The Escape by Hannah Jayne

at most.”
    Fletcher didn’t know why that didn’t make him happy. He hated being in the hospital—being hooked up to the beeping machines and the constant interruptions from the nurses—but he wasn’t sure he wanted to go home. He had been having trouble sleeping, and his eyes felt dry and itchy. Every time he closed them, the dream—or memory, he couldn’t figure out which—came back.
    The nurse stepped back from his bedside. “How are you feeling? You’re looking a lot better, handsome guy.” She grinned, but Fletcher knew she was lying. He felt swollen and achy, and he could see the salve glistening on the scratches and cuts on his arms, the spots where his bruises were starting to yellow.
    “I’m okay, I guess.”
    “Are you ready for your meds?” She held a Dixie cup in each hand. She shook the one with the pills in it and grinned. “They will help you sleep.”
    Sleep. He welcomed heavy and dreamless sleep. No echoes of Adam’s voice. No running for safety. No remembering.
    Fletcher swallowed the pills and water in a single gulp.
    • • •
     
    Avery was only popular when her father was working on a big case. On any regular day, she was invisible. But after Adam’s body was found and the parade of grief counselors was giving “circle talks” in every classroom, Avery was a celebrity. Everyone wanted to sit with her, to pretend they were friends and had never snubbed her in the halls or at a party. They wanted to know what she knew. They wanted to know about Adam.
    “I don’t really know anything,” she said slowly. “I don’t know anything that you guys don’t.”
    Michele, a cheerleader who had orbited Adam for as long as Avery could remember, leaned in. “How do you know we know the same things? Tell us what you know, and we can compare notes.”
    The students—strangers, really—at her lunch table nodded in agreement. Avery could feel the burn of embarrassment on her cheeks, followed by the sting of anger. For two days, kids had been slinging their arms over her shoulders asking if she was okay. For two days, teachers had tentatively dropped test papers and homework assignments on her desk, breathily whispering things like, “if you can’t manage it right now, that’s okay.”
    For ten grades she had been little more than a speed bump in the Dan River Falls High social strata, but now she was suddenly worthwhile. Avery wondered if it was just because her father was the chief of police or because kids knew that Fletcher had asked for her. Either way, she was uneasy with the attention.
    “Hey.” Ellison squished into the five-inch space between Avery and another girl. Ellison wasn’t big or outspoken, but she had a way of getting her message across and that’s why Avery liked her.
    “What’s with the French homework?” Ellison asked, picking a potato chip off Avery’s lunch tray. “Is that what everyone’s talking about?
    Avery grabbed her tray and stood abruptly. “I’ve got to get to class.”
    • • •
     
    “Fletcher…Fletcher…”
    Fletcher shifted, realization dawning on him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was at home, lying in his bed. The clock on his nightstand read 2:41, its red numbers glowing in the darkness. What woke him up?
    “Fletcher…”
    It was a low, throaty whisper, someone drawing out his name, holding the R for far too long.
    Fletcher kicked off the covers and sat up, his gaze darting around his bedroom.
    “Is someone here?”
    “Fletcher…” It was like the voice was right beside him, lips whispering in his ear. He swore he could feel the breath on his face. He recognized the voice. His throat constricted; his lips trembled.
    “Adam?”
    Suddenly, there was a chorus of whispers. A low din, all of the words tangling together, voices all talking at once so he couldn’t decipher one thread of conversation from the other. Where did Adam go?
    “Adam?”
    The whispers grew more insistent, and Fletcher swatted at his ear.