A Girl Called Fearless (20 page)

Dayla sipped her latte. “It's okay. I took care of it.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
What did you do?

“Anyway,” she said, “I wanted to tell you Buck's flying in this morning so I get to meet my knight in shining armor.”

“I hope he's—” I searched for the right word. “Nice.”

Day threw her bag over her shoulder. “Yeah, me, too.”

“Call me later?”

“Yeah, we'll autopsy my life.” She hugged me good-bye, and I watched her walk away.

If I'd been locked up like she was, who knows what I'd do to get free.

Ms. A was back after break. “Let's resume our lessons on first aid. Today, poisoning.” For the last two weeks, she had lectured us on what we called LC. Leading Causes of Death in Children. Drowning. Electrocution. Poisoning. Falls.

She seemed distracted. She dropped her first aid kit when she pulled it out of the drawer and had to search her bookshelf when normally she'd reach automatically for a book she wanted.

We waited, our first aid kits open on our desks. Sophie Park whispered across the aisle. “What's up with her?”

“I don't know,” I said, but the hideous tickling sensation up my neck was back.

“Please find your syrup of ipecac.” Ms. A fumbled in her kit while the rest of us found our bottles and held them up as we knew she wanted.

She shoved her kit away. “Good. You found it. If a child has ingested poison, time is of the essence. Ipecac can induce vomiting, giving you precious minutes until help can arrive. Some consider it folk medicine, but if you are desperate, it is both powerful and effective. I recommend you keep it in your purse at all times. Is that clear? Who does not understand?”

The skin on my neck pulled tight. Ms. A only said that when she absolutely, positively wanted us to remember something.

She strode over and locked the door. Zara glanced at me.
What the hell?

Then Ms. A walked to the front row and looked right at the camera like she wanted to make sure it had a clear shot. She smiled, her eyes taking us all in, even the empty seats where Sparrow and Dayla used to sit.

“My darlings. My chosen ones,” she said. “I have tried to prepare you for life outside these walls. The administration has decided that this will be my last day.”

I shook my head. No, this can't be happening.

She stared hard at the camera. “But I cannot go silently and I cannot go nicely. You are not objects to be sold by your fathers to pay off their debts or buy a new house. And the movement in this country that claims that you need to be protected has created legalized servitude.”

Footsteps clattered down the hall.

Ms. A embraced us with her eyes. “Don't let the Paternalists take away your rights without a fight. Don't let them make you weak and dependent. And above all, don't let them silence you.”

A fist banged on the frosted glass in the door. “Ms. Alexandra. Ms. Alexandra, you're wanted in the Headmaster's office.”

I leaped out of my seat. She hugged me to her, and we were enveloped by fifteen sets of arms.

Keys jerked angrily in the lock.

“I will miss you, my beauties.”

“No, don't go, you can't,” we cried.

The door swung open and the Headmaster himself stood there. “Girls, you need to release Ms. Alexandra.”

We reached out faces and hands for her kisses. Her perfect makeup was streaked with tears.

“Mr. Austin will take over the class while Ms. Alexandra comes with me,” the Headmaster said.

Ms. A took a deep breath, and stood up straight like she'd breathed in the power to do anything. Then the Headmaster and Security escorted her out, taking my last chance to escape with her.

Dayla had no idea how she'd just imprisoned me for life. Or, maybe she did.

“If you would take out your workbook on household finances,” Mr. Austin said.

I went to close the first aid kit, but then I realized that Ms. A had given me one last lifesaver. I palmed the tiny bottle of ipecac, and dropped it into my backpack.

No, I was not going to give up. It was time to act.

48

Roik crushed out his cigarette when I came down the steps after school. A shiver ran through me
. Now. You're doing this.

I held out a cup. “Coffee? I put in two ice cubes just the way you like it.”

He smiled and took a gulp. “Tough day?”

“Don't pretend you don't know about Ms. Alexandra.”

“No, I saw them escort her out.”

Roik started the car. The fancy iron gates released us, and he pulled into the street. I looked at the coffee silhouetted in his cup. A quarter was already gone.

