shell Island Resort.

He had already reached for the phone in the cradle on the desk when he asked, "Were you there? Do you know what happened?" They nodded their heads and answered "Yes" in unison. He began to talk into the phone. "Yes, officer, this is an emergency. I am the front desk clerk at the Marriott Hotel on Ocean Drive. I believe that I have information related to the Shell Island Resort. Please send squad cars here as quickly as possible."

The clerk took them into a room that was reserved for employees. They told him they were starving and cold, so he got them cookies, blankets, and bottles of water before returning to the front desk.

As they rubbed their arms and legs to get warm, they could hear the sirens approaching. Shortly thereafter, three police officers entered the room with the FBI agent who had been with them in the villa. His arm was in a sling, and his shirt was stained with blood. But he smiled broadly when he saw them. Before they could spit out the question, he gave them the answer they needed to hear, "Your mom is fine. She got shot in the arm and lost a lot of blood, but she's one tough woman. She has one wing of a local hospital all to herself. I'll take you there when we're through here, and that's where you'll be staying tonight."

Ben was anxious to hear the story. "What happened at the resort after we got out of the villa?"

"They broke through the front door after you guys had made it to the ground level. Four of them came into the villa, but they were easier targets than your Mom and I. The hall lights were illuminated behind them. I took two of them down right away, but we exchanged too many rounds for me to count. Mary and I both got hit during the volley. I think they figured out that you guys weren't with us, and they left the villa. I didn't leave your mom to go after them. I saw their flashlights on the beach, but I didn't hear any shots or screams come from that direction, so I assumed that they did not catch up to you. They must have heard the sirens, because they did not spend much time on that beach. I had no idea where you had escaped to."

"Did anything happen yet in California?"

"Greg and Rachel had set a trap on the fake agents using Sasha as the bait."

Brooklyn gasped at the words, she but did not interrupt.

"She was supposed to meet the fake agents in a public place, supposedly to come clean about having been in contact with Amber. But the bad guys knew where Amber was hiding. They didn't need Sasha's information, so they tried to kill her at the meeting place."

Brooklyn was holding her breath, but she managed to blurt out, "Tried to kill her?"

"Yes, but she's fine. They didn't make their shot, but she rolled to the ground on top of shattered glass. She cut herself pretty badly, and got twenty-two stitches." Brooklyn did not attempt to hold back the tears. While she was thrilled that Sasha had survived the incident, she understood that it was her own selfish desire that had set everything in motion, not just in California, but in Wilmington too.

The agent decided they had spent enough time at the hotel. It was time to move them to the hospital. He ushered them out to a car, and hopped into the front seat. As they pulled away, he decided to share the last piece of information with them.

"For all of the things that have happened, we may still catch a break on this. The California shooter and one of the villa shooters are both still alive. They're both career criminals. If they survive, they might be willing to talk."

CHAPTER 46

At the hospital, the bedside reunion with Mary brought a flood of tears. Even Brooklyn and Ben exchanged a warm hug. Mary watched Brooklyn's eyes as she began to stare at all the tubes running from Mary's body to the equipment surrounding the bed. She knew what needed to be said and did not hesitate.

"Brooklyn, this is not your fault."

"Of course it is!"

"I won't allow you to think that. I'm fine, and the three of you are here with me now. Sasha had a scare but Greg tells me she's going to be fine. She's as strong as you are. It's no wonder you two were close friends."

"But I put all of you through hell because I did something selfish."

"Brooklyn, I have way too much to be thankful about today to worry about 'should-haves' and 'could-haves.' You need to believe that this is not your fault."

"But..."

Mary cut her off before she got started. "I convinced the doctor to hold off on the sedative until I could talk to you guys, until I could see with my own eyes that you were unharmed. But I don't need to have a sedative tonight. I can't seem to keep my eyes open. Let's all agree to think only positive thoughts when our heads hit the pillows, and we can talk more tomorrow. Greg is on the red-eye from California, and he's going to have a ton of questions for all of us, so we need to rest."

The agent from the villa met them in the hallway as they left Mary's room. They could see several other agents stationed throughout the hallway. He took Ben and Gabe into one room and Brooklyn into another. He told them that the buzzers in the rooms were active, and that they should use them if they needed anything.

Brooklyn was glad to see that her clothes from the villa had been brought to the hospital. As she lay in the strange bed, she tried to concentrate on what Mary had said. She wished she had remembered to grab her bear before leaving the house. She found herself thinking about all the times the bear had been a comfort for her.

"Let me see your bear really quick."

Amber handed the bear to her older brother. She could barely see what he was doing in the dim light.

"He has a hole. Sew that up and make sure nothing falls out, okay?"

"Okay," she answered.

"Amber," he said, hugging her. "No matter what, no matter where you go, make sure you always take that stupid bear with you."

"He's not stupid, Nick."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Oh my gosh," she whispered. "Nick hid the pictures in my bear!" She leaped off the bed and ran into the hallway screaming, "I remember something from the night my parents were killed!"

CHAPTER 47

Within an hour, the Thompsons' house was swarmed by a team of FBI agents. They retrieved the bear and found a memory card inside. It was from Nick's cell phone, so the images were uploaded and sent electronically to Rachel. Many of the photos were close-ups of Nick and Michelle, and their friends, and Rachel could not immediately detect anything. She forwarded the entire upload to the top technician in her office, telling Scott Ross that she'd be there with him in less than five minutes.

By the time that she had arrived, Scott had the full file uploaded. He was sitting in front of a computer monitor, the size of a respectable flat-screen television. "Okay boss, what am I looking for?" he asked.

"Something important enough to kill three people over."

For the next ten minutes, she provided the details about what took place at the Cole residence, as well as their theory about what happened in the alley behind the bar. Scott listened intently until she was done.

"I can enhance digital images like these very easily. I'll begin by looking at the photos that have more background in them. Those types of images will provide the greatest opportunity for finding something useable. If it's there, I'll find it. I'll call you as soon as I have something for you."

