I knew what Jackson wanted me to do. He wanted me to drive it. To go get the keys from inside that little glass box and drive this truck off its platform. It would definitely be symbolic. Me facing my brother. Now I knew why that guy’s hands were shaking in the back corridor of the museum. These weren’t average fears being targeted. This was the worst fear I could possibly imagine. In so many ways. No wonder the people who had been Heath Hall before kept this secret. They understood how serious this was.

I zipped up the backpack, the Heath Hall mask still inside, and went back in the house. I just wanted to go to my room and pretend this hadn’t happened. It killed me to disappoint Jackson.

This was unfair. Other people wouldn’t care what Jackson thought of them if they did or didn’t do it. Did other people even know Jackson was involved? I was almost positive they didn’t. I set the backpack on the kitchen counter and stared at my brother’s keys on the wall. The truck probably wouldn’t even start. It had been a month since my dad had charged the battery. All I had to do was climb in, turn the key, and when it didn’t start, climb out. That was facing a fear.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened the glass box and grabbed the keys off the hook. This was the first time I’d ever held them. When they didn’t burn a hole through my palm, I carried them outside along with the backpack and my purse and I stared at the truck some more. That platform was high. Several feet off the ground. And it didn’t have a ramp or anything. If I got the truck started, would I be able to drive it off without damaging it? And how would I get it back up before my parents got home?

It wasn’t going to start, so none of this mattered. I took a deep breath, opened the driver’s-side door, and climbed inside. That wasn’t too hard. I unzipped the backpack and pulled out the mask of Heath Hall. “There’s no way I’m wearing you, dude, but you can have a front row seat for the action.” I propped the mask up on the dash. It was about the spirit of the challenge, not actually having to wear the mask, right?

“Okay, Moore,” I said to myself, “just put the key in and turn.” My hands were shaking more than those of the museum Heath Hall that night. I couldn’t even still mine enough to insert the key in the ignition. I took several deep breaths. Finally, the key slid in. I pressed on the brake and turned the key. The engine sputtered but then caught. My heart doubled in speed. No. It wasn’t supposed to start. I hit the wheel. I really hated this truck.

There was no way I could drive it. “Why?” I asked, playing the other side of an argument against myself that I didn’t want to have. “Because they’ll know,” I answered.

Wasn’t that the point? The point of facing my fear, of coming out of the past? But no, it wasn’t about my parents. It was about me facing my brother. I could drive the truck and put it back. My dad had to have some ramps in the garage. How else would he have gotten it up here in the first place? Yes, that’s what I’d do.

I turned off the ignition and my heart immediately calmed. A check of the garage found exactly what I was looking for. Two rusty ramps. I dragged them out of their corner and across the lawn, wiping spiderwebs and dust off my jeans as I did. When I made it back to the truck, I plopped them down with a deep breath. Now I wouldn’t damage the truck by driving it off.

I lined up one ramp in front of each of the front wheels and then returned to the cab of the truck. Maybe it wouldn’t start now. No such luck. The hum of the engine vibrated through my legs and back. I almost turned it off again. I couldn’t do this. Heath Hall stared at me from the dash, daring me to, reminding me of how many fears he’d successfully faced in the past. “I don’t need you judging me, Heath.” I was stalling. I was chickening out. “Okay, stupid feather, give me some power.” I grabbed the mask and pulled it on.

Twenty-Eight

It was hot in the mask, my breath making it stuffy. Plus, the eyeholes weren’t very big. It was hard to see out. I tugged at the neck to readjust it on my face, which helped a little with my vision. My parents were going to kill me if they found out. They were going to see that I was irresponsible and selfish. They were going to wish him back all over again.

“No. I will not compete with you anymore, Eric.”

Besides, I wasn’t doing this. Heath Hall was. I laughed at my own thoughts, knowing my fear had officially taken over.

Don’t analyze, just drive, I told myself. I pushed on the gas and the truck lurched forward. The ramps were a little lower than the platform and the truck dropped a few inches before easing down. My stomach dropped even further. But then I was off the platform and on the street and my nerves seemed to settle. I was still hot and couldn’t breathe, so I ripped the mask off and propped it back on the dash. “You did your job, Heath Hall. Thank you.”

I was two blocks away from my house before I began to wonder how long this drive had to last. The shock of the entire night had started to wear off, and I was left with the memory of how I had been so mean to Jackson. I’d told him I owed him nothing. He had just been trying to protect someone’s privacy. An apology was in order.

I found myself driving to Norman’s because a good apology is always accompanied by a bribe. It wasn’t until I was waiting for my drink that I realized I had no idea where Jackson lived.

I pulled out my phone. I didn’t have his number. How had we never exchanged numbers? Oh, that’s right. I spent weeks being annoyed by him.

Hadn’t Amelia claimed that the internet knew all? What did I have to lose? I typed in a quick message. Hey, does anyone know where Jackson Holt lives? Private message me his address.

By the time I’d ordered the cider, I’d already gotten three DMs. It didn’t even disturb me that they were all from girls. Okay, it kind of did.

I collected his drink and left.

Even though the radio in my brother’s truck looked newer than the truck itself, it was still older than dirt. When I powered it on, it only let out a static buzzing. Several black buttons jutted out from the bottom. I pressed each one and the red line in front of the numbers moved, but still the radio emitted nothing but static. It had a tape deck as well. I wondered if that worked. Not that I had tapes. And of course there was no way to plug in my phone. If ever there was a time I’d needed music to block out my thoughts, it was now. I didn’t just have to worry about how tonight might end but also how driving to Jackson’s house, uninvited, might too. I went anyway. It was a night of facing fears, after all.

It wasn’t very cold out, but I stood on his porch, clutching his drink, shivering. My teeth clattered together and everything. I felt like I did after a tough swim day, standing outside the pool, still dripping wet. I hated being vulnerable, putting myself out there. I hated looking stupid, feeling stupid. I didn’t want to do this. But I had to. I would.

I took a deep breath, put my game face on, and knocked.

A woman opened the door and gave me a tentative smile.

“Is Jackson here?” I asked.

She flipped her wrist to check her watch. It was only a little after nine on a Friday night. Was she going to turn me away? “I think he might be asleep,” she said.

Disappointment settled onto my chest. I wasn’t sure if my face changed with the feeling or not, but she said, “Let me go check.” She closed the door halfway, then left.