I took a centering breath. “I want to see Mom.”

“It's not Tuesday.”

“I haven't seen her in two weeks, and after next Saturday, who knows when Hawkins is going to let me see her again.”

“Hmm. You sure you're ready to face the crime scene?” he said.

I gripped the armrest. “I won't know until I try, right?”

“I dunno. It's late. Sun'll be down soon.”

“I was helping with costumes for the play. Come on. Fifteen minutes, that's all I'm asking.”

“All right, but the second the sun goes behind the hill, we're out of there.”

“Deal.” I sat back as Roik pulled onto the freeway.

This is really happening. Dear God, please tell me Yates got my message.
I'd texted him from day care lab, but I hadn't heard back.

We sailed past the Million Mother Wall and Roik touched his fingers to his lips and blew a kiss. Billboards loomed over the wall, shouting out warnings. My heart pounded faster with each one.

K-9 Commandos. Keep your home front secure.

Can't afford a bodyguard? Our No-Jack titanium ankle bracelet is guaranteed. We retrieve your girl or we pay you $100,000.

Burning Desire Signing Brokerage. White, black, brown, or Asian. We satisfy your every need.

I tore my eyes away from the window and focused on Roik's coffee cup.
Yes, I get it. The world's a dangerous, messed-up place, and I'm insane to make a run for it.

There was strength inside me and I needed to find it.

I put in my earphones and pulled up Survival Instincts. Those six angry girls sang to me and I whispered the words along with them.
Call me Ninja Warrior Templar Gladiator G.I. Ranger Samurai Terminator.

Roik pulled into the cemetery and every muscle in my body tensed. I dropped my earphones on the seat. Crime tape ringed Mom's grave.

Take the blanket out of the trunk like you always do and walk up the hill. You can do this.

“Don't get out yet,” Roik ordered.

“Why not? The place is empty.”

“Wait for me to check it out. The cops still haven't found the driver of the blue van.” I heard a clip snap into his gun, then he climbed out of the car.

I leaned over the seat. Roik had finished his coffee and his Taser lay on the center console. Always carry backup, he liked to say, so I shoved it into my bag.

Roik waved to me to come up, so I grabbed my backpack and started up the hill. The yellow crime tape snapped in the breeze.

I flashed back to the man's hand on my throat, the gun shoved up against my eye. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.

Keep going. Don't stop
. I kept my eyes on the green grass, and forced one foot in front of the other. Seventy-five steps up the hill to Mom's grave.

I stood beside Roik, my knees shaking. He shook his head. “You shouldn't be here. It's too soon,” he said. Sweat was beading on his forehead.

I hated what I was going to do. “I need to talk to Mom alone. Could you just leave us?”

“No, it's my job to protect you.” He wiped his face.

“Look around,” I said. “The place is empty.”

He gave me a look like something awful was going to happen. “Get back in the car.”

“Why?”

Roik grabbed me and pushed me ahead of him. “Go. Get in the car.”

“Why? What's wrong?”

And then he doubled over. Vomit spewed from his mouth. “Get—in the—car.”

“I'm sorry, Roik.”

And I Tased him. He fell on his back, the volts jerking his body as they coursed through him. I picked up his phone and threw it as hard as I could.

And then I ran. Past Mom's grave and over the hill. Behind me, I could hear Roik retch. He could choke to death, lying on his back, but I couldn't help him now. My shoes pounded the dirt service road as I tore for the gate about a half-mile down.

Yates wasn't there.

I dove behind the work shed and pulled his number up on my phone.
Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.
Nothing.

“Yates, I need you to call me now!”

I can't go back. I've got to get out of here
. I tore off my uniform and pulled on the sweats and baseball cap I'd grabbed from my locker. Ripped out my earrings, rubbed dirt over my face, and threw everything except the phone in the dumpster.

Outside the cemetery gate was a neighborhood of dried lawns and chain-link fences. A few houses had lights on, but there weren't any street lamps.