Rachel's cell phone rang less than twenty minutes after she had left Scott. "Are you serious?"

"Yep, it's better than you could have imagined. I have a license plate on a car in that alley. I've already pushed the plate number to the vehicle ID department with a message to contact you immediately."

Five minutes later, the vehicle was identified as belonging to Sonny Montag, one of Carlos Montag's cousins. Rachel got warrants to enable a search of Sonny's car and his home, and a separate warrant for his arrest. Best of all, the forensics team found DNA evidence in the trunk of his car that matched the slain police officer.

Rachel was relieved to have Sonny behind bars. What surprised her though, was that he had not yet asked for an attorney. He was a three-time loser, who was looking at a life sentence with no possibility of parole if he was convicted of any of the murders. She told the prosecuting attorney not to make any kind of plea deal with Sonny unless he cooperated fully in the remaining pieces of the investigation, and would provide sufficient evidence that Carlos Montag had ordered the murder of the undercover police officer as well as the Cole family, and that he was willing to testify in court.

Rachel also had asked for an hour alone with him if he agreed to cooperate. There were still a few questions she needed to have answered, and Sonny had to know the answers. And Sonny did agree to the conditions Rachel had outlined. He accepted a deal that would allow him to be eligible for parole after twenty years of good behavior, in return for testifying that his cousin Carlos had ordered all the murders. That afternoon, she met with Sonny in an interrogation room.

"Who killed Officer David Bracken?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"Carlos told me to."

"How did he do that? He was in jail."

"I got the order from Scarcose."

"Carlos's attorney?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Carlos thought that someone had ratted him out on that drug-trafficking charge. He became obsessed with figuring out who it was, so we spent hours checking out our own people. Bracken's life was full of gaps, and he hadn't really done much for Carlos, so the hit was ordered."

"Were you in the alley when Nick Cole and his friends arrived?"

"Yeah, we had already dumped the body. Lights began flashing, but they didn't act like they saw anything. It sounded like they were drunk so we just kept cool until they were out of the alley. I followed the ones who were snapping all the pictures, and took down the plate number, just in case."

"What changed your mind?"

"Dean panicked. The Bracken hit was the first time for him. He ended up telling Carlos everything that happened in the alley."

"So Carlos ordered the hit on the Cole family?"

"Yes, through Scarcose again, and I had to bring Dean again."

"You found Nick Cole through his license plate number?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you go after the girl?"

"We didn't need to. He was the one snapping the pictures up until the time they got into his car. We had his plate number, and he was the one with the phone."

"Who else was at the Cole house that night?"

"Just Dean, Joey, and me."

"Joey who?"

"Joey Calderon, but you don't have to worry about him or Dean."

"Why is that?"

"They both had recent accidents."

"Did Carlos give those orders to you too?"

"Absolutely."

"How?"

"Through Scarcose."

"You didn't find what you were looking for at the Cole house?"

"No. They were already in panic mode when you got inside the house. They must have seen us outside or something and dialed 9-1-1, because the police got there so fast. We didn't have time to do a good search or to get any answers out of Nick. Once Dean said he was through with the girl, we got out of there."

"How did you find out that she was still alive?"

"We paid off someone in the medical examiner's office."

"I want his name."

"I don't remember her name but I know who she is, and I'll help you find her."

"How did you find Sasha?"

"Once we knew that Amber was alive, we figured she would try to contact friends or relatives from the past. Kids today have no clue how easy it is to follow electronic tracks. We sent Sasha and everyone else that Amber knew an e-mail with a catchy subject line. Sasha was not the only one who she opened the attachment included in the e-mail. The attachment loaded some behind-the-scenes software, which forwarded all of her e-mail activity to us. Once she began to receive some odd messages, we played closer attention. We were able to identify Amber and where she lived based on the computer IP addresses she was using."

"Why was the hit on Sasha ordered?"

"Once we knew where we could find Amber, Sasha became a loose end."

"How did you know that the Thompson family was moved to the resort in Wilmington?"

"I don't know the answer to that one."

Rachel looked at Sonny, but decided to move on. "I understand the shooters in Wilmington were from the east coast. How did Carlos find them?"

"I can't answer that one either."

"What do you mean, Sonny? We have a deal, remember? You must fully cooperate with every aspect of our investigation."

"I am cooperating with the investigation, but I just don't know the answers to those questions."

"Who knows the answers?"

"Scarcose!"

CHAPTER 48

Within minutes of finishing her conversation with Sonny Montag, Rachel was on the phone to Greg Thompson. He was camped out with Mary and the kids at the hospital. He walked into the hallway to take Rachel's call.

"We've got enough evidence on Carlos Montag to keep him behind bars for the rest of life."

"Can you trust Sonny as a witness?"

"I think so. He's putting together all the details about the instructions he got from Carlos through Scarcose. We're going to have a rock-solid case against Carlos. I may even be able to flip Scarcose as another witness for our side. But I think it is finally over."

Greg hesitated and then asked, "What about Amber?"

"We put her into the Witness Protection Program because she was the only one to make it out of the Cole house alive. But Sonny's provided all the links we need to slam the door on the Bracken case as well as the Cole case. And I'm convinced that Scarcose will be singing the same tune, right alongside Sonny. Carlos Montag has bigger problems to worry about than Amber Cole."

"So it really is over. Amber can return to her relatives." Greg's response sounded less than enthusiastic.

"That's the way I see it," Rachel responded.

Greg walked back to Mary's hospital room to break the news to the entire family. He took a long time to describe the details about Sonny's disclosures, knowing that his statement would bring a mixture of emotions.

"Rachel is confident that there's no further threat for Brooklyn. I guess we can call you Amber now. You can return home as soon as we can make the travel arrangements."

Brooklyn's initial reaction was wild and enthusiastic, yet it reflected the internal conflict that she had to begin to deal with. "We're safe? We don't have to hide anymore? I can return home to my family?" "

"Yes to all of that," Greg said.

