FORGOTTEN

(The Witches of Santa Anna, Book Fourteen)

by Lauren Barnholdt & Aaron Gorvine

Copyright 2011, Lauren Barnholdt and Aaron
Gorvine, all rights reserved

This book is a work

of fiction, and any resemblance to any persons,
living or dead, is

entirely coincidental

Chapter One

Natalia

There are doctors. Lots and lots of doctors. They
come into my hospital room, one after another,
asking me the same questions. Do you have a
headache? No. Are you dizzy? No. Do you think you
fell and hit your head? No. Do you remember
anything that happened? No. Are you sure? Yes.

They write on their charts, making notes of the things
I tell them. They take my blood pressure and listen to
my heart. They do tests and tests and more tests.
Scans in big machines that make loud noises and
make me feel claustrophobic. Needles that suck my
blood into vials, which are then whisked off to the
lab. At first, I’m scared. I hate doctors, and I hate
hospitals. I didn’t even want to come here, but Cam
insisted.

“Doctors aren’t going to be able to help me,” I told
him a few hours ago. We were lying on the bed in his
dad’s pool house, after Cam brought me in from the

beach.

“Whatever happened to me obviously isn’t medical.”

“You don’t know that,” Cam said. He was holding me
tightly in his arms, his hands stroking my hair.
“Maybe you had some kind of seizure or something.”

“Right,” I said. “I just happened to have a seizure and
now I don’t remember anything about what
happened over the weekend, even though you’re
telling me we were at some weird witch compound.
Nice try, Cam.”

But he insisted that I see a doctor. And so now here
we are, in the emergency wing of St. Joseph’s
Hospital. After a couple hours of tests, I stopped
being afraid. At least, I stopped being afraid of the
tubes and the needles and the hospital smell. Now
I’m more afraid that they’re not going to be able to
figure out what’s wrong with me, that they’re not
going to be able to fix it, that I’ve had some kind of
spell put on me that won’t be able to be reversed.

“Cam,” I say. He’s over by the window of my hospital
room, staring outside. His hands are in his pockets,
and there’s a pensive look on his face. “What are
you thinking about?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s been mostly quiet this
whole time, holding my hand, only talking to ask me if
I’m okay, if I have everything I need. He’s gone with
me every time they had to wheel me out of the room
for a new test, comforting me, telling me it’s going to
be okay.

“Cam?”

“Yeah?” He turns around to face me, and his eyes
are bloodshot, with dark circles underneath. He
looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

“Are you – ”

But before I can finish, there’s a commotion in the
hallway, the sound of voices and shoes squeaking
on floor, and then, before I can process what’s
happening, my mom comes bustling into my room.

“Natalia!” she says, immediately rushing over to my
bed. Her hand reaches out and smooths my hair
back from my face. “Oh, thank God! Why haven’t you
been answering your cell phone?”

I almost laugh. According to Cam, my cell phone is
gone, probably wrecked along with my mom’s car, or
left in the woods somewhere. I’m not sure, since I
don’t remember any of it.

“I lost my cell phone,” I say. “Didn’t Cam tell you?”
Cam called my mom as soon as we got here, telling
her I woke up not remembering anything, that he’d
taken me to the emergency room, and that she
should come immediately.

“You lost it?” She looks confused. “How did you lose
it?”

“I don’t remember.”

She sits on the edge of my bed. “It’s okay,” she says
soothingly. “Don’t worry about it. We can get you
another cell phone.” I wonder how she’s going to feel

when she realizes that her car is gone, too. A
hundred dollar phone is one thing, a ten thousand
dollar car is another.

“Hi, Ms. Moore,” Cam says. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I am, too,” she says. But she’s not looking at him.
“And now that I am, you can probably go.”

“Go?” Cam sounds confused. “Why would I go?”

“Now that I’m here,” my mom repeats. “You can
leave. I’ll stay with Natalia.”

She straightens the sheet on my bed.

“No, Cam,” I say, starting to feel a little panicked at
the thought of him leaving.

“I want you to stay.” I reach my hand out to him, and
he crosses the room to the other side of my bed.

“Of course I’m going to stay,” he says, taking my
hand. “I would never leave you.”

My mom gives a tight smile, then stands up and then
heads over to the window, opening the blinds all the
way. “Let’s get some light in here, shall we?” she
says. Then she turns around. “So, who do I talk to
about what’s going on? Where’s your doctor?”

“Dr. Palermo is the one who’s in charge,” I say. “He
should be back soon. They gave me an MRI, and
now they’re just waiting for the results to come back.”
Cam’s still standing next to me, and I look up at him. I
was feeling a little less scared, but bringing up the
fact that I’m waiting for MRI results makes me
nervous again. What if there’s something really
wrong with me? He squeezes my hand, then kisses
my forehead, and instantly I feel a little better.

“So what happened exactly?” my mom asks. “You
woke up this morning and you couldn’t remember
anything?”

“Yes,” I say. “I woke up on the beach, and I…I
couldn’t remember anything from the weekend.”

“The beach?” she asks. “What beach?” She glances

at Cam.

“The beach at Cam’s dad’s house,” I tell her. I can
see her face tighten a little, like she’s annoyed that’s
where I was. “We spent the night in the pool house,
and then this morning, I …I woke up on the beach,
and I couldn’t remember anything.”

“You and Cam were in the pool house?” my mom
asks. “Where was Mr.

Elliott?”

“I’m not five, mom,” I say. Suddenly, I’m a little bit
annoyed. Who cares where Cam’s dad was? I
understand that she’s concerned, but come on.
There are more important things going on right now
than whether Cam and I were being supervised.

“No, I know.” She shakes her head, like she’s trying
to let it go. “I just… if you were with Cam, then how
did you end up on the beach?”

Cam and I glance at each other. The truth is, we
don’t know. We’re not sure if I got up for some

reason, or if someone came into the pool house and
took me.

“We don’t know,” Cam says, “and I didn’t hear her
get up. Or I would have never let her go by herself.”

“You two were in the same bed?” Her face tightens
even more. But then she must decide that’s the least
of her problems, because then she says, “Okay, so
you woke up and went for a walk?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” I say. “The last thing I remember
is being at the game on Saturday.”

She nods. “And then Cam found you? On the
beach?” She brushes my hair away from my face
again. Her hand feels cool and good. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” I shake my head. “There’s nothing physically
wrong with me.” It’s a bit of a lie. I have small
scratches all over my arms and legs, and a bigger
one on my face.

But according to Cam, that’s from this weekend,

when we were running through the woods. He has
the same kind of marks.

My mom reaches her finger out and traces a line
down the thin scratch on my left cheek. She opens
her mouth, like she’s about to say something, but
then she changes her mind.

