NORMAL (58 page)

Great. No Cam and no phone.

I tiptoe into the hall, still in just Cam's football tee shirt, but the bathroom door is wide open, clearly showing the empty room. I pad downstairs and find the kitchen empty, along with the rest of the house. I check the garage, thinking he may be working out - probably beating the sand out of his punching bag again - but it, too, is deserted.

I hurry back upstairs, increasingly unnerved.
Where the hell is he?

I grab one of his portable landline phones and dial his cell, but it goes straight to voicemail without even ringing. I pull on my sweatpants, thinking he must have gone next door to my house for some unsurmisable reason. It's strange that he didn't leave me a note, but he probably assumed I'd still be asleep when he returned, just like I did of him.

Then I realize I didn't even look for a note. I walk over to his desk knowing that if Cam did leave one, it would be in his journal, which he would have left open to the appropriate page for me to find. He used to leave notes there for me before we were old enough to have cell phones, and the habit didn't die when the reason for it did.

But his desk is empty.
Where the hell is his journal?

I distinctly remember him getting up last night to write, and then abandoning it on his desk when I asked him to come back to bed.

I look around again, my brows pinched together in confusion, and then I see it. Cam's journal is open on the foot of his side of the bed. It's completely out of character for him to just leave it so carelessly around like this. He treats that thing like a priceless treasure.

A quick glance shows me that there is no note, just a long - and judging by his handwriting - rushed and angry, journal entry. I quickly avert my eyes, knowing that he would never want me to read one of his journal entries, and in my hasty glance, I saw my name, so I know it's about me.

Of course it's about you!

I cringe, knowing that Cam got up in the middle of the night to vent because of me. Knowing that he was so preoccupied about me and Robin, and everything I told him last night, that he forwent sleep to unload in his journal. I never wanted to be a burden to my best friend, and now, I fear, that's exactly what I've become.

But where the fuck is he?

I try his cell from the landline once more with the same frustrating result.

I don't know what to do next. I need to get to the sheriff's station soon, or my plan won't work.

I war with myself. I know that Cam's last journal entry might give me a clue as to where he went, but I've never betrayed his trust in the fourteen years we've been best friends, and I really don't want to start now. I change my mind back and forth at least twenty times before I compromise with myself. I decide I will read just the last sentence, because if the information I need is in there, that's likely where it is, and if it's not, then I'll just need to find him some other way.

I sit down, careful not to even touch the journal in case he remembers exactly how he'd left it and catches me in my transgression that way. I'm incredibly anxious - I've never read one of Cam's personal journal entries before, ever; I've only ever read his stories, and only with his express permission.

The last sentence reads:

I still can't shed the feeling that she's left something out - that there's something she still hasn't confided, and considering the horror of what she has told me, I can only imagine what it might be, and for the first time in my life, I curse the vivid imagination I've supposedly been "blessed" with, and I wonder if it would be the worst kind of betrayal if I was to search for the answer in her phone-

It's a long run-on sentence, completely unlike Cam, and there's no period, making it look as if he stopped writing abruptly. I sit here for a moment, perplexed, before the panic sets in.

My phone.

Where the fuck is my phone?!

And then I see the corner of it peeking out from beneath the journal, and I realize that Cam did, in fact, look through my phone. Which means he saw Robin's messages. I don't know why this bothers me so much, honestly, they just confirm the story I already described to him. In detail. So he'll see Robin insisting that I belong to him, analyzing my "daddy issues", calling me
stupid
, so what?

I try to convince myself I believe this - that I'm not suffocating from shame knowing that Cam, my best friend and the person I love and respect most in the world, saw firsthand how I've been letting my boyfriend treat and talk to me, as he said, for months.

And then my heart stops.

My breath catches in my throat and a wave of nausea rolls through me as I finally realize where Cam is. I grab my keys and try his cell again as I rush out of the house, pausing only to pull on one of Cam's hoodies that hangs on the stair rail and shove my feet into a random pair of his mom's shoes before running to my jeep. Cam's phone goes straight to voicemail again so I hit redial as I pull out into the rain.

Damn it's still coming down hard
.

I have no idea what time Cam read my text messages and realized Robin was already home - that he'd been home since last night. I loathe to think how long Robin and Cam might have already been alone together and what might have happened. I just pray that I can catch them before their confrontation unfolds - before it escalates into something terrible. I curse myself when I realize how much time I wasted traipsing around his house looking for him like an idiot when the answer was right in front of me the whole time.

My windshield wipers swipe back and forth over the fogged up glass as fast as the settings will allow, and still I squint and blink in vain, barely able to see more than a few feet in front of me. I dial Cam again as I turn onto Maple Drive, heading into town. I'm stuck at a red light before I can turn onto Main Street and my cell phone rings.

Thank God!

But when I look at the caller ID, I see it isn't Cam. I press "reject" when I see it's Chip calling me, knowing I don't have time to bullshit with him right now. My jeep progresses down Main Street at little more than a crawl.

Chip calls me again, and I press "reject" before the first ring has even finished. I bet he's looking for Cam, too, and decided to try me when he got his voicemail.

As I creep down Main, I start to make out lights in the distance. As I approach, I recognize the flashes of red and blue through the fog, and finally, I'm stopped by a police officer in full storm gear flagging me down. I pull over and roll my window as little as I can get away with to avoid getting completely soaked like he is. He's a young officer, and I don't recognize him, which is strange since I know most of them here in Linton. But I guess
most
isn't
all
.

