The Apocalypse (6 page)

"Sleep's better than school," Isaac conceded.

When Jake parked at his house, Isaac had finished eating. They both exited the car, but Jake's brow furrowed when he realized Isaac was gearing up to cross the street. "Where are you going?" Jake asked. "You can hang out over here."

Isaac motioned for Jake, so the two of them ended up on the front porch of the Ayers' home. Jake's eyebrows rose when Isaac realized he didn't have his house key. Before he could go searching under the snow for the spare, Jake unlocked the door with his key, and Isaac flew inside, with Jake following him in.

The house was chilly, but tinkering around with the thermostat took care of that. Starting a fire in the living room's fireplace helped matters also, and within fifteen minutes, the house was growing toasty. Jake stood up and admired the fire he created but then saw that Isaac wasn't in the room. He only needed one guess to find the boy's whereabouts.

"I bet Hannah would have a cow if she knew you were prowling through her stuff," Jake remarked as he entered Hannah's bedroom. A year must have passed since he was last in that room, but it looked about the same. Isaac was sitting at her desk, looking through a drawer. "What are you doing?"

Isaac shrugged and held up a scrapbook. Even Jake could recognize Hannah's handwriting on the cover. "People in books and movies always surround an amnesiac with familiar stuff. It might help Hannah jog her memory."

"Maybe." Jake wasn't sure he bought into that, but maybe he just didn't care one way or the other. Sure, it sucked to be Hannah right now, but old feelings die hard. "Oh my God, Isaac."

Isaac snapped upright. "What?"

"Look at this."

Isaac dropped the scrapbook onto the lime green comforter of Hannah's queen-sized bed and joined Jake, who was staring incredulously at something on Hannah's bulletin board, which took up a portion of a purple wall. "What is it?"

"Ayers has a picture of me on her wall," Jake significantly announced, a smirk on his face. Sure enough, on the board full of pictures, there was one where a thirteen year old Hannah held Jake in a headlock; he was scowling, but she was laughing. "Never would have guessed that."

"Oh." Isaac didn't seem impressed. "That's nothing. Look." His blue eyes scanned the board, and he suddenly pointed out another picture. In that one, Hannah, Jake, and Isaac were sitting on a towel at the beach smiling and nursing sunburns. "Wasn't that the summer before you guys started middle school?"

"Yeah." Jake grinned and shook his head at the picture. "Ayers isn't as predictable as I thought." Jake looked around the room, suddenly curious. "I wonder where she keeps her voodoo doll of me."

Returning to Hannah's desk, Isaac dug around in the drawer. "I've only ever heard her speak of it, so I have no idea."

Jake moved to Hannah's bedside table and rolled his eyes at a framed picture of Hannah and Greg. Beside it was a collection of movie ticket stubs. That didn't particularly interest him, so Jake's green eyes scanned the top of her dresser. He made a face. "Your sister doesn't keep too much incriminating evidence out in the open, huh?"

"Nope."

When Jake looked over at Isaac, he saw two scrapbooks, the school yearbook from junior year, and a hot pink photo album in Isaac's hands. There was a satisfied look on his face, so Jake said, "It feels weird to be in here."

Isaac smiled and shrugged, and Jake followed him out of Hannah's room.

After spending a few days in the hospital, Hannah Ayers was more than ready to leave the place on Tuesday morning. Still,
a
part of her was worried about exiting the room that had become comfortable. Now she'd be throwing herself into a world that she couldn't remember existing in.

"…but remember, you don't have to go back to school until you're ready," Patricia was saying from the driver's seat of her SUV. Hannah glanced at her and then returned her gaze out the window to sights she didn't recognize. "There's only one more full week after this one before Christmas vacation anyway."

Hannah's fingers lightly grazed the spot on her forehead where eight stitches were. It was becoming a habit. "I don't know what I'll do," she murmured faintly but only because she knew she was expected to say something. "Maybe I'll go tomorrow."

"Oh not tomorrow," Patricia gasped softly, nibbling her lower lip gently. "Why, you'll need more than a day to rest at home, sweetie."

"Oh."

"I'm so glad you're coming home. We've missed you so much."

On Hannah's lap rested the items Isaac had brought to Hannah in the hospital. She'd poured over the pictures and listened to her brother talk about the events in them. Isaac had even filled her in with stories of people she liked and didn't like in the yearbook; he'd been able to explain some of the inside jokes in her friends' signings too. Hannah guessed that she'd had a close bond with her brother, but her interactions with everyone seemed impersonal now.

"I thought that if you were feeling up for it, some of your friends could stop by soon," Patricia suggested, glancing at Hannah briefly. Hannah tried not to tense. "So many of them have called every day."

"Mmhmm," Hannah murmured, but the sound was noncommittal. Seeing her friends terrified Hannah. Since she couldn't remember anything about them, it was completely possible that she'd say or do something wrong. Hannah barely felt comfortable around her family; how could she cope with being around others already?

But Patricia blatantly brightened. "Oh good!" She turned onto a residential street. "I know Tisha can't wait to come over. And Libby has used every argument she can think of to see you."