“Well,” she says. “As soon as the doctor comes back
in, we’ll figure out what’s going on.” She turns to
Cam. “Campbell? Can I talk to you in the hall for a
moment?”

“Sure,” Cam says.

She heads out of the room, and Cam follows her,
turning back and giving me a

“what the fuck is this about?”

look as he leaves. I

shrug, even though I know exactly what it’s about.

My mom’s worried about me, and she’s looking for
someone to blame. And that someone is Cam.

Chapter Two

Campbell

I know Nat’s mom is going to be pissed, but when
we get into the hallway, her face becomes a mask of
rage and disgust.

“What did you do to my daughter?” Her voice is low
and steady, but I can tell she’s struggling to repress
her anger. Her jaw trembles a little as she talks.

“What did I do to your daughter?” I actually take a
step back, that’s how shocked I am. “Ms. Moore, I
didn’t do anything to her.”

Her fists are clenched at her sides, and she lifts a
hand up and points a finger at me. “Natalia didn’t just
wake up this morning with no memory. Someone did
something to her.”

“I called you,” I say, and shake my head. “Why would I
call you if I’d hurt her?”

“I don’t know.” Her gaze drifts to the floor, as if she’s
lost her certainty.

“Nothing about this situation makes any sense. I
don’t understand why she took off with you.” She
sighs, then crosses her arms over her chest. “Do you
understand how irresponsible you’ve been?”

“I’m sorry,” I say honestly. “I should have made her
call you earlier.” This, at least, is true. I should have
made Nat call her mom, keep her in the loop about
things so that she didn’t freak out. Of course, I don’t
know when we would have done that. I have a mental
picture of asking Reed to stop the bond breaking
ceremony so that we can call Nat’s mom and tell her
we’re fine. We could have kept it short and sweet –

sorry, gotta

go, late for a movie!

It’s so absurd that I

have to bite back a laugh.

Nat’s mom glares at me, and I quickly wipe the smile
off my face.

“Where’s my car?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” I’m lying, and she knows it.

“What did you spend the last two days doing?” Her
eyes are locked on mine again.

Obviously I can’t tell her the truth. But if she talks to
my dad she’s going to know we weren’t with him the
entire two days. I should have anticipated this -- of
course Nat’s mom was going to have a ton of
questions. But I’ve been consumed with getting help
for Nat, not coming up with a cover story.

“Did the two of you have sex?” she asks before I can
come up with a suitable lie.

“No!” I say quickly. “No, of course not.”

“Then what were you doing?”

“We went to a hotel…a motel near my dad’s place.”

“Why?”

“To get away. We’d been fighting. And stuff at school
has been kind of weird with this girl Raine and some

of her friends. It’s normal high school stuff, but it’s
been hard on Nat.”

“Stop calling her Nat!” She shakes her head and
pulls a crumpled up tissue out of her jacket pocket,
then wipes her nose with it. “Her name is Natalia.”

“Listen,” I tell her. “I get that you’re upset. And I’m
sorry. I’m sorry we just took off. I’m sure my mother’s
pissed at me, too, she probably –“

Natalia’s mom laughs. “I have a hard time believing
your mother is anything but drunk.”

Her words are like a punch in the stomach. My mom
is what she is, and I know better than anyone how
fucked up her drinking is. But I can’t stand other
people bringing it up, acting like they know anything
about my mom or our family. I want to say something
nasty back to Nat’s mom, but I remind myself that
she’s really upset and worried. All she knows is that
her daughter disappeared with me and turned up
again with some mysterious injuries, no memory,
and no idea where her car is. “My mom has

problems but she still cares about me, Ms. Moore,” I
say quietly.

She purses her lips and nods. “I’m sure she does.
And I’ll certainly want to talk to both of your parents
before this is over. But right now I’m going to call the
police.”

“What?

Why?”

“I want them to know about this situation.” She
shoulders her purse. “I think the authorities ought to
be made aware of it. And because, frankly
Campbell, I don’t trust you.”

I sigh and my whole body feels deflated. I’m
exhausted. Mentally, physically emotionally. The past
forty-eight hours have been the worst and most
stressful hours of my life.

“Fine. Call the cops.” I turn to go back into Natalia’s
room.

“Please don’t go in there.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you near her. I’m her mother.”

My jaw tightens. “I’ve done nothing but try and protect
her, and I don’t appreciate being treated like a
criminal. You don’t know me.”

“Exactly. I don’t know you, but what I do know has not
exactly inspired confidence. So please respect what
I’m asking you to do. She’s still my child, she’s not
eighteen, and I still make the rules.”

“You want me to go wait while you call the cops on
me?” I ask incredulously.

“That would be nice.”

I laugh. “Great. Well, I’ll be in the cafeteria waiting to
be interrogated.” I turn and walk off, my teeth
grinding in fury. This lady has some nerve. Attacking
me, insinuating that I hurt Natalia, talking trash about
my mom. Who the hell does she think she is?

And now she’s bringing the police into it. Well, I’ve

got nothing to hide.

Of course, that’s not exactly true, I realize, as I take
the elevator down to the cafeteria. I’ve got a lot to
hide, or at least a lot I can’t tell the police without fear
of being thrown in an insane asylum.

***

The cafeteria is almost empty at this time of day.
And there’s no hot food, just cold stuff like cereal,
sandwiches, a few snacks and whatever’s in the
vending machines.

I sip on some lukewarm Lipton tea and wait.

The cops are in uniform so it’s pretty obvious what’s
going on when they come in, scanning the room for
me. They see me and I stand up to greet them.

One guy is really tall, but kind of awkward. He’s the
type who should have played basketball because of
his height, but something tells me he was probably
more interested in books than athletics. He’s got a
tightly clipped mustache and glasses.

“Campbell?” he says as they approach.

“That’s me.”

We shake hands. His fingers are cold and his grip is
almost painful. “My name is Officer Riley and this is
my partner, Officer Hanson.”

Officer Hanson is pudgy, average height, bald. His
eyes are light blue and sharp and he has a scar over
his upper lip. I wonder if he got it on the job.

“Good to meet you both.”

“Have a seat,” Officer Riley says, removing his cap.

I sit down and slide my tray aside.

The two cops sit down opposite me at the table.
Officer Riley is so tall that he needs to push his chair
pretty far back just to fit.

“Long night?” Riley asks.

“Yeah.” I try to grin but my mouth can’t seem to form
a smile right now. “I’m worried about Nat…Natalia.
Have you seen her yet?”

They exchange looks. “Let’s just get the basics down
first,” Riley tells me, pulling out a notepad. He asks
me my name, address, phone number, gets my
license and slides it to his partner. “Make a copy of
this before we go.”

“Sure thing.”

“Look, I didn’t hurt Natalia,” I tell them both.

