The Reappearance of Rachel Price

“How does it feel to finally have your mom back home, Annabel?”

“I’m not Annabel,” Carter said to the baying reporter, following them down the sidewalk with an outheld microphone, a breathless cameraman chasing after.

“Oh.” The reporter shifted her attention to Bel instead, reaching across Carter. “How does it feel to finally have your mom back home, Annabel?”

Bel batted the microphone away, then another, like irritating moths slamming themselves against a bulb, never getting what they wanted.

“Come on, now, back up. I said back up!” the officer called, a wide gesture with his uniformed arms, catching the crowd of bleating journalists in an invisible net, pushing them away. “Leave the girls alone, they’re just trying to walk to school. I said back up!”

Dave Winter had sent over a couple of patrol officers this morning, to escort Bel past the media circus that had set up outside their house.

“Are you scared that the man who took your mom is still out there? Might come back for her?” another called, escaping the invisible net.

No, Bel wasn’t scared of that. He was welcome to her, because he probably didn’t exist.

“They aren’t going to answer any of your questions,” the other officer spoke now, raising her voice. “Out of our way, please.”

“GET BACK!”

The reporters gave up by the time they reached the corner of the cemetery, crawling back to their campground outside number 33.

The officers didn’t leave, though, walking behind them at a distance, nodding dutifully when Bel looked back at them. Didn’t they have some crimes to go take care of?

“How has it been, really?” Carter asked, now they were basically alone. “I saw a video of you at the mall yesterday. Someone posted it online. That must have been nice, huh, to go shopping together?”

“It was fine.” Bel shrugged. It hadn’t really been fine, but at least now Bel knew for sure, could stop doubting herself. Rachel Price was a liar. She just didn’t know what to do with that now, who would believe her. “What else have you seen online?” she asked.

Someone else had to be suspicious of Rachel’s story; Bel couldn’t be the only one, come on, that was what Reddit boards and Twitter threads were made for.

“Someone posted dashcam footage of Rachel walking along the highway,” Carter said. “Came up on TikTok. I didn’t want to watch it; she looked hurt. Think it was taken down by the police.”

Bel looked sideways at her. “Was it real?”

“Looked it.”

“Where?”

“TikTok.”

“No, where on the highway?” Bel said, acting like the answer didn’t matter.

“Outside Santa’s Village.”

Santa’s Village in Jefferson, about halfway between Lancaster and home. Fuck. So there was video proof of Rachel walking along US Route 2. Maybe she really had walked those eight long hours from Lancaster. Well, she had to have busted up her feet somehow, but that was OK; didn’t mean the rest of her disappearance and reappearance was true. The best way to hide a lie was to bury it with some truths, Bel knew that.

“You OK?” Carter narrowed her eyes. Bel had been quiet too long, and Carter knew her too well.

“It’s just strange, is all.” Could she trust Carter with her doubts? Bel trusted Carter with most things, hardly an unsaid thing between them, but this felt bigger somehow, less easy to come back from once she’d given voice to it. She tried anyway. “Rachel is … I mean, there’s a couple of things she’s said that don’t add up. Inconsistencies.”

Carter sighed, bumping Bel’s elbow. “Bel, you’re doing that thing that you do,” she said gently, like she was tiptoeing around little land mines of their own. “Trying to see the bad in everything. Looking for reasons to push people away, which means you always find them. This is a good thing. Surely you hoped for this your whole life. It’s a miracle she’s back, Bel, most people aren’t that lucky. And she seems nice, Rachel. Really nice. You have to give her a chance, she’s your mom.”

It was Bel’s turn to sigh. That hurt. More because Carter had looked so deep into her and gotten it all wrong. Bel didn’t push people away, she only sped up the process, an inevitable thing. Carter wasn’t allowed an opinion, seeing as she would be the one doing the leaving here. She didn’t understand because no one ever left her; she was a magnet, long-haired and long-legged.

“Stop it,” Carter said, bunching her eyebrows.

“Stop what?”

“Getting mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Bel lied.

“You’re trying to be.”

“No.”

“Liar.” Carter smiled, a less easy smile than her usual. “I’m just saying. Try not to look for reasons. Just get to know her. I think you’ll probably like her.”

Bel had been right to hesitate about telling Carter, and now Carter got to act like the sensible one, the reasonable one, tempering her wildfire cousin. Bel wasn’t the problem, it was Rachel.

“You can hit me if it’ll make you feel better.”

“OK.” Bel’s knuckles thumped into the soft flesh of Carter’s arm.

“Ow,” she whined, rubbing it. “I didn’t think you’d do it, God.”

“Thought you knew me so well, huh?” Bel replied.

“Right, that’s it.”

Carter gritted her teeth, disarming Bel with a hard poke to her ribs, wrapping an arm around her neck when Bel bent double, trapping her. Bel swiped with her legs, trying to take out Carter’s. Why were they so frickin’ long? The cheat.

“I’ll let go when you stop being grumpy,” Carter laughed, their backpacks crashing together.

