Stalk Me

Garrett pulls up my last text and shakes his head. “You already told him too much.”

“People are saying I’m a drug addict.”

“The more false rumors about you the better.”

Tears start streaming down my face.

Garrett leans closer to me. “You care a lot about him, right?”

I nod. “He loves me. All of me.”

“Why did you agree to boarding school? Why, when your mom wanted you to go somewhere with them, did you agree to go off on your own?”

“Because I’m afraid for my little sisters. I’d rather leave them and never see them again than have anyone hurt them.”

“You should be afraid for Cush too. If you love him, you won’t talk to him. I know it’s hard. It’s awful, but he can’t know. Sometimes when people enter witness protection we have to make their families believe they’re dead. We hold real funerals, the whole deal. If killers see real emotion from the family, the family is safe from harm.”

“Are you going to say I died?”

“No. If Abby Johnston’s daughter died it would make the news. We have to keep the press in the dark. In a few days we’ll have a plan worked out. I’m personally going to check out this school and make sure the security is good enough.”

I wipe my tears and smile a bit. “Thank you.”

Mom sits down next to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder.

Garrett says, “And when it’s all over, we’ll tell everyone the truth.”

I say softly, “And when will that be? After he succeeds in kidnapping me, or when I’m dead?”

“Keatyn Elizabeth!” Mom screeches. “Don’t you dare say such a thing.”

“It’s what everyone is thinking, Mom.”

Tommy steps in. “Abby, try to stay calm. She’s right. We all thought it, and we all pray that never happens.” He turns to face me. “You seem better. More sure of yourself. You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you? You have that same stubborn look Gracie always gets.”

“Yes, I have. It feels like the right thing to do.”

Garrett says, “We’ll figure this all out. If you go to boarding school, which I think is an excellent idea, you can’t go as yourself. Mr. Moran,” he turns to Damian’s dad, “you can’t even tell your friend who she really is. You can't tell anyone who you are, Keatyn. Not only can you not use your phone, but I also want a list of all your social media profiles and passwords. We’ll change your passwords, so you won’t be tempted to get on, and we’ll monitor them.”

“Got it. No phone. No social media. So who am I going to be?”

“Keatyn Monroe,” Mom says. “That was my great grandma’s maiden name. That’s what I almost named you. Monroe Douglas. But Keatyn Monroe sounds better, don’t you think?”

“That’s a good name,” Millie says. “I like it.”

Garrett adds, “And you’ll need a cover story. A backstory. You're going to have to tell people lies about who you are. That's the hard part. In these situations, we find the more we can leave about you that’s true, the easier it will be to lie about who you are.”

I set the computer back on my lap and click through more pictures.

Students at football and soccer games. Students in classrooms. The gorgeous old buildings. It looks like a nice, safe place.

I click on the school’s calendar.

“We’re go

“Okay,” Mom says. “Do you think we could try and eat some of this food?”

Tommy and James go around the house and double-check every door and window. They already have security surrounding the house.

I pick at some of the food and look out at a guard standing on the deck.

And realize I still don’t feel safe.

Wednesday, August 24th

Click your heels together.

1pm

The last few days have been awful. Damian went back to Europe on Sunday, and I’ve been going stir crazy. They won’t let me leave the house.

Not that I want to.

I’m too afraid.

Cush tried to stop by a couple times, and it breaks my heart to know I’m hurting him. He’s going to hate me, but I don’t want to put him in danger. James told me that Vincent could be watching the house or the guard booth. He already has a photo of me and Cush from before school was out, I don’t want him to think there is anything between us.

The neighbors have started complaining about their guests practically being accosted at the guard booth. I don’t know why security is making such a big deal out of it—we know what Vincent looks like—but Garrett and James both started talking about disguises and hiring someone and all sorts of other ways he could get to me.

I’ve had enough bad dreams lately that I don’t want to listen.

I finally told James that I didn’t care what anyone said, and that I was sitting out on the deck.

I put on a bikini and laid out in one of the chaises.

I closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else. Brooklyn has been scarce. He’s been busy packing, since he leaves tomorrow too. His first tournament is in Zarautz, Spain. One of the places we visited this summer.

Normally when I lay out, I listen to music, doze off, and have a nice little daydream, but instead of daydreaming about boys and kisses, I’m envisioning spy movies. A sniper who takes out the two guards next to me with barely a sound. Cables dropping from a stealth helicopter and a team of black-suited ninjas on our roof. They move silently through the house, taking out the rest of the security detail. Then the door to my bedroom bursts open. They’ve killed everyone else; no need to be subtle now. One of them rips off his black outfit. Underneath is Vincent in a black Armani suit, black shirt, and black shoes, his dark hair slicked back. He grins at me, grabs my wrist, and says, Perfection. We’ll make perfection together. 

I wake up with a start, leave the deck as quickly as I can, go to Tommy’s study, and flip open his computer.

I’ve practically memorized every page of my new school’s website. I’ve looked at all the photos, studied the map of the campus, read their student handbook twice, wondered how many of the rules they actually enforce, read about every athletic and academic club, and all the other student activities. I’ve read about their famous graduates. I know that 37% of their graduating class goes on to an Ivy League college. I know that they recently revamped their meal service to give the students more healthy choices. I know they have three coffee shops located on campus. I’ve memorized the names and photos of the faculty. I’ve been prepping for my role much the way Mom does before a film.

Delve into your character. Know her background. Become her.

Since I have to become me, I’ve also made a list of all the clubs and activities I want to be a part of. I was bummed to learn that dance team is out, since they had their tryouts in May, but I’m going to sign up for all the other stuff.

I read and reread the dress code.

Kym was sent to New York City to shop for me. We aren’t allowed to ship anything from L.A. to my new school lest it be tracked. I get to bring a suitcase-worth of stuff from home. And all of that is being screened before I’m allowed to pack it.

The good news is that Kym’s great at shopping and totally gets my taste. She’s shopping for all my dorm decor as well as clothes to go with my uniforms. She’s super excited to use her talents to make them look amazing. She’s already bought the uniform pieces and had a seamstress tailor them to fit me perfectly. She had the plaid skirts made just a little shorter than they should be. And she’s making me my very own Look Book. She does Look Books for Mom whenever she goes out of town. She figures out the outfits Mom is to wear every day and sends her a little book of photographed combinations. That way, Mom knows she’ll always look her best. I guess at least I’ll look good there. And Kym is sweet. I know this is her way of trying to make me feel better about things. She always says the right clothes give you confidence.