“Why don’t you explain to us everything you can
about the last couple of days since you both ran
away from home.”

I laugh at this, but the looks on their faces stop me
cold. They’re pissed. “We didn’t run away from
home.”

“You both got in your cars and left without informing
your parents of where you were going, correct?”

“I told my mother I was going to Maine, to my dad’s
house.”

“But you didn’t do that, did you? Natalia’s mother
says you went to some motel.

May I ask which one?”

Shit. I feel myself starting to shake and sweat now. “I
don’t remember the name of it. One of those crappy
little places right off the highway. We paid cash.”

“Well, could you show us where it was located at
least?”

“Probably.”

They exchange looks again. I realize I’m digging
myself a pretty big hole with this conversation.

“We’d sure appreciate it if you could try and
remember the name of the motel you stayed at that
first night.”

“Okay,” I say, anxious to change the subject. “But

everything was fine that night.

And then we went to my dad’s—”

“Excuse me,” Officer Riley says, holding up a hand.
He looks at his notes, then pushes his glasses up
the bridge of his nose. “What exactly did the two of
you do while you were holed up in this so-called
motel?”

“Nothing much. Watched TV. Talked.”

“Talked. About what?”

“About school. We’ve been having some problems
with the other kids. Nothing important, just stupid
high school drama. And we wanted to get away from
all of that for a couple of days. That’s all.”

“Okay, so you talked. No alcohol, no drugs
involved?”

I laugh a little, shake my head. “No. I’m on the football
team.”

Now it’s Riley’s turn to laugh, but it’s not a friendly
sound. “Right, and we all know that football players
are always so squeaky clean.”

Officer Hanson grins at him. “Sure, that’s why I just
read that story about the guy from The Jets being
arrested for assaulting two dancers at a strip club.
Another model citizen.”

I look at both of them, trying to maintain my
composure. “I’m just saying that I don’t mess around
with drugs. We get tested.”

“Okay,” Riley says, but it’s obvious he’s suspicious.
“So you guys just talked at this motel.”

I stare at him. “That’s right.”

“And the two of you aren’t engaging in sexual
activity?”

“No. We’ve kissed and stuff.” I feel my face grow hot,
and I hate the fact that they’re making me
embarrassed when I’ve done nothing wrong.

“And stuff,” Hanson chuckles.

“You can tell us the truth,” Riley says. “Just be honest
and this will all be over much quicker, and with a
heck of a lot less trouble.”

“I am telling the truth.”

“Did Natalia still have her mother’s car at this time?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you know where that car is now?”

“I don’t. I think it was stolen.”

“From the motel parking lot?”

“Maybe.”

“But you never called the police.”

“We were scared. Nat knew her mother would be
angry. So we left and went to my dad’s house.”

The officers glance at each other, then both look
back at me. They’re staring me down, with a look
that I’ve never really seen before. And then I realize
what it is.

They think I’m a criminal.

Chapter Three

Natalia

“Where’s Cam?” I ask my mom when she comes
back into my hospital room.

“He went to the cafeteria to get some food,” she
says brightly. She walks over to the windows and
starts trying to turn the crank on one of them. “We
should get some air in here, don’t you think?” But her
voice sounds falsely cheerful, and something about
her demeanor makes me instantly suspicious.

“What do you mean he went to get something to
eat?” I ask. Cam ate right before my mom got here,
a turkey sandwich and an apple that he brought up
from the cafeteria.

We tried to share it, but I couldn’t really manage to
get anything down. My stomach’s been churning
every since Cam found me on the beach this
morning.

“He was hungry,” she says, shrugging. She’s
managed to get a bit of the window open, and a
slight breeze blows through the room. “There we go!”
She sounds satisfied.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say, frowning. “We
just ate.”

“I guess he was still hungry.”

“He would have asked if I wanted something.”

She sighs and then walks over to the side of the bed,
brushes my hair back from my face. “Natalia,” she
says. Her eyes look tired, and there’s a coffee stain
on her light blue sweater. She must have been
woken up by Cam’s call, must have jumped out of
bed and grabbed whatever clothes were nearby. I
picture her, bleary-eyed, still a little tired, being told
her daughter’s in the hospital. I shiver.

“Mom,” I say. “Where’s Cam?”

“Sweetie. “ She sits down on the edge of my bed,
and takes my hand in hers. Her hand is warm,

comforting. It feels exactly like what a mom’s hand
should feel like. Soft and worn from hours of braiding
hair, rubbing backs, and stroking foreheads. “You’ve
obviously been through a lot,” she says. “And the only
person with you was Campbell.”

“I know that,” I say. “So could you ask him to come
back to the room and be here with me right now?”
Doesn’t she realize that if the only person with me
was Cam, that means he should be here, by my
side, taking care of me?

“Natalia,” she says again.

“Stop saying my name!” I snap.

Her eyes are looking at me with sympathy and worry,
like she wants to spare me from whatever it is she’s
about to say, but knows that she can’t.

“Cam didn’t hurt me,” I tell her, my voice softer now.

“How do you know?”

“Because he wouldn’t do that.”

“You haven’t known Cam that long.”

“I’ve known him long enough.” She’s right, of course.
I

haven’t

known Cam that long. But I know him

enough to be certain he would never, ever hurt me.
He loves me.

We’ve been through so much together, and he’s
always stuck by my side. I’m the one who doubted
him. I’m the one who lied to him about being with
Brody.

“Please, sweetie, you need to stay calm.” Her hand
is back on my forehead, pushing my hair back away
from my face, but this time, I turn away. “You need to
– ”

She doesn’t get to finish, though, because a doctor
enters my room. Dr. Palermo.

He’s young, probably just a few years out of medical
school, and he’s the one who ordered the MRI for me
and kept telling me that everything was going to be
okay. He’s put me at ease from the moment I got

okay. He’s put me at ease from the moment I got
here, unlike some of the other doctors, who’ve been
short and blunt, ordering tests and making notes,
treating me like a case and not a person.

Immediately, my mom’s all over him. “Doctor,” she
says, jumping up from my bed. “I’m Beth Moore,
Natalia’s mother.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Dr. Palermo.” He
walks over to my bed and gives me a smile. “How
are you feeling, Natalia?”

“Fine.” I twist the blankets in my hands. “Just a little
anxious.”

He smiles again, then turns a little toward my mom,
including her in the conversation. “Well, the good
news is the MRI didn’t show anything, so I think we
can rule out a tumor or any kind of significant brain
injury.”

“Oh, thank God,” my mom says, her face flooding
with relief. She squeezes my hand tight.

“What’s the bad news?” I ask.

“The bad news is that since everything looks normal,
we don’t know what’s causing the memory loss.
Sometimes after a traumatic event, the brain does
things we can’t understand, which seems to be
what’s happening to you.” His voice is comforting
and calm, and I feel myself relax just a little bit.