The silence in the room was deafening as Brooklyn gathered her thoughts. She glanced at each of them, noticing that Mary was not looking in her direction. Finally Brooklyn said, "Do my relatives even know that I am alive? This will be a shock to them."

Mary jumped into the conversation. "Brooklyn, we hope you know that we all want you to stay with us. You're old enough to make this decision on your own. But, this is too important a decision to make today. I propose that you and I take a trip to California, so you can talk to your relatives, to find out what kind of life you would be moving back to."

Brooklyn responded firmly, "I would like to do that."

Two days later, Brooklyn and Mary were walking up the stone sidewalk to the pale yellow house. Rachel had made a visit to the house the previous day to pave the way for Brooklyn's return. The front door opened, and there waiting for them was Lucy, Brooklyn's grandmother. She took off running toward her, her brown hair flying behind her, ran up the three steps, and practically tackled her grandmother.

"I missed you," Brooklyn sobbed.

"Let me look at you." Lucy's blue eyes filled with tears. "I thought that you were gone too. I was in shock when that lady came here yesterday. You're beautiful. You look just like your mother at this age." She turned and looked at Mary, who still had a sling on her left arm. Lucy reached out and embraced her in a welcoming hug. "Thank you for taking such good care of our little baby."

"It was our pleasure," Mary choked, trying to keep her true emotions in check.

"I have prepared a nice lunch for us. Do you still like chicken salad, Amber?"

Brooklyn instantly froze. "What did you call me?"

Lucy looked startled. "I . . . I called you by . . . by your name."

"I'm sorry," answered Brooklyn shaking her head. "I guess it's just been a while. Do you mind if I walk around to reacquaint myself with the house?"

"Not at all, sweetheart. Make yourself at home."

Mary followed Lucy into the kitchen, while Brooklyn investigated the house. Many times she had thought about being back with her grandmother, but actually being there seemed almost foreign. She walked into her mother's childhood bedroom, now a spare bedroom. There were dust particles floating in the sunlight from the open window. The flowered wallpaper was outdated but in good condition, matching the older, faded bedspreads. There were several framed pictures of her family on the dresser.

Brooklyn sat down on one of the soft twin beds. She grabbed the pictures off the nightstand one at a time. Most of them were at least ten years old, professional pictures that had been taken in a studio.

"Time for lunch," Lucy's voice echoed.

Brooklyn stepped outside through the sliding door leading out to the patio. Her old friend Sasha was standing next to Mary. Once Lucy was told about Amber's visit, she'd contacted Sasha, who enthusiastically accepted the lunch invitation. The two girls exchanged an ecstatic squeeze.

"I can't believe it!" Brooklyn exclaimed.

"I know, right? I feel like this is so crazy seeing you here. I want to know everything about your new life, and what you have been doing for the last eleven months!" Sasha said.

The four of them sat around the table under the hot California sun eating their lunch. Mary was mostly quiet, observing the reunion. Brooklyn looked happy when she spoke about the swim team, Blair, Adam, and all her other friends. She was sheepish as she spoke about the covert actions she and Ben had concocted to contact Sasha. And she turned solemn when she discussed the events at the Cole house that final night, as well as the terrifying night in Wilmington.

"I don't want to put any pressure on you, Amber—I mean, Brooklyn. But I would love you to come back here," her grandmother said.

Mary, of course, had braced herself for this part of the conversation. She had known that Brooklyn's family would desperately want her to come live with them. As much as she felt like the girl was part of the Thompson family, she did have a family of her own. "Your Aunt Debra wants you to live with her in Granada Hills. I know it's not San Clemente, but you'll be a lot closer to your old friends than you are now in Michigan."

There was a long pause. "Granada Hills? That's, like, on the other side of L.A. Doesn't Aunt Debra work some strange hours? We'll never see each other. Why can't I stay here with you?"

"Honey, you know I would love to have you, but I'm an old woman. I can't even take care of this house anymore. It's going up for sale next week, so I can move into a place that suits me better. And a retirement community is no place for a beautiful teenager."

"I could help you take care of the house," she pleaded. "I'm a good helper."

"I know. But in a few years, you'll be going off to college."

"I'll stay here with you. I won't leave."

"Nonsense. You and Nick always spoke of going away to college, and I think that would be the right thing for you to do."

"That doesn't seem important anymore."

Her grandmother winked at her. "It will become important again when you fully grasp that this terrible stage in your life is behind you. It's who you are. I appreciate the offer for you to stay and help me, but you need to mingle with people your own age, and you need to be with a family who can help you through the rest of your adolescent life. What do I know about teenagers these days? I've been out of the loop now for more than twenty years."

"We can talk on the phone now every day," said Sasha. "And visit each other every weekend. We can take turns driving to see each other."

"And your grandmother, of course," said Lucy, laughing. "We can even talk about getting you your own car."

Brooklyn felt a slight twinge, and her face registered surprise at hearing the words. After she had passed her driver's education course, Mary had spoken to her about when it might make sense for her to get her own car. They had discussed makes, models, new versus old, red versus white, and a list of optional equipment. The conversation had never really proceeded to a serious stage, but she had never doubted that Mary would be the person with her when she picked out her first car. Now she understood that there would be other things in her life that the Thompsons were not going to be a part of: graduation, going off to college, her first job.

When they were finished with lunch, Sasha left, and Brooklyn asked if they could visit the cemetery so she could see where her parents were buried. Both Lucy and Mary thought it was a good idea. Lucy directed Mary to the closest spot where she could park, and they approached a rose-colored marble monument. The last name Cole was etched in the middle, with a poem by Mary Frye underneath.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

"Who put the poem on there?" asked Brooklyn.

"I did," answered Lucy. "We thought it was fitting for such a tragedy."

"Did you know I was alive?"

"No, Dear. We thought you were floating high above the clouds, with Nicholas and your parents."

