#lyan

LAURA

The cacophony of sounds assaults me the moment I walk through the big automated doors and I let them carry me into the midst of the College fair, one goal in my mind:

To find a school suitable for my…passions.

My eyes scope out the circular room and the kind of people at each booth, trying to pinpoint the kind of programs they all might be interested in while squinting to read the banners beside them.

Kids Sports Coach? I was good at Soccer in school, but to teach it to a team of kids? I'll pass. Ever since counseling at Hacketts Quarry didn't work out, I've figured that kind of thing isn't for me anymore.

A teacher? Of what subject? That was mighty vague and not remotely what I'm interested in.

Reporter? My eyebrow raises and I approach the stand tentatively, squinting to read the soft text on the banner-

Meteorologist. Required: Degree in-

Nope! I mentally exclaim and stop myself from physically showing disappointment at yet another stand that isn't for me. I let my face contort though and wonder if I made the right choice after a girl walks by and eyes me warily, keeping a wide berth.

Shaking my head, I follow her with my gaze into the crowd all lined up to find something that works for them. They may have an array of different expressions, but they're all at least in line. My stomach starts to feel hollow and I know it isn't just because I skipped breakfast.

They know what they want to do and they know they'll find it here.

Me, not so much.

But Max wouldn't want me to give up.

At the painful thought of him I spin around, walking the perimeter anyway and deciding that just because he's gone doesn't mean I want to disappoint him.

I come across a booth reading ‘Get Involved! Do you have what it takes?’ Sounds like my kind of thing. Taking a double take, I turn toward it and approach, my heartbeat in my ears. What if I've found it?

The two women at the table look vaguely familiar but not enough for me to place it. No name tags either. I shrug off the need to search my brain for where I know them from and instead focus in on the banners, reading more about the program. Apparently, it's some sort of community effort, canvassing and such.

An image of myself in some stuffy uniform, walking in the hot sun going door to door with whatever flyers they want to give out makes me want to walk away.

“Hello.” One of them says, a little dryly. Is that how she expects to recruit people? “What drew you to us?”

I clear my throat and look away from the banners before another part of it catches my eye. ‘Make sure the public stays informed on the world's issues!’ Something about that itches my heart. I'm trying to put my finger on it when-

“Um, Ma'am?”

Something cracks open inside me and I physically recoil, startling the women, who jump back in their seats. “Are you okay?” The one who hasn't spoken yet says.

I try laughing it off, feeling my cheeks heating at reacting so violently to that stupid word.

Ma'am.

Hearing it put me right back in the car, next to Max in the dark of the woods, fully expecting to make it to camp and enjoy a full summer before going back to college and-

Gone.

All gone.

“Wait, I know you.”

“Tiffany I told you she looked familiar!” The one who spoke first whispers loud enough for me to hear. “That has to be her.”

The quieter one sits up straight and leans close to me. Maybe they somehow found out about what I did at Hacketts Quarry and think I’d be perfect for their program, but that can't be it…right?

“We’ve heard about you, and we know you like to cause… ruckus during the college recruitment process. We both think it would be best if you walked away now.” Oh, so they know me from the other thing I did that I'm not entirely proud of. Great.

She's saying it discreetly but she might as well be yelling to the entire room that I don't belong here and I wish my heart didn't feel like it was shattering at every single word.

To minimize the damage that was clearly already here, I step away and see the little avenue in my brain that opened up, momentarily giving me hope that perhaps I had a promising future darkening by the second.

I let my feet carry me away from the stand, away from the crowds and back out into the parking lot, but I can't walk far enough to not hear all the things Max might say if he saw me giving up like this.

Why didn't you fight for it? What happened to all the fire that almost got us killed? It took me leaving for you to know when to quit?

“Its no use!” I screamed at the voice, realizing a moment later that I'd said it out loud. The folks passing side eye me, moving away and for a moment I think about those moments in the catacombs underneath Hacketts Quarry, when I felt myself changing. When Ryan looked at me and made the grandma joke. And later when I came down and only saw meat before he spoke. These people have the same looks on their faces that he had then; like they're confused about who I am but don't want to know anything more.

In the middle of the parking lot I stop, not wanting to go back to my apartment or even my car. If my whole being became this parking lot for people to park in and walk to their futures maybe then this would all be better, maybe I would feel better.

So, I failed.

I sit there, wondering about what kind of future a jobless, degree-less, career-less girl with a need to get into dangerous situations would even have.

The world doesn't understand. Max didn't understand and for good reason. I hadn't seen Ryan since that night. I feel like an island with no connection to anything and all I can see is water around. It would be scary if I wasn't already drowning in the sand I'm standing in.

Maybe a small part of me thought I'd get a degree and a good job and cross paths with Max again, where he'd see that I was capable of being someone different than he knew.

On instinct, as I'd been doing off and on since he left, I reach for my phone and find an empty pocket.

My heart drops and I jump up, pawing the ground for it and coming up empty.

Where was the last time I had it? It was glued to my hand or in my pocket 24/7, how could it have just fallen out?

But then I remember thinking Max was on the phone, answering and hearing that voice that snatched me back to the past even more than the ‘ma'am’ had, more Travis nonsense about some position, some problem, some position that needed to be filled…

I stop moving for a moment and let myself consider it. Teaming up with Travis again… hunting just like I want, finally feeling that thrill from four years ago…

Max wouldn't be proud.

Well, he isn't here.

At this point I'm out of options.

And then I recall something from the call.

