|photo by Screen Post from Unsplash|

Noah goes to work, swiping and tapping my screen. He gives the phone back to me with a head bob. Then he does this kind of flourish thing with his hands. Like in his head, he's saying, "Tada!"

"Check your email again," he says, confident. "They're going to send a temporary password."

"Okay. But that's what I did before and I never got it."

"Huh." He holds out his hand, asking for my phone with wiggling fingers and a hard frown that makes me smile. I hand it over and he squints at me. Annoyed, obviously, by my inappropriate reaction to his grumpy show of determination.

I press a palm against my mouth and he goes to work, swiping and tapping the screen. It takes longer this time. He switches apps, swipes and taps some more, and then he says, "Oh," drawing out the word, with hiked eyebrows, like he's just made some hugely important discovery. "The email addresses are different. Your phone is set up to get mail from a Gmail account, but the username on the app you've been using is from Yahoo."

"I have more than one email address?"

"Yeah," he says, offering me the phone again.

When I take it, he shoves his hands in his pockets like he's done. So I hold back my next question. I guess I can ask Lindsay to help me find the Yahoo account.

"That might be an old address," he says. "It'd probably be easier to access it on the computer at your house. Are you going home anytime soon?"

That's a really good question.

"Yesterday my mom asked if I wanted to visit our house. In...um..."

Noah kind of leans forward and his face starts to scrunch with anticipation that looks a little painful. So there's no way the word I'm looking for—which is the name of the town we live in now—is going to surface anytime soon. 

"I'm going there this Friday," I say. Like I've already made up my mind.

And maybe I have. Because right now, visiting our new house feels like a good idea. It would give me a chance to spend some time with Lindsay—like time alone without Mom hovering around us. And then we could finish that conversation.

No, I want to start the whole thing over again so I can see her eyes when I deliver the apology I know she deserves. I have to prove to her that I'm not the person in those IM transcripts.

"How long of a visit?" Noah asks.

"Mom said two nights. But really..." I twist around. The stately red brick mansion and the gardens surrounding it are beautiful. And the staff here has been friendly and helpful. But it doesn't feel like home. The home I remember is gone forever and there's nothing anyone can do to change that. So. I guess it really is time for me to move on.

"There's no reason for me to stay here," I say, turning back to Noah. "Dr. Dabney says they've done everything they can to rehabilitate me. And my psychologist has an office in Richmond—which is close, right?"

"Yeah, it's only thirty minutes from your house."

"There's also this transition support group I can go to. Like a weekly meeting. One of the counselors is...he had a traumatic brain injury when he was about my age. But he was able to finish school and go to college, and now he's a therapist." Obviously.

"What about school?"

"Oh. Um, yeah. Well. I haven't really...I mean, I've thought about it—of course. But I don't know."

Noah leans back against his car, nodding. Then he knocks on the hood and says, "I have a car, and my house is only fifteen minutes away from yours."

"Okay..."

He huffs out a laugh and palms his forehead. "You have your own car—but I was thinking if you don't remember Summerfield." He swipes a hand through the air, like he's erasing a thought. "I'm sure your parents will give you a tour, but if you ever need to get away from all of that..."

He acknowledges the empty space with a confident head-bob, like he's certain I know what he's not saying.

I don't.

"You could give me a call," he finishes. Then his hand drops and his eyes brighten. "I could show you where to find the best milkshake."

Um. "I love milkshakes."

Noah gives me a tight-lipped smile and says, "I know."

Of course he does—he knows more about me than I do. And it's not fair, because I don't know anything about him.

Except. There's a brand new list in my journal titled, Noah Dodge. Because yesterday, I started writing down all the facts I've learned about him from the IM transcripts: his parents are divorced, and his mom still lives in Georgia. His grandparents have a house on the same street as the house my family lives in now and he used to ride my bus home sometimes.

And today I learned that he's driven his tricolored car to Faircrest "a few times" since I transferred here.

