A Girl Called Fearless (16 page)

You can't be afraid, I told myself. Or you'll never get away. You'll be Hawkins' prisoner.

My fingers shook as I put in my earphones and cranked up the music.
Call me Ninja Warrior Templar Gladiator.
I shouted the words in my head as we left the nicer neighborhoods. My skin prickled, seeing men sitting on the curb in front of the liquor store, drinking from paper bags, men begging at stoplights, men loitering by alleys, smoking cigarettes.

The world's a dangerous place for girls.

My chest heaved as I sucked in a breath.

Roik pulled the car over. “Son of a— I told them you weren't ready,” he muttered. “Avie, you want to go back to the house?”

I combed my fingers through my hair, trying to decide.
I have to go to school. If I don't Roik won't take me to St. Mark's after to see Father Gabe.
“No, take me to school.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I want to see my friends.”

Roik insisted on walking me to class. Ho had kept me off the network news, but even Ho couldn't control cyberspace or gossip. Underclassmen stared as I passed, trying to get a glimpse of the bruises under the makeup on my neck. I was sweltering in the sweater and bicycle shorts I wore under my uniform skirt, but I wasn't letting anyone see my cuts and bruises.

Zara taped
LEAVE HER ALONE
over the window in our classroom door. Ms. A brought me lunch, and arranged for our class to have the track all to ourselves.

Roik was first in the car line when school let out. “I don't think it's a good idea, you going to see that priest today.”

For a second, I was scared Roik knew what I was up to, but then I realized he was worried. “It's counseling, Roik. It's good for me.”

I can do this, I thought, looking out the Masterson gates. The gates rolled open and the perimeter guy came up behind and tailed us into St. Mark's dicey neighborhood.

Roik walked through the church with me to Father Gabe's office.

I had this crazy fantasy that Yates would be waiting in the confessional, but as soon as we entered St. Mark's, I knew he wasn't. I don't know how I knew, but I did.

It's fine. It's better if Yates stays out of this.

Mrs. Kessler, the receptionist, let Father G know we'd arrived. Roik tried to follow me into Father Gabe's office, but Father G blocked him. “The instruction is private and spiritual. You can wait out here and Mrs. Kessler will chaperone Aveline and me.”

Roik took one look at the stack of
Catholic Weekly
in the waiting area and headed for the courtyard.

Mrs. Kessler sat down with her knitting on Father G's couch. When I went to sit beside her, Gabe led me to a door across the room, talking in his priestly voice. “When the Lord joins a man and a woman…”

He waved me through, and I was in the priest's dressing room. Sun streamed through two stained-glass windows, smearing color over the room and distorting the cabinets on the walls.

He shut the door behind me, and I was alone.

But then Yates stepped out from between the windows. His dark hair was a mess and he had a bandage above his left eye and he hadn't shaved in days, but he was back. He opened his arms and I leaped into them.

“I was so scared. I saw the cop hit you, and then you disappeared and didn't pick up your phone. I had no idea what happened to you.”

“They didn't release me until this morning,” he said. “I'm sorry, I probably stink. I drove right through so I could be here.”

He held me tight and I squeezed him back, but that only lasted a moment before it became awkward and stiff, and we both let go.

We sat down, facing each other on the bench where Father G probably tied his shoes. My hand lay on the seat between us, and I stretched out my little finger, so I could touch the seam of his jeans without him seeing. I needed to feel he was really there.

Yates' shirt was damp with sweat and he smelled like leather. The sunburn on his cheeks made his eyes look even bluer and there was a narrow band of stubble along his jaw.

I touched the frayed gauze on his forehead. “Don't worry about how you smell. Are you okay? What did they do to you?”

“I'm fine. It's just a cut. Nothing serious. The police had paramedics standing by so they wouldn't get sued.”

“But they hit you with pepper spray.”

“Yeah. It burned like hell. But you know, it was worth it.”

“How could that be worth it?”

