Alice in Wonderland High (22 page)

The back of the car was wrapped around a tree, smashed like an accordion. The mangled trunk zigzagged open, warped and dented. I shivered, knowing that could have easily been me.

Chess stared at the damage for a moment, then sank to the ground and buried his head into his knees. Dark brown splotches dotted his body. I rushed over to him because it looked like blood, but as I got closer I realized it was mud.

“All those assemblies at school used to warn about drunk driving.” I sat down next to him, outstretching my legs. “But they really should have focused on the dangers of getaways while transporting rabid animals.”

“It's not funny.” His mouth flatlined on his face. I wanted to inspire his trademark smiles again, not erase them from existence.

“I know, but I'm a big advocate of laughter being the best medicine.” I placed my hands over his and clasped them in my lap. “We're going to have to try really hard if we want to mend the car that way.” I stretched my arms out, flexing my palms to show I was getting ready for an attempt. “I failed my mom today.”

He turned to me. “Why?”

“She always told me to remember two things. Wear clean underwear in case you get into a car accident, and always carry mints in case you talk to a cute boy.” I curled my legs underneath me. “And, well, I haven't had a chance to do laundry in a while. Underwear fail.”

He let out a brief laugh.

I peered through the window at the pig, which had stopped squealing and now stumbled around the mangled cushions. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I think so.” He sighed. “I hope so.”

I dragged his head to my chest, rubbing his hair with my fingers. “It's okay,” I said, knowing it wasn't. His dad didn't have a job. They couldn't pay to fix this. “We're both okay; that's what matters. You don't need a car.”

Chess nestled his mouth into the crook of my neck. “That won't fix the real issue.”

“I know, but—”

He lifted his head and met my eyes. “Alice, there's something else I haven't told you.”

I stopped stroking his hair.

“It's where I live. My car.” He broke from my grasp and scrubbed at his face. “Oh God.”

My mind provided a movie montage: Chess with wet hair early in the morning, coming out of the gym. Chess asking me to make him lunch. Chess not wanting to give me his phone number . . . because he didn't have a phone. Losing his farm, because of course, if you lose your farm, you lose the farmhouse!

I stared at him, wanting to say something to comfort him, make it all better, but my mouth didn't have access to the right words. Clouds settled inside my brain. Despite every hair standing on end, I knew I had to pretend to be calm, take control. Be what he couldn't be. I slid my arm back around him, his anchor.

“Okay . . . ” My voice was scratchy. I swallowed hard and tried again. “Does your dad live in the car? Where is he now?”

“At my aunt's. We can't call him, if that's what you're thinking.” Chess hunched over and I rubbed his back. “She lives two hours away, and I don't want to leave.”

“But—”

He spoke the next words in a rush, like ripping off a Band-Aid. “Alice, my dad isn't doing anything about the farm, so I have to. And I have to be here to do it. If that means being homeless for a few months, that's a small sacrifice to make.”

“Wow, your dad must be the coolest ever if he allows this.”

“Only because he has no idea.” He twisted his hands in his lap, rubbing at a spot on his wrist where a blue bruise bloomed. “You're not the only loved one I've lied to, if that helps.” Two pink dots appeared on his cheeks. “I mean—”

In all my fantasies of a guy telling me he loved me, it usually occurred on a beach at moonlight or in a spaceship with Saturn as our backdrop. Hey, I said it was a fantasy. But there was one thing fantasies never got right—besides, you know, reality. It didn't matter where we were. All that mattered was how I felt in return. A smoking car could morph into the most romantic scene ever, when it was the best and worst moment of your life. He might have lied to me, but I knew he had his reasons, and I knew that since my first reaction wasn't anger but compassion that I was falling for him.

I tilted his head to mine. His eyes held a question. I answered with a kiss. Slow and gentle, because he was fragile and damaged and I didn't want to break him. He broke away and smiled. “You like how I slipped in that I love you? I thought that was slick.”

