Chapter 1
The cursor on my laptop screen blinked mockingly, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in my head. I, Julia Gardner, 19-year-old aspiring writer, sat in my cramped studio apartment, surrounded by the mess that was my failing dreams. This definitely wasn’t where I imagined I’d be at this point in my life. The stack of unpaid bills piled up beside my laptop, their red “FINAL NOTICE” stamps glaring up at me.
Sighing, I shuffled to the bathroom, wincing as my bare feet hit the cold tile. The face that greeted me in the mirror was a far cry from the bright-eyed girl in my high school graduation photo. Dark circles outlined my eyes, and my once-vibrant auburn hair hung limp and lifeless. I leaned closer, noticing the stress lines already forming at the corners of my eyes.
“Come on, Julia,” I muttered to my reflection, the words barely audible over the drip of the leaky faucet. “Get it together.”
An hour later, I was tying on my faded apron at Mel’s Diner, the greasy spoon that barley helped me scrape by. The smell of burnt coffee and rancid bacon grease wafted through the building, already clinging to my skin and hair. It was going to be another long, soul-crushing day.
“Order up!” Mel’s gruff voice called from the kitchen, cutting through the clatter of dishes and murmur of conversations. I plastered on my best fake smile and headed to Table 3, balancing plates of greasy eggs and toast that had definitely seen better days.
“Here you go, folks. Enjoy your meal!” I chirped, handing out the plates. The couple barely glanced up, engrossed in their phones.
As I walked back to the counter, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Probably another debt collector, I thought bitterly. Working this job at the diner proved to be useless, most of the time. Bringing home $100 checks every few weeks didn’t pay my bills.
During a rare lull in customers, I snuck a quick glance at my phone, bracing myself to see which million-dollar corporation wanted to rob me now. Much to my confusion, the caller ID read “Mom”, a name that sent a shiver down my spine. My mom hadn’t contacted me for years.
“Julia?” A shaky, weathered voice came through the line.
“Mom?” My grip on the phone tightened involuntarily.
“Jules, baby.” Her voice was full of love, but I knew it wasn’t real. “I… I’m kind of in a tough spot right now hon.
I went completely silent. Tough spot? She hadn’t so much as messaged me since I was 16, and now she needed help?
“I…I’m sorry?” I stuttered into the phone, my voice hardly above a whisper.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. When her voice spoke up again, it was almost sharp, tinged with impatience. “Baby, I need money.”
I stood there, phone pressed to my ear, as the diner’s usual clamor faded to a dull roar. My mom. The woman who abandoned me. The woman who could hardly call herself my mom. What right did she have to beg me for money?
“Jules? Are you there?” Mom’s voice snapped me back to reality.
“I’m here all right.” I muttered, glancing through the break room window at Mel, who was eyeing me suspiciously from behind the grill. “I’m not giving you shit.”
Her voice wasn’t cloaked when it came through again. “You ungrateful little witch!” She screamed through the phone. “After I raised you!? This is the thanks ge—”
I ended the call with a click. The last thing I needed was to talk to someone I had cut out of my life. Less than 30 seconds had passed before my phone buzzed again. An unknown number lit up the screen with a simple message: 375 N. Laurie Dr.
An address.
Before I even had time to process why an address would be sent to me, the message disappeared. I scrambled to remember it, finding the nearest oily napkin in my pocket and scribbling it down.
As the end of the work day approached, anxiety began to gnaw at my insides, twisting like a dull knife.
Mom’s call and the address… there’s no way the two of them are associated, right? It’s got to be a coincidence. It… has to be.
By the time I clocked out at the diner, it was dark outside. I cursed myself for thinking it was a nice day this morning and walking to work. A chill whipped around my ankles as I crunched over freshly fallen leaves, orange and yellow. A streetlight flickered in the distance, and combined with the soft whistle of the wind, I decided there was no way in hell I’d be walking home alone tonight.
I flicked on my phone, the screen almost blinding me in the night. “Jeez…” I muttered, scrolling through my contacts until I found one. Riley. My best friend. She should be up.
After about a minute of ringing, she finally picked up. Music was blasting in the background. Crap… I’d be lucky if she wasn’t drunk already.
“HEYYYYYY GIRRRLLLL!!!!” Riley slurred through the phone. “WHERE ARRRRE YOUUU?”
I held the phone away from my ear, grimacing. “Hell, Ry. You’re wasted, aren’t you?”
“I ONLY HAD LIKE FIVEEEEE SHOTS!”
“And you’re a lightweight.” I sighed, running a greasy hand through my hair. “I’m coming to get you. Drop a pin.”
I hung up the call, seeing her location come through. So much for getting a ride home.
The address on the napkin burned in my pocket as I started walking toward Riley’s location. Something about it felt important, urgent even. I pulled it out and stared at the scribbled numbers again under the glow of a streetlight.
375 N. Laurie Dr.
For a moment, I considered changing direction. Laurie Drive sounded vaguely familiar, like I’d heard it mentioned in passing conversation. But the image of Riley, drunk and alone at some party, pushed that thought away. Whatever this address was, it could wait until tomorrow. I wasn’t about to go investigating some random house in the dark after a ten-hour shift.
Still, as I trudged toward the pulsing bass in the distance that was a sure indicator of Riley’s party, the address gnawed at me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was somehow important, that the timing—right after Mom’s call—wasn’t a coincidence.
Hannah. Not Mom, I corrected myself. She’d lost the right to that title years ago.
Three blocks later, I found Riley on the front lawn of a house party, attempting to do cartwheels with a red solo cup still clutched in her hand.
“Jules!” she squealed when she spotted me, stumbling over for a hug that nearly knocked us both to the ground. “You madddde it!”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, lightweight. Let’s get you home.”
As I guided my swaying friend down the sidewalk, I tried calling the number Hannah had used earlier. Just as I expected—the call wouldn’t connect. “The number you have dialed is not in service,” the automated voice informed me.
Typical Hannah. Call when she needs something, then disappear again. But something felt different this time. Maybe it was her voice, more desperate than I remembered. Or maybe it was that mysterious address appearing right afterward. I decided not to dwell on it too much. Hannah didn’t deserve my thoughts. It’s not like I was ever in hers.
By the time I got Riley safely tucked into her bed across town and made it back to my own apartment, it was well past midnight. I collapsed onto my lumpy mattress, not even bothering to change out of my grease-stained uniform.
Tomorrow, I decided as sleep pulled me under. Tomorrow I’d look into that address. Because despite everything, despite all the anger and hurt Hannah had caused me, I couldn’t ignore the small voice in my head whispering that something was wrong.
Very wrong.
