a deadly storm, an unsolved disappearance, and a small town brimming with secrecy;
an outcast girl, a boy who only knows how to hide, and the world against them;
what could go wrong?
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Betrayal resides in every ounce of blood coursing through her veins. Boo paces back and forth across her living room, wearing a track in her carpet while trying to process her argument with Harry.
"People ain't always who we think they is."
Hazel's words bounce around in Boo's head in a sick twist of irony.
She's wrong about Harry. She has to be.
So desperately she wants to believe his uncertainty is driven by fear more than doubt in her as a person. Out of everyone to look at her like she's a feral creature, Harry looking at her in that same hurtful way hits the hardest. He's the last person she wants to lump in with the rest of Jack Creek; besides Martha and Russell, Harry had been one in a small handful to really see Boo for who she is, and yet he'd been so quick to abandon her once things became difficult.
Her skin is crawling; suddenly she can feel his handprints all over, burning their way up her body in the same way he had just a few nights prior. To shake the feeling of his presence, she retreats to the shower and scrubs herself under the hot water until her fingertips are pruny and her skin raw.
In times of great emotional turmoil, like all the times little Boo came home after playing the role of Calum Waters' punching bag, Martha would be there to offer some fortune-cookie piece of comfort. Sometimes it would entail taking twenty minutes sifting through all the terrible details of the day to find one moment of positivity. Other days it was Boo moping over a bowl of half-melted ice cream while Martha grumbled under her breath about it being illegal to fight children.
But time is playing thief more than usual lately. The further she drifts from Martha's fateful last night alive, the harder Boo finds it to keep her memory intact. Her grandmother was beginning to fade into that safe little subconscious corner of her mind where Russell also resided; barely thought about, but still there unwavering. And now, as she sits curled up naked on the shower floor, trying to find solace in the way the hot water pounds down against her reddened skin, Boo knows she would give just about anything to have one more night of comfort from Martha.
« • »
While Martha's physical memory may be getting harder to hold onto, her can-do attitude and headstrong spirit continue to flourish within Boo. The next morning, she wakes up feeling refreshed and ready to continue her search for answers. She was prepared to do this alone to begin with, so it shouldn't be that hard to push on without Harry.
An hour later, dressed in her nicest outfit, Boo knocks on the door of the house to the left of Hazel's. In her purse is a tape recorder, already running and set to record every conversation she has. A middle-aged man answers after a few moments, scratching his rounded beer belly with one hand while giving Boo a cautious once-over.
"Can I help you?" he finally asks after an awkward pause.
"Hello, my name is Ellen and I'm an intern with the Jack Creek Inquirer," Boo lies in her fakest customer-service voice. "Do you have a few spare minutes?"