That seemed to be his trademark move. “You're the master of subtlety.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How's this for subtle. Are you going to say it back?”

I wanted to, but I wanted to find my own way to say it, like he had. Also, I wanted to distract him, and teasing was the perfect way. “Eventually.” I struggled to keep from grinning.

He scoffed.

“You're expecting it now. I want to catch you off-guard. Keep you on your toes.”

He pouted like a puppy. “But—car accident! You were wrong about laughter. It's love that heals all wounds.”

“Is that a bet? I accept.” Just for emphasis, I chuckled. “But I might be persuaded to your side once I've heard the truth. All of it.”

“Okay. Where to begin?”

“Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”

He met my eyes. “I knew my dad only sent me to boarding school to keep me safe, get me away from Wonderland.” He paused. “And to keep me in the dark about what was going on with the farm, because I didn't discover any of the rezoning stuff until I got home. One day he called me up crying, and told me he had to be out of the house in thirty days. The town put a lien on the farm for unpaid taxes that turned into a foreclosure. He hid it all from me.” His voice cracked. “My dad needed my help packing and selling equipment, so we worked it out with the boarding school that I'd transfer to Wonderland for the last month and return to boarding school in the fall as a scholarship student.”

He went on to tell me that he had intercepted the letter his dad was sending to Wonderland, explaining Chess would not be returning in the fall. Chess copied the same wording, forged the signature and sent the letter to boarding school instead, plus changed the address of record so all mail went to the Garden Center. He emailed his dad every few days from the school computer lab, since paying for a landline or cell phone was out of the question anyway. “I drove myself to school, supposedly, at the end of the summer. He literally has no idea I'm not there.”

“That's crazy,” I said, partly in shock, partly in awe that he'd pulled it off.

He shrugged. “We're all mad here. We wouldn't be doing this stuff if we weren't.”

“Do Whitney and Kingston know?”

He nodded. “I used to crash with Kingston every night, but ever since their parents caught me and grilled me, I've been too afraid to go back. They threatened to call my dad.”

“Then I'm sneaking you into my house tonight.” There were worse things to be caught doing, I knew all too well. Getting caught with a boy in my room seemed like a minor infraction.

He opened his mouth to protest, but something in my face must have made him shut it. Or maybe he recognized the make-out potential involved. “Thanks.”

“Wait—when you found us at Town Hall that night, you said you saw Kingston online . . . but how?”

He sighed. “That was a half-truth. I really did follow Kingston that night. I had parked my car near his house, but hidden, because I didn't trust him. I woke up at one point and noticed his truck was gone. Went to Town Hall, natch, and saw it parked right in front. I didn't want to break and enter, but I wanted to confront him.” He looked at the floor. “I had no idea you were there, too.”

I squeezed his hand. “What about your Garden Center job? You've saved up a lot of money. You can afford rent.”

“I can't, though, not on minimum wage. And no one will rent to a minor.”

I lowered my voice. “I wish you would have told me.”

“Hey . . . ” His arm curved around my shoulder. “I was going to tell you. But . . . everything was going so well. I didn't want to ruin it.” He kissed my forehead. “It was the only good thing I had going.”

I stared at the dusty road, trying to process all this in my cotton-stuffed mind. “What about the nuclear-power plant? You guys were acting weird about it at my house.”

“Whitney's mad because they turned the land into a parking lot and not another farm.” Chess tilted my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You know everything now. So is there anything you feel like saying to me?” He waggled his eyebrows.

It was half a joke, half a serious plea for a declaration. But he wasn't frowning anymore. Maybe we both won that bet.

“Yeah.” I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I really have to use the bathroom.”

He closed his eyes and said in a sexy voice, “That's the most romantic thing any girl has ever said to me.”

“Wait, I can beat that.” I brushed my lips against his ear. “I think I have an ingrown toenail.”

He braced his hands on my shoulders and pulled me forward, hovering his lips above mine. “I better kiss you before you say anything sexier.”

