“Everything,” he whispers, and a blush inches across his cheeks. “Like was it really you in the missing posters?”

I nod, knowing there’s no way of getting around that.

“So what happened? You don’t have to tell me,” he says. Contradicting himself.

I take in a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“I grew up here, but I had some problems with my parents. Or they had problems with me…” My stomach twists even thinking about my past. Somehow, here in this tree with Jackson, I’m not that girl.

I’m not the lost and lonely but pretending to be okay thirteen-year-old, and I’m not Exquisite the hooker. I’m…just Anna. And talking about my past, any of it, would be like marring this moment.

“…so I moved in with my cousin in New York City.” I wince, calling Luis my cousin, but how else can I explain this? Not like I haven’t lied to the police about who Luis is before, anyway. I once had to pretend he was my brother so he could bail me out of jail. Talk about embarrassing.

“What about the posters? Your parents were looking for you.”

I nod, hating how easily the lies come. “I didn’t tell them where I went. Took them a long time to figure it out.”

“That’s not so bad. The way people talk about you, and sometimes the way you react to things, I thought…” He looks down at his hands, his feet no longer swinging.

“I know. I get it. Just because it’s easy to explain like that doesn’t mean it’s simple. Life in New York…wasn’t the easiest thing in the world.”

My eyes sting, tears threatening to expose me, but I keep it under control. He can’t see what’s really underneath.

What would he think if he saw the real me? The disgusting bits that I won’t let see the light of day?

Would he still like me? Still be my friend?

If I never stop hiding, can my wounds ever really heal?

Because as much as I like to think about my nightmares as scars…I know that’s not true. Scars are healed wounds. Mine are still festering.

Jackson’s hand brushes against my cheek, right there in that stupid little tree house in our own mini Central Park, and my stomach flutters. I take a deep breath, holding on to that feeling, and then it spreads from my head to my toes.

I want him to pull me closer. I lick my lips, wondering what he’ll do.

He leans in and kisses my cheek, then pulls away and points to the way we came. “We should head back.”

I take a long look out of the tree house, at the world around me, and let myself cool down. I don’t want him to see how much I enjoyed his lips on my cheek. How much I wanted him to kiss me on my mouth.

Finally, I let him lead the way out of the tree house.

My cheek’s still on fire from where he touched me.

Would he still look at me like this if he knew who I really was?

I can’t tell him the truth. It’s not worth the risk. I can’t do it. I won’t.

But maybe he doesn’t need to know the truth.

That part of my life is gone.

I have a chance for something new now.

I have a chance for something good.

Chapter Nineteen

He walks me all the way home, and things are real quiet between us. Now that we’re so far from the tree house, I can’t help but wonder why he didn’t kiss me. I mean really kiss me. On the lips. Did he see something in me he doesn’t want?

“Hey, I was wondering,” he says. “Homecoming is next weekend. Would you, I mean, do you want to go?”

Oh.

“Homecoming?”

Seriously? That’s another high school thing I thought was long behind me.

And absolutely something I never thought he’d ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I was just going to go with some friends, but if you wanted to go with me…”

“Oh… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” His face falls for an instant so I quickly say, “Not you, I mean. The dance. I get enough looks at school.”

“Yeah, I know. I get enough looks at school, too.” He smirks. “But I still want to go with you.”

“Maybe.”

“Just think about it.”

“Okay,” I say. Smooth. “Thanks, you know, for showing me around the neighborhood and stuff.” Wow, that sounds stupid.

“Sure,” he says, then waves good-bye and walks back toward his house.

I wait for a moment, unsure what to do, what to say. What to think.

Homecoming. Pretty sure that’s something Luis and I used to laugh about, how stupid those things were. How we were so far beyond that.

But maybe I’m not as far beyond it as I thought.

I walk inside to see the dog chained in the entryway again. She’s sitting up, her ears perked, when I walk in. She takes a step forward and nudges my hand with her nose. I give her a quick rub behind the ears.

I look up and my gaze crashes into my surprised mom standing in the hallway, holding a towel and a coffee mug. Her eyes narrow as she looks from the dog to me, but then she smiles and says, “Hey, honey.”

I wait for her to say something about Zara. She told me once already to keep my distance.

But I guess she’s going to take a chance, because instead she goes back to drying the dishes and says, “I almost didn’t hear you come in. We got a huge vicious dog, and he doesn’t even bark when people walk in the house.”

Did my mom seriously just make a joke?

Maybe I should laugh, but it’s so weird.

“It’s not a he,” I finally say.

“What?”

I raise my eyebrow. “Mom. It’s a girl dog.”

She looks at the dog, at me, back at the dog. “How do you know?”

“How do you not know? She doesn’t have boy parts, pretty simple.”

“Are you sure?” She puts her towel down. “Well,” she says and clears her throat. “They told us he was neutered when we got him. We just assumed.”

I stand at the edge of the kitchen, able to see both my mother and the dog. “You know a dog is supposed to be more than just protection. They have feelings.”

“I know they do.” She pauses. “Is there something else you think we should be doing?”

After a moment, I say, “We should call her Zara.”

My mom takes a deep breath. “Okay, honey. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

I pause to look at Zara, who’s watching me with those big brown eyes, her tail twitching. I’d like to take her with me now, but I think I’d still rather keep our relationship secret if I can. I don’t need one more thing to fight about with the parents who clearly still don’t know what to think about me.

I play a little music and lie on my bed and try to pretend I am someone else.

I listen down the hall as my mother huffs and puffs, trying to coax Zara outside. By the sounds of it, she’s not having an easy time.

About a half hour later I know my father is home because Zara is barking like crazy. I hear the door open, my father yell at her to shut up, then footsteps to the back door. He must be putting her outside.

I sigh. I wish he’d treat her better. I pick up my math book and decide to make an attempt at homework, honestly just for something to do. I should have stayed in the woods, if you can call that little batch of trees that. It was much better than sitting here doing nothing.

Finally I hear a knock on my door. “Dinner’s ready.”

I head to the dining room to a nice big dinner. Grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, carrots, and fresh dinner rolls. My stomach growls just looking at it.

This time I’ll try to finish the full meal before starting a fight. Yes, that sounds like a good plan.

“How was your day, sweetheart?”

I look up, unsure if my father was talking to me or my mom. They’re both looking at me. I grab a big scoop of mashed potatoes.

“Fine,” I say.

“Anything interesting going on?”

“A boy asked me to homecoming.” The words are out before I realize what I said. That’s what I get for letting my guard down.

I have absolutely no idea how they’ll react to me saying someone invited me to a dance, and I’m honestly a little scared.