A couple of hours later I was sitting in the overstuffed chair facing Bethany’s bed, with my arms wrapped around my knees and a blanket tucked tightly around me. I blew absentmindedly on a mug of hot chocolate clutched tightly in my hands - our go-to drink for late-night conversations.

Bethany listened to my scattered explanations of my attack on the sidewalk and my father leaving. She’d listened quietly when I spoke, asked questions when I faltered and hugged me when I broke down into tears again - like the true friend she was.

After circling through the stories multiple times we’d talked ourselves out and we sat quietly, each lost in our own thoughts. It was ridiculously late by this point, or ridiculously early depending on your point of view, and both of us were struggling to keep our eyes open.

“I think you need to call the police,” Bethany said.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll call them tomorrow. It’s not like I can really tell them anything though. I didn’t see anyone’s face or anything.”

“No, not about the creeps in the park - well, yeah you should report that too, but I meant about your dad. It’s weird, Delilah, and totally not like him to do.”

I sighed. I was so tired. Every cell in my body was exhausted, and while my mind kept obsessing over these exact thoughts I didn’t have the energy to go back through it again. “I know, I don’t get it. But I can’t tell anyone.”

“Why not?” she asked, throwing her hands up in confusion.

“Bethany, I told you. My dad said I can’t tell anyone. He said it was important.”

“But why? It doesn’t make any sense. What is important? What could be so important that he would just leave?”

“I don’t know,” I said weakly.

“Well, what did the note say? What did it say exactly?

“I uh … well, here.” I leaned to the side so I could pull the note out of my back pocket. I held it out to Bethany, the paper rattling in my shaking hand.

“Oh Delilah,” she said, her voice soft and concerned. She took the note from my hand and sat on the floor, leaning her back against my chair. I could just barely make out the words over her shoulder as she read, but it didn’t really matter. I had read it so many times I basically had the thing memorized.

Firecracker, I am sorry, but I have got to go. I don’t know how else to say it. I am leaving for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I hope it will not be very long. The truth is though that where I am going is dangerous and there is a chance I may not make it back. But I have put this off for too many years and I cannot wait anymore. Please understand that if there were any other choice I would never leave you, but this is something I have to do.

Leaving a note like this is the cowards way out, I know this and I am sorry. But I know that if I tried to tell you in person I would falter and never go, or I would end up telling you more than is safe for you to know - which would be even worse. Please believe that even though this seems cruel and heartless, in reality I do this because I love you so much. You are the only thing that matters to me in this world and I will do anything to keep you safe.

I know this will be so confusing and so scary for you. I wish there was a better way to explain this. But no one can know that I am gone. You cannot draw attention to yourself or to me. I know that doesn’t make sense, but I need you to believe me on this. It is more important than I could ever put into words.

Delilah, I am leaving you alone and in such a painful situation. I will never forgive myself for that. But you, my daughter, are smart and strong and clever and brave. You have the skills to get through anything and I pray I will be able to return to you soon. I love you, my Firecracker, and nothing will ever change that.

Bethany took her time reading, or maybe she read it a couple of times, just as I had at first. After a few minutes, she asked, “Firecracker?”

I smiled weakly, “Yeah, that’s kind of his nickname for me. He said ever since I was a baby, if someone took my toy or if I fell, I always took a moment before I started crying. Like there was a delay before my emotions kicked in … like a fuse being lit.”

Bethany jammed her shoulder into my leg and gave me a soft, teasing smile, “And then you’d blow up.”

“Yeah, I guess I can be a bit expressive at times.”

“A bit, yeah,” she chuckled. She paused and took a deep breath. “Delilah, I think we should call the police, or at least tell someone. I know the note says not to, but how do you know it was even really from your dad?”

“It had to be from him,” I said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into my voice. “He called me ‘Firecracker.’ He’s the only person that ever calls me that, and he never did when people were around. It was just our special, stupid, little thing. I mean, you didn’t even know that and you know me better than anyone.”

“Ok, but what if he had to write it? Like what if someone kidnapped him and made him write it? Maybe they just want to trick you into not telling the police. Maybe it’s all just made up to confuse you.”

“Why would someone do that? Who would want to kidnap my dad? He’s just plain, old dad, a computer programmer that likes Jeopardy and Sudoku.”

“I don’t know.” She said honestly. “But that’s the thing. We don’t know anything really. If he wasn’t kidnapped, why would he just leave like that? I’ve seen you together, Delilah, he loves you as much as any dad loves his child. I can’t imagine him just suddenly picking up and leaving. Something had to have happened, right?”

Her words triggered something in my mind. A piece to the puzzle I had been too upset to really consider. “I don’t think it was so ‘sudden’.”

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t just leave the note. I forgot about it, but he left an entire binder too.”

“A binder?”

“Yeah. I didn’t go through it all. I was freaking out. But there are bank documents and instructions on how to access the money. There were checks made out for the rent and power company. They were made out and signed and everything, at least enough to cover a few months. There were all kinds of notes and stuff. I think there was something in there for the car tags too … I don’t know. I don’t really remember. It was all so weird.

“There wasn’t anything personal in there though. I did check for that. Nothing explaining what was happening or where he was going. Just pages and pages of directions on how to pay the bills and stuff.”

“Oh my god, Delilah. That is so creepy.”

“I know. It just doesn’t make any sense.” My head dropped to my knees. My heart ached. It felt like something had reached inside my chest and was physically squeezing my heart. I wanted to cry - again - but there was nothing left inside me. Nothing but the ache.

Bethany rested her hand on my leg and rubbed gently. I knew she probably felt awful not having anything she could say, but just having her there was enough. Sometimes just having a friend that will sit beside you is enough. Hurting alone sucks.

After a few silent minutes, Bethany stood and rummaged around in her dresser. She came back holding a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Here,” she said holding the clothes out to me. “You’re exhausted. Why don’t we try to get some sleep?”

I took the clothes from her and nodded. Bethany and I had a lot of things in common, but body shape was not one of them. She was tall and skinny, with long legs and beautiful dark skin. I was just kind of average, I guess. Average height. Average weight. Bethany was graceful and agile and had gorgeous curly hair. I was just kind of plain old me, with bright red hair, pale skin, and far too many freckles. We had long passed the days where we could share clothes, but fortunately, these were stretchy and baggy and fit well enough to sleep in.

I changed and climbed into bed beside her. It reminded me of the countless sleepovers we’d had where we stayed up telling scary stories and giggling ourselves into fits until one of our parents would come in and tell us it was time to sleep. But we didn’t tell stories that night. We laid in the dark quietly, both exhausted but struggling to settle our minds enough to sleep.

Several minutes had passed before Bethany broke the silence, “What is a ‘Pusher’?

“Pusher?” Where had I heard that before? I sat up straight in the bed, the memory coming back in a flood. Hadn’t one of the voices said it when I was attacked earlier? “Where did you hear that? What is that?”

Bethany sat up too, confusion obvious on her face. “It was at the bottom of your dad’s note.”

My mind raced. I flipped on the lamp on the bedside table and scrambled to find the note where Bethany had set it on the dresser. I had read and reread the note a hundred times that night. But the very last line had made no sense and I had kind of dismissed it. There at the very bottom, as if hastily written as an afterthought were three little words, “Beware the Pushers”.