Read Online Are You Still There by Sarah Lynn Scheerger - Free Book Online Page A

passwords, projects from work, and Dad’s gun. Dad always says when you’re a cop in a small community, you never know when you’re gonna need your weapon. So he keeps one locked away.
    I know the code to the safe. I’m not supposed to know it, of course, but I do. I’m responsible about it though. It’s not like I’m gonna tell anyone. But I do sometimes take a peek. I know my parents each have wills. And that they have a document that separates their finances. And that Dad sometimes brings home photocopies of evidence so that he can study them after hours.
    I don’t touch the gun. I never do. Dad did a good enough job of scaring me away from guns when I was little. Guns and motorcycles. I won’t touch either.
    But tonight, after everyone’s asleep, I creep down and look at Dad’s work file. I find a photocopy of another playing card. A joker. It looks just like the one I’d found in my locker, with neat block letters in Sharpie edging around the perimeter. I still hold a thousand lives in my hands. But you will never find me. I am invisible. I could be right under your nose, and you know it .
    After I read it, I wish that I hadn’t.
    I put everything back carefully, then scramble upstairs. I’m so spooked that it feels like the shadows have eyes and the corners of the banister are pulling at me with bony arms. Yikes . I try to laugh at myself, but fail. It feels a little too convenient that one of those same playing cards just happened to be in the slats of my locker. The bomber’s got to be planting them. For me. For Dad. And maybe for other people too.
    So even though I have no clue who he is, he knows who I am.
    He’s playing a game.
    A game that I don’t want to play.
    And now I’m totally losing my mind, because I hear this clickety-clicking sound coming from the hall, like mice are tap-dancing on Chloe’s dresser. I move forward and peek through the crack in the door to her room.
    Chloe’s up. She’s typing on her computer, and since all the lights are out, there’s a bluish glow emanating from the screen. The screen lights up her face with an otherworldly tint. I get the profile view, because from my position at the door, I just see the side of her face. I can’t tell what she’s typing, or even what site she’s on.
    I inch the door open, craning for a better look.
    The door creaks. Her head snaps toward me. “Hey.” She seems surprised and quickly moves the mouse to close out of whatever she was doing. Her hair is sticking up in all directions, and she’s wearing the nighttime retainer that makes her slur. “You can’t sleep either?”
    â€œNah,” I lie.
    â€œWanna have a party?” When we were little and got scared at night, we’d sleep over in each other’s rooms and call it a “party.”
    â€œSure,” I say slowly, thinking that it’s been at least four years since we’ve done this. “My place or yours?”
    â€œYours.” She’s moving the mouse around again, shutting the computer down completely. “I don’t want you sleeping on the floor in your old age.”
    â€œVery funny.”
    Five minutes later, I’m in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. I can hear Chloe shifting around on the carpet beside me. We’ve laid out comforters and pillows, and basically done everything but move her mattress over here. Chloe’s breathing evens quickly. I try to match mine to hers. Try to take myself back to a time when nighttime sleepovers were the norm and my sister and I shared all our secrets.
    When life was simple.
    It feels so long ago.

Stranger’s Manifesto
    Entry 7
    I found her, you know.
    Jo.
    Hanging like a puppet from the tree.
    Swinging in the wind.
    Eyes bulging and pointed right at me.
    Accusing me.
    Like somehow I could have stopped her.
    Like somehow I should have stopped her.
    I hate