"Maybe that should be our band name," he says. "Hey, here's my class. See you at lunch."
Marina and I both have history, so we continue down the hall to our own classroom. Just before we go in, she puts a hand on my arm.
"We still need to talk," she says.
"Absolutely."
"But we're good," she says.
She ducks into class before I can say anything back. Thank God she didn't squeeze my arm again.
Chaingang
I know Marina and Josh are just good friends, and I guess I'm happy for them that they're putting their differences aside, but I still feel pissed when I see them traipsing up the walk, smiling, her arm linked in his.
And you don't have to tell me. What happened with Marina last night was nice, but it didn't mean shit. We were just playing roles in case the crazy Wildling dude was spying on us. And even if we did feel something—I'm not saying I did, I'm just saying even if—it's not like anything could ever come of it. The last thing I want is for Marina to get jumped into the Avers. It's probably the last thing she wants, too.
But I'm still pissed.
So instead of hanging in my "office" for the day, I go to the student parking lot and get on my bike. Ten minutes later I'm on the Pacific Coast Highway, heading south. I stick to just a little over the speed limit so that some eager highway patrolman doesn't pull me over. Way I'm feeling right now, I might just take a swing at him, and that wouldn't end well. I go away again and it won't be to juvie.
Might be worth it, though, because I'm in the mood to hit something.
I tell myself to chill. I concentrate on the wind in my face and the sound of my wheels humming against the pavement. I think about retirement and getting away from all this crap. I'm miles away from Santa Feliz when I finally pull into a little parking lot overlooking a beach that's not much bigger. It's just a small sandy cove surrounded by cliffs. There are some surfers out in the water, waiting for a wave. It must be their jeeps in the parking lot.
I kill my engine and put the bike on its stand. Leaning on the metal rail, I time the beat of my heart to the rhythm of the waves. I finally feel the calmness—or I do until I hear footsteps approaching. I don't have to turn around. The wind's bringing me his scent.
"Week's not up yet," I say.
"I told you I want the boy dead," the guy says. "Not just roughed up."
Huh. So he thinks I sicced those skinhead wannabes on Josh. I can work with that. Especially since word around the school has it the FBI came along and broke things up. Gossip flies through the place like buckshot from a shotgun. My Wildling hearing picks up everything I want to hear and lots that I don't, but at least I've learned to filter out most of the crap.
"Yeah," I say, "and you also told me you wanted it to look like he'd been killed by humans. This was just a glitch. How was I supposed to know the Feds would come by when they did?"
"Now he's on his guard."
"I doubt it. But even if he is, it's not going to do him any good. And I've still got a week."
"Six days."
"So he'll be dead in six days."
I shrug like it's no big deal and stare out at the ocean. All I want is for him to buy this crap until I can get a line on him.
"Look at me," the guy says.
I take my time turning away from the railing.
"You think this is a joke?" he says. "Do you need another object lesson to show you just how serious I am?"
He doesn't have to mention Lenny by name for me to know what he's talking about. He probably never even bothered to learn Lenny's name.
"Oh, I know you're serious," I tell him.
I wish I'd thought to bring my sawed-off on this little jaunt. With a bit of luck, I might have had a chance to see how tough he is with a head full of buckshot.
I don't let anything show on my face, but he still says, "I know what you think you're doing."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Stalling until you can figure out a way to take me down."
Smart dude. But I don't care how smart or fast or strong he is. There's always someone faster or stronger. Or smarter.
"You said you wanted nothing to make it look like Wildlings killed him," I say. "So you either let me do this my way or take the other option and do it yourself."
He nods. "Don't try to play me, boy. I've seen you tough kids come and go, and I'm still standing here."
"I'm real impressed."
He gives me a hard look, then turns and walks away. I lean against the rail and watch him go. He doesn't have wheels, so I figure he's got a shape that travels easily and fits in around here. Not a lot to go on, but it does narrow things down a bit.
What I really need is for Marina to get me a name from Auntie Min. Once I know who and what he is, we can start to plan out how he's going to die.
Josh
Des is in a great mood at lunch, probably still riding the adrenaline rush of thumping Erik. He's full of plans for the band, the skatepark, hanging out. It's so infectious that I can't help but feel optimistic myself. Even Marina seems happy and relaxed, though I do catch her studying me from time to time with an expression I can't read. Her friend Julie joins us and it starts to feel like old times, like the whole Wildlings thing never happened and we're just a bunch of kids passing the time talking about music and good surfing beaches and the lame shows on TV. Julie teases Des and Marina, asking if they're going to the prom together. Des announces he might attend clown school next fall, then gets insulted when we all tell him that he could teach them more than he'd learn.
It's great. Other than being sore, everything is so normal. For the first time in longer than I can remember I feel like I'm living my life instead of just going through the motions.
After classes I do my detention then we all meet up in front of the school. We're keeping a lookout for Erik and his pals, but they're nowhere in sight, which is a good thing. I don't need any more drama.
Marina has to go straight home, so Des and I walk with her. Julie's going to the library to study, which is interesting. She'd been hanging with the stoner crowd for a while, but it looks like she's getting serious about school again. We say goodbye to her and head off like we've done a million times before, the three of us just kicking along the sidewalk together.