“Because after the police attack, we were totally united: fifty student groups from all over California. We held meetings in holding cells, made plans. I'm telling you, Fearless, we're on the verge of a revolution. We're going to take down the Paternalists.”

For the first time in way too long, I saw his eyes fired up with hope.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. All it will take is a trigger, I don't know what exactly, but people will come to their senses and throw them out.”

“I hope it's soon.” I gave him a huge smile. “I'm so glad you're back. The police took forever to let you out.”

“I had trouble making bail, but then some anonymous donor covered it. I wish I knew his name so I could thank the guy.”

“If you find out, I'll send him a card. ‘Thanks for getting my best friend out of jail.'”

For a moment, Yates didn't move. “I guess with Dayla gone I am your best friend.”

The slightly disappointed way he said that drew me closer.
Does that mean…?

He hooked his finger through my Love Bracelet. “Tell me about Hawkins. Is he as airbrushed in person as he is on TV?”

“No, he saves that for the camera. At home, he sticks with cold and controlling.”

“Guess I'll see for myself on Saturday.”

“What?”

“Hawkins ordered the Biocure board members to bring their families out to his house so Dad demanded I show up.” Yates, reached toward my face, and brushed my hair away from my collar and my heart stopped.
What are you doing?

“What's this on your neck?” he said.

I slapped my hand over the bruises and looked away. Images strobed in my head: the man's face, the blue van, Roik taking aim.

Yates took hold of my arms. “Did Roik do that?”

I shook my head.

“Hawkins!”

“No,” I whispered. “I was attacked.”

Yates let go and I saw his hands tremble as they hovered over my arms. “What! When? How?”

“Yesterday.”

“Holy— Were you ambushed?”

Yellow crime tape flapped in front of my eyes, but I tried to hold it together. “I was at the cemetery. This man grabbed me and tried to get me into his van.”

“You must have been terrified.” Yates swallowed and shook his head. “I don't know how to ask, but are you hurt anyplace—else?”

Dad and Hawkins had asked me the same question, but Yates meant it totally differently. Tears trickled down my cheeks. “I got lucky. Just some bruises, and scratches from the rosebushes.”

“I don't get it. Where was Roik?”

A gun blasted in my head, and I choked back a sob before I completely lost it. Yates wrapped me in his arms. “You're okay,” he whispered, tracing circles on my back. “I've got you.”

I wanted him to hold me and not let go. I wanted to stay like this, the two of us safe and locked away forever.

But the reality was we had less than an hour.

I eased myself out of his arms. “I have to stop crying. Roik's going to wonder what the hell Father G and I were doing.”

Yates opened a cabinet and handed me some tissues. I dabbed at my eyes and saw him looking at me intently. Suddenly, I felt warm and shivery at the same time.

It was like that moment in movies, when the guy realizes how he feels about the girl, and suddenly she realizes it, too. Gravity lets go. Love tilts the world on its axis, and the two of them do stupid dangerous outrageous things. Maybe that happened in real life, too. Maybe this was it.

I held my breath, sensing Yates was going to finally tell me how he felt.

But then he turned and closed the cabinet, and the moment was gone, and everything inside me demanded to know why.

Why wouldn't he admit to how he felt? Yates said he
missed
me in his note. What did he even mean by that?

“We should delay your extraction a few days,” he said quietly. “Give you some time to heal.”

“I don't have any time,” I snapped. I wanted to shake him.
Tell me what's going on with us
. My cheeks flared, knowing I wasn't being fair or even smart. “Dayla's coming home.”

“Dayla? Why's that bad?”

“Ho, Hawkins' assistant, got her out of Fetal Fed to spy on me. And I'm sure Roik told him about you, too.”

Yates cursed under his breath. “You're right. You can't wait. You have to get out of here.”

Fresh tears dribbled out, and I dabbed my eyes.

“So, tomorrow,” he said, “a woman carrying a red purse comes into the store. You go into the dressing room where she hands you a change of clothes. She distracts the owner, and you disappear out the back into a white Prius.”