Brooklyn slowly circled the monument. She saw her own name next to her brother's. She had assumed that there was a grave marker with her name and the date she had supposedly been murdered, but to actually see it was chilling.

"Are you okay?" asked Lucy.

"The flowers look nice," she answered, beginning to cry uncontrollably.

Lucy ran over and put her arms around her granddaughter. "That's right, Amber. Let the tears flow and have a good cry. I do that here all the time, so you don't have to hold back."

Mary retreated to the car. She wished she were the one doing the comforting. She had been Brooklyn's mother for the last eleven months, and now she would be losing her.

CHAPTER 49

At the airport, Brooklyn changed out of her high heels to put on flip-flops. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She and Mary grabbed some appetizers at a restaurant in the airport, and waited at the gate for the plane to take them back to Michigan.

"You know," Mary said. "The last thing I want to do is confuse you when you have so much to think about." Brooklyn nodded her head and looked up at her. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, you don't have to go anywhere. We would like you to stay with us. The decision is yours, of course. And we'll support you, and always be a part of your life no matter what you decide."

"What about Ben?" asked Brooklyn. "Have you talked to him? I mean, he doesn't even talk to me anymore."

"He will, sometime soon. But I think it's important for you to know that despite his horrible behavior toward you, he does love you. You are so important to him, and his emotions are confusing to him. I hope that one day he can grow out of this immature, selfish shell."

Blair practically tackled Brooklyn on the bench outside Pine Lake High School the next morning. She had contacted Blair the previous evening after returning home to let her know that she would be back in school the next day. Her friend wanted to hear it all right then, but Brooklyn told her she was too weary from the trip to get into a long conversation. The two met an hour before school started for breakfast on their favorite bench. Brooklyn would tell her everything that had happened since the last time that they had seen each other.

"I've missed you so much!" shouted Blair. "It's been insane around here. Everyone's talking about shootouts in California and shootouts in North Carolina, and saying you were in the middle of everything. People I don't even recognize are asking me all these questions, because they know you and I are friends. Gabe is telling his story to anyone who cares to listen, and he really has embraced his new popularity. Ben's been an extreme ass, telling everyone to mind their own business. Even Sara seemed genuinely concerned about you when she found out that Mrs. Thompson had actually been shot!"

"I'm sure she really cares about me," said Brooklyn, rolling her eyes.

"She might. Remember, I have some history with her, so I know she used to have a heart a long time ago, before it turned into an ice cube. Maybe it's finally melting."

"Maybe you're right. I can deal with less drama for a while. What about Adam? Has he said anything?"

"Um . . . not to me. Ashley and Mackenzie were really worried about you, so I talked to them, and they're cool. But Nate went on a tangent one day about how offended he was that he had absolutely no clue about anything. Robby . . . well, Robby didn't say much, per usual. He just looked really shocked. Okay, wait, tell me everything that happened."

Brooklyn told the whole story of how she ended up living with the Thompsons in Michigan, beginning with Nick's trip to see the concert in Los Angeles. Blair sat at the edge of the bench, hanging on every word. Then Brooklyn provided the details about the reason for the trip to North Carolina, how she, Ben and Gabe had to climb down four stories of balconies to escape the shootout in the villa where Mary was shot, how terrified the three of them were while they were floating in the ocean for hours until they finally found the hotel, how Sasha had been approached by fake FBI agents, which led to her being targeted at a park in California, how the threat had ended with Sonny agreeing to provide the testimony to nail Carlos, and finally her emotional reunion in California with her grandmother and Sasha.

"Wait, so you're going back?" asked Blair.

"I haven't made any decisions yet, and there's so much I need to consider. I'll finish up the semester, and then probably go to California after finals."

"You can't! That's in, like, two months."

"My home is there."

"No, it's not! Your home is here, with us. I know you have family and friends there, but you have family and friends here, too. Your life is here now. I need my best friend here with me. We all need you. You have no idea what it was like without you. We're like a puzzle, and we can't be whole without your piece."

"Blair, I don't know for sure what I'm going to do yet."

"You're running away, aren't you? Is it because of Ben, or Sara, or Adam? Well, I know for a fact that Ben and Adam would be devastated if you left."

"I'm not running away, Blair. I'm trying to figure out where I belong."

Throughout the school day, Brooklyn attempted to avoid groups of students and discussions with random kids. As she walked through the hallways, she noticed that many of the students were staring at her or trying to make eye contact with her. She could hear pieces of the conversations, despite the fact that they were whispering.

"She looks pretty good, considering," and, "Do you think she feels bad about Thompson's mom getting shot?" She wondered if the events of the last week meant that she would be the center of attention no matter what high school she was attending. But the prospect of being at another new school in such a short period of time was both comforting and intimidating to her.

The lunch period evolved into an absolute circus. Random students and fringe acquaintances came over to her table to ask specific questions about the events. They tried to get her to respond about ridiculous rumors that had been circulating. She knew she would be repeating her story over and over to her close friends, but she had no desire to engage in conversations with people she barely recognized. Mostly, she did not respond to their questions, but sat there trying to eat her turkey sandwich.

"Back off, buzzard." Brooklyn heard the voice come from behind. She turned to see Sara approaching the table.

"Great," Brooklyn whispered under her breath.

"What did you just call me?" the girl asked while adjusting her glasses.

"You heard me. Quit swarming, you vulture, and go play with your own kind. In case you're lost, the nerd table is in the corner over there."

"Bitch," the girl responded directly to Sara before walking away.

"Told you," mumbled Blair with a big grin on her face.

"People suck," said Sara. "Anyway, I saw that you were taking longer than usual to eat your boring sandwich, so I brought you some comfort food. It's a big, juicy, bacon cheeseburger with a side of Pine Lake's best, the macaroni and cheese."

"Thanks."

"Okay, well, I'll let you guys get back to it."

"Did she hit her head?" asked Ashley.

"I don't know about her head, but this cheeseburger tastes good."

