“I never said we couldn’t have contact outside. Just that we couldn’t talk about it outside.”
“Right.” I manage to drum up a smile. “Guess we’re all breaking all the rules now.”
“Guess so.” He backs up a few feet, still watching me, and raises a hand in an easy wave. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
“Okay.”
And that’s that. I watch until he turns the corner and disappears. Even then, I don’t go inside. I just stand on the driveway staring at nothing, letting the hot sun warm my back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT TAKES EFFORT TO FOCUS ON THE FACT THAT BETWEEN THE long trek through the tunnels, the battles, and sleeping in Jackson’s arms, I’ve been gone for nearly two days, but in my world, my real world, only moments have passed. My real world. Is this it? Or are the missions my reality now? Thinking about it makes my stomach roll.
Well, if this is my real world, I have stuff here to deal with, too: friends, Dad, homework, laundry. It’s hard to get my head around that. My focus for two days has been on staying alive, but Carly’s furious with me for some reason, and for her it’s only been about twenty minutes since she and Sarah drove away. It feels weird worrying about her issues when there are things so much bigger weighing on my thoughts, but in this world, the one where my life isn’t at risk every second, her issues are big.
I tiptoe into the house, trying not to alert Dad to my presence. The last thing I want right now is a father-daughter chat about boys. I head up to my room, retrieve my phone, and call Carly. It shoots to voice mail. I pull the phone from my ear and stare at it. Voice mail? Since when does Carly not pick up every single call?
I dial again. This time, she picks up. “Having a nice day?” she asks. Not a loaded question, so why does it feel like one?
“Peachy,” I say, my patience paper thin. Whatever’s eating her is nothing compared to what I’m trying to deal with. I swallow, trying to bury that thought. I feel selfish for thinking it. It isn’t Carly’s fault that I can’t tell her what’s going on with me, and if I don’t tell her, then she has no way to know. I keep my tone light, and ask, “What’s with you?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She falls silent, and I’m left wondering if anything is going to be simple today. Even putting groceries away felt like I was walking through a minefield.
After a few seconds, she says, “Anything you want to tell me about your day, Miki?”
It hits me then. She must think I had plans with Luka and didn’t tell her about it. Of course. If she had plans with a boy, she’d talk my ear off before, after, and possibly even during the event. She’s hurt that I didn’t share, and I feel lousy about that. But she has it all wrong.
“I didn’t have plans with Luka. I would have told you if I did,” I say, aiming for casual. “He dropped by unexpectedly while I was out running. He waited for me till I got back.”
“Uh-huh.” There’s still an off edge to her tone. “And?”
Okay. She must think I have more to tell her than I do.
“I introduced him to Dad, who wasn’t too embarrassing. He made himself scarce while we carried in the groceries and put them away.”
“And?” She keeps asking that like she’s waiting for me to say something specific. Something monumental.
“There is no and. That’s all, the whole story. Not very exciting, I know. We talked for a few minutes on the driveway. Then he took off.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Positive?” She sounds angry now.
“What’s with you?” I ask again, probably sounding a little angry myself.
“Luka deserves better than you sneaking around behind his back!”
“What? I’m not sneaking— I’m not— What?” If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Carly sounds jealous. Or delusional.
“I saw you,” she says, the words low and ugly and laced with accusation.
My first thought is that she saw me get pulled. Saw me fighting. Saw me on the mission. But that’s impossible. We weren’t here, and there’s no way she was there. So something else is giving her a wedgie. “Carly, what exactly do you think you saw?”
“I saw you holding hands with Luka. On the driveway, when Sarah and I drove up.”
She’s talking about the moments before we got pulled. I run through them in my thoughts, but don’t see what her problem is.
“I wasn’t holding hands with him. And I don’t get why you’re so pissed. Aren’t you the one who’s pushing me to call him? Now you’re mad that we were carrying groceries together?” In a snap, I get it. I remember all the things Carly’s said about Luka since the first day of school. She’s the one who freaked and couldn’t stop talking about how much he’d changed in the year he was away. How tall he is. How much he’s filled out. She’s always heading for our spot when he’s on the track. But I never really thought about it because we’ve been hanging out under the giant oak since freshman year.
Carly crushing on Luka? No, that can’t be right. She would have said. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I am so not in the frame of mind for this right now. “We weren’t holding hands, Carly. We reached for the grocery bag at the same time. The story’s a lot less interesting when you don’t add anything that didn’t actually happen.”
