Free Stand Alone by P.D. Workman Page B

It’s not the same shape, is it?”
    If she could just make someone believe her.
    “I don’t know. I need you to stop this silliness, Miss Bywater, and just go to your class. I don’t know who the baby in that picture is, but I know who you are. You’re Justine Bywater, and you’re late for class. Let’s fix that, shall we?”
    “I was kidnapped,” Justine burst out. “As a baby, just after this picture,” she tapped the toddler picture. “I don’t know what happened to baby Justine. But that’s not me! I was kidnapped, and Em’s been lying and saying that I am Justine all along. But I’m not. I have another family. And they’ve been missing me all these years and probably think that I’m dead. Please, can’t you help me?”
    Mr. Brooks shook his head. His ever-present friendly smile was gone. He was impatient to get rid of her.
    “What exactly do you expect me to do? Call the police? What kind of proof do you have? This isn’t the kind of thing that I do. Why don’t you talk to your therapist about it?”
    “Nobody will believe me. I’ve told him before. But he just believes Em’s lies. Everybody just believes her because she’s the adult, and I’m just a stupid kid. But I know. I remember. I don’t belong here!”
    “You remember what?” he scoffed. “Being kidnapped? As a baby?”
    “I remember    …   I had a different mother,” Justine lied frantically, “and a sister. And a dog. I didn’t live here, I lived somewhere else. And Em wasn’t my mother, I had a different mother. Please!” she begged.
    “You just remembered this all now?” Mr. Brooks questioned, shaking his head. “You’re just trying to get attention. If you really do remember something, it’s probably somebody that babysat you, or a cousin’s house, or something like that. But I think you’re just making the whole thing up. Now take your pictures,” he shoved them at her again, “and go.”
    Justine picked the pictures up carefully, as if they were fragile and might crumble to dust at her feet. She couldn’t understand why no one would believe her. She was Katie. Or Monica. Or at least, somebody other than Justine. She hadn’t been born Justine. It was a name she’d had thrust upon her when she was taken. Ripped from her family. Stolen from everything that she knew up until then.
    “Don’t do this to me,” she pleaded. “Please help me. Believe me.”
    “Sorry. If you want to report a kidnapping, you go to the police. But I don’t think that they’ll believe you any more than I do.”
    Justine nodded, knowing that it was true. She had tried it before. They would just laugh at her. Em had all the proper documentation. She’d constructed too good of a blind. No one could see past it. No one but Justine herself.
    “Good bye, Miss Bywater.”
    She stood up slowly, and walked out.

    That night, Justine thoughtfully scraped the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, while Em worked on some papers she had brought home from the office.
    “Do you remember when I was a baby?” Justine questioned, careful not to show too much interest.
    “When you were a baby?” Em’s face glowed. “Of course I remember when you were a baby.” She smiled at the memory, “You were such a good baby.”
    There was one clue that Em was lying. Justine doubted that she had ever been a good anything. She would have been more reassured if Em had rolled her eyes and complained about what a demanding baby Justine was.
    “Really?” she questioned. “I wasn’t colicky or anything?”
    “No. You were one of those babies who is so sweet    …   you worry that they’re not meant to be on earth for long.”
    “What do you mean?” Justine questioned, pausing in her chores and looking at Em with a frown.
    “You were so perfect    …   I always worried that you would die as a baby. That you were too perfect to stay long, and you would go back to heaven.”
    Justine shuddered.
    “So I did everything right? I slept