"I need a bite of the macaroni and cheese," said Blair, who was already digging her fork into it.

Brooklyn did her best to ignore the stares and comments for the rest of the day. After school, Gabe and Blair were waiting at her locker. Blair was Brooklyn's ride home that day, since Adam was busy with soccer practice. As she was putting her books in the locker, she turned to Gabe. "Hey, I know you love the attention, but I would rather not deal with any more of it today. So if you can keep moving quickly with us and let your fans know that you'll be here tomorrow, that would be great."

"No problem."

They did have to pass groups of students hanging out in the hallways and talking in the parking lot. Gabe did his best to keep his comments brief, but it was clear that he had become a big boy on campus for the moment.

"Just a few more days," Brooklyn said as they approached Blair's Honda Civic. "What?" exclaimed Gabe. "You're leaving in a few days?"

"No, of course not. It's just that in a few days they'll have something else to talk about."

"You're really going to leave, aren't you?" Gabe asked.

"I haven't made any decisions yet."

"That's what you're thinking, though, isn't it?" asked Blair.

"I know that this is your decision and all," Gabe said, "but I don't want you to go. You're my sister now, and I like having you around me. How am I going to survive girls in high school if you're not here?"

"You'll do fine," laughed Brooklyn. "You can always call me."

"It's not the same. If you're not here, you won't know who I'm talking about anymore. Your advice won't be exact."

"I want her to stay, too," said Blair, putting her arm around Gabe. "But I don't think we're the only ones who need to ask her to stay," she added, raising an eyebrow.

"That's not true," said Brooklyn. "This isn't easy for me. I'm listening to everything you guys are saying. But I have to make my decision based on what feels right. I have family in California. It sucks that I have to choose one family over the other. Over the last few days I've wished that someone would just choose for me, so I wouldn't have to explain to someone why I'm leaving or why I'm not coming."

They arrived at the Thompsons. Brooklyn and Gabe got out of the car just as Ben was being dropped off by Robby. Gabe darted into the house, hoping that this random meeting would enable Ben and Brooklyn to exchange a few pleasant words. She walked past Robby's car, and saw Ben grabbing his backpack.

"Hey," he shouted after her.

She gripped her backpack and turned around. "Yeah?"

"Long day, huh? People won't shut up."

Brooklyn nodded, and forced a smile. "I'm not used to being the center of attention."

"Yeah, I bet," said Ben with a sincere smile. It didn't last long. The smile disappeared from his face. "So, uh, when are you leaving?"

"What?" she asked. She had been stunned by his comment.

"I'm anxious to get my life back to normal."

She felt deflated by the words, as well as by the cold delivery. This should have been a time of reconciliation and healing between the two of them. She had been delaying her decision, hoping that he would initiate a true heart-to-heart with her, in which he would tell her he was okay with just being her friend. She needed Ben to ask her to stay as part of the Thompson family. Instead, he spoke like the choice was already made. Ben didn't ask her if she were leaving, he asked her when she was leaving.

It no longer mattered where she felt she belonged. She could no longer stay with the Thompsons and pretend like she was happy. Ben never had a choice in her coming to live there and he deserved to get his life back. She had been holding out hope that he would feel the Thompson family was more complete with her there. She rushed up to her room to call Blair about the decision. She knew it was not going to be an easy conversation, but they would be able to chat for hours about it.

She also knew that the discussion with Adam would be more difficult, and she had to do it in person. After returning from California, she had called Adam to let him know that she was back. He sounded happy to hear her voice, but was less enthusiastic than she had hoped. He mentioned that Ben and Gabe had already told him the details about Wilmington. They had exchanged text messages while she was away, but they had not yet had a long conversation. So Brooklyn was concerned about how their reunion would go. Now she would be telling him that she had decided to live in California.

Blair picked up her phone on the first ring. "I spotted you and Ben chatting when I pulled away. How did it go?"

"Terrible. He wants me gone so his life can get back to normal."

"That's the Ben that I know, but you can't base your decision on what he wants. He's just one piece of the Thompson family, and the other pieces seem pretty good from where I'm sitting."

Brooklyn thought for a second before responding, "Greg, Mary and Gabe are great, but that gets overshadowed every time I have to deal with Ben."

"That's because he knows how to press your emotional hot buttons. You're way too smart to make this decision with your heart and not your head. I mean both the positives and the negatives."

"Blair, you're getting way too deep for me here. Do you need to spit something out?"

"I sure do, but I'm going to kick myself in the tail as soon as I say it. It would be wrong for you to leave Michigan just because of your relationship with Ben. But it would be more wrong for you to stay here just because of your relationship with Adam."

"How can you say that? Both of those relationships are pretty important to me."

"Of course they are. But you need to sit back and think of the twists and turns your life has taken in the last eleven months."

"You're losing me again."

"Okay, then here is the bottom line as I see it. You should choose to live in the situation that would best prepare you for what tomorrow might bring. You should not choose to run away from something, or to hold onto something, that could prove to be insignificant five years from today."

"Thanks Blair. Now I think I'm even more confused than when we started talking."

CHAPTER 50

Two weeks later, Brooklyn was sitting in her room when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

"Are you going to get ready for the Halloween party?" Mary asked as she entered the room. "You know, Greg and I have been hosting Halloween parties since the year we were married. After all we've gone through; I didn't have the heart to cancel this one."

"I'm not really in the mood for a party. I mean, what's the point? I haven't made a decision yet about where I'll be in two months, and I don't want to be a downer at the party. I could cry with Adam, or I could cry with Blair. Either way, I'd much rather hang out up here."

"Brooklyn, if it's so hard for you to be around the people you might be leaving, then perhaps you know that the right decision is to not leave."

"I've thought exactly that a dozen times. But I feel a need to be with my family."

"I thought you felt like you were a part of our family."

"Of course I feel that way, even with all of Ben's drama. But I can't shake the feeling that I need to go back."