Smiling politely, Hannah looked down and opened the hot pink photo album for at least the hundredth time. The first picture included Tisha, Libby, Hannah, and Morgan, and the happiness radiating from their faces entranced Hannah the instant she saw it. At the same time though, it made her more nervous.

"Well, here we are." Patricia parked the SUV and looked at Hannah expectantly, as if under the impression that seeing 'home' would miraculously cure Hannah.

Aware of her mother's stare, Hannah took off her seatbelt and left the passenger seat. She stood outside the car, keeping her weight off her still swollen and bruised right leg, and stared up at the Ayers's house. Cedar siding, brown roof, snow-covered bushes, a large yard…it had all the makings of
a
desirable home. Following Patricia, Hannah went through the front door and saw that the living room continued the log cabin theme. A quick tour proved that the entire downstairs did as well.

On the stairs, Hannah, next to her mother, studied a wall of family portraits. It was easy to see family resemblances. Both Hannah and Isaac had inherited their father's strawberry blond hair, but Isaac's had more of Patricia's blonde in it. Benjamin's facial bone structure had been given to both children, but Patricia's lips were dominant, as were her blue eyes.

"Come on. I'll show you upstairs."

Hannah glanced over and saw tears glistening in Patricia's eyes; she felt a light tugging at her heart as she continued up the stairs, following her mother submissively. Her bedroom was the first stop. The walls were purple, and her desk, bed frame,
dresser
, and chest were white. The curtains and bedspread were lime green, but Hannah most admired the cleanliness of her room. Even with personal touches here and there, the room was tidy.

Beside Hannah's closet was a full-length mirror, and Hannah felt drawn to it. Her reflection showed the two-inch line of stitches on her forehead, but the bruising and swelling of her face had all but disappeared thankfully. Aside from the stitches, Hannah thought she looked pretty healthy.

Apparently, Patricia knew what Hannah was thinking, for she commented, "I can already tell that your forehead's going to heal nicely."

Hannah glanced at her mother dubiously. "Do you really think so?"

"I do." Patricia smiled. "You've had stitches four times before now, and they've all healed well."

Nodding, Hannah glanced back at the mirror briefly and then left it completely. "That's good then." She was going to leave it at that, but she heard
a
barely audible sniffle, and when Hannah glanced over, she realized that her mom was crying openly now.

Realizing she was caught, Patricia wiped her eyes sternly and managed a little smile. "I'm sorry, sweetie." She moved toward Hannah quickly and wrapped her arms around her tightly, catching Hannah off guard. "I'm so glad you're going to be okay, Hannah. I just want you to be okay
now
."

Awkwardly, Hannah raised her right hand to pat Patricia's back lightly; she hoped it was a comforting gesture. Part of Hannah wanted to apologize for going out that Thursday night, but a larger part refused to reach out to someone she didn't know, even if that someone
was
her own mother.

"I'll finish showing you around, and then you should rest," Patricia murmured against Hannah's ear, getting tears on her daughter. "You'll feel much better once you rest in your own bed."

Hannah started to tell her that, aside from some stinging in her knee, she felt fine, but she decided not to. "All right."

Smiling, Patricia nodded and kissed Hannah's cheek, apparently not noticing Hannah's tension and discomfort that the affection brought on. "Good. Now come on. I'll show you the bathroom you helped paint."

Hannah wished she could say she was excited.

After Patricia had finished showing off the house, Hannah found herself back in her bedroom, sitting at her desk chair and looking around. It felt good to be alone with her thoughts in a silent place that didn't smell like rubbing alcohol. Before Hannah knew it, she was relaxing on her bed, falling into a deep sleep.

"Hannah..."

"Don't, Tisha! Let her sleep."

"What? Patricia said she's been sleeping all day. She can get up now."

"You shouldn't wake her. You know how cranky she'll be?"

Morgan Owens cleared her throat loudly. Tisha and Libby faced her immediately, their bickering halted. "You two have argued for the past ten minutes," Morgan said calmly. "Honestly, I'm sick of it. Knock it off."

Being the well-known arguer that Libby Heatherly was, Libby opened her mouth to retort, but no sound came as Hannah stirred on her bed, coming out of her peaceful sleep. Her brow wrinkled, and she rubbed her eyes.

"Ahhhh! Hannah!" Tisha hurled herself onto the bed beside Hannah and threw her arms around her friend. "Oh my God, you have no idea how happy I am that you're okay! You had us worried to death."

Hannah blinked as the girl she recognized to be Libby sat down on her other side. They were closing in on her. "Your mom called and invited us over after school, and I swear we made it here in record time," Libby laughed. "Everyone's dying to see you."

Swallowing, Hannah offered the girls what she hoped looked like a sleepy smile, rather than a forced one. "Well, um…hi."

Tisha smoothed back some of Hannah's hair, apparently not noticing the tension in her shoulders. "I think Jake wants to shoot all of us. We've been pestering him constantly with questions about you."

"Seriously!" Libby exclaimed, tucking some of her own dark hair behind her right ear. "You should hear Ethan too. That kid's practically in love with you, Han, you have no idea. He even yelled at Greg in front of everyone. I felt bad for him."

"Yeah, Greg feels awful," Tisha agreed with an emphatic nod. "He keeps apologizing and apologizing and apologizing. Have you talked to him?"