“I’m never grumpy,” Bel said, grumpily. “Give me my head back.”

Carter wouldn’t let go.

“Say please. And I love you, Carter Price.”

“Please and I love you, Carter Price.”

“Good.”

Carter released her neck and Bel straightened up. Her hair static-scruffy, a matching flush in their cheeks.

“I’m gonna murder you in your sleep,” Bel said, righting her backpack, walking on.

“The police are right behind us,” Carter whispered behind her hand.

“They wouldn’t catch me.”

The officers walked them down Main Street, all the way to school. They weren’t even inside, and already the staring began, not helped by the police escort. They weren’t silent stares, paired with excitable whispers, and Rachel was a name that carried across a distance, that hard crunch in the middle.

“Don’t actually murder someone today,” Carter said, holding the door open for her.

“Can’t promise.”

The pre-bell crowds parted for them, a buzz of voices, growing chain saw loud, students scuffling to see.

“Hey, Bel!” Someone called her name.

Bel looked the other way, ignoring them.

“Bel, what’s she like?”

Ignored that one too.

The corridor split and Bel and Carter went their separate ways. Bel felt more exposed without her, an army of one. Crossing her arms to protect her chest.

Down the hall past The Rachel Shrine. Shouldn’t they take that down now? You didn’t keep shrines for not-dead people.

The bell rang just as she walked through the door to her homeroom, brimming with chatter when she did, overspilling. She took a seat next to the window, putting her backpack on the chair beside her, to guard it.

“Hello, Bel,” said a deep voice, hanging above her.

It was Mr. Tripp, fiddling with the lapels of his blazer, dressed up today, his dark red hair combed back.

“We missed you at school yesterday,” he said, a nervous tic in his cheek, blocking his mouth, a semi-smile.

“I went shopping.”

“That’s OK, thought you’d be taking more time off to, you know, adjust.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose. Looked like he was the one who needed adjusting.

“I love school too much,” she said.

Mr. Tripp bent closer, resting his elbows on the table.

“How is she, your mom?” He lowered his voice, but of course the other students had gone quiet, to listen in.

“Fine.” Then, at the concerned look in her teacher’s eyes, she added: “Considering.”

He straightened up, removed his creaking elbows. “If you need to talk about anything, Bel, you know I’m right here.”

“Yep, right there.”

The Rachel fever had got him too, the whole school sick with it. Today was going to be hell, but at least Bel had the next seven hours to herself, without Rachel.

Rachel was here.

She wasn’t supposed to be here, Bel had come to school to escape her. But there she was, as Bel and Carter walked out at the end of the day, standing on the grass outside. She was surrounded by a ring of chattering teachers, Principal Wheeler’s voice carrying loudest.

Mr. Tripp was there too, hanging back, staring at her. He didn’t blink, maybe in case Rachel vanished in the half second his eyes were shut. It had only taken moments last time.

“So, Rachel,” the principal crooned. “Will we be looking for an excuse to hire another English teacher? Your old desk has been waiting.”

Rachel smiled, shooing him off with a wave of her hand. “I’m not ready to think about any of that yet.”

“Of course not,” Mrs. Torres said. “You shouldn’t have to work another day of your life, honey.”

“I don’t know about that either. Gas is more expensive than I remember.”

That got a laugh from the crowd, somber and polite, shuffling feet.

“Hey, Julian.” Rachel spotted Mr. Tripp as her audience shifted. Her feet followed her eyes, pushing through to give him a hug. He held on a little too long, like the hug was proof she was really real. “Been a long time.”

“Too long,” Mr. Tripp sniffed. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m alive,” Rachel said, spinning awkwardly in the middle. “I guess it’s stranger for everyone else. I always knew I was alive. Always hoped I’d be able to come back. I wanted to thank you, Jules. For finding Annabel, all those years ago.”

“Just happened to be going that way.” He wiped his nose. “If only I was there sooner.”

“If only doesn’t help anybody,” Rachel said with a smile, sharing it with everyone else. “It would be nice to catch up properly sometime. I just got a new phone. My daughter’s gonna help me set it up later.” Bel hadn’t done it yesterday, pretended she’d forgotten some homework so she could hide in her room. “So maybe you could write your numbers down for me.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Mrs. Lawrence squeezed her shoulder. “I got a pen and notepad.” She pulled them out of her purse and scribbled away, passing the notebook to the others who had worked with Rachel, in the before times. Mr. Tripp went last, then tore the page off, handing it to Rachel.

“Thank you.” She held it to her chest. “So nice to see you all. I better find my daughter—Oh, Annabel. Hi! Anna! Carter!”

She waved, breaking through the gang of teachers. Now Bel could see that Rachel was wearing her new trench jacket and check pants, with the sneakers that glowed white, too new.

“Hi,” Carter spoke first as Rachel reached them.

“Hi, girls.” She smiled, slipping the piece of paper into her jacket pocket. Something jangled when she did, a rattle like keys. “How was school?”

