Whisper Down the Lane by Clay Chapman (inspiring books for teens txt) 📕

the back. Simple charcoal drawings of boys and girls dancing in a circle, hand in hand. In the center was a boy. He was barely there, like a ghost.

There was something familiar about the picture. Something I remembered.

You probably don’t remember this—do you?—but you came up to me, pretty tipsy from the boxed wine, pleased that someone, anyone, was checking out your work.

“I can get you a good deal on this,” you said, flirting. “I know the artist.”

I recognized you almost immediately, even though it had been decades at that point. But you didn’t recognize me.

“Hey,” you said. “I’m Richard.”

Richard.

I wanted to punch you right in the face for that, but you did me a favor that night.

You gave me an opportunity to get to know you.

We moved to the bar after the show was over. Every time I thought you recognized me, you’d simply shake your head. I was scared but at the same time I didn’t want any of this to stop.

You talked about your foster family. Your hopes and dreams as an artist.

I kept waiting, hoping you’d catch on. That you’d recognize me. I was right there, right there in front of you. Inches away from your face. And still—still—you couldn’t see me for who I was. But I could see you. I could see right through your bullshit.

At one point, I called you Sean. It slipped out, but you must not have heard me. Or maybe you did? How wasted were you, really? Blackout drunk? Or are you just a black hole? If I reached into your head, would I get sucked in? Would I disappear, too, just like Sean had? Sometimes that’s all I ever wanted.

Going back to your apartment was a gamble. It felt like we were playing chicken. Who would flinch first? Just another minute longer, I’d say to myself, one more…

Just when I thought you’d remember…

Just when I thought you’d call me out…

Just when I thought I couldn’t go any further…

I left before you woke up. I was almost positive you’d forget me. I had given you a fake name anyway, just like you had, so it didn’t matter if you remembered or not. If I stood in a lineup of one-night stands, I highly doubt you’d be able to pick me out.

That’s the trick about denial, isn’t it? Once you start lying to yourself, there’s no one else to stop you from believing your own bullshit. No one to call you out on your lies.

—

I never wanted to bring anyone else into this life. It seemed wrong. Who wants to bring a child into a world like this?

I kept telling myself I’d get rid of it, but I found myself stalling. And the longer I waited, the more I realized what a gift you’d given me.

—

That’s when everything changed. Now I had a daily reminder of you in my life. The more I watched Sandy grow, the more I saw you in her.

I love Sandy with all my heart, but I’ve had to restrain myself from taking my anger for you out on her. I’ve always known how fucked up this all was, but it was too late. I’d made a choice to keep her and I never regretted it for a second. But I had to find a way to free us of you.

I read everything I could find on public record about you. Every last court document, every transcript. Your words were out there for anyone who was willing to look. But now it was my turn to tell your story. This time, I would tell it the way it was meant to be told.

I told Sandy we were working on a secret art project. She never questioned our collaboration. It was fun. Something to bond over. I couldn’t have done this without her. To be my eyes and ears at school. To leave behind little reminders of your old life for you to find. To befriend your son. In your own way, you brought Sandy and me closer together. Thank you.

She still doesn’t know. The one thing I haven’t been able to bring myself to do is tell her who you are. I never wanted to lie to her, but I had to protect her from the truth. Protect her from you.

I wondered if you’d recognize me, almost seven years later. Would a new hairstyle and different clothes be all that it takes to hide from you? Would you really not remember me? Then I realized you never saw me in the first place. Never truly looked.

Open your eyes, Sean. It’s time to see. Look at me. Look at what you’ve done.

By the time you find this letter in Eli’s backpack, you’ll be back where it all started. In Greenfield. I always found it surprising that they never did anything with the property after the school burned down. You’d think they would’ve built condos or a shopping mall or something.

The police will find you and Eli in quite the compromising position, and then you’ll have to explain everything to them. Meanwhile, Sandy and I will be on the road, heading far away from here. From you. Finally free.

I’m breaking the circle, Sean. You’ll never find us now.

You’re such a good storyteller. I’m assuming you’ll come up with something spectacular to crawl out from under your heap of lies. You can even use this letter as proof of your innocence, which is why I’m giving it to you. I’ve even included a copy of Sandy’s birth certificate, just in case. Your own get-out-of-jail-free card.

But first, you’ll have to admit to the world who you really are. Can you finally do that? What’s better? Living with your own lies, or living with the world knowing your truth?

I want to set you free, Sean. I’m giving you a chance to come clean.

Afresh start.

Jenna

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The following books proved invaluable when researching this work of fiction:

We Believe the Children: A Moral Panic in the 1980s by