But nothing in my life is ever simple anymore. We're only a few blocks away from the school when a familiar car pulls up beside us. The window rolls down and Agent Solana looks up at us from the passenger side.
"Got a minute, Saunders?"
"Not really," I tell him.
Agent Matteson leans across the seat. "We can do it here, or we can do it back at the office. Your choice."
"Seriously? I told you. I don't know who the guys were that jumped me."
The driver's side door opens and Matteson gets out. He puts his elbows on the roof of the car and studies me for a long moment.
"You still look like crap," he says.
That gets Des's back up. Marina stands frowning between us. I know she's trying to get a take on what the Feds want with me now, but good luck with that.
"Dude," Des says. "What do you think happens when a bunch of guys—"
"Yeah, yeah." Matteson makes a brushing-off gesture with his hand. "Just tell us where you were last night."
"You know where I was. You drove me home. Did I look like I was in any shape to do anything but collapse once I got inside?"
"You tell me."
"I just did."
But then I realize what's going on.
"This is about Clint Gaillard, isn't it?" I say. "The guy who was running security at ValentiCorp."
"What do you know about it?"
"Nothing. Des saw it on the news and told me he'd been killed."
Des nods and juts his chin in my direction. "The dude was still crashed when I came over to his place this morning."
"See?" I say.
"Yeah, but—" Matteson begins, except I cut him off.
"Look," I tell him. "I
don't care one way or the other that he's dead, but I didn't kill him. What about those dead kids' parents? He's got to have pissed off people who are a lot more dangerous than I am."
"You tell me," Matteson says.
"Will you stop saying that? Why would you even think I had anything to do with it?"
"Good question," Matteson says. "Isn't it, Al?"
I look down at Solana. He shrugs.
"Coroner's report says he was torn apart by some kind of animal," Solana says. "They haven't got a line on just what kind, but they're working on it."
"And you think it's a Wildling."
"We're keeping an open mind," Matteson says.
"I keep telling you, I'm not a Wildling."
"Yeah, we get that. It's why a bunch of guys were able to beat you up as badly as they did yesterday. A kid like you wouldn't have a chance taking down a guy like Gaillard with his Seal training and everything."
"So why are you even asking me about it?"
"Just covering bases."
"Right," I say. "But the funny thing is, I've got a perfect alibi if I need one: you two keeping tabs on me. Did you see me leave the house last night?"
Matteson's eyebrows go up. "What makes you think we're following you?"
"Okay, play it that way," I tell him. "But I didn't do it, and I don't know who did."
"Good to know," Matteson says. "Thanks for your time."
He gets back into the car.
"Watch yourself," Solana says. "We don't always have your back."
Before I can ask him what he means, Matteson pulls the car away from the curb. I watch them go for a long moment. When I turn around I find Marina studying me with a considering look.
"What?" I say.
She shrugs. "Nothing. I've just never seen you so—I don't know. Forceful, I suppose."
"They're getting on my nerves. A lot of things have been getting on my nerves."
"I can see that. But the old Josh never mouthed off to cops like that. You're getting as bad as Des. Fighting, detention."
"Hey!" Des and I both say at the same time.
She grins and punches me lightly on the shoulder.
"Kidding," she says. "But," she adds in a more serious voice, "I don't think those agents actually believe you were involved. It seemed more like they were giving you a heads-up."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"I know. That's what worries me. Because then you have to ask yourself, a heads-up about what?"
Marina
I'm keeping secrets from Josh again and I don't like it. Especially not when we're all getting along so well again. But for now, I don't have any other choice. I know why Chaingang's worried. Just like him, I saw the video from the ValentiCorp labs with Josh killing that woman while he was in his mountain lion shape. If Josh thinks there's danger—especially any threat to the people he loves—he'll hunt this stranger down. I get it. I understand that need to protect your friends and family.
But if this old cousin's as powerful as Chaingang says he is, we need some serious intel before we go after him. First of all, we have to find out what his weaknesses are, and why he doesn't want any other Wildlings to know what he's up to. And we need to know why he wants Josh dead. Maybe some of the other elder cousins see Josh as some kind of chosen one, but killing Josh doesn't change the fact that there are all these other Wildlings running around out there—myself included.
So what's this guy going to do, just saying he could have Josh killed? Is he planning to kill everybody else next?
It's hard holding this new secret close to my chest as I'm walking home with Josh and Des. The pair of them are in such a good mood, laughing and joking. It's almost like old times. I'd so much rather just relax along with them for real instead of having to pretend. But neither of them seems to pick up on what I'm feeling.
"So, dude," Des says when we get to my house. "How much longer are you grounded?"
"Through the weekend. Five more days until I'm free."
"Bummer."
Especially since I need to get out and find Auntie Min as soon as I can. But I only nod in response.
"I know," I say. "First thing Monday morning, I'm hitting the waves."
"Can you have anybody over?" Josh asks.
"I suppose if you wanted to pray with us it would be okay."