“Good,” said Carter.

“Fine,” said Bel.

Rachel widened her eyes, waiting for more than a one-word answer.

“How was your day, Aunt Rachel?” Carter asked instead.

“Been very busy,” she said, walking toward Main Street, using her eyes to drag Bel and Carter along, forcing their feet. “Turns out there’s a lot of admin when you come back from the dead.” A small, dry laugh. “More interviews with the police. Appointment with their psychiatrist. Been down to the DMV to get my temporary license. Reopened my bank account, got new house keys. Then my mom came around for coffee.” The horsefucker was back in town, then. Would she ever admit that she’d been wrong about Dad, now that Rachel was—you know—alive? “We spoke on Sunday, but she flew in today, she’s staying in town for a couple weeks. Then I met with the documentary team.”

“That is a busy day,” Carter said, giving Rachel her full attention. Bel was staring at her too-white shoes instead, only the soles picking up dirt.

“Even busier,” Rachel continued, speeding up, Carter keeping pace, Bel lagging behind. Had she come to walk them all the way home? The media circus would be all over that. “This afternoon, Sherry gave me a ride to the car dealer outside town. I bought a secondhand car.” She pulled out a set of keys, the dealership tag still on them, dangling from her middle finger. “Nothing fancy. But I thought I’d take it out on its first spin, come pick you two up from school. Here it is.”

Rachel pressed the button and a car blipped, flashing at them across the grass strip that bordered the Royalty Inn parking lot. A silver Ford Escape with mean eyes and a teeth-grit grille.

“Come on.” Rachel cut across the grass with a skip in her step, Carter following.

Bel stayed on the sidewalk.

“We usually just walk,” she said. “It’s not far.”

“Oh, I know,” Rachel said, opening the driver’s-side door. “But I wanted to come get you. Never picked you up from school before and if I don’t watch out, I’ll miss my chance. Don’t worry, I remember how to drive.”

Bel crossed the grass, stopping before she reached the car. Carter was floating by the passenger side, hand hesitating in the air.

“Front or back?” she asked Bel, deferring to her.

Rachel was waiting too, leaning up on the roof.

“Jump in,” she said, sticking with that smile, matching her new car.

Bel swallowed, elbows and jaw locking. Rachel clearly wanted her to sit in the front, right next to her. But would that make it seem like Bel thought any of this was OK or normal? Jump in, simple enough, but nothing Rachel said was simple, there were layers, a push and pull between them. What would Rachel win if Bel said yes?

“Bel?” Carter shot her a look, gesturing between the front or the back, waiting on her answer.

Or Bel could choose the backseat, which was farther from Rachel, a no of sorts, but it was still the backseat.

A choice, binary, this or that, front or back, but Bel wanted neither.

“I just remembered,” she said suddenly, shrugging off both their eyes, looking at the sky to fish for the lie. “I said I’d meet someone after school today.”

Carter narrowed her eyes. “Who?” She knew. She knew Bel had no one to meet. Those same nonexistent friends Ramsey wanted to interview last week.

“It’s this extra-credit group project thing, for biology. I forgot we said Tuesday after school, with everything going on.”

“Oh.” A shadow fell across Rachel’s eyes, taking the smile with it.

“I should probably go,” Bel said, thumb over her shoulder, backtracking from the car. “Don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Are you sure?” Carter said pointedly, saying something different with her face, something Rachel couldn’t see. Carter knew, or she thought she knew, that Bel was just doing that thing that she did. But Carter wasn’t as close to all this; she couldn’t see it.

“Yeah,” Bel said, giving no secret answers with her face. “Gotta go.”

“Sh-should I pick you up later?” Rachel asked, the bed of her knuckles digging into the underside of her face, leaving ghost-white prints behind.

“Not sure when we’ll be done. Don’t worry, I’ll just walk home, thanks. See you later.”

Bel raised one hand in goodbye, high-fiving the breeze, turning around when she reached the sidewalk. A car door closed and another opened. She glanced back as Carter climbed in the front beside Rachel, chatting already, pasting over the awkwardness Bel must have left behind. She was good at that, shining harder to compensate.

A twist in Bel’s gut, pulling the knot tighter. She didn’t like leaving Carter alone with Rachel, but what choice did she have? Carter wasn’t listening. It was OK, it would only take a couple of minutes for Rachel to drop Carter home at number 19. But the knot didn’t listen to reason, feeding itself on bad feelings, even the small ones.

Bel heard the chug of the engine, joining the noise of those on Main Street as Rachel pulled out, driving Carter away. Blink and they were both gone, blocked by a stream of cars.

Now what?

Dad was at work. Carter was with Rachel. Grandpa didn’t remember who she was.

Bel was a homebody, the world the size of 33 Milton Street. But home had been taken over, a slow invasion with a pointed smile, and now Rachel had her own keys.

Bel wanted to stay away, but she had nowhere to go, no one to see, no one to talk to. No one at all.

Except, maybe …