"I promised Greg I wouldn't try to influence your decision. But every time I talk to you, I want to do just that. I would love for you to stay with us, and I'm sure you would never regret it if you did."

"Even if Ben continues to act like a jerk?"

"Things may not go back to the way they were when you first arrived, but time has a way of changing perspectives. Ben doesn't get over things easily, and from what I see, neither do you, Brooklyn. At some point in time, you two will figure out a way to move on."

"Sooner would be better."

Mary chuckled, and then added, "Honey, your frustration with the male species will continue long after your teenage years have ended. They will shock you and they will dazzle you, sometimes within the same afternoon."

"That sounds like something my mother would have said."

"I am sure she was a wonderful woman. She must have been so proud of you and Nick."

"She was a wonderful woman, and you are too."

Mary strained to hold back her tears. "Okay, I have guests coming soon. It is not healthy for you to just hang out in your room, especially when we're about to have a house full of friends. You don't need to put on a costume, but I want you to come out of this room tonight at some point for an hour, and get some fresh air. Whether or not you want to be social is up to you, but I'm not going to allow you to hide all night. One hour. And I'll be watching."

Mary closed the door, and Brooklyn rolled over on her back, clutching her bear. She felt like she was going to cry, but for some reason the tears didn't come. Maybe she was emotionally drained from the last few weeks, or, just maybe, she was learning to control her emotions.

She rolled over on her side to check the clock. Blair would be coming over within the next hour, and she certainly would not allow Brooklyn to hide in her room either. She realized there was no chance that she would not have to make an appearance, so she decided to hop into the shower. The thought of trying to look good in front of the Thompsons and her friends crossed her mind, but left as quickly as it came. Her life with Adam might be ending, and the sooner she realized that, the sooner she would be able to move on.

When she finally made her way down, she was surprised at how many people were already there. Laughter, music, and loud talking echoed throughout the house. She noticed an incredible mixture of students, neighbors, and other Thompson family friends. This was the type of party that she could really enjoy at a different moment in her life. She made her way to the backyard, and stood alone, close to the fire pit. She knew that this would be the popular spot for the young people later in the evening. Within minutes, Ben walked into the backyard. It was an unseasonably cold evening for the end of October, with the temperature in the low thirties. He stopped for a second, undecided about whether or not to say something. She didn't acknowledge his presence, so he turned to walk back inside.

"Wait," she spoke up.

He froze. He turned around, and walked over to her, careful to stand two feet behind her, as if to tell her that she was in control, that he wasn't there to pick another fight. "I was just thinking about us," she said. "Somehow you and I turned what I considered a special friendship into this ongoing battle and it hurts us both so much."

He stood there in silence, but his pride held him back from delivering an apology. Over the last few months, he had cut her off so many times when she had tried to speak to him. He knew that she needed to heal their rift, but he had been unwilling to let it happen. Letting her finish her thoughts this time was the least he could do.

"At first," she struggled with the words, "I wanted to hate you for liking me. We...our friendship was perfectly fine before that. I thought you were just selfish, that you didn't care about what I wanted. I'm not blaming you. I guess you were just being true to your own feelings."

"Look, Brooklyn," he said, "I'm sorry things got so out of control. I was hurt and I wanted to hurt you."

"You hurt me more than I care to admit. I've noticed the hatred in your eyes these last few weeks. I'll never forget that. And I've accepted the fact that you don't respect me anymore and probably never will. But all you care about is what you want. Everyone said you were selfish. I never realized before that how selfish you actually are!"

"Are you kidding?" he snapped back. "I'm the selfish one? You leaned on me for everything! You asked me to stay in your room because it would allow you to sleep at night! You used me so you could feel safe, and then you pushed me away when it wasn't convenient for you anymore."

"You're really just a jerk if that's what you believe. Thank you for treating me the way you have been lately. You really made leaving this place an easy decision for me."

"I'm sorry! What is it you want from me? I came out here to tell you that I was sorry and maybe I don't want you to go, okay? I don't know what else to tell you. I actually thought that I loved you!"

"If you actually loved me, how could you toss aside our friendship? When I didn't feel the same way about you, you turned against me and walked away. I wasn't really mad at you but I felt that you let me down when I still needed you as a friend. You know what, that doesn't matter. The damage is already done."

"I don't understand," he said, shaking his head.

"At the end of the day, you abandoned me," she said. "Your actions proved that I wasn't that important to you, as a friend or anything else. I can never forgive you for the way you treated me, at least not any time soon. There's no way I can live under the same roof as you any longer. I don't want to be in any part of your life."

Ben knew better than to continue the conversation. He had intended to apologize, but apparently he had just awakened the tension between them. Brooklyn was right to feel that he had let her down. He had made a conscientious decision to avoid her, to step away from everything in her life. He had walked away from her at a time when she still needed his support. He walked back inside the house toward his friends, trying to pretend that everything was normal.

Brooklyn tossed some wood onto the fire, and sat in a chair away from the blowing smoke. She was surprised that no one else had ventured outside yet. Her conversation with Ben wasn't exactly what she had hoped for. She had never intended to attack him, but the words had shot out of her mouth like icicles. They had both allowed too much time to pass without addressing the issues. In this particular case, time had not helped to heal the wounds.

Adam came into the backyard a minute later, grabbed a blanket from one of the chairs and wrapped it around her shoulders. She looked up at him with a broad smile, then went back to staring at the fire. The flames were jumping in uneven patterns, while the low hissing sound was interrupted with odd crackling. He sat down on a chair next to Brooklyn and cleared his throat.

"If you need me, I'm here. I'll always be here."

She turned her head to look at him. "I know you are. This can't be easy for you either."

He took a deep breath. "I saw you . . . I saw you out here talking to Ben. I saw you watching him walk away. I don't think I really understood before how much his friendship means to you."

She nodded, understanding what he was trying to say. He was wise beyond his years. She had to learn to let go of the pain she felt every time Ben was around her. She needed to remember the good parts of the friendship.

