“And I was grateful you were back!” I told him.
That made him smile. “Thanks. It was cool that everyone was so happy. I wish we could have stayed there, you know?”
“People are still happy you’re back. Mom and Dad especially.”
“I know. But it’s gotten so messy. And I wish I could unmess it.”
“But you’re telling the truth.”
Aidan smiled, but this time it didn’t look as happy. He leaned into me and said, “Yeah, but the truth isn’t very helpful if people don’t believe it. Or at least that’s what it looks like now. I mean, it’s started to play with my mind too. There are times when I wonder if it was all this really intense dream, that I was lost somewhere, came back here, and my mind is trying really hard to forget where it was, so it’s made up this other experience out of dream material. What if everyone else is right? What if I’m making all of this up?”
“But there was the leaf,” I pointed out.
“Oh yeah. The leaf.” Aidan leaned back on the chest again. “The crumpled, brown leaf.”
“It was blue. I saw it. It wasn’t from here.”
“And is that why you believe me? Because of a single leaf?”
I thought about my answer; I knew Aidan wanted me to. Then I shook my head and said, “No. I believe it because you believe it too.”
“It’s weird how much that helps. To have one other person know the truth. To have that reflecting back at me. I don’t actually need the world to know. Just one or two people.”
“Well, count me in.”
“We just have to figure out something to tell everyone else,” Aidan said.
I took it as a challenge.
In my mind, I started to explore the options.
38
We tried normal again the next day, and did better at it.
Mom and Dad kept their distance at breakfast and didn’t mention dinner. Mom reminded Aidan he had another therapist appointment after school, and he said he remembered. Then Mom told me I’d have to come along, because Dad couldn’t get out of work to pick me up. I could have tried to convince her I could walk home alone, but decided it wasn’t worth it. I said I was fine going along.
At school, there was more security at the doors. But once we walked in, it was like everyone had decided the joke wasn’t funny anymore, and had moved on. The stickers were gone from Aidan’s locker. We got some weird looks, but not too many. Aidan searched out Glenn and the rest of their friends, and they all volleyed words around like nothing had happened. Seeing this, I realized that Aidan was lucky—he’d never been a jerk to people, so people weren’t inclined to be jerks back to him when he was vulnerable. They liked him, and liking would forgive a lot.
There was still some snark, but it was containable. When Kelli McGillis tried to call Aidan “Unicorn Boy” again, Glenn said, “Hey, how about we start calling you Vulture Girl?” Apparently, word spread, and by lunch, kids were walking over to Kelli and saying, “Is that seat next to you available, Vulture Girl?” By the fifth time, she was like, “Alright, I get it. Stop.”
Another thing that helped Aidan: He hadn’t done anything to anyone else, only to himself.
As far as my friends were concerned, Tate and Truman were happy to change the subject—only Busby kept asking me if I’d learned more about what had really happened.
“He ran away, okay?” I said. “He wishes he hadn’t done it. Now he’s back, and if that’s all that matters to my family, then that should be all that matters to my friends, right?”
“Okay,” Busby replied. “It’s just that Aidan disappearing was the most interesting thing that has ever happened here. Now we’re going to have to go back to talking about boring things.”
“I’m okay with boring,” I told her.
I welcomed boring.
* * *
—
I didn’t hear anything Aidan said to the therapist—I guess therapists make sure to have walls and doors thick enough that the people in the waiting room can’t hear a word.
Mom had her laptop with her and was doing work. I was supposed to be doing my homework. But I think both of us kept stopping to look at the door to the therapist’s office, wondering about what Aidan was saying inside.
“It’s going to be okay,” I told Mom when I caught her looking.
She turned to me, surprised by what I’d said.
“Why do you think so?” she asked. Not arguing, but curious.
“Aidan’s not going anywhere,” I told her. “If that’s what you and Dad are worried about, you don’t have to worry about it.”
“Oh, Lucas,” Mom said, putting her hand on my arm, “that is what we’re worried about. And I’m sure we’ll keep worrying about it. But it’s good to hear you say we don’t have to. We’ll get through this, I’m sure.”
I’d been trying to make her feel better, but she made me feel better too.
It felt like we were all on the same side again.
* * *
—
At the same time, Aidan had given me an assignment, and I kept thinking about it: Where could he say he’d gone, besides Aveinieu?
Aunt Brandi called me to check in, and I told her the day had gone well—the therapist had told Mom that Aidan seemed like he was in a good place, even with all the strange circumstances. I liked that phrase, strange circumstances, as if it was something that had been sprung on Aidan, not something he had sprung on us. Brandi said she liked that phrase too.
“But how are you, Lucas? I don’t want you to think that we’re all so caught up in Aidan’s feelings that we don’t care about yours.”
“I’m fine,” I told her. “Aidan’s actually talking to me more than he did before. I like that.”
“That’s good,” Brandi said. She didn’t ask me what Aidan was saying, like Mom or Dad would have. I appreciated that.
After I hung up, I thought about how Brandi had been away in Peru when Aidan had gone missing. What if he went to see her and she wasn’t there? I thought. I just needed a reason for Aidan to go there, because it wasn’t like he’d sneak out in the middle of the night to visit our aunt, no matter how cool she was. What if Aidan and I had gotten into a big fight and he’d stormed off? But that didn’t make sense. What could I have possibly said to Aidan to make him leave like that? Nobody would believe it, especially not Mom and Dad. No, I figured, Aidan had to be running away to something, not away from here.