Take Me Tomorrow

Chapter 14: Who Are You

I couldn't get far enough away from, apparently, all the liars in my life. Broden first, Noah second. And now my dad. Did he smuggle drugs? Did he use them? Did he even work for Phelps at all? I hid by sitting on the slanted roof connected to my bedroom window. My dad, Dwayne Gray, was somewhere downstairs, speaking with Noah Tomery—whoever that was.

I laid my head on my knees. I had taken a warm shower to get the river off of my skin, but the night lingered. In the air. On my skin. In my heart. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the world to disappear. Even then, Noah was still in my life and so was tomo. It always had been. If I blamed Noah, I had to blame my family, too.

"Hey," Broden announced himself from my doorway.

I didn't lift my face to look at him, but I heard him climb out onto the ledge and felt him sit next to me. He elbowed my arm softly.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Not really."

I wanted to be in the forest, among the acres of trees and brush. I wanted it to be daylight, so I could throw a couple of my father's knives into the tree trunks. I wanted to go running with Argos. All of the moments of the night would disappear, then. Eventually, though, it would return with the sunrise. As far as I knew, Lily and Miles were under arrest, and my father had something to do with all of it.

"Are you mad at me?" Broden asked.

I lifted my head to look at him, but bit my lip to prevent speaking.

Broden offered a meek smile. "I would be. I know this is hard to understand—"

"Hard to understand?" I repeated. "Yes, it's hard to understand how my best friend could drug everyone, then call the cops. You could say that."

"I didn't call the cops."

"So who did?"

"Pierson."

"The door guy?" I asked before I remembered how Lily had told me Pierson was Miles' friend. My hands curled into fist. "Of course he did."

"Miles knew Pierson," Broden said. "We trusted him with our plan."

"You mean, Noah's plan."

Broden tilted his head, thoughtful. "It was necessary."

"Necessary?"

"Noah needs a distraction," he said. "If the government is busy handling the biggest drug drop in the State since the massacre, they won't have time to come after him."

"That," I started, "could have easily turned into another massacre."

Even though it was four years ago, I didn't know much about the Phelps' Massacre, but I knew to be afraid. Hundreds had died protesting. Right in the State, too. That night, my dad locked me in the forgery and told me not to come out. I listened. When he opened the door, it was done, no one I knew had died, and I had gained a dog. If anything, the massacre had brought me a best friend and, as a lonely twelve-year-old, I didn't care to question it much beyond that. Now that I was a little older, I wondered if I should've paid more attention. Of course, digging into it would only cause trouble.

All we needed to know—according to the State—was that extremists attempted a terrorist attack, and failed. Tomo had been their fuel, hence the demonizing of the drug, and it was deemed a dangerous hallucinogenic. Talking about the massacre beyond that was practically illegal, even though ramifications were rampant. Most surviving family members were arrested or detained. Even kids. They were placed in correctional facilities for screening, the same ones Lily volunteered at today. Despite these massive buildings no one could ignore, no one really discussed it either. It was practically treason, or an invitation to be institutionalized too. Which was why father told me not to mention it. Never bring attention to our family. Never. And now I knew why.