I'm leaving this redneck town.

If I stay something bad will happen. Like getting arrested for beating this girl's ass.

Untangling my hair from demon girl's grip, I shuffle away from her with the promise to leave Colt Colby alone on my lips.

Still reeling, I take my time, heading to the nurse. An exit strategy percolates.

Sheila sniffles a thanks after I slide the tampon underneath the stall.

"Listen." I fold my arms across my chest. "I'm not staying here for the rest of the day. Fuck this school."

"That's so harsh."

"What's harsh is getting cornered by a girl that looks like Wonder Woman and her pulling my damn hair out."

"Someone pulled your hair?" Sheila sounds incredulous. "Can you wet some paper towels and hand them to me? I need...to clean off."

"She wants me to stay away from Colt Colby. I don't even care about him or stupid Mr. Kessler." I snatch brown paper from the dispenser and run it under cool water.

"You really don't like it here, do you?" Sheila unpatched the stall and eyes me as she scuttles to the sink, her purse clutches to her chest. "You're so cool and..." she searches the air for words, "LA-like. Why are you even here in Pachuck?"

Do I tell her the truth, Mercy?

That we wanted to get away from anything that reminded us of your death?

Or should I mention Dad's relapse?

No, that all seems so...personal.

I give her the condensed version. "My mom had this aunt she'd never met. About six months ago, a letter came in the mail from some lawyers in Oklahoma. This lady died and had no children. My mom wasn't exactly on speaking terms with my grandma before she died, so the lawyers gave the house to us. We're the only heirs left."

Sheila gives a befuddled look. "Shannon Dawson is related to you? That nice, old black lady? That's the house y'all took, right?"

"Was related," I correct. "She's dead. And like I said, I never met her."

"Ms. Shannon was real sweet!" says Sheila, placing a large hand on her heart. "Although, a little weird. She hung all those wind chimes on that big porch."

"Mom took one look at those things and tossed them in a box in the attic. She decided it would be impossible to sleep with all that twinkling."

"Is Ms. Shannon's house bigger than the one you had in LA?"

What do I say, Mercy?

Tell her we've been evicted more times than I can count? That this house was a dream come true for Mom who'd grown tired of packing and unpacking Cherry after every eviction?

That she thought by running here, she'd outrun the imagined demon that killed you?

I don't answer. The floor's dirty scuffs are more appealing.

"That sounds like Bella Hardgrove, the girl that pulled your hair." Sheila waves the uncomfortable moment away, turning faucets on. "She's had a thing for Colt Colby since fifth grade. And she went through some weird stuff a few years ago. Or so I've heard."

"Well, Bella Hardgrove is a bitch." I say, leaning against a sink.

A flush of red flashes across the tips of Sheila's ears. "Your language is so...colorful."

As she grimaces in the mirror, I sneak a peek at the back of her leg. Dried blood zig-zags across her calf. "You're still kind of a mess. No offense."

Shifting around to get a better look, she groans. "I don't want to give these kids any more ammunition."

"Didn't you hear them laughing at you?"

"They're always laughing at me. I've just learned...to ignore them."

I study her reflection in the mirror. Though she and I are from different cities, different planets it seems, I see myself in her. There's the uncertainty mixed with being too self-aware. The feeling of being so absorbed with your flaws, you have to keep your head down just to make it through the day.

She has that same sense of knowing no matter how hard you try to get people to like you, you might just be unlovable. Mercy's death reminds me of this everyday.

I remind myself to stick to myself. No new friends.

But, you have a heart, Moriah. Mercy's voice never leaves me alone.

"I've got an idea," I say softly.

I don't know if I feel sorry for Sheila, or if it's dawning on me I can use her to get out of Pachuck.

"You can't spend the rest of the day looking like this," I gesture towards her legs. "Those fucktards won't hesitate to make your life a living hell on Instagram. Why don't you skip the rest of the day? I'll take you home so you can clean up."

Sheila stares, furrowing her brow.

"After I clean up, do you want to grab something to eat from Silver's?" Her question is as tentative as a toddler's first steps.

I hesitate. I'd only offered a ride home; I don't necessarily want to hang out.

But I need her.

"Umm, sure," I say with forced cheeriness. "Do you have a phone I can use? I just need to call my mom."

Sheila nods her big head, her grin gleaming. "Just one thing, though. Can you watch your language? It's not lady-like. At all."

🐺

Trees with bony branches and sparse leaves litter the perimeter of the parking lot. Cherry sticks out like a red pimple amongst the drabness.

Sneaking out was much easier than I'd assumed it would be. Pachuck High doesn't have security. I guess in a school so lily-white, guards just aren't necessary.

As Sheila chats beside me, a flutter of white waves from Cherry's windshield. The ivory envelope is the exact same from the porch this morning.

"What's that?" Sheila inquires. The dry wind whips her hair as I snatch the envelope from the windshield wiper.

MORIAH HANLON

This day has just gone from sucky to downright weird.

Did that Bella girl leave this on my windshield? And if she is did, was she behind the one on my porch, too? I'm starting to think the note earlier was anything but welcoming.

In the safety of Cherry, I rip the envelope open with trembling fingers. This message isn't as friendly:

WE'RE WATCHING YOU

-The Shields Of Broken Hearts