We distracted ourselves from responsibility with heavy kisses until daylight started to fade and the lower temperature made me shiver against his chest. I pulled out my cell phone.

“Who are you calling?”

I turned my phone on. “We have to call the police.”

“We stole from a university.” He grabbed the phone from my hands and twirled it between his fingers. “We can't involve them.”

“We have no choice. They're going to trace the car back to you. If we call them, we can control what story we tell them.”

He thought about that for a second. “Fine, but not until we get the pig somewhere safe.”

I brushed my hair out of my eyes. “We'll call someone else first. They'll take the pig, then we'll call the police.”

The wind rustled leaves while he considered. “Who?”

I tried Whitney first, but her cell went straight to voicemail. I bit my lip. There was only one person who would understand about the pig, who might help us and keep our secret. “Kingston.”

A half-hour later, after Chess had changed into a clean outfit from his “closet” in the trunk, Kingston arrived in his truck. He hopped out and assessed the damage. “Whoa, man. First Whitney, now this.”

“Whitney?” Chess tilted his head toward Kingston.

Kingston looked back and forth at us, jingling his keys. “Oh shit. I figured you knew. She got arrested. Looks like time finally caught up to her. I knew he would. He's determined that way.”

My chest tightened.

Chess squeezed his eyes shut. “Tell her I'm really sorry.”

“You tell her.” Kingston crossed to the truck and lifted a dog's cage out of the back. “I don't talk to her on prime-number days. For her own protection, obviously.”

“A cage?” Chess looked horrified.

“Yeah, I stopped by the pet store.” Kingston set the cage back down. “Whitney fenced off part of the basement this morning. I'm assuming it was for the pig?”

I glanced at Chess. The lifeless color of his skin matched my airbag-enhanced memory of the crash. “Is that okay?” I asked.

Chess blew on his fists to keep them warm. “Yeah, I guess. Since it's only temporary.”

“You should call the police.” I pushed the cell back into his hands since I wanted a moment alone with Kingston. Chess thanked Kingston, then headed to the road's edge where we'd learned the cell got the best reception.

Kingston crossed his arms and stood in place. “This was really stupid. You guys got caught, and you were almost killed. If I'd been here . . . ”

“I thought you had an army now? Or is dating Quinn somehow your way of getting back at me for stealing your spot in the group?”

Kingston let out a quick laugh. “I'm not that predictable. Keep thinking that and you'll be pleasantly surprised.”

“Pleasantly?” I raised my eyebrows.

He pursed his lips. “Well, that's still open for interpretation.” He sidestepped around me and headed for Chess's car door.

I smoothed the hair off my face and followed him. “So what's your personal agenda then, with all these stunts? And why in the world is Quinn helping you?”

“Don't act so surprised. You're practically the only girl in school who isn't in love with me.”

Delusional and crazy, what a combo. “And maybe I just want a girlfriend?”

I so did not believe him. After all, he'd phrased it as a question. “Really? Because you two have so much in common.”

“We do have a common goal.” He grinned at me.

“Right, I forgot Quinn has been on the front lines of saving the environment.”

He smirked as if he found my comment cute. I decided to try another tactic: kill him with kindness. “I'll hold the cage.”

“I think you've done enough.” He waved his hand at the damaged part of the car.

A million comebacks bubbled in my throat, but I swallowed them down. “Maybe you can convince Quinn to use her student-council powers to help Chess somehow. Raise money to buy another farm?” I knew it sounded implausible, but my rational thinking meter had been crushed in the accident.

He lifted the pig out of the front seat. It thrashed in the air and squealed like a rusty gear. “You can't just buy a farm. You need land for it, permits . . . What do you think we've been trying to do this whole time?” He adjusted the pig to his side and brought his broken watch to his mouth. He whispered to it, then tilted his ear so he could listen. His eyes met mine and he looked surprised, like he'd forgotten where he was.

I shut the door behind him. “Even if we could somehow get him a house, like Habitat for Humanity?”