“What do you mean, a traumatic event?” my mom
asks. She frowns, and a v-shaped wrinkle appears
between her eyes. “I thought you said there was no
injury.”

I know what the doctor’s going to say before he even
says it, and I know it’s going to make my mom freak
out. I close my eyes

. Cam, where are you?

“There’s no

physical

trauma,” Dr. Palermo says. “But

it’s possible that something psychological or
emotional happened to Natalia, and as a result she’s
repressed her memories. It’s not exactly common,
and typically repression occurs in memories from
early childhood, but there are rare cases where a

patient can actually have amnesia caused by
PTSD.”

“PTSD.” My mom’s voice is quiet, like the doctor just
said I have cancer. Her grip on my hand gets even
tighter. This is just going to reinforce the idea that
Cam attacked me, or whatever the hell it is that she’s
thinking.

The doctor nods slightly, his eyes uncertain. “It’s just
one possibility, Ms. Moore.

We can’t be sure right now what’s causing Natalia’s
memory loss.”

“But there’s no physical trauma?” my mom repeats.
“What about the scratches on her face?”

The doctor glances down at my chart. “Natalia did
have some minor cuts and abrasions on her body.
But there was nothing major that would give us a clue
as to what may have happened to her.”

I feel my mom bristle beside me. “Nothing major that
would give you a clue as to what may have

happened to her? How about the fact that she
showed up here, with a boy she hardly knows, all cut
up and bleeding, claiming she had no idea what
happened to her!”

“Ms. Moore,” Dr. Palermo says, his voice
sympathetic. “I know this must be a horrible shock for
you and your daughter. But the injuries Natalia has
aren’t consistent with what we typically find in cases
of domestic abuse. Still, I’m not ruling anything out at
this time. We just don’t have enough information to
form a conclusion right now.”

“So that’s it?” she says. “You’re just going to send
her home?”

“Mom, please,” I say. “I

want

to go home. I’m fine.”

“We can hold her overnight for observation if you
wish,” the doctor says. “But I don’t think that’s
necessary. It’s very possible her memory may come
back on its own.

And we can certainly schedule her a follow up

appointment with a neurologist in a few weeks, to
make sure that she’s well taken care of.”

“I’d like to speak to another doctor about this,
please,” my mom says quietly.

“Mom,” I say. “Please. I just want to go home.” My
eyes are filling up with tears. I want Cam. I want my
bed. I just want this whole nightmare to be over with.

“You can certainly speak with another doctor,” Dr.
Palermo says. If he’s insulted, he doesn’t show it. “I
can send a colleague in as soon as I brief them on
your daughter’s case.” He looks at me, like maybe
he wants to say something else, but then he changes
his mind. He turns back to my mom. “In the
meantime, the officers in the cafeteria would like to
speak with you.”

“What officers?” I ask.

“The police officers,” the doctor says. “They’ve
finished questioning Campbell, and now they’d like
to speak with your mother.” His pager goes off, and

he checks it.

“Excuse me,” he says. “I’ll send in another doctor,
and order up the discharge paperwork in case you
do decide to leave.” He pats me on the shoulder,
and then he’s gone, out the door in a swish of his
white coat.

“Mom,” I say. I’m struggling to keep my voice even.
White-hot anger is pulsing through my veins, and my
hand twists the sheets on my bed tighter and tighter.
“Please tell me you’re not the one who called the
police on Cam.”

“Natalia,” she says, “you’re my daughter. And I have
to protect you.” She kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll
be right back. If the new doctor comes in while I’m
away, make sure he stays here until I’m back.”

After my mom leaves the room, I sit in bed, numb
from shock.

Police questioning Cam? How could she do this to
him?

I sit there and stare at the white wall in front of me,
trying again desperately to remember

something

from this weekend. But all I can recall is talking to
Cam after the game and then things get dark…and
nothing. The very next thing I remember is waking up
confused on the beach.

I’m so angry with myself. If I could just remember
what happened to me this weekend, then Cam
wouldn’t be in trouble anymore. I wonder if I should
lie and say my memory came back, if there’s any
way they could prove it hasn’t.

All I know is I can’t let this continue. It’s already been
nearly fifteen minutes since my mom left, and I can’t
sit here anymore doing nothing.

I grab my clothes off the chair by the door and slip
into the bathroom. I drop my hospital gown, leaving it
on the floor, and throw on my jeans and sweater.

I have to find Cam.

Chapter Four

Campbell

The cops are talking to Nat’s mom now. She’s
outside the cafeteria but I can see her through the
large glass windows. She’s very animated, gesturing
wildly, occasionally pointing in my direction.

The officers seem like they’re trying to calm her
down, and I wonder what fucked up shit she’s telling
them about me. Is she begging them to arrest me,
telling them that I assaulted Natalia? I’m jittery, and
my leg’s bouncing up and down. I take a sip of my
tea in an effort to calm myself. It’s completely cold
now, though, and all it does it make me gag. I
wonder if I’m being stupid, cooperating with the
police like this. Maybe it’s time to call my dad and
ask him to find me a lawyer.

Relax, Cam, and stop freaking out. You didn’t do
anything wrong and there’s no

reason for anyone to

get arrested here.

I try to get control of my racing thoughts and focus.
Nat’s the one in danger right now, not me.
Something’s happened to her, and it’s important that
I figure out what.

The conversation between Ms. Moore and the cops
goes on for what feels like forever. Every time their
eyes dart over to me, I get a chill and a queasy
feeling pierces my stomach. Eventually, Natalia’s
mom shakes her head like she’s disgusted. A few
more words are exchanged and then she leaves.
She doesn’t even look at me as she speeds off
down the hallway like a woman possessed, back
toward Natalia’s room.

Officer Riley comes back into the cafeteria and his
partner stays outside in the hallway, almost as if he’s
guarding the door.

“Cam, we’re almost through here,” he says.

“So I can go now?”

Riley grimaces. “Not yet. We still need to talk to

Natalia.”

“She doesn’t remember anything.”

“Still.” He sits down, then sighs and runs his fingers
through his hair. “Cam, how did Natalia get the
scratches on her face, arms and hands?”

I shrug and swish the tea around in its Styrofoam
cup. It makes a hollow sloshing sound. “We took a
little hike through the woods.”

“A hike? Why? And where?”

“The motel room got boring so we decided to take a
walk. It was stupid. We got scratched up and bit by
mosquitoes and everything.” I show him the same
scratches on my hands and arms. “See?”

He nods and makes a note. I can’t tell if he believes
me or not. But either way, I’m done with this. “I didn’t
hurt Natalia,” I tell him. “And I shouldn’t be treated like
a criminal.”

