Stalk Me

When we land, Mom hands me a manila envelope. It looks just like the one that the photographs were in. Only it has my name on it.

My heart starts racing. What didn’t they tell me? What else is there?

“Keatyn, your face just went completely white. What’s wrong?”

I shakily point to the envelope in her hand. “Did the stalker send something else?”

Mom’s eyes get teary. “Oh, no, honey. This is . . . this is something we should have talked about yesterday, but I couldn’t bear to.”

“What is it?”

“You’re not my daughter anymore,” she says, then she breaks down crying.

Tommy pulls her into his arms and says to me, “One of the ways you could be tracked is through a money trail. If our financial people paid your bills like they do now, too many people would know where you are. We had you emancipated. Legally, you’re an adult now. You can sign yourself in and out of school. Legally, you can do whatever you want.”

I grab Mom’s hand. “Garrett told me all this yesterday. It was necessary. I’m still your daughter, Mom. It’s just that I’m legal a year sooner than pla

Mom looks like she’s going to puke, but she squeezes my hand and smiles. “Your grandpa wants you to call him before you open this.”

“Like now?” I ask.

Mom and Tommy nod.

I pull up my scrawny contact list and hit Grandpa. He answers with, “Remember our talk this summer?”

“Yeah.”

“I know the situation is different, but it still applies. You understand?”

“I’m fixing to become my own man?”

Grandpa laughs. “Exactly. I’m not go

“You told me you did, but I don’t know anything about it.”

“When your dad died, I set one up to take care of you. Pay for college, things like that. When I sold my company, all your dad’s share of stock went into your fund. You weren’t supposed to get this until you were older, but with the present circumstances, I’m giving it to you now. I should tell you to spend it wisely, but after all this, I’m go

“Rich enough to skip school, buy my own jet, and travel the world?”

“How bout you go to school, be safe, and let us deal with this mess.”

“Okay.”

“Take care, hotshot. Grandma and I love you.”

“Thanks for setting everything up in such a short time, Grandpa, and I love you both too.”

I open the envelope and look inside.

There’s another copy of the legal document stating I am emancipated.

And there’s a black American Express card. Tommy doesn’t even have one of those, and he’s rich. I pull out the financial statement and I have to blink a few times.

Did I read that right?

I turn to Mom and hand her the statement. “Did you know about this?”

She and Tommy look at it. Their shocked looks answer my question. “Wow, baby,” Tommy says. “You wa

Mom shakes her head. “I had no idea, Keatyn. I knew your grandfather was wealthy, but I had no idea.”

All of a sudden it dawns on me. Why he gave me the money now. Why my very conservative grandfather would tell me life is too short. Why he would suggest I spend irresponsibly. “You don’t think I’m going to make it until I’m eighteen, do you?” I cry out.

Mom looks horrified and wraps her arms around me. “We don’t think that, honey. I promise. Grandpa is just trying to keep you safe. If you have your own money, he can’t find you through us.”

I’m not sure if I believe her.

Garrett says, “Tommy, we need to get you and Abby off the plane as scheduled. We need to make this look as normal as possible, so say your final goodbyes.”

Mom stands up, then sits back down. Then her eyes fill with tears again. I stand up and pull her into a hug.

“It’s go

Actually, I kinda bawl.

Mom hugs me tightly while I cry into her shoulder.

I try to soak in the feeling of her hug. The hug I’m going to need to remember. The hug that’s going to get me through this. The hug that gives me the strength to go on.

Tommy says quietly, “Abby, we need to go.”

Mom nods her head, lets go of me, and kisses me on the forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Tommy gives me a big hug and says, “I love you too, baby. Be safe.”

And then they are escorted down the stairs and off the plane.

I’m used to Mom leaving, traveling, but this feels very different.

I suddenly feel very alone.

I told them I’d be okay, but I’m not really sure if I will be.

Garrett sits down next to me. “They are going to park the plane like they normally do. You and I will get off shortly and board a different plane. It’s time to get you to school.”

Keatyn Douglas is no more.

2:15pm

“Kym dropped some things off for you earlier,” Garrett says to me as we board another plane. He points to a couple suitcases sitting by the leather couch. “Everything else already got shipped to school and should be in your room waiting for you. She said you’d need these things right away.”

I glance down and notice a note attached to one of the suitcases with my name on it. It says there is an outfit for me to change into hanging in the closet.

I go change, fix my makeup, and join Garrett back in the main portion of the plane. He hands me another manila envelope, and I try not to shudder when I take it from him.

I let the contents fall out onto the table.

I now have a fake, but apparently legal, passport, driver’s license, birth certificate, and social security card. I put the license in my wallet next to my new ATM and credit cards and run my fingers across the raised name.

Keatyn Monroe. 

I am now Keatyn Monroe. Keatyn Douglas is no more.

I practice my lines. Hi, I’m Keatyn Monroe. Nice to meet you. My parents? Oh, they moved to France. I refused to go with them, so they sent me here. 

No, that sounds bitchy.

Hi, I’m Keatyn Douglas. Shit. I mean, Monroe. 

Monroe. Monroe. Monroe.

Me? Oh, I’m not that exciting. Tell me about you. Do you like going to school here?

No, that sounds lame.

I am exciting. I’m amazing!

Like not in a bitchy popular way, just in a confident way.

Hi, I’m Keatyn. 

That’s it.

I’m Keatyn. That’s all anyone needs to know.

After we land, Garrett drives me to school.

“Notice the security features,” he says as we pull up to a gated entry.

I expected it to look prison-like, the way everyone described it, but instead it looks like the kind of grand gated entrance you would find going into a private country club. It has a thick black iron gate and a pretty bricked guardhouse. I look closer and notice more detail. A tall, prison-style fence is mostly obscured by trees, as are the security cameras I see aimed at the fence and beyond.

We wait in line behind a couple of other cars, then pull up to the guardhouse.

“Student’s last name?” the guard asks.

Garrett looks at me, but I’m busy staring at the bank of security televisions that I can see inside the guardhouse. They all appear to be for protecting the perimeter of the school, not for monitoring activity within the fence.