Des's eyes go big. "Oh, come on. Seriously? I know your mom's big on the whole religion thing but …"
His voice trails off when he sees me grinning.
"Gotcha, dude," I tell him. Then I turn to Josh. "It's probably not a good idea just yet. Seeing you is just going to remind her why she grounded me."
"And then she might add on a few days," he says.
"Probably not, but why take chances? I'm going crazy stuck at home day after day."
Josh looks sympathetic. "See you tomorrow, then."
Des lifts his hand for a fist bump, then dances back as I fake him out and try to punch him in the chest instead.
"Later," I tell them, grinning.
I start for the house and they head off to Des's place. When I get to my door, I pause and turn around. They're still laughing as I watch them get to the end of the block and turn the corner. This is going to be hard. The sooner I get a better idea as to what's going on, the better. I am not going to keep this from Josh any longer than I have to—I don't care what Chaingang thinks.
Chaingang. Just thinking his name makes me remember that kiss.
No, I correct myself. If I'm going to go there, I have to call him Theo. When I think about kissing him, everything else just fades to background noise. I know I'm being stupid. Being with Theo isn't something I could ever make work. But I'd still like to kiss him again.
Mamá's in the kitchen making salsa. The air is filled with the scent of cilantro, chopped peppers and spices. I have to smile. She might want us to be good gringas, but that doesn't stop her from cooking the same traditional food she always has. Or from setting up her shrine to the saints in a corner of the living room. My stepfather doesn't mind. He loves Mamá's cooking, and I think he sees the religious artifacts more as art than objects of worship.
That makes me think of how different he and Mamá seemed when they first met, but they still made it work. Except he didn't have to give anything up. Mamá's the one who moved from the barrio to be with him. That's how it would have to be if Theo and I hooked up. I'd have to go to him—to the gang life.
"What's the matter?" Mamá asks.
I try to hide the guilt I'm feeling. "What makes you think something's the matter?"
"I'm your mother—how could I not know? What is it?"
"You mean besides being stuck in the house day after day?"
"Do we really need to have this discussion again?" she asks.
I shake my head.
"No, Mamá," I say because I know it's what she wants to hear. "But you asked me what was wrong. It's okay. I know I have to learn my lesson."
But that night I sneak out of the house again—not for another clandestine meeting with Theo, which is what I'd prefer, but to track down Auntie Min. My stepdad went to bed after the evening news, just as he always does, and Mamá followed not long after. I wait until my Wildling ears hear the steady breathing that tells me they're asleep before I finally slip outside.
It's not as late as it was when I went to meet Theo last night, but it's almost as quiet. The sound of the ocean calls to me over that of the distant traffic. I stand for a long moment, drinking in the dark stillness, my nostrils flaring. Then I remember this elder Wildling who wants Josh dead and I wonder where he is. Following Theo? Watching Josh? Watching me?
I don't sense anyone nearby, but Theo told me the man moves like a ghost, so he could be anywhere. I hate that. With my otter hidden under my skin, the dark of the night is one of the few times I feel completely free. I know I can shift to her sleek form and back again, and no one's the wiser. But the idea that someone might be out here spying on me creeps me out. At least when the FBI were
skulking around, I could always tell where they were. But this guy … he could be anywhere and I wouldn't know.
I move into the deeper shadows of the palm trees at the back of the yard and wait there awhile, weighing and measuring the night around me. I sift the air for scents, identifying each one before moving on to the next. I listen past the sound of the waves for anything that's even remotely out of place.
I can't hear or smell anything out of the ordinary. There's nothing moving. So finally I set off for the highway, keeping to unlit back streets where I can run at full speed and no one's going to notice a girl moving almost as fast as a car would in this neighbourhood.
It doesn't take me long to reach the overpass where Auntie Min has her camp. I slow down when I'm about a block away so that I can saunter casually through the makeshift village of cardboard shelters and trash. When I first came here, the other animal people wouldn't look at me, except with suspicion. Now it's only the homeless humans who ignore my presence. The cousins nod, some of them even smile. I don't see anyone who matches the description that Theo gave me. The real welcome comes when I reach the old sofa where Auntie Min is sitting.
I know now that her animal shape is some huge kind of moth, but she always reminds me more of a big old turtle or elephant that's been around forever. She looks about a hundred, but I'm not fooled into thinking she's some frail old bag lady. She's probably the most powerful of the elder cousins in this area, connected to the land and respected by the whole community. Why she lives like a homeless person, I have no idea.
She's propped up in the corner of her battered sofa. Lifting a hand when she sees me, her brown wrinkles deepen as her whole face smiles. She pats a cushion on the sofa beside her.
"Look who's finally come by to visit this old lady," she says. "I was sure it wouldn't take this long."
Back when we were rescuing Josh from ValentiCorp, Auntie Min had offered to fill me in on the history of our people—Wildlings, cousins, the first people, whatever you want to call them—and I'd been wanting to take her up on it ever since. I'd felt a strong connection with her, and known right away that there was so much she could teach me. The trouble is, after I stayed out all that night, Mamá laid down stricter rules about where I can go and what I can do.
Over My Head Page 5