He sighs again. “Nobody’s treating you like a

criminal. Nobody’s doing anything except trying to
figure out what happened to your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, tell her mother that.”

There’s a flash of movement outside in the hallway,
and I look away from Officer Riley just in time to see
Natalia coming around the corner. She looks in
through the window and our eyes meet. She gives
me a strained smile.

“There she is,” I say, standing up.

“Sit down, Cam, and relax. We need to talk to her.
Alone.”

I sit back down, breathing a sigh of relief. She
doesn’t hate me. Her mom hasn’t poisoned her
against me. At least, not yet.

Officer Riley leaves the cafeteria and he and Officer
Hanson start talking to Natalia. It strikes me how
totally different Nat is from her mom. Where her
mother was wild, frantic and angry, Natalia appears
calm. Her energy is soft and she even smiles and

laughs a few times. I know she’s scared, terrified
even. But she’s holding it together for me. For us.
The cops do a lot of writing and nodding and then it’s
over. The three of them enter the cafeteria together.

“Campbell, thanks for talking and being cooperative.
No charges are being brought against you at this
time.” Officer Riley steps forward and gives me his
business card. “Please give me a ring if anything
relating to the case comes up, or if you remember
anything.” He hands another copy of his card to Nat.

As soon as the two policemen are gone, Nat hugs
me, burying her face in my chest. I hold her close,
inhaling the scent of her hair, relishing the feel of her
body against mine.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, and starts to cry.

“It’s okay,” I soothe. “You don’t have anything to
apologize for.”

“Yes, I do. I’m ruining your life.”

I pull back and try to look at her but she can’t meet
my gaze. She’s sniffling and crying still. “Nat, you
hardly ruined my life.”

“When I started at Santa Anna, you were happy and
popular and you were friends with Brody and Raine
and everything was fine. Now you’re miserable and
you and Brody hate each other, and Raine tried to
kill you and eat your heart, and now the cops are
after you.”

She stops to take a breath, and finally looks up to
meet my eye. And then we’re both laughing.

“Oh my God,” I say. “That sounded so ridiculous.
Raine tried to

eat

my

heart?”

She keeps laughing. I love the sound, love that I was
able to give her a moment of lightness. But a second
later, she’s serious again. “My mom is such a bitch.”

It sounds wrong coming from her, and I don’t like the
fact that she’s saying it.

“Don’t say that. Seriously. That’s your mom. You

shouldn’t say things like that about your mom.”

“She called the police on you.”

“Listen, she cares about you. She loves you. She
doesn’t know what happened, and so she’s just
doing her best.” It’s true. If I were Natalia’s mom, I’d
probably have called the police on me, too. Besides,
calling her names and getting angry isn’t going to
help anything.

“I want to leave together.” Nat says. “Now.”

I stare at her. It sounds great. The two of us getting
out of here, hopping in my dad’s truck (which he lent
to me without asking when it would be returned), and
driving somewhere. But where would we go? We’re
just kids. Our parents will try to find us, especially
after what happened this weekend. Natalia’s mom
would make sure we didn’t get far, and then she’d

really

make sure I wasn’t allowed to see Nat. And

she’d be right –

it would be seriously fucked up of me to take off with

Natalia.

I shake my head no.

Nat’s face is stricken. “Why not?”

“We can’t leave together,” I tell her. “We can’t run
away anymore.”

“But I want us to be together!”

“We will be. Just not right now. You need to go back
home with your mom.”

Her expression darkens and she pulls away from
me. “Why is everyone trying to control me? Why can’t
I decide for myself what’s best?”

“Because. You’re hurt, Nat. Something happened to
you. I have no idea what, but I’m going to try to figure
it out if I can.” I reach over and grab my tea and
swish the liquid around again in the cup. Then I take
another sip, mostly just for something to do.

If Natalia’s in my arms, if I’m holding her, it’s going to

be hard not to give in, not to take her away from all of
this. “But right now what you need is to rest and
relax. You need--”

“I need to be with you.” Her eyes are hurt.

“I know. And I need to be with you.”

“Then why do you want me to go back with my mom?
And what are

you

going to do? Go back to your

dad’s? And then what? We see each other in school
and act like nothing happened?”

I take her hand in mine. “I love you, Nat. You know
that.”

Her face lightens just a little, and her gaze drifts to
the floor for a moment before meeting mine again. “I
love you, too.”

“Then trust me. Please. Go with your mom.” She
thinks about it for a second, not saying anything.
“Please.” It’s my final plea. If she fights me on it, I
don’t think I’m strong enough not to take her my arms
and run away with her. But she doesn’t fight me.

She nods, kisses me softly on the lips, and then turns
and walks away. She looks back at me only once,
right before she rounds the corner and disappears.

I’m alone in an empty hospital cafeteria. I stand there
for a moment, looking around, feeling kind of dazed,
until finally, there’s nothing left for me to do but leave.

A few minutes later, I’m in the elevator heading to the
parking garage, and then I’m in my dad’s truck,
pulling out of the hospital and onto the traffic circle. In
the rearview mirror, I can see the bright lights in the
windows of the gray building, and I wonder if Nat is
looking out, watching me go.

Chapter Five

Natalia

When I get back to my room, my mom’s waiting for
me. And she’s not happy.

“Where the hell were you?” she asks. “I was going
crazy!” She grabs my shoulders and starts looking
me over, like maybe something horrible happened to
me while I was gone.

“I just went for a walk,” I say, shrugging her off. “I was
getting stir crazy just sitting here.” Her face softens.
Either she feels sorry for me, or she’s just happy that
I wasn’t with Cam. Probably both.

“My poor baby,” she says. “We just have to wait for
the other doctor to get here and then –”

“No.” I shake my head. “No more doctors. We’re
going home.” She starts to open her mouth, probably
to tell me no.

“Mom,”

I say. “We. Are. Going. Home.”

I’m not using mind control on her, but there must be
something in my voice that lets her know I mean it,
because she nods.

“Fine,” she says. “But on one condition. If you start to
get a headache, or you feel sick, or dizzy, or

anything,

you tell me immediately so I can bring you

back to the hospital.”

“Deal.”

We fill out the discharge papers, which seems to
take forever. The nurse in charge of them is either
new or set on moving at the speed of a snail, and so
by the time we get out into the fresh air, I’m starting
to go a little crazy. I take a deep breath and turn my
face to the sun, happy to be away from the sterile air
and antiseptic smell of the hospital.

“Whose car is this?” I ask, as my mom unlocks a
gray Audi sedan that’s sitting in the parking garage.

“It’s Jerry’s,” she says.

“Jerry from next door?” I ask. “Why are you driving

his car?”

“Because Natalia,” she says, opening her door,
“when I got a call saying you were at a hospital in
Maine, I needed to find transportation. I had no car
because you took mine, remember?”