The first thing he said:

“I've been wanting to contact you both.” I wasn't the only one, but the only way to find out who they were is to call Travis back and ask.

The hanging-on-by-a-thread part of me thought it could be Max. But the logical part thought of a different boy, a boy who made this new position even more interesting.

Because I know why Travis wants me, but why would he want Ryan? He'd never been on board, and yeah he fared well, but I doubt he'd ever go within ten feet of any creatures again.

But if I'm desperate enough to pick up the phone, what if Ryan is too?

What if I'm not alone in all this?

RYAN

“I can't believe you weren't there to cheer me on.” Sarah grumbles for what feels like the 100th time.

“I literally was on the other side of the field, the only place with open seats!” Because you made us late! I don't add.

“Why didn't you just move to the other side?!”

This conversation has been going on since we left the game - after the walk to the car, during which she didn't speak to me at all.

My hands clutch the steering wheel as I bite back a mean remark. Why does she have to be like this? She used to be so sweet and fun when…

When our parents were around.

“What has been going on with you Sarah? Why don't you tell me things anymore?” I cut my eye at her, trying to focus on her and the road.

She smacks her lips and rolls her eyes, flopping against the passenger seat as much as she can in a seatbelt. “Because no matter what I tell you, you always make it into a lecture or a problem to solve. I can't ever just be not okay.” She sighs and suddenly she seems a lot older than her 12 years. “Ever since mom and dad left you've been insufferable.”

I shoot her a look, a little tickled at her word usage. She likes to do this thing where she brings home the words she learns by using them in conversation. It used to be an inside joke between us. Maybe it still can be.

“Insufferable? Can I get the definition please?” I give her an expectant side eye and cross into the right lane to get on the freeway. Only 40 minutes until home, yay. Maybe Sarah not attending this school anymore will be a good thing.

She's silent for a while and I notice I'm holding my breath. Is she really going to leave me hanging?

“Insufferable; too extreme to bear; intolerable as used in; “My brother Ryan is insufferable when he treats everything like it's his fault.”

I'm starting to wish she didn't give me the definition.

“But it is my fault.” I want to say. My fault I'm not enough to take care of her schooling, my fault that I can't do everything right so she's not pissed at me all the time, my fault that Chris is no longer here to give me advice to help me through all this shi-

One minute my eyes are on the nearly empty freeway, next minute that thing from camp is in front of us and I can physically feel the presence of Travis Hackett and Laura Kearney in the car with us. It's not possible that this is actually happening but I can feel my heartbeat racing and the hair on my neck standing up and the sound of someone yelling gradually making its way into my ears.

“...stop…Ryan calm down…RYAN WATCH OUT!"

Hands that aren't mine grab the steering wheel and wrench it to the right as my eyes readjust to the once empty freeway - now much more populated - and the car we just narrowly missed flies by.

Wait we? Did Laura or Travis grab the wheel? I look over to the passenger seat for a moment, ready to thank whichever one it is-

And there is my sister, gripping the dashboard and breathing hard, eyes wide with fear.

“Sarah?”

Her eyes are wide but when she looks at me her gaze is clear and straightforward. “Don't worry about it, okay? I saved the day.”

My mind feels like it's taking things in slowly but then it comes rushing back - the baseball game, the mini argument we had earlier-

-the car I would have crashed into the back of if not for Sarah.

My heart drops, my stomach turns and my hands grip the steering wheel tighter than ever. I almost killed her. I almost killed us.

There aren't any fancy words I can think of to describe how bad I feel. Silence hangs over us as we get ready to turn on our street, but even though the freeway and the almost accident are behind us, I keep reliving it each time I blink. I need to get off the road now before I cause another one.

Sarah speaks at the final stop sign before our block. “Hey so, are we still gonna watch Cloverfield later?” her voice is smaller than it usually is and I know why - she's still afraid we're going to hit something. Don't worry Sarah, I think cynically you don't have to fake wanting to spend time with me just because I almost killed us.

But then I remember that we've been doing that for a while, watching horror movies together and laughing at how fake everything looks. I never told her what happened at camp, just that it was an unfortunate situation, and when she asks about our friend Chris, I usually deflect with something like him being on a long vacation. And the horror movies help things make more sense - no way those things that happened were real. It was 4 years ago and about time for me to accept the facts; someone played an elaborate trick on us and I committed murder because of it; because that inconsiderate brat Laura was convinced we had to.

Why didn't I fight her on it? There had to have been a different way to end the carnage. Why didn't I just-

“Ryan you missed the turn. Our house is like…five houses back.” Sarah says matter of factly. At least she sounds less scared now, but the damage has been done. The least I can do is make it up to her.

“Yeah, we can still do Cloverfield tonight.” I sound almost hoarse, but Sarah just nods and says,

“And you better not cancel because of homework. You were supposed to finish it all last night.”

“No canceling from me.” I try giving her a smile but it feels like more of a grimace, especially because I left out the part about my homework still not being done. As much as I love my animation stuff, it can wait for one more night spending time with Sarah before I do the thing I promised I'd never do:

Call our grandparents to take Sarah away to live with them.

Even though she's going to hate me for it, it's the right thing to do and they've been asking me to let them help for years. They will finally get their wish.

But when I pull up to our house, I see that our grandparents have beat me to it; they're stranding in the driveway next to their ancient Cadillac and the massive mobile home they basically live in behind it, just barely fitting inside the small space.

“What are Gramma and Grandad doing here?” Sarah questions, peering out at them with a slow and definitely not genuine wave.