"Adam, thanks, I can always count on you." She wiped a tear from her cheek and then went on. "We have two months. Can we just please promise to make the most of the time we have left?"

He nodded and said, "That sounds like a great plan to me."

CHAPTER 51

It was Sunday and Brooklyn woke up around nine, which was later than usual. She swam her usual routine in the pool, and followed it with a long, hot shower. After she was dressed, Ben knocked on her bedroom door. She was shocked to see him there. She didn't think he would try to initiate a conversation after the way she had acted the night before.

"I'm not here to fight," he said. "I thought about what you said. Can I come in?" Reluctantly, she opened the door. She walked over to her armchair and sat down. He closed the door behind him. "I just . . . I was afraid that everything was going to fall apart. At the same time, part of me also felt guilty for falling for you when I knew you were in love with Adam. I violated his trust and our friendship, and went behind his back. And that's because I was just plain selfish. I was tired of always competing with him and always coming in second place."

"I'm sorry that I made you feel that way."

"I was scared," he continued, "of the way that I felt. I knew at the end of the day that you loved Adam. And I thought it was easier to hurt you than acknowledge that I had lost again and that I should just figure out a way to get over it. I was jealous of your relationship with him because I knew that was what I wanted to have in my life. I was selfish and immature in the way I handled it. Look, either way, I would rather have you as my friend than not have you in my life at all."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry I told you that I didn't want to be any part of your life. It's not true."

"I know, but you were reacting to the things that I said and how I had been treating you."

"I still shouldn't have said it."

"I know," he said. "Look, Brooklyn, you're the girl that other girls want to be. You're the real deal. You're beautiful, and smart, and funny, and people want to be with you because you are one of the nicest people around. I don't think you see that in yourself. I think all you see is the girl who's sad because of the things that have happened to you."

"I know that I have to start to work on that. It's been too easy for me to feel sorry for myself, and use it as an excuse for not acting the way I should. But it was good to hear you say those nice things about me. Maybe we'll end this relationship on a good note after all."

"I have two more months to become a good friend to you again."

She shook her head. "If I'm leaving, I'm not going to wait until the end of the semester. I'm making the final decision today, and I'm not going to change my mind. I can't keep myself and everyone else in this state of confusion."

"What?" asked Ben, clearly stunned by her statement. "When would you leave?"

"As soon as I can, if that's what I decide to do."

"Does Adam know?"

"Actually, you're the first to know. I made the decision this morning, while I was swimming laps."

"It's still about me then, isn't it?"

"No, Ben, it is not about you. If I do leave, it's about me returning to my own family. I never got a chance to grieve for Nick and my parents with them. That's where I belong."

"Why today? Mom and Dad won't even be around until the end of the day."

"It's final, Ben. Today is the decision day."

He could not muster a response. He turned and walked out of the room. She pulled out a notebook and a pen, and sat on her windowsill, enjoying the fresh air coming through the open window. She thought of her conversation with Mary the night before. Mary treated her as if she were her own daughter. She realized how much Mary reminded her of her own mother. She also thought of her recent conversation with Ben. Was he sincere in his apology? She thought about how it had been to live with the Thompsons for the last twelve months. Then she tried to imagine living with her Aunt Debra in Granada Hills, California. Debra was a thirty year-old nurse, and she had no children. Brooklyn's arrival would certainly change her aunt's life. Shouldn't that matter to Brooklyn? She wrote a line down the middle of the page. At the top of the page to the left of the line, she wrote "Michigan," on the right of the line, she wrote "Granada Hills." She began making a list of the 'pros' and the 'cons' of living in each location. When she was done writing, she was amazed that the list indicated such a clear answer. She looked at it a few minutes. Her approach must have been faulty. She would not be agonizing over the decision so much if the answer were so clear. She decided to refine the list by assigning a weight of importance from one to five on each line item, with five being the most important. She added the totals on each side of the page and was relieved that the result was much closer than the first part of her exercise.

She turned the page of the notebook and stared at a blank sheet. She knew she had to take action to achieve closure. She hesitated for a moment, and then a wave of courage came over her. The ink started to flow on the paper. She was not sure how long it took her to finish, but she was happy with the result. She folded up the letter, placed it in an envelope, and put Adam's name on the outside. She set it down on the end of her bed, and put on a long grey sweater coat.

She told Gabe she was going on a long walk to the lake, but he waved at her without moving his eyes from the television screen. The grass and the trees were turning brown, and birds chirped in the distance. The bright sunlight beamed down on her as she walked along Wellington Road. The air was crisp and cold, and smelled of the approaching winter. She felt as if an enormous burden had been removed from her shoulders. . It was easily the most important decision in her young life, and she was extremely proud she had made it on her own.

Adam pulled into the Thompsons' driveway, jumped out of his car and pounded on the front door. Gabe opened it, and was surprised to see him standing there.

"Hey," said Adam. "Is Brooklyn here?"

"Yep, she's upstairs," answered Gabe, opening the door.

Ben was standing in the archway to the family room when Adam walked in.

"Thanks for calling me Ben," stated Adam.

"No problem," said Ben. "I have no idea what her decision will be."

Adam ran up the stairs to Brooklyn's room. The door was open, but her room was empty. On the side of the bed, Adam spotted the envelope. He noticed that the letter was addressed to him. He sat down at the desk and read it.

Dear Adam,

In the beginning, I was brought here because I needed to be protected. From the images and nightmares that haunted me. I tried to learn to be at peace with the tragedy that had changed the direction of my life. I tried to learn who I was when all hope had faded from my very existence. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying too hard to be the person that people expect me to be. I feel like people have all these expectations for how I should live my life and I want to live up to them. I want to make my parents proud of me. But I feel like I have become an entirely different person, one who screams and cries and needs to be alone. It's hard sometimes to tell where one person ends and the other person begins. I don't expect you to understand all of this. But I guess I needed to say it. I've been dreaming that one day you would show up out of the blue, like in a movie or a romance novel. And you would sweep me off my feet and tell me how much you love me. I would try to pull away and cry and tell you it's too late, that I have to go. And then you would kiss me and say we belong together forever. My knees would get weak and we would share this long, drawn-out, passionate kiss. And everything would be right again.

