HATE OUR NEW LAND
WALD ENTHO REAU
My heart nearly bursts with excitement. All this time I’ve been looking inside the book for answers, and the words on the cover are what have a hidden meaning. My thoughts are stirring so fast I can barely keep them under control. I begin scribbling on my tab—anything and everything that enters my mind.
“Why didn’t you call me when you got home?”
As I catch my breath, my mother walks into my bedroom, still dressed in her scrubs, returning from her from her shift at the hospital.
“What are you doing back so early?” I ask
She isn’t supposed to be home until seven thirty.
“I was worried,” she says, folding her hands together, and sighs, as if disappointed. “I tried reaching you on your tab for hours. If I hadn’t checked the entry log at the house, I would have called the police. When I call, you answer. Got it?”
It’s as if my old mom is back, the one who was in charge and not afraid to give me a little hell for screwing up. But even though it’s encouraging, I doubt she’s strong enough for the truth. The QuTap is with Avery now, and there’s no telling what she might do with it. Everyone saw how quickly Patrick acted when Avery was just making accusations against Orexis. What she did pales in comparison to my dirty deeds. It’s only a matter of time before the police are banging at my door.
“Whatever,” I say as I scoot up, one hand closing around the paper and the other tucking my tab under my legs. I don’t want my mom to see what I’m up to. Ever since I found the Zolpidem, I’ve been avoiding her. I haven’t been able to rule out her being involved in some kind of twisted plot with my father, especially because of that prescription she wrote for him. Josh may have told me not to jump to conclusions, but I still can’t seem to look at her without thinking the worst.
“What’s with the attitude?” she asks.
I lean forward and turn around, pretending to fluff my pillows as I shove the paper behind me. “You don’t pick up when I call you,” I say. “You didn’t even show up at the appointment to go through dad’s lockbox.”
“I see,” she says, her brow furrowed with concern. “So that’s what this is about? You’re angry with me? Trying to teach me a lesson?”
“No,” I say abruptly. What am I doing? I don’t want to fight with my mom. She just returned to work. I should be encouraging her, not acting like a bratty kid. I tell myself I’m just geared up because of my recent discovery and soften the look in my eyes. “I’m sorry. I just lost track of time.”
My mom tugs a clip out of her hair, which uncoils onto her shoulders. She walks over and sits on the edge of my bed. “No,” she says. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve let you down lately. You’ve had to be strong for the both of us. I didn’t realize what a burden I was placing on you.”
Oh God. I suddenly feel a million times worse. “It’s not you,” I say, trying to backtrack. “This isn’t a big deal. Really. I’m just . . . tired.”
“Why are you still awake?”
“No reason,” I say, with a shrug.
She glances behind me, where a corner of the paper is peeking out. And that’s when I know she’s on to me. I grab for it, but not fast enough. She whisks Nora’s paper out from behind me and stands up. “Is this from your boyfriend?” she asks, waving it in front of me.
“My boyfriend? No!”
My mom sighs. “If you don’t trust me enough to share this with me . . .”
“Oh. My. God!” Are we really having this conversation? “It’s not what you think!” I shout.
Her arm drops and she looks almost hurt. “If you don’t want to tell me about him . . .”
“It’s not from my boyfriend,” I say, exasperated. “There is no boyfriend.”
She twirls the note in her hands, hesitating.
“Read it,” I insist.
She looks at me for a second and then nods, taking her time as she opens the paper, folding out the corners and crinkles. Her eyes cloud with concern as she holds it up for me to see, as if I don’t already know what it says.
HATE OUR NEW LAND
HATE OUR NEW LAND
HATE OUR NEW LAND.
“Did you . . . write this?” she asks, horrified, like her suspicion about me being schizophrenic has been confirmed.
“It’s not mine,” I say quickly. “A friend’s sister wrote this before she went into Elusion—and now no one knows where she is.” If my mom is involved in a conspiracy regarding my dad’s death, I want her to know that I’m determined to find the truth. “I think it’s an anagram. Something to do with Elusion.”
“An anagram?”
I don’t blame her for being surprised. I felt the same way myself when I first saw it. “It’s like the word puzzles Dad and I used to play.” I pick up my tab and, grasping the stylus hard with my fingers, I rearrange the letters, showing her how I figured it out. “I don’t think this is a coincidence.” I hold up my tab to demonstrate what I’ve done. “‘Hate Our New Land’ spells out ‘Walden’ and ‘Thoreau.’ And Josh found this paper at the warehouse where he last saw his sister.”
“So . . . ,” she says carefully, as she sits back down beside me. She puts the paper on my bedside table as she picks up the copy of Walden. “You think your dad left you this book so you could figure out a message from Josh’s sister?”
When she says it like that, it sounds crazy. “No. I don’t even know if he knew Nora. But I think he left that copy of Walden in his lockbox—and that other one in his office—for a reason,” I say. “It’s a clue. Dad knew I was the only one who could figure this out.”
“And what does it have to do with Elusion?”
“I don’t know.” That’s the one piece of the puzzle that remains out of my grasp.
“I see,” she says, biting her lower lip. She looks away, embarrassed. “And you came up with this all on your own. This Josh didn’t have anything to do with it?”
This Josh?
“Patrick told me what’s going on,” she admits. “He’s worried about you.”
A stinging burst of cold pummels me right in the back. Of course. Patrick is blaming everything on Josh.
When I left Patrick’s apartment, I could’ve sworn I saw love in his eyes. And I knew then that any transgression I made against him would cause double the hurt and anger. I don’t regret stealing the info on the QuTap, but I know only too well the power of love and betrayal. The pain over Patrick’s deceit has driven my desire to pursue the truth at whatever the cost. And now, apparently, Patrick’s returning the favor by getting my mom involved.
“So Patrick called you?”
“No. When I couldn’t get ahold of you, I called him. I knew that once those stories about Elusion broke, you would’ve wanted to make sure he was okay,” she explains. “We didn’t talk long. But he did tell me that you’ve done something out of character. That this Josh Heywood is a bad influence on you. Patrick told me all about his sister—that she ran away and he’s blaming it on Elusion.”