Chapter 4

The email went around the community center staff.

"Ethan and Isabelle are pleased to announce their engagement."

There was a picture attached. Them, on a beach, Isabelle showing off a shiny ring.

My stomach dropped.

I looked for Sarah.

She wasn't at her desk.

Her bag was gone. Her coat too.

"Has anyone seen Sarah?" Ethan asked later, a small frown on his face.

No one had.

I knew this was different. This was bigger than a charity dinner or a grant proposal.

This was an engagement.

I left the center, a sick feeling in my gut.

I didn't know where to look.

I thought about the rooftops, the MMA places.

Then I remembered something she' d said once, a throwaway comment about how some people just needed to disappear to the most remote place they could find.

The bus station.

It was crowded, smelly, full of people going somewhere or running from something.

I spotted her in line at a ticket counter.

The sign above the counter listed destinations I' d never heard of, places that sounded far away and dangerous.

She was buying a ticket. One way.

I ran.

"Sarah!"

She turned, her face pale, eyes hollow.

She looked right through me.

"Sarah, don't go!"

She clutched the ticket in her hand. "Leo, go home."

"No! You can't!"

What could I do? I was just a kid.

Then an idea, desperate and crazy, hit me.

I started to cough.

A small cough at first, then bigger.

I grabbed my chest.

"I can't... breathe," I gasped, making my voice ragged.

I sank to my knees, coughing harder, forcing out wheezing sounds.

People were starting to stare.

"My... asthma," I choked out. I didn't have asthma. Never had.

Sarah' s head snapped towards me. The blank look in her eyes flickered.

"Leo?"

"Help... inhaler... forgot..." I coughed again, a big, dramatic one.

A woman nearby said, "Someone call 911! That boy needs help!"

Sarah was by my side in an instant.

"Leo, where's your inhaler?" Her voice was sharp with alarm.

"Don't... have it..." I wheezed.

The bus ticket fluttered from her hand to the dirty floor.

She didn't even look at it.

"Okay, okay, I'm taking you to urgent care. Come on."

She pulled me up, her arm strong around me.

She half-carried, half-dragged me out of the bus station.

The ticket to somewhere far away lay forgotten.

At the urgent care, the doctor was confused. "His lungs sound perfectly clear. No sign of an asthma attack."

Sarah paid the bill, her face grim.

She didn't say anything on the walk back to the group home.

But she didn't try to buy another ticket.

She stayed.

For me. Because of a lie.

I felt bad about the lie.

But I felt worse thinking about her gone.