Road to Eugenica (Eugenica Chronicles)

by A. M. Rose

  “Come on. Just try it. You be you, and I’ll be your mom.”

  I snort. But he isn’t joking. And the look on his face says he isn’t going to let this go, either. I set my mug down. Practicing couldn’t hurt, I suppose. “Hey, Mom, I just wanted to remind you about my trip for mock trial. I leave today and will be gone for the rest of the week.”

  “Alexandrea, what are you talking about? I don’t know anything about a trip.” Dylan talks in a high-pitched voice, and I laugh. “Come on. Be serious. You can’t laugh. What are you going to say back?”

  “Okay, okay.” I clear my throat. “Mom, it’s the trip Dylan and I are going on. I told you about it forever ago.”

  “Dylan’s going? He’s such a nice boy and so handsome, too.”

  I crumple my napkin and throw it at him. “Now who isn’t being serious?”

  He smiles. “I think I’d remember if you told me about a week-long trip.”

  “You should’ve gotten an email about it.” I keep my voice level. I’ll need to do that when I really talk to Mom, too.

  “Nice. Yes, mention the email.” He takes another bite and swallows. “I think you got this. You’ll be fine. Now go call her.”

  I hesitate. We never had a chance to talk about it last night. “What about Maddox?”

  Dylan’s jaw tightens. “I don’t know. If you have a weird feeling about him maybe you should listen to your gut. Or maybe he knows something he isn’t telling you.” He lifts his fork like he’s about to take a bite, then sets it down.

  I push a mushroom to the side of my plate. He’s right. Like always, but it doesn’t answer anything. “What would you think if we invited him with us?” As soon as the words come out of my mouth Dylan’s jaw drops. “You know. Like a keep your enemies closer kind of thing. We don’t have to tell him where we’re going. And maybe we could find out if he knows anything.”

  Dylan rubs his chin. “We could even leave him on the side of the road somewhere, if necessary.” He smiles a little too big before spearing a big piece of green pepper with his fork. “I’ll think about it. We should just talk to him and decide from there.”

  Not exactly what I had in mind, but I suppose if it comes down to it. “Fine.” My nerves are already on edge and we haven’t even done anything yet. “How about I clean up first? You know, since you cooked and all.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. He knows I’m stalling. “Okay, but only because I hate doing dishes.” Dylan shoves food in his face at top speed and clears out of the kitchen before I’m done. It’s fine. The quiet’s nice.

  I take another bite before I get up and click on Mrs. A’s radio she keeps in the window over the sink, letting the soft sounds of classical music fill the space. Edvard Grieg—Peer Gynt Suite no. 1, op. 46; Morning Mood, my head tells me as the music builds. I force the images out of my head of music notes and orchestras and listen, letting the crescendo of sounds soothe my soul and calm my building nerves.

  After I’m finished, I clear the table, wash the dishes, hand dry the skillet, and hang it up on the pot rack. Before heading to Dylan’s room I take a second and stand at the sink. First step, call Mom. Then I can worry about what’s next. It’ll be easy. But even I know that’s a lie. Whatever she says is going to determine if we can actually go. And we have to.

  I make my way down the hall, passing dozens of picture of Dylan from when he was small. Back in his room, he’s made the bed and removed the shirt I left on the chair, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I swear that boy is the neatest man alive.

  My palms are already full of sweat, and I haven’t even picked up the phone yet. I’ve procrastinated long enough, so I shake out my hands, hit Mom’s name on the screen, and go for it.

  The conversation is easier than I expect. It doesn’t go exactly as we rehearsed, but it’s pretty close.

  “Okay, I must’ve missed that email. You and Dylan have fun. I’ll transfer some more money into your account, and a little extra if you want to pick up some souvenirs.” Mom sounds so normal, not angry or agitated. She must be having a good day at work.

  “Thanks.” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice, but after she was so chill about the Hollywood fiasco, I guess I shouldn’t be.

  “I’ve got to get into surgery. Be safe.” She hangs up.

  Just like Mom, she never does like to say goodbye. I fall back on the bed and let out a deep sigh of relief.

  Dylan hovers in the doorway. “You ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  He hands me my flip-flops.

  I drop them on the floor and slip them on. “Let me grab my stuff.”

  “Already two steps ahead of you. Now, let’s go.”

  My gaze follows him as he walks out of the room and down the hall. This is it. This is really it. We’re leaving on a trip where all my questions could be answered. That thought alone shakes me to the core. But now’s not the time to be scared, even though I’m freaking out.

  I take a few breaths to calm myself and do a check around the room. All my stuff is already gone, even the tennis shoes that were in the closet. Typical Dylan. I should’ve known. It helps settle my nerves enough that I can smile to myself and run after him.

  We’re backing out of the driveway when Dylan stops suddenly and my head slams into the headrest. “What the hell?”

  “We’ve got company.” He doesn’t sound happy. “Guess this means we won’t have to hunt him down at least.”

  Swinging in behind us is Maddox’s Mustang. He climbs out of the car and makes his way to my window. Shit. What’s he doing here? His hair’s a mess, his shirt is wrinkled, and his hands hang tight at his sides.

  I roll the window down, just as he’s about to tap on the glass. “Hi.”

  “So, where you headed?” His voice is light, but his expression is hard.

  “What’s it to you?” Dylan responds.

  “Oh, you know, nothing much. Got stood up last night. Spent hours worrying about what happened to her.” He points at me. “Only to get a vague text that doesn’t answer anything. Other than that, I must be fan-freaking-tastic.” He rests his arm along the window. “So I’m here. Let’s talk.”

  I chew on the inside of my lip. This wasn’t supposed to go down like this. I was supposed to have a second to breathe and figure out what I was going to say to him. Dylan and I were supposed to strategize, but now I’m scrambling and Dylan is drumming his hand on the steering wheel all tense like.