“Sorry,” I mumble, climbing into the passenger side
and buckling my seatbelt.

She doesn’t reply, just starts the car and pulls out,
stopping to pay the parking lot attendant before
guiding the car onto the traffic circle. We’re on Route
95 before she speaks.

“So you’re not going to tell me anything about what
happened?”

“What do you mean?” There’s a Dunkin’ Donuts cup
sitting in the holder between us, and I stare at it,
squinting my eyes until the orange letters blur
together. I wish I had a coffee. I wish I had a
mochachino with extra whipped cream, and Cam
and I were sitting in a cafe, drinking it together,

watching the leaves fall through the window while we
listened to the slow indie music they always play in
coffee shops.

But I’m not. I’m with my mom, in our next door
neighbor’s car, on the way home from the hospital.

“Well,” she says, “you told me you left Santa Anna
because you were following Cam. Is that true?”

I turn away and look out the window. “I’m not sure,” I
say. “I don’t remember.”

According to Cam, I

was

following him. I had Raine in

the car, and he was with Hadley.

But I don’t remember any of it, including whether or
not I told my mom I was following Cam. Obviously I
wouldn’t have told her the whole truth, but I don’t even
know what kind of lie I made up, or if it even involved
me following Cam.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom glance at
me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

We’re quiet for a few minutes. “Natalia, this might not
be the time to bring this up,” she says. “But I need
you to know that you’re not allowed to see Campbell
anymore.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that out when you called the
police on him,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Which, by the
way, was a really shitty thing to do. You don’t just go
around calling the police on people like that, Mom.”

“When my daughter shows up at a hospital in the
middle of the night with cuts all over her body --”

“Oh, please,” I say. “I don’t have cuts all over my
body. And it wasn’t the middle of the night. Stop
being dramatic.” I want to sound angry, but I can’t
manage it.

I don’t feel angry. I just feel sad and beaten down.

Besides, how can I be mad at her when she’s right? I
mean, as far as she can tell, it seems like Cam took
me to some isolated woods in Maine and did terrible

things to me.

She’s not acting crazy. She’s acting like a mother.
And the worst part of all, the worst part of this whole
screwed up situation, is that I can’t even tell her the
things I

do

remember -- the stuff that’s been going on

with Raine, the crazy things I’ve been seeing and
doing. If she knew exactly what had happened, she
would realize Cam’s not a bad guy, that he would
never hurt me, that all he wants to do is protect me.

“You’re not going to see him,” she says. “And that’s
that.”

“What if I get my memory back?”

“This isn’t up for discussion.” Her hands tighten on
the steering wheel.

“I’m not asking to discuss it,” I say. “I’m just asking
what happens if I get my memory back.”

“If that happens then we’ll talk about it.” Her tone
sounds a little dismissive, like she’s already decided

that even if my memory comes back, there’s no way
I’m going to be allowed to see Cam again. And that
does make me angry.

“You can’t stop me from seeing him, you know.” This
time, my tone is bratty.

A little bit singsong, like I’m almost daring her to tell
me that she can. Which, of course, she does.

“As long as you’re under eighteen, I can.”

“I’ll sneak out.” It’s a ridiculous stupid, thing to say.
But I say it anyway, and in that moment, it feels good.

“I’ll come after you.”

I snort, then look back out the window. “In whose
car?” I ask. “Yours is gone.

Although I guess you could always call the police on
me, the way you did with Cam.” I can’t remember the
last time I talked to my mom like this. In fact, I don’t
know if I’ve ever talked to my mom like this. But if
she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it.

“If that’s what it takes,” she says quietly, “then that’s
what I’ll do.”

I feel my eyes start to fill with tears. A range of
emotions flow through my body, all within seconds.
Anger, sadness, frustration. And then, before I can
stop them, my tears spill over and I start to cry.

“Natalia,” my mom says. “Honey, please, what’s
wrong?”

But I’m crying too hard to answer. She guides the car
off the road at the next rest stop, pulling into a
parking space behind a rusty red truck. I keep crying,
my shoulders shaking, and my mom releases her
seatbelt and pulls me toward her.

I rest my head on her shoulder, tears sliding down
my face.

“It’s okay,” she says, stroking my hair. “Natalia, it’s
okay, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

She repeats the words over and over, and I let

myself, just for a second, believe they’re true. I
pretend she can take care of it, the way she used to
take care of me when I fell off my bike and scraped
my knee, or when I had a bad dream in the middle of
the night.

After a while, my crying gets softer and less intense,
and I sit up, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve. My
mom reaches over and pulls a napkin out of the
glove compartment and hands it to me. I blow my
nose and dry my eyes. The napkin is scratchy
against my face, but when I’m done, I keep it in my
hand just in case I start to cry again.

My mom doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I
take deep breaths, my heart rate gradually slowing,
my anxiety ebbing away little by little.

“Feel better?” she asks.

“A little,” I admit.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Her voice
is soft, and I turn to look at her. I can see the concern

and worry in her eyes, and I feel bad for the way I
was treating her earlier. I wish I

could

tell her. I wish I

could tell her everything. She’s my mom.

She’s supposed to know what to do. I might not be a
kid, but I’m definitely not an adult.

And these are adult problems that are happening to
me, things that I shouldn’t have to be dealing with.

I shake my head, about to tell her that I can’t. But
before I can, she reaches over and takes my hand.
“Honey, please,” she says. “Whatever it is, you can
tell me.”

I want to believe her. I want to believe her

so bad

. I

want to believe that if I tell her the crazy stuff that’s
going on, she’ll have some explanation for it. Maybe
she knows something she’s not telling me. Maybe
she’s encountered something like this in the past.

She’s older than me, she has more experience,
she’s my

mom

for God’s sake. She’s supposed to

protect me.

“It’s hard to talk about.” My fingers twist the napkin
I’m holding.

“You can tell me,” she says. “Whatever it is, Natalia,
we can deal with it.” I don’t say anything, wondering
where to even start. “Does it have to do with Cam?”
she asks gently.

I shake my head. “It doesn’t,” I say. “I promise.”

“Is Derek bothering you again?”

I shake my head again. “I wish that were it.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s these girls at school,” I say, deciding to frame it
in a way that she can hopefully understand. “This one
girl Raine in particular.”

“Okay,” my mom says, nodding. There’s a slight look
of relief on her face, and I know what she’s thinking --
that if it’s just girls at school, then it’s nothing she
can’t handle. Her lawyer brain is probably already
formulating a strategy, coming up with a plan of

action – letters to the superintendent, phone calls to
parents, emails to members of the media to put
pressure on the school district. “She’s been giving
you problems?”

I nod.

