Blood on My Hands

stiff. My joints are frozen. But it worked! A whole police force couldn’t find me!
    I’m so eager to get out that I push a little too hard on the end of the pool table and it swings open. Thunk! It bumps against the wall. Instantly, I freeze and listen for someone somewhere in the building to ask, “What was that?” But there’s no sound. It’s been a long day and the ceremony is over and I’m sure they’ve all gone.
    Carefully, I inch my way out of the pool table until the tips of my fingers touch the floor, and I ease myself the rest of the way out like a butterfly crawling out of its chrysalis. The next thing I know, I’m crouching low, finding it hard to believe how good it feels to be out of that tiny cramped hiding place. The first thing I notice is that the room is not quite dark. I’ve misjudged. But at least the light is gray and I can see that it’s twilight outside. That’s not bad. All I have to do now is wait quietly here in the lounge until it’s dark, and then go.
    For a long moment I stay crouched, my feet and fingertips on the cool concrete floor, and take deep breaths to steady myself before moving again.
    Finally I feel like I’m ready to stand. I lean back on my haunches and slowly rise.
    And find myself staring at a man sitting on one of the plastic-covered couches.
    “I couldn’t do it,” Mia said that night when I called to ask why she’d taken her name off the article in the Bugle . “I just didn’t want it to look like it was some kind of personal vendetta.”
    “So now it looks like it was my personal vendetta,” I said bitterly. “Thanks a lot.”
    “No, everyone knows what happened in the cafeteria. Even if my name wasn’t on that article, they know how I feel about her.”
    There was some truth to that. “What is with her, anyway? I mean, why is she so nice most of the time and then she gets so evil?”
    “Know what my mother says?” Mia asked. “I mean, she’s really smart about things like this, and she thinks Katherine has a massive inferiority complex. Not because she was adopted, but because she thinks she’s supposed to be a Remington.”
    “But the Remingtons don’t do things like that, do they?”
    “That’s exactly what I said. But it’s not about what the Remingtons do or don’t do. It’s what Katherine thinks she has to do in order to feel like one. It’s not about what’s real, Callie. It’s about what’s in her head.”
    “It’s so weird.”
    “Yeah, but you know what?” Mia said. “It doesn’t excuse the way she’s treated me. I’ve totally had it with her. And if it’s any consolation, I’m not finished with her. Not by a long shot.”

Chapter 39
    Wednesday 5:38 P.M.
    “VERY IMPRESSIVE, CALLIE,” the man says calmly.
    I feel myself go cold and tight. I recognize his face from the TV in the convenience store. It’s Chief Jenkins. I glance at the door.
    “No, no,” he says, following my eyes. “It’s over now. No more running and hiding. No more disguises.” He pushes himself up from the couch and reaches into his pocket. I hear the clink of metal handcuffs. “Turn around and put your hands behind you. Don’t resist. You’re already in enough trouble.”
    I do what he says and feel the cuffs go around my wrists. Chief Jenkins recites the Miranda warning, that anything I say may be used against me. Strangely and unexpectedly, I feel relief. I don’t have to hide anymore. I don’t have to be constantly looking over my shoulder or have knots in my stomach about getting caught.
    With a hand on my arm, he walks me downstairs and into the police department. The officers all stare silently. They know who I am. We go into an office with an American flag standing in the corner, bookshelves filled with ring binders, and a desk with a computer and some family pictures. In one is a young man with some tennis rackets. His son? I wonder.
    Chief Jenkins tells me to turn around. I feel him remove the handcuffs. “Have a seat.” He gestures to a chair while he sits down on the other side of the desk and pushes a phone toward me. “Call your mom.”
    I get Mom on the phone and have to wait while she breaks down and sobs and tells me how worried she’s been. She wants to know where I’ve been and what’s going on, but mindful of the Miranda warning, I just keep reassuring her that I’m okay and she doesn’t have to worry. When she asks me when I’m coming home, all I can say is that I don’t know.
    The call ends with