"I should go inside," I say, pointing over my shoulder. But that's not exactly true. It's just that I have this sudden and overwhelming need to talk to someone—like a best-friend kind of someone—who can help me sort out this strange sense of...like...déjà vu. Except it's not, because I actually did have feelings for Noah. He probably was, and possibly still is my boyfriend.

"Thank you for coming here," I say. Giving him an embarrassing little Raisinets wave.

"No problem."

Noah walks around to the side of his car, but he doesn't open the rusted-grey door. "You could text me again if you don't want to call," he says. "Or I could text you—just to see if you need anything?"

"Thanks. But..." I take a backwards step. And then another.

"Maybe I could show you the high school or something," he says, sounding a little desperate.

But I can't think about tours and milkshakes. I haven't even told Mom about the visit. "Um. You could text, maybe. Like after I get to..."

"Summerfield."

"Yeah." I wave again, with my phone this time, as I turn away from him. Then I speed-walk toward the twin horse statues that mark the entrance to the red brick path, typing in my passcode so I can find my sister's name in the contacts. Because every cell in my body is telling me that Lindsay is the someone I want to talk to. She's the person need in my life right now. We need each other.

My phone dials the number, and I have to stop walking and try to breathe in a little calm.

"Allyson?"

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey. What's wrong?"

"Um, did I..." I take the phone away from my ear to glance at the screen. Oops. I called Mom's phone by mistake. "I'm okay," I tell her. "I thought I was calling Lindsay—so we could talk about Noah—but after that I was going to call you, because I've decided to go home with you on Friday. And also, I'm probably going to tell Dr. Dabney that I'm ready to leave Faircrest. Like permanently."

The words tumble out of my mouth so fast I have to repeat them in my head again, to make sure they feel true. And they do. I can't go back to the home I remember, but that doesn't mean I can't be the person I was when we lived there.

"Mom? Is that okay?"

"Of course, honey. It's what I want more than anything—but only if you're sure. I didn't suggest the visit this weekend to pressure you into making a decision."

"It didn't feel like pressure. I just...like you said, I needed time to think about it."

"Does your decision have anything to do with Lindsay?" she asks. "Did she say something to you about Noah?"

"Um, yes. To the first question, I mean. My decision has to do with our whole family. But no, Lindsay didn't say anything about Noah. That was you. I did the thing you suggested, Mom. I reached out to him and he came here. He just left, actually."

"Oh," Mom says. Giving the word an extra syllable.

"You were right about him wanting to help. He offered to show me the high school—which was really nice and all—but Lindsay will be new there too, right? A freshman? We should do the tour together as a family."

"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves, honey. The next step is to have that conversation with Dr. Dabney. I can put a call in after we hang up if you'd like?"

"I would. But are you sure you're okay with everything? You sound...like..." I don't know the right word. I haven't heard Mom sound this way before—like she's extra nervous or...

"I'm surprised," she says. "And thrilled, Allyson. This is more than I dared to hope for."

The infusion of warmth in her tone softens the ever-present knot in my chest. "You don't have to call my doctor," I say. "I'll go straight to Penny and ask her to make an appointment as soon as possible. But you'll call Dad, right? He'll be at the house when I get there?"

"Yes, honey. I'll make sure of it."

"Good." I start walking again. Fast, because Penny might already be here. "I should hang up," I say, because I can't wait to give Lindsay the good news. "Bye, Mom. Love you."

"Oh, honey. I love you, too."

I end the call and carefully select my sister's name from my contacts. But her phone goes straight to voicemail. I take a breath after the beep. "Hey, Linds. I'm sorry I didn't call you right back after we got disconnected. I was trying to tell you that something happened to the app you showed me, but I already know how to fix it. Which is part of the reason I just told Mom I'm coming there. To the new house. But I didn't tell her anything about the IM conversations—or about us. Just that I'm ready to leave Faircrest for good.

"So yeah, I'll be living there full time. And I hope you're as excited about that as I am, because it's going to be great. For both of us, right?"