I tried to focus on what he was saying but it was hard when I kept thinking I was leaving Yates and L.A. forever. “So then my extractor takes me to my next contact?”

“Yeah. I'll be waiting a couple miles away. You'll get out of the Prius and into a different car with me.”

My eyes stung. I had to tell Yates now. “No, you can't take me.”

“What do you mean,
no
?”

I couldn't bear this. “You have to find someone else to get me out of L.A., and drive me to my next stop.”

“No.”

“Yes, you have to listen to me. Ho's ruthless. He'll hire an army of Retrievers for Hawkins and he'll tell them to kill you. That's what he does. He
eliminates
problems. He'll eliminate
you
.”

Yates glared at the wall.

“Please. Promise me. I can't do this if I have to worry about you.”

Yates was quiet for a moment. “I pushed Gabe to let me drive you. Normally, they don't allow you to extract someone you know. If you can't think clearly, you put the whole team in danger.”

Yates had fought to be the one to extract me. I took a deep breath. “This is the right thing to do.”

“Yeah. We'll get Aamir to extract you. He's good.”

“Okay.” The clock over the cabinet was ticking down. “Should I call you when I get over the border?”

“No, I'll be a suspect, but you can ask Refugee Assistance in Canada to let me know you made it.”

There would be layers of people between us, shielding his connection to me. “I'll never be able to come back to the U.S., will I?”

“Don't worry about that now. Things might change in the future.” His voice grew quiet. “You know I care about you, Fearless.”

Our eyes locked and his told me everything he'd never said aloud. Then, without warning, he moved closer and our lips touched. Heat streaked through my body and for a moment, all I could do was sit there, stock-still. But then he drew me even closer and our kiss went from surprised to happy then desperate as if our lips knew we only had these few minutes.

We shouldn't be doing this.

I had to let him go. I put my hand on his chest. His heart was beating hard.

Yates laid his hand over mine. “Avie, I know I shouldn't ask this, but do you think that someday we—”

There was a knock on the door. Yates stood up as Father Gabe came in. “It is time,” he told us.

“Hold on,” Yates said, and filled him in on how they needed to find someone else to extract me. I knew I should listen. It was critical for my escape, but I wanted Yates to finish his question.
Do you think that someday we
—

I was almost sure I knew what he was going to say, because I'd felt it in his kisses and I would have said yes, if he'd finished asking.

But Father Gabe was moving me toward the door. “Yes, you are right,” he told Yates. “It will be safer if someone else takes her.”

Yates reached for my hand one last time. “You'll be okay. You can do this.”

I nodded, trying to hold it together, and then Father Gabe ushered me out of his office.

Someday. We.

I held on to those words and the memory of Yates looking into my eyes, his lips on mine, all the way back through the church, into the car, and then home. Tomorrow night, I'd be in someone's car or truck or RV, hurtling toward the border.

How far from now was someday?

Exodus

40

Thursday felt like a film where the climax was looming and the director was drawing out every minute. I moved through each scene, aware of small, sharp details. Dad wore a blue tie when he kissed me good-bye. Gerard handed me a paper lunch bag with a cinnamon bun “for later.” Dusty flapped her front paws when I scratched her belly.

These were the last memories of them I'd ever have.

At school, I counted down the hours and then the minutes. At 2:45, the bell rang, and I felt for Becca's necklace, the only thing I was taking with me, other than the music and pics on Yates' phone.

Good-bye, Sophie, Portia, Zara, Ms. A. I'm out of here.

I checked for the cash and phone I'd stashed in the lining of my purse. Headmaster Gleason would rethink sewing class if he knew I'd used what Masterson taught me to split the seam, insert a pocket, and close it with an invisible zipper.

When I came down the steps, Roik grinned like he had a great big secret.

“What are you so happy about?” I asked.

He opened the car door, and “Surprise!” Dayla burst out.

I gasped like I'd been socked. “You're home!”

Day threw her arms around me and squeezed me tight.

No, this isn't happening!