At school, a lot of people called me names, said I was evil, labeled me a slut and even a killer. None of it’s true. All of it lies.

I’m not really one thing or another. I’m me. I’m Abby. I’m right and wrong, moral and immoral, good and bad, a hero and a villain, and I’ve been just as capable of truth as I have been lies.

I used to not believe in choices. Thought there was only survival, but I was wrong. I do have a choice and I choose to be me.

To make him comfortable, as comfortable as an out-of-the-closet narc can be with a drug dealer, I sit at the other end of the bench. “Hello. Nice kids and don’t worry, I don’t mess with innocents. I only bite adults and that’s only when provoked.”

The death stare he sends me tells me he’s three seconds away from pulling whatever concealed weapon he’s carrying. “I knew you were the one. The moment you walked away after the Bible verse, I knew I had fucked up. And then you were shot later that night. My captain thought it was coincidence, but he didn’t see the way you smiled.”

I half laugh. “Scared you, didn’t it?”

“You’re too young to be terrifying.”

Yet I am. “Don’t lose sleep over not figuring me out immediately, most people underestimate me. So here’s the thing, I need you to arrest me.”

He actually twitches and I smile. That nice deadly one he just referenced.

“Not now. Later tonight. At a bar maybe. I have some lose ends I’ll need to tie up first. And it can’t be you. They know you’re a narc. We’ll have to make it all seem legit. Have it happen at a place where people would believe I am selling. And in case you’re wondering I’m not carrying now.”

The narc looks away from me as he leans forward to rest his arms on his knees. He watches his daughters intently and for that I respect him.

“I have to say, this is a first. The dealer asking to be caught. Forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

“Fair enough.” I slouch and kick my legs out. “I’m seventeen and if I don’t get out now, I’m screwed.”

“Then quit. You don’t need me to do that.”

“Seriously? A narc that doesn’t want an arrest?”

“I’m smelling setup.”

I roll my eyes. Who would have thought this would have been so complicated? I’m going to have to sell him on this and sell him big. “I’m Mozart’s daughter.”

Snapped head in my direction.

“See why I can’t just walk away now?”

I can see the thoughts turning in his brain like a hamster in a wheel. “If I arrest you, you’ll go to jail.”

“Juvie,” I correct. “I’m not stupid enough to carry enough to cause real problems for me, just enough to cause the problems I need. But I have some requests that are really demands. I can’t be given bail. I’ve got to stay in and then go straight to juvie.”

“You know how much to carry to get arrested, but not to cause you problems?”

“Arrests and possible punishment—occupational hazards. Always felt it was best to be informed. Like the more you know?”

He does that slow blink that most sane people always do with me. Pity I’m chatting with him so I can be arrested. Otherwise, I’d find this conversation a lot more amusing.

“If you’re serious, there are people who would love to talk with you. Give you protection in return for a sliver of the knowledge in your head.”

“No. I want out. I’ve got enough problems without skipping down the snitch road.”

“I promise protection. Just—”

“I’m seventeen,” I repeat and drop the cold, numb mask I mastered and permit him into the desperation ripping through me. “Pretend I’m one of your daughters out there racing up and down the slide. I’m asking for a way out. For a chance to live a normal life. Just for a few seconds, pretend I’m one of them.”

He’s wavering and he’s fighting to keep his emotions in check and explore the opportunity for his job.

“Please don’t use me. If you got into this to serve and protect, then protect me.”

“Daddy!” One of his little girls calls from the top of the playground. “I want to fly. Come catch me.”

I used to fly and my daddy used to catch me. Right now, I need this guy to catch me, too.

He looks at me, I look at him, he opens his mouth and he answers.

Logan

Abby opens the front door and immediately grabs the bag from my hands. “You got queso, right?”

“And tacos.”

“Wait right here. We need plates.” Abby called this afternoon and demanded dinner. Four tacos for her, queso with chips, brownies with frosting, told me to order for me, and to tip well.

I close the front door behind me and nod at Nate. “What are you doing here?”

“Peggy’s’s sick so I’m filling in.” Nate surveys me like he has something to say and when he inhales like he’s going to speak, Abby reappears.

“We’re eating upstairs,” she says and then jots up.

I’m still standing there holding drinks and Nate watches.

“What?” I ask.

He sighs. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

She’s leaving. Nate knows it and the punch is right to the gut. Denny got the IDs faster than he thought he would. I run up the stairs after Abby and as soon as I’m in, I slam the drinks on her dresser. “I thought you said your new IDs would take a few days.”

Abby squints at me like I’m speaking gibberish. “They will.”

“Then what’s Nate upset about?”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Really? For real? Can one of the guys in my life not be all emotional? I swear. Next you guys will start a quilting circle and will be selling at church bazaars. Grab those drinks and put them on the floor.”

It’s then that I have the same wake-up moment as I did last night in my kitchen. Abby’s lighting a candle and it’s not the only one burning. There are several. Not too many, just enough, and on the floor next to her bed is a picnic-style blanket.

“Soak it in, Logan. This is the most you’ll ever get out of me for romance.” She blows out the stick she had used to light the candle and I soak in the glorious sight.

Abby’s rocking it in a pair of tight jeans and a halter top I’ve never seen on her before. It’s dark purple, glitters in the dull candlelight, but hugs her right. Her dark chestnut hair falls over her shoulders and has this beautiful wave.

I step forward to touch the silky strands. Hell, I’m stepping forward to devour her body, but a door opening below causes me to remember my own surprise. “I’ll be right back.”

Her forehead furrows. “You’ll be right what?”

Even though my fingers twitch with the need to caress her body, I force myself back down the stairs and meet a confused Nate at the landing. “I’m assuming this is yours?”

My response is to take it from him and then dash back up the stairs. Abby raises an eyebrow when I enter, close the door, and put the massive covered object on the floor. “I bought you a present.”

Abby shines. “Really? Can I open it?”

“Yeah.”

Abby kneels on the floor, removes the blanket and she freezes. My heart stops as what’s frozen on her face is panic.

“It’s a bunny,” she says.

“It’s a bunny,” I repeat.

Abby lowers herself to peer inside the cage. “It’s real.”

“Yes.” I shove my hands in my pockets, doubting this idea. “I know you say you have to vanish, but maybe it can just be temporary. Maybe we can stay in touch. I can visit. You can visit. I can take care of this until you’re ready.”

An excuse to stay in contact. An excuse to see her again.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asks.

That brings me up short. “I don’t know.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Abby carefully opens the cage like she’s dismantling a ticking time bomb. She reaches in and extracts the massive ball of brown and black. Abby squishes her face and talks like a parent to a baby. “Aren’t you the cutest little lop bunny ever?”

Little? “That thing is massive.”

Abby glares at me. “Don’t you dare talk bad about my baby. He’s just pleasantly plump.” Then back to the bunny. “Aren’t you? Don’t worry about what he has to say. You’re perfect just the way you are.” Then back at me. “And his name is Thumper.”

I join Abby on the floor. “Thumper? A bit cliché, don’t you think?”

“You can leave.” She flashes that I-can-murder-you-now-or-later grin. “His name is Thumper and that’s how it is.”

A smile stretches over my face as Abby nuzzles the huge fluff monster with massively long ears. “Then that’s how it is.”

“I had a rabbit once,” Abby says as she cradles the bunny on her lap. “Dad gave it to me as a Christmas present when I was six.”

“What happened to it?”

“He died. Old age. Dad didn’t know he had bought an old man.”

Guilt flickers through me. “I didn’t ask how old this one is.”