That's Not My Name

by Megan Lally

Covered in blood? Check. Bruised to hell? Check. Wandering, terrified, in the middle of the night? Check.

My head throbs from standing so fast, and my heartbeat thumps like a Lizzo chorus. Oh, hey. I guess I remember Lizzo. If all else fails, at least I like good music.

She went to every swim meet, every concert—even though she would have rather seen Taylor Swift.

“You can take my Adidas, but you can’t take my liberty.”

“Don’t worry. Nobody will see you.” I can’t explain the stab of unease that sentence brings.

Nothing against the Roses, I’d die for Moira, but I’d also kill to get the hell out of here.

Max leans over from the driver’s seat. “Get in, losers, we’re going sleuthing.”