This whole time, I've been fooling myself. I know you're not coming. You're not doing anything wrong. You're doing what you should be doing. But that doesn't make it any easier for me. It's time I let you go. I need to be at peace with myself. As much as I thought I wanted us to be together, I realize now that I need to start living my life again, and I can't let regret be a part of that. I already know that this is going to be really hard for me to do, because part of me will always love you. And I've never been good at good-byes or letting go. Good-byes are real. They're so permanent and we can never take them back. I don't know if people can change. I don't know if history repeats itself, or if we are doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again, no matter how hard we try not to. The only hope that's left for me now is to find some sort of peace. I'm finally letting go. I'm saying good-bye to you, forever.

Love always, Brooklyn

Adam jumped up in confusion. What did this all mean? Would she really making her decision based on something that he did or didn't do? He thought she needed space, so he had made sure not to smother her. Still holding the letter, he ran back downstairs into the family room and handed the letter to Ben.

"She's going to leave, and she is not upstairs!" Adam shouted.

Ben swallowed hard and began to read the letter. "I was afraid that would be her decision."

"Where would she have gone now?" Adam asked. "Was she upset when she left?"

"I have no idea! I didn't even know she left!"

"She's at the lake," said Gabe, surprised at all the yelling.

"You just said that she was upstairs!" Ben screamed.

"Sorry, I forgot. She left while I was watching the hockey game."

Adam took off with Ben right behind him. They ran out the front door and down the porch steps toward Adam's car. Ben opened the door, but then abruptly closed it. He waved at Adam to get going. Ben realized that this situation was between Adam and Brooklyn, and he had no right being there. His presence might only complicate things.

CHAPTER 52

The storm clouds began to roll in, darkening the sky. Brooklyn hadn't noticed, but most of the people in the park had already cleared out. In Michigan, there were always overcast skies, but this one had turned dark grey, indicating that a storm was probably coming. As she walked along the lake, the raindrops began to fall. She pulled the back of her sweater over her head and began to run in the direction that would take her back to the Thompsons' house.

So much for a therapeutic walk, she thought as she ran toward home. The rain began falling harder, and her sweater became drenched. She could barely see straight ahead. She decided there was no longer any need to rush. She was already soaked, and not even out of the park yet.

Up ahead she noticed a figure was running toward her. As the person approached, to her excitement, she saw that it was Adam.

"What are you doing here?" she shouted over the sound of the pouring rain.

"I came to get you!" he shouted back. "You're going to get sick."

"Pneumonia's not so bad. I have to go," she said, pushing past him.

"Wait," he said, grabbing her arm. "I came here to find you. You can't leave."

"Leave? What are you talking . . . she said before she was interrupted.

"I love you," he said.

"I know you do."

"Five minutes, just hear me out. Please."

"Five minutes," she said, looking down at her watch.

"Okay. Earlier today, I was sitting in my room thinking about you, looking at this amazing picture of you. I finally realized that I absolutely hate it when we're apart. I wanted to talk to you and kiss you. You weren't there, of course, and I realized I can't let you leave. I want to respect your decision, because I love you, but you just can't leave!"

"Adam," she started. "I'm not . . ."

"Just please hear me out," he said. The rain subsided slightly. "I'm here, a little late, but just like you wanted. Please don't leave. We're not done yet."

"Just like I wanted?" she asked, suddenly realizing that something wasn't right.

"Yeah. Your letter said that . . ."

"My letter?" she shouted. "That wasn't for you!"

"But it said . . ." He was stammering now.

"I know what it said, I wrote it! That letter wasn't for you! It was for me. You were never supposed to see it. I wrote the letter because I was trying to get closure!"

He looked confused. They stood in silence for a moment. "Closure?"

"Yes, closure!" she shouted. She threw her arms up in frustration. "Look, Adam, I needed to write that letter to prove to myself that I was strong enough to break up with you if I had chosen to move back to California. Look, I'm okay with there never being a fairytale ending. I'm sorry you found the letter, and I know you're only here because of it."

"You just said 'if' you had chosen to move back to California."

"That's right. I've decided to stay with the Thompsons. Greg and Mary are great people, and they want me to become a permanent part of their family. I'm extremely comfortable with them, and I know that they can help me become the person I want to be. They're giving me an amazing opportunity."

"Is that all you were thinking about?"

"Of course I was thinking about you. But you need to know that our relationship was not the biggest factor in my decision. You're the most important person in my life today, but the last year has taught me that there are no guarantees in life. My decision had to be based on having the best opportunity to deal with tomorrow and all of the uncertainty that it might bring."

"Brooklyn, I don't want you to feel any uncertainty about us. I only found the letter in your room because I was looking for you. I'm not here because I read it. I'm sorry I wasn't the one you could go to and tell everything to, because you've always been that person for me. I know how you twist your hair when you're uncomfortable. And how you bite your lower lip and look down when you are nervous. I know how you can't force a smile when you're upset. And I know how your smile glows when you're happy. I want to know more about your life growing up and about your family. I love you, and I want to love you forever."

The rain became a light drizzle. Blue sky appeared in the distance, and a faint rainbow appeared over his shoulder. Brooklyn believed it was a sign.

She sniffled. "Forever is a long time, and it's scary. The future is scary."

"Then we'll be scared together," he said, taking both of her hands. "From here on out, I want us to go through everything together. Okay?"

He kissed her. They had been so preoccupied that they hadn't noticed how badly they were both shivering. Adam put his arms around Brooklyn. Water dripped from their clothes. They kissed again, then walked to Adam's car holding on to each other.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered, squeezing her tighter. "I think it'll come to us."

Brooklyn smiled. She finally felt like she was home.

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