“Okay,” my mom says. She pushes her shoulders
back resolutely. “We’ll take care of it. As soon as I
get home, I’ll start making calls. We can get –”

“Mom, no,” I say, “it’s not going to help.”

“Of course it will,” she says, with the kind of
confidence that only lawyers can have about
situations like this. “We’ll sue them if we have to.”

I shake my head. “Mom, this isn’t…Raine isn’t…” I try
to find the words to explain what’s really going on,
the words to tell her exactly what it is that’s
happening.

“What is it, Natalia?” she says. Her voice sounds a
little angry now. “Just tell me!”

“Mom, Raine……she has…she’s powerful.”

My mom snorts. “Some sixteen-year-old little brat is
not powerful.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t mean that girls at
school are afraid of her. I mean, yes, the girls at
school

are

afraid of her, but that’s not what I’m

talking about. She has powers. Like, actual powers.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean she can make people do things with her
mind.” I think about adding that I can do it, too, but I
stop myself because I can see the look on my mom’s
face slowly changing from one of confusion to one of
fear.

“Natalia,” she says, sounding deliberate. “What are
you talking about?”

“Never mind,” I say, turning back and looking out the
window. It was stupid to think she could do
something, stupid to think she could help. No one
can help me. No one even knows what’s going on

except for Cam.

My mom pulls the car out of the rest stop and back
onto the highway. I pretend to be asleep, sliding my
seat all the way back, keeping my eyes closed. At
one point, I do doze off, and in my dreams, Raine is
chasing me down a long hallway at school, yelling
that she’s going to call the police on Cam, that I can’t
have him, that she’s keeping him for herself. When
we finally pull into the driveway, it’s a relief, mostly
because now I can retreat to my room and get away
from my mom.

But when I open the door to get out, she stops me.
“Natalia,” she says.

“Yeah?” I turn around, my door open, my feet on the
driveway.

She’s not looking at me. “I’m going to make an
appointment for you to talk to someone about this.”

“Mom,” I say, “you really don’t have to do that. I’m
fine. I don’t need to talk to anyone at school, it’s only

going to make things worse.”

“Not at school.” She’s still staring out the windshield
at our garage door. “A counselor or a psychiatrist.”

Heat rushes to my face, and a lump rises in my
throat. I’m about to fight her on it, but instead, I step
out of the car.

“And I meant what I said about you not seeing
Campbell.”

I don’t answer. Instead, I slam the car door and head
into the house.

Chapter Six

Campbell

The ride back to Santa Anna is long, and since I
have no car, my dad had to drive me, which hasn’t
made him the happiest camper. He’s not very
friendly on his best day, so the car ride has been
mostly quiet. Once or twice we attempted to make
small talk about football or school, but the
conversation would die out after a few exchanges
back and forth. I’d like to say it doesn’t bother me,
but that wouldn’t be true.

He knew I was taking Natalia to the hospital, knew
she couldn’t remember anything, and yet except for a
quick “How’s your girlfriend doing?” when I got back
to his house, he hasn’t asked me a thing about her. I
can’t help but wish that I had at least one parent I
could talk to if I need help. Instead I have a drunk for
a mom, and a dad that forgets I exist except when I
can come work for him at his business during the
summer.

We pull up in front of my house and most of the lights
are off. My dad leaves the car running and doesn’t
say anything.

I let out a long sigh. “Her car’s here so she must be
home.”

“I guess I can figure out what that means,” he says
with disgust.

I look at him. His eyes are hard, unforgiving. I want to
ask him why he married her if he hates her so much.
And then I wonder if his hatred for her extends to me
for some reason. But I don’t say any of that. I know
he wouldn’t answer me.

“Well, thanks for the ride.”

He grunts and nods his head.

I get out of the truck and he’s gone before I even hit
the front door.

My mom’s probably going to be pissed off at me for
leaving like I did, going away for nearly three days.

But she’ll get over it. She always does. Whatever
crap I pull, she never stays mad at me for too long.

When I get inside, I flip on the hallway lights. “Mom?”

No answer. I walk into the kitchen. The light is on
over the oven and there’s a pan of macaroni and
cheese on the stove. It looks old, like it’s been sitting
for hours and hours.

“Hello?” I call again, louder this time.

Still no answer. I go into the living room and there
she is. Even after so many times of seeing her like
this, I still feel the same sense of revulsion and
surprise.

The TV is on, but the sound is off, so it’s just pictures
flashing in the darkened room. My mom’s sprawled
out on the sofa, looking like a doll that’s been
carelessly tossed aside. She’s wearing a gray,
tattered nightgown and one of her legs hangs over
the side of the couch. Her face is turned to the wall,
mouth open, and she’s snoring softly.

There’s got to be at least six or seven empty bottles
of wine on the coffee table.

“Mom, wake up.” I walk over and shake her roughly.

She doesn’t stir at first, so I shake her shoulder
again.

Finally, her eyes roll and she sits up with a start.
“Cam. Honey.”

“You passed out.”

“I’m sorry, I just got so tired.”

“You mean you just got so drunk.”

“Don’t be like that.” She rubs her face and sits up a
little straighter. “What time is it?”

“Too late to deal with this crap.”

“I made some macaroni and cheese. You should
have something to eat. How was practice?”

I just stare at her, realizing we’ve hit a new low. She
has no idea I’ve been gone.

“Practice was awesome, Mom. Thanks for asking.”

“Good.” She’s barely listening to me. She stands up
and walks unsteadily to the kitchen. “I need some
water.”

“I’ve got to take your car,” I tell her.

“Where’s yours?”

“In the shop, remember? I told you that last week.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”

“So can I borrow yours for a few hours?”

“Sure, honey.”

It’s pathetic how easily she buys my lie about the car
being in the shop, but that’s how it is when she’s
been on a bender. It makes me feel guilty, but only
for a second.

I shake my head, grab her keys off the ring by the
garage and then leave without saying goodbye.

***

I’m not sure when I decide to go to Natalia’s, but I
should have called first. I realize this when I pull up in
front of her house and honk my horn. But I’m not
really thinking straight. I’m angry.

Real l y

angry.

Angrier than I’ve been in a long time. I feel pissed at
everyone and everything but her. She’s my beacon
of hope and I need to see her now.

But when the front door opens, it’s not Nat who’s
standing there.

I get out of the car and wave. “Hi, Ms. Moore. Sorry
to stop by so late unannounced. I know I’m probably
not your favorite person right now.”

That’s an

understatement,

I think.

She only called the cops on

you and tried to get you thrown in

jail.

“Campbell, you’re not welcome at our house and I’m
telling you right now that Natalia isn’t allowed to see

you anymore.” She’s not wearing a coat, and she
crosses her arms over her chest, hunching her
shoulders against the slight wind that’s blowing.

