The Before by Emily McKay Page A

together. We’d been friends but had drifted apart when we all hit middle school and Joe started dabbling in drugs. Kids around school called him Stoner Joe. He was the guy to go to if you wanted pharmaceuticals of any kind. But why would Mel go there? It wasn’t like she’d go buy weed at a time like this. Or ever.
    I’m heading there now. Don’t let her leave!
    No worries.
    Front or back better? I typed.
    I’ll meet you at the front door. Be quick.
    I scurried over the next few fences, going for speed rather than stealth. Now that I knew where she was, I was desperate to get there before she could get away.
    Still, it was ten minutes at least before I dashed across Joe’s street and huddled in his doorway. The door opened before I could even raise my hand to knock.
    I threw myself through his doorway and landed against his chest. “Joe! Thank God you—”
    “Shh,” Joe whispered. “My old man’s sleeping.”
    I nodded my understanding and Joe led me through the darkened house to one of the bedrooms in the back. In the living room, the TV was on and a man was asleep on the sofa in front of it. He was snoring loudly. Even asleep he clutched a glass that was propped on his belly. A quarter inch of amber liquid jostled in the glass with each inhalation. There was an open bottle of whisky on the floor beside the sofa.
    I thought of all the rumors I’d heard about Joe. That his father was a drunk and beat him. That Joe supported himself and his dad with the extra income he made. I didn’t know if any of that was true, but I was thankful that at least my mom had stayed sober throughout this.
    A moment later Joe led me into what must have been his bedroom. The room was cast in a bluish light. Mel was standing in the corner, twisting her hands in knots.
    At the sight of her the tension rushed out of me. I blinked back tears. She was here. She was safe. My knees felt suddenly weak. It was all I could do not to rush across the room to her. Instead, I sank to the desk chair right next to the door.
    “Jesus,” I muttered.
    Joe smiled a little. “See. Safe and sound. Just like I said.”
    “Thank you!” I shot a look at Mel. “Jesus, do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you know how worried Mom and I have been? How much danger you were in? How much—”
    Joe dropped a hand to my shoulder. “Hey. Chill. She’s fine. You’re fine. It’s all good.”
    I shook off his hand. “Damn it, it’s not—” I blew out a breath. Joe was right. It didn’t matter. She was here now. She was safe. I looked up at Joe. “How did you find her? Was she out on the street?”
    “No, man. She came to me. Snuck in through the back and just knocked on my window.” Joe gave a chuckle. “Just like a regular customer.”
    “She came to you?” Until now, I’d assumed she was just so desperate not to get shipped off that she thought she could run away. I’d thought he found her wandering on the street. “Why?”
    “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She’s just, you know, rambling. Like she used to.”
    Mel stepped closer to me. “Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”
    “Okay, Mel. We have water at home. Let’s just go home.”
    I walked over to her and held out my hand. She shrank away from me. So I reached for her arm. She jerked back, yelping loudly.
    I held out my hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. I won’t touch you. Just come.” She didn’t even look at me. I tried to remember what the occupational therapist had told me about how to handle Mel when she was like this. I remembered being calm was at the top of the list. Yeah, right. Like that would happen.
    Still, I exhaled and held my finger like a hook and waved it in front of her face. “Come on, Mel. Look at me. We have to go.”
    “Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”
    “You know, Mel, that’s not particularly helpful. We have water at home!”
    She looked at me; her expression of frustration probably matched my own. “Water,