  “What’s going on, Drea?” He grins, but it isn’t a happy one, it’s tight-lipped and looks so wrong on his face. He’s angry. What the hell does he have to be angry about?

  “Personal family stuff,” Dylan barks. Yeah, because getting angry back is going to get Maddox to open up. Why didn’t I think of that? Damn it, Dylan. This isn’t helping.

  Maddox leans in the window. “So first you act like her boyfriend, and now you act like her overprotective brother. What’s with you?”

  I cringe on the inside. Dylan and I…well, it’s complicated. At least it’s complicated in my mind. And this is not where this conversation needs to go. I’m losing control and I need to figure out how to get it back, and fast.

  “I’ve known Drea practically her entire life. I’m as close to family as it gets.”

  It’s like a ping pong game, my head whipping back and forth.

  “How did you even know where she was?” Dylan growls.

  “I went to her house, and when she wasn’t there I came here to see if you knew where she was. And look, here she is.”

  Dylan narrows his eyes. “And how did you know where I live?”

  “It really isn’t hard to find out where the ‘best lacrosse player in town’ lives. There’s an old lady down the street offering tours. And the lacrosse spirit sign in the front yard is a dead giveaway.”

  “Seriously guys. Stop this,” I say.

  Dylan gives him a death stare until finally Maddox’s lips quirk upward. “I asked Kyle.” He sounds tired. Madd
ox must mean the guy on Dylan’s team. “Told him I needed to borrow a book. Okay?” He taps my arm. “He’s way too serious for you, Drea.”

  I can’t help but laugh. Not a big belly laugh, more like the nervous kind, but it still earns me a glare from Dylan. I shrug. “Sorry.”

  I turn back to Maddox. It’s now or never. “What happened in Hollywood?”

  His brow draws together, like he’s confused why I’m asking. “What does that have to do with where you disappeared to last night?”

  “I’ll get to that. First I need to know.” I try to sound like I’m in control. Authoritative, but my insides are shaking like crazy.

  “No way. You first.” He seems annoyed.

  “Maybe you should be the one to start talking. Like start with how the hell you got back from L.A.,” Dylan challenges.

  That wasn’t exactly where I was going with this, but it’s something else I do want to know. So I raise my brows and glance his way.

  Maddox glares at Dylan, but when it’s obvious I’m not going to say anything he says, “After I saved your butt from those cops, I twisted my damn ankle and had to hide so they wouldn’t find me. I must’ve passed out while waiting. When I woke the next morning, my phone was dead so I walked about five miles to an old buddy’s house. He wasn’t in a hurry to drive my ass all the way back here, so I just chilled there.”

  “Then where did your car go?” Dylan growls.

  Maddox huffs. “My uncle grabbed it, but he wasn’t willing to come get me. Said I got myself into this mess, I need to get myself out.”

  “And why didn’t you call?” I butt in.

  Maddox sighs like he’s tired of questions, but I have so many more. “He’s an android user, so I couldn’t charge my phone. I’m sorry I didn’t memorize your number. A mistake I’ll never repeat. I promise.” By the time he finishes, his voice is so soft it makes the hairs on my arm stand on end.

  “I don’t believe you,” Dylan says.

  I’m not sure I do, either, but that part is the least of my worries. “What happened before all that? After we hopped the fence?”

  Maddox rolls his eyes and slouches back, clearly agitated that I haven’t let this all go. Then he springs into a long speech about everything we did, and how he saw me fall and ran to my side. How I hit my head and was all disoriented when I woke up, and I was “talking all crazy.” His words, not mine, and when he says that my face flushes with embarrassment. But there’s something in his voice that’s off, or maybe he’s just exhausted. He does look like he hasn’t slept much.

  Dylan nudges my arm. “Maybe your plan isn’t such a bad idea.” He keeps his voice low, then his crooked smile makes an appearance. He’s right. If Maddox really does know something, he isn’t going to give it up here and now. We need to move on to plan B.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” I sound way too excited.

  Maddox glances in the back seat. “Where?”

  “Just up the coast,” Dylan breaks in.

  “Yeah, and we can talk when we get there. I’ll tell you everything.” It’s a lie. The biggest one I’ve probably ever told, but I’m praying he doesn’t notice me digging my nails into the front seat.

  “It’ll be cool.” Dylan’s laying it on a little too thick, but it’s not like I can do anything about it, so I just smile and nod like it’s the best idea ever.

  “Looks like I might need to grab some stuff.” Maddox gestures toward our bags in the back.

  Dylan checks his rearview mirror. “I bet you got some stuff in there that’ll work.” His gaze floats back to Maddox, and they stare at each other for a moment, their eyes challenging one another.

  “Yeah.” Maddox takes a step back. “I bet I could throw some stuff together real quick.”

  Dylan shifts his Jeep back into park. “Good. Move your car, too. We’ll wait.”

  “Sure. Okay.” But Maddox doesn’t sound okay; he actually sounds nervous. “Be right back.” He disappears to his car.

  I shift toward Dylan.

  “Something is definitely up with that guy. We should have a code word or something if we think we need to go with my plan.”

  “I don’t know. He really sounded confused when I asked him.” Maybe I didn’t go somewhere else with him. Maybe all my strange dreams are just mixing all together. Except it still doesn’t feel right. Everyone tried to convince me the Green-eyed man wasn’t real, and he is. Just like I feel there is more going on with Maddox now.

  “Don’t be so naive. He’s hiding something.”

  Ouch. His comment hurts probably more than it should. He is just looking out for me. And leaving Maddox on the side of the road somewhere still feels wrong, but I don’t know what else to say or think, so I nod.