“I didn’t hurt her,” I say. “I need you to know that I
would never do anything to hurt her.”

I glance up at Natalia’s window. The light is on but I
can’t see her.

“Campbell, I’m not going to have this conversation
with you. Please respect my wishes and leave my
daughter alone.”

“What about what Nat wants?” I ask. I glance up at
the window again, wondering if it would be crazy to
just start screaming her name. Would she come
down?

I curse myself for not running away with her earlier,
like she wanted.

“She’s a teenager who doesn’t always know what’s
best for her. Perhaps you would be better served if
your mother took a stronger role with you as well.”

Her words are biting, and again I want to tell her she
has no right to judge me or my mother. It’s bad
enough that she tried to have me arrested, but now
she’s going to stand there and treat me like I’m a
piece of trash.

But the words don’t come. I look up at the window
and see Natalia there, watching. Her face is lost in
the shadow, but I can see her dark hair, illuminated
by the light behind her. “Nat!” I yell, and put my hand
up, waving at her.

Come on, open your

window. Run

downstairs. Tell her you want to be with me. Fight
for us, Nat.

But she doesn’t move. I stand there, looking up at
her for what feels like forever.

“Campbell,” Natalia’s mom says. “Please go home.”
She steps inside, closing the door behind her. But I
don’t go home. I stand there, looking up at Nat. She
doesn’t open the window, or say anything, or even
acknowledge me. And then she turns away,
disappearing into her room.

I feel rage bubbling up inside me. As soon as I’m
back in my car, I peel out, spinning my tires like the
dumb teenage jock Natalia’s mom thinks I am. Let
her think it’s that simple. Maybe I

will

be that guy.

Maybe it’ll make things easier.

I drive

for a while, not even sure where I’m going. My
thoughts are racing. Why didn’t Natalia say
something, why didn’t she come outside when she
saw me?

I try and reason with myself, try and calm myself
down but nothing’s working. It’s driving me crazy that
I have no way to talk to her, and I feel the anger
inside me building and building.

Before I know it, I’m at Dom’s Wine and Spirits over
on East Main Street, in the bad part of town. Dom’s
is the one place that’s almost guaranteed to serve
liquor to minors. I park out front and walk inside. The
place is small, dingy, and Dom himself is at the
register. He’s a short, stocky guy with a shaved head

and goatee that he seems to think looks pretty cool,
apparently not realizing goatees haven’t been cool
for a long time. He’s got tattoos running up and down
his arms, and he wears a white button down shirt
with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Howdy,” he says as I come in.

I nod, hoping he won’t try to talk to me. I don’t come
here all that much, but the few times I have, he
always tries to talk football and pretend he was
some kind of stud at Santa Anna back in the
nineties.

“You look familiar,” he calls after me as I walk to the
back cooler. I don’t answer him. This isn’t social
hour. I want to get wasted and that’s about it.

The little chimes on the entrance ring as someone
else comes in but I don’t bother looking. I just want to
get my beer and be on my way. A twelve pack
should do the trick.

I have a weird feeling as I reach into the cooler and

snag one. Part of me worries I’m about to go down
the same road as my mom, but I don’t think I could
ever let myself be like her. She’s a drunk. She can’t
handle her booze. She drinks constantly, all day
every day. I’m not like that.

“Drinking on a school night?” a familiar voice asks.

I turn and see Derek standing just a few feet away.
His arms are folded and he’s shaking his head, a
crooked grin on his face.

“You picked a bad night to follow me around,” I tell
him and move forward, ready to knock the dumb
smile off his face.

But he doesn’t step back. “I wasn’t following you,
Cam. Don’t you think I have better things to do?”

“Not really. Fucking loser.”

For a second his grin fades, but then it comes back.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a girl maneuvering
through the wine racks in the corner.

“I’m here with a friend,” Derek says, following my
eye. “See, unlike you, I can keep a girl for more than
five minutes.”

“Good for you.”

He looks down at the twelve pack in my hand. “Sad
night?” he says with mock concern. He pouts out his
lower lip. “Awww, fight with the little lady, did we?”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Derek, stop it.” The girl he’s with comes into view
and I realize it’s Brody’s sister, Kaci. I haven’t seen
her in a while. In fact, I can’t remember the last time
she was in school. She’s wearing jeans and a light
windbreaker. Her blond hair is pulled back in a bun.
“Hey, Cam,” she says, sounding genuinely happy to
see me.

“Why are you hanging out with this dickhead?” I ask
her. Kaci’s got a bit of a reputation, but still. Derek’s
pretty scummy.

She laughs. “Ehh, he’s not that bad.”

Derek chuckles. “See Cam? I’m not that bad. Ask
Natalia. She’ll tell you allllll about me.”

My free hand clenches into a fist. “Don’t even say her
name again, or so help me, Derek—I’m going to
knock you through a wall.”

“Derek, seriously,” Kaci says. “Stop, you don’t have
to be an asshole.”

“Whatever,” I say. The last thing I need is to get
caught up with Derek and Kaci and their drama.
With the way I’m feeling right now, nothing but trouble
can come from me being around that dude. “You
should stay away from him, Kaci,” I say, as I walk
toward the front of the store. “Seriously, you’re better
than that.”

At the register, Dom charges me thirty bucks for the
beer, tacking on a hefty surcharge for selling to a
minor. But that’s how it works, so I don’t complain. At
least he doesn’t try and talk to me about football.
Honestly, I think he’s a little scared of me.

I’m definitely giving off a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe.

I walk outside to the parking lot and open the trunk of
my mom’s car, then place the twelve-pack in it. I’m
about to open the driver’s side door, when a voice
calls my name. I turn around.

“Cam!” Kaci’s running toward me. When she gets to
me, she’s slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed
from the cool air. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I say, not in the mood for small talk.

“I just… I just wanted to let you know I don’t usually
hang around with him.

With Derek, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, it’s none of my business.” I open the car
door.

“Where are you going now?” She’s smiling, sort of
embarrassed.

“I’m not sure. Probably to the golf course or

something.”

“By yourself?”

“It’s one of those nights, I guess.”

“Mind if I come?” She looks at me when she says it,
and her tone is kind of playful. Flirty almost. I
hesitate. Going to the golf course alone, at night, with
a girl and a twelve-pack is definitely not something a
guy with a girlfriend should be doing. On the other
hand, how is Natalia my girlfriend if I’m not allowed to
see her? And if she doesn’t even act like she wants
to see me? I think about the way she turned away
from the window like that, leaving me there, standing
in her driveway.

I take a deep breath. “Sure,” I say to Kaci. “Hop in.”

WATCH FOR BOOK FIFTEEN OF THE

WITCHES OF SANTA ANNA, COMING

SOON…

Table of Contents

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six