The air rushes from my lungs.
I get up too fast and the room takes an unsteady spin. But my feet stay planted. My eyes fixed.
The girl's lips quiver at the corners like she's trying not to smile. "You okay, Hayes? That wasn't one of your more graceful moves. I hope you're doing better on the soccer field than you are off."
Apprehension hums through my veins. This girl is barely recognizable, but who else could it be? "Emma?"
"Were you expecting someone else?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "I'd have come over sooner, but my parents are watching me like a hawk. I finally told them I was going to sleep and not to bother me."
She says this like they shouldn't be concerned. But Emma from before would have basked in their attention. She always complained about her parents' crazy work schedules and how they were never home. That's why she spent so much time over here.
Her gaze slides around my room, taking it in. The selfies of us in various stages of playfulness, framing the full length mirror on my closet door. The soccer trophies, and medals dangling from red, white, and blue cords along the shelves. Cooper crouching on my bed, hackles raised, his pale blue eyes narrowed and untrusting.
"You've got to be kidding me," she says. "Your mom finally let you get a cat?"
My heart thumps in my ears. All I can do is stare, until the stretch of silence grows too long to ignore. "Dad convinced her. After you —" I stop short, shiver, cross my arms. Too unnerved to say it in front of her, like she's not aware she's been gone. "I wanted to adopt from a kill shelter, so he drove me to Columbus a few months ago to look around."
Emma chuckles and shakes her head. "You always did have a soft spot for the less fortunate. Remember when we were kids and you found that mangy puppy in the woods and brought it home? You tried to convince your mom it was lost, but it turned out to be a baby coyote. I'll never forget the look on her face when she saw it sleeping on her couch!"
How could I forget? I was grounded for an entire weekend for approaching an animal I didn't know. But after all this time, this is what she wants to talk about?
I can't do it. I can't have this normal-sounding conversation and pretend like nothing happened. But I'm not sure what to say, where to begin—even though I'd practiced a hundred times in my head.
"Are you—okay?" My voice is feeble in my ears, just like the rest of me. As though someone has sucked out all my energy and I can barely hold myself up.
Emma's lips purse, like she's considering my question. "I suppose that depends on what you mean by okay." She doesn't elaborate. Instead, her brows rise as she studies me. "You cut your hair."
My hands fly to the dark-blonde waves around my shoulders. "Um—yes. Eight inches before school started."
She scrutinizes me carefully, inspecting all angles. "It looks good. It's been a long time since I've seen it above your waist."
"Thanks." I bite the inside of my cheek, not sure where to go next. So I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. "You look—different."
Different is an understatement. Though much about her hasn't changed. The long, dark hair. Brown eyes, though slightly larger than I remember. The tattoo on the inside of her wrist, her sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the black ink underneath. There's so much more that's unfamiliar.
Her once full cheeks are now sunken and pale. Thin lines surround her eyes, and her nose sits slightly off center from where it'd been. Her clothes hang from her body, making her appear somewhat shorter, and for the first time in my life, I feel taller than her. We'd always been so close in stature. How can that be?
Emma from before had been athletic and healthy. This one's a thinner, fragile-looking version I don't understand. Even her voice is peculiar. Her vowels are sharper, not as lazy, with a nasal quality that's new.
Maybe my memory has shifted, somehow grinding her edges. Making her different than before. Or maybe it's a trick of the light.
But I don't think so.
I can't imagine what she must have gone through to end up this way.
"For starters, the bastard broke my nose. My parents said the doctors can fix it, but ..." she doesn't finish, and moves on as though she'd never said it at all. "And I've lost about forty pounds. Nothing fits anymore, even my stupid shoes are too big. I'm going to need new everything."
I glance down at her feet. Sure enough, her checkered Vans are gapped at the heel and look like they'll slide off as soon as she takes a step. It's a wonder she made it through my window in one piece.
But that's not all I notice. White, gauze bandages peek up from the canvas rims and snake around both ankles, disappearing beneath her jeans.
She catches me staring. "I lost my shoes and had to walk miles through those god-awful woods barefoot. My feet are gouged to hell. There were times it was so painful, I had to crawl."
That's right. One of her tennis shoes was found outside of her truck. The other went missing, along with its owner.
My mouth is dry, my heart pounding too fast in my ears. There's a stranger in my room. One I don't know how to talk to. My hands are shaking, and my voice comes out the same way. "What happened to you?"
I don't want to know, but I do. Where she's been all this time. Who she's been with. How she got there in the first place.
My senses overwhelm me as I wait for her response.
The scent of charred wood from a nearby bonfire drifts through the open window and threatens to choke me. Even the sound of Cooper breathing has me on edge.
Is she ever going to answer?
Finally, Emma exhales, kneading the muscles in the back of her neck. "Do we have to talk about this right now? It's all I've been doing since I returned to the land of the living."
The comment makes me flinch.
Emma knows everyone thought she was dead. That we were waiting for a body to turn up, not a living, breathing girl.
A wave of guilt crashes into me. I should have known better. Wouldn't I have felt it if she were truly gone?
"I'll tell you what," she says, cutting into my thoughts. "Tomorrow morning, after I've finally slept in my own bed, I'll come back and visit with you and your mom. That is, if I can convince my parents to let me come over. I swear, it's like they think I'm going to disappear into thin air or something."
"Do you blame them? They've been worried sick for months. Everyone has been."
"Even Smith?"
My breath catches in my throat. Why would she ask me that? I have to swallow before I can answer. "Of course."
Emma rakes a hand through her hair and twines a dark lock around her fingers. "I haven't contacted him yet. I've been too afraid." She dips her head and stares at the toe of her shoe before sweeping it back and forth along the carpet. To the left, the beige fibers darken; to the right, they lighten. Over and over like a pale brown rainbow.
"Afraid of what?" My voice is low, almost a whisper.
When our eyes meet again, there's an intensity that wasn't there before. "I don't know how he's going to feel once he finds out what happened. What if it changes things between us?"
Something clenches in my chest. Now, she looks every bit the broken girl I'd imagined she'd be. And I feel every bit the traitor I am.
Yet I can't stop myself from asking. "How would you feel if it did?"
Emma doesn't answer. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hayes. Sweet dreams."
Then she slinks out the window and doesn't look back.