"You gotta go around, road's closed," he shouts to be heard over the loud rain.

Damn
. There must be a power line down - it always happens when there's a bad storm. I can go around, of course, instead of straight through town, but it will add at least twenty minutes to the trip in this weather and I'm not sure I
have
twenty minutes. God only knows what's already happening between Cam and Robin at this very moment.

"It's kinda an emergency, there's no way I can just drive through?" I plead, but he shakes his head.

"Sorry, sweetheart. And you should get on home, shouldn't be drivin' in this," he admonishes.

I scowl. "Don't call me that," I mutter and hastily close my window, reverse, and head back to Maple to go around the park. An ambulance flies by me in the opposite direction, and I grumble under my breath that
they're
not being made to go around the park.

My phone rings again.

Chip,
again.

Why is he bugging me anyway, shouldn't he think I'm in Gainesville with Robin?

Although I guess if he spoke to Cam at any point yesterday he might have mentioned I'm not... or Lacey might have mentioned Robin came home early.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, I arrive on the Forbes' block. My heart races more and more the closer I get to the house in which I'd been hurt so many damn times. Beads of sweat break out all over my body as the house comes into view and my breaths come short and quick. I don't know what's wrong with me and I park outside the house, not sure if I can even drag myself out of the car.  

I'm overcome with terror at the prospect of seeing Robin again, and as a phantom steel band tightens around my chest, I realize something.

Cam's car isn't even in the driveway. He's not here.

What the fuck?
Where the fuck is he?!

My phone rings again. Chip again!
Ugh, I do not have time for this!

"What?!" I answer finally. I hear him breathing on the line, but he hesitates.

"Rory?" he asks tentatively. Well who the hell else would it be?
He
called
me
!

"Yes, Chip! I'm busy, what's up?"

And then my world is thrown off its axis.

****

I sit in the back of the police cruiser doing nothing but counting breaths in a pointless attempt to both calm my breathing and to make the longest car ride of my life go faster.

When Chip asked where I was, something in his voice made me tell him the truth. He insisted I wait right there, but wouldn't tell me anything, and already I knew something was very, very wrong. He came with his dad to pick me up, and now, time stands still as I sit here in the backseat, curled in a pitiful ball, while Chip stares at me in worry, and his father, the sheriff, drives us to the hospital. Their words replay in my mind.

Cam was in an accident.

We don't know anything yet.

It's bad, Rory.

I take wheezing breaths and don't make eye contact with either Chipley man. They've given up on reassuring me or asking if I'm alright. It's more than obvious I'm not alright.

Cam was in an accident. He was the reason Main Street was closed. And I was there! I was right there and I never thought...

I just turned on around and continued on to Robin's house.

No one could tell me anything about Cam's condition, but his car is completely totaled. Michelle, his mom, is already at the hospital of course, she was on call and has been there since Friday.

I cry silent tears and count, and pray, and count, and pray. I pray to a God I'm not even sure I believe in, because I know Cam does believe, and right now, I would do absolutely anything for him to be okay.

I don't even let myself consider the worst, because I know it isn't possible. I know I couldn't survive without my best friend, not even if I wasn't dealing with my own personal issues, because those don't compare to the prospect of Cam being hurt.

I just sit here in my little ball, replaying Cam's promise over and over in my mind. He said he'd never leave me, and Cam has never lied to me, ever. He wouldn't start now. Not when he knows I need him more than ever.

When we finally arrive at the hospital, I don't wait for the car to fully stop outside the emergency entrance before I try to flee from the back seat. But the door handle won't budge. I yank and push and even kick it as Chip tries to calm me down, reminding me that I can't open the back door of a police cruiser from the inside, but I barely hear him.

I'm screaming my lungs out in desperation when Sheriff Chipley finally opens the door and I practically tumble out of the car. I don't cry anymore, I try desperately to focus, I need to find Cam, he needs me right now. Both Chipleys shout after me as I bolt into the emergency room and ask the first person I see where Cam is, but I'm told to have a seat and wait.

Wait?! I can't fucking wait!

I start shouting at the poor woman stuck at the reception desk, demanding to see Cam, but she just glares at me as if she sees a crazy girl flipping out in the waiting room on a daily basis, which she probably does, and this frustrates me even more.

I throw Cam's mom's name around, and this gets a reaction. Dr. Michelle Foster is a big deal here, but although the reception nurse picks up her phone to make a call on my behalf, she isn't moving fast enough, and I'm jumping out of my skin, looking around in desperation. My eyes dart to the automatic doors that lead past the waiting room, and when Sheriff Chipley asks the receptionist about Cam's status, I take advantage of her distraction and run right through them without looking back, only vaguely aware of my name being called in an attempt to stop me.

Not a chance.

I look up and down the hall in both directions, at a loss for where to go, so I make a choice and turn left, alternately shouting for Dr. Foster and Cam's name. A doctor I don't know tries to stop me but I push past him looking into the patient rooms as I pass, but all I see are a bunch of people I don't know with various injuries. I still don't cry, but I can't get a hold on my breathing, and my lungs are in a constant unfulfilled state, getting enough air to take short breaths, but not enough to satisfy the burning sensation.

I'm grabbed from behind and I scream and flinch back, trying desperately to wrench myself out of the stranger's grip, but he doesn't relent. I hurt all over - my injuries smarting from his hold and my resistance. Belatedly I realize that it isn't a stranger at all, it's the sheriff, but this realization doesn't stop me from struggling.