I could do this. Ms. A ran us five miles every day for four years. Thank you, I sent out to her, and I ran into a maze of streets I'd never seen before.

The sun dropped behind the hills. Another twenty minutes and it would be pitch-black.

49

The neighborhood looked half deserted. Dogs barked and threw themselves at the chain-link fences as I ran by. I veered into the middle of the street. The men who lived here with their kids were probably on their way back from work. I had to get off the streets before one of them spotted me.

The roads didn't go straight. They curved back and forth like a folded-up electric cord, and I ran, wondering how in the hell was I going to get out of there. I punched an intersection into my phone, but it refused to give me a map.

Damn. I've got to get out of here.

I tapped Yates number again.
Oh, please be there. Pick up. Pick up.

“Avie?”

“Yates! I did it! I got away!”

“You did? Where are you?”

“In the neighborhood behind the cemetery. Can you come get me?”

“I'll be there in fifteen. Find someplace to wait.”

Hazy light outlined two boys shooting hoops in a driveway up ahead. I tore across the street as a deep voice called out, “Hey, baby. What you doin' here?”

Chain link chinged like he'd jumped the fence, and suddenly a boy built like a football player was right behind me.

“I can't stop,” I told Yates. “Someone's chasing me.”

“You know where you are?”

Street sign up ahead. “Just a sec. Jacaranda and Arroyo.”

“Slow down, sweet cheeks.” The guy chasing me was closing in, so I ran faster, hoping that his size meant he wasn't a distance runner.

“Okay, I got it,” Yates said. I heard his motorcycle rev.

Yates told me he'd be there in fifteen, but if Roik got to the car and hit the panic button, the cops would be there in ten.

Footsteps pounded behind me, and I ran flat out. The streets kept curving, and I had no idea if I'd end up back at the cemetery.

Headlights roared right at me and I dodged. A truck passed me, and then braked, and I heard it whine and rumble like it was turning around. I didn't know if the teenage guy was still after me, because I couldn't see or hear him.

I dove into an overgrown hedge. My heart banged as loud as the muffler.

The truck passed.

I waited.

The driver went about a hundred feet. Threw the truck into reverse.

I held the phone against me to dim the screen, and sent Yates the address of the house across the street.

The truck backed up until it was a couple houses away. It idled in the street, high beams lighting up the yards on either side.

A motorcycle roared behind me. Yates? It tore off in another direction. No, don't go away. I'm here. Over here.

The truck driver got out and prowled the yard across the street, waving a flashlight into the bushes. He had a big beer gut, so I knew I could outrun him if I could get past him.

Come on, Yates. Where are you?

The driver moved down to the next house, and a dog started barking and carrying on. The front door banged open. “What the hell you doing in my yard?” yelled a man.

The driver's hands flew up as he backed away. “Nothing, buddy. Looking for my dog. She jumped out of my truck. That's all.”

Then he turned toward me like he sensed exactly where I was. I forced myself to breathe.
Remember. Go for the instep. The groin. Get him down, then run like hell.

I heard a motorcycle coming toward us. I had to get out in the open, because if I didn't, Yates would fly right past me.

The guy hunting me barreled across the lawn.

I jumped out from the hedge and sprinted for the street, trying to make it to the truck's headlight beams so Yates would see me.

The guy saw where I was heading and tried to cut me off, but I dodged him. The motorcycle screamed right for us, but the guy was only ten feet behind me.

I charged into the light.
Hurry, Yates!
I pumped faster and heard the bike slow. I wheeled around, just as Yates knocked the man off his feet.

He fell on his side. “Son of a b—, you broke my arm!”

The bike braked in front of me, and Yates reached for my hand, I leaped onto the bike and we tore out of the neighborhood.

50

I pressed my body into Yates' as we soared through backstreets. He dodged streetlights, and I kept my head down and my face out of sight.

My heart revved as the bike swept me away from Hawkins and into my future.

Yates pulled into the dark alley behind Dr. Prandip's office. He cut the engine and tore off his helmet. I slid off the bike. “I can't believe we made it,” I said.