“Right.” I manage to drum up a smile. “Guess we’re all breaking all the rules now.”
“Guess so.” He backs up a few feet, still watching me, and raises a hand in an easy wave. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
“Okay.”
And that’s that. I watch until he turns the corner and disappears. Even then, I don’t go inside. I just stand on the driveway staring at nothing, letting the hot sun warm my back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT TAKES EFFORT TO FOCUS ON THE FACT THAT BETWEEN THE long trek through the tunnels, the battles, and sleeping in Jackson’s arms, I’ve been gone for nearly two days, but in my world, my real world, only moments have passed. My real world. Is this it? Or are the missions my reality now? Thinking about it makes my stomach roll.
Well, if this is my real world, I have stuff here to deal with, too: friends, Dad, homework, laundry. It’s hard to get my head around that. My focus for two days has been on staying alive, but Carly’s furious with me for some reason, and for her it’s only been about twenty minutes since she and Sarah drove away. It feels weird worrying about her issues when there are things so much bigger weighing on my thoughts, but in this world, the one where my life isn’t at risk every second, her issues are big.
I tiptoe into the house, trying not to alert Dad to my presence. The last thing I want right now is a father-daughter chat about boys. I head up to my room, retrieve my phone, and call Carly. It shoots to voice mail. I pull the phone from my ear and stare at it. Voice mail? Since when does Carly not pick up every single call?
I dial again. This time, she picks up. “Having a nice day?” she asks. Not a loaded question, so why does it feel like one?
“Peachy,” I say, my patience paper thin. Whatever’s eating her is nothing compared to what I’m trying to deal with. I swallow, trying to bury that thought. I feel selfish for thinking it. It isn’t Carly’s fault that I can’t tell her what’s going on with me, and if I don’t tell her, then she has no way to know. I keep my tone light, and ask, “What’s with you?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She falls silent, and I’m left wondering if anything is going to be simple today. Even putting groceries away felt like I was walking through a minefield.
After a few seconds, she says, “Anything you want to tell me about your day, Miki?”
It hits me then. She must think I had plans with Luka and didn’t tell her about it. Of course. If she had plans with a boy, she’d talk my ear off before, after, and possibly even during the event. She’s hurt that I didn’t share, and I feel lousy about that. But she has it all wrong.
“I didn’t have plans with Luka. I would have told you if I did,” I say, aiming for casual. “He dropped by unexpectedly while I was out running. He waited for me till I got back.”
“Uh-huh.” There’s still an off edge to her tone. “And?”
Okay. She must think I have more to tell her than I do.
“I introduced him to Dad, who wasn’t too embarrassing. He made himself scarce while we carried in the groceries and put them away.”
“And?” She keeps asking that like she’s waiting for me to say something specific. Something monumental.
“There is no and. That’s all, the whole story. Not very exciting, I know. We talked for a few minutes on the driveway. Then he took off.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Positive?” She sounds angry now.
“What’s with you?” I ask again, probably sounding a little angry myself.
“Luka deserves better than you sneaking around behind his back!”
“What? I’m not sneaking— I’m not— What?” If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Carly sounds jealous. Or delusional.
“I saw you,” she says, the words low and ugly and laced with accusation.
My first thought is that she saw me get pulled. Saw me fighting. Saw me on the mission. But that’s impossible. We weren’t here, and there’s no way she was there. So something else is giving her a wedgie. “Carly, what exactly do you think you saw?”
“I saw you holding hands with Luka. On the driveway, when Sarah and I drove up.”
She’s talking about the moments before we got pulled. I run through them in my thoughts, but don’t see what her problem is.
“I wasn’t holding hands with him. And I don’t get why you’re so pissed. Aren’t you the one who’s pushing me to call him? Now you’re mad that we were carrying groceries together?” In a snap, I get it. I remember all the things Carly’s said about Luka since the first day of school. She’s the one who freaked and couldn’t stop talking about how much he’d changed in the year he was away. How tall he is. How much he’s filled out. She’s always heading for our spot when he’s on the track. But I never really thought about it because we’ve been hanging out under the giant oak since freshman year.
Carly crushing on Luka? No, that can’t be right. She would have said. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I am so not in the frame of mind for this right now. “We weren’t holding hands, Carly. We reached for the grocery bag at the same time. The story’s a lot less interesting when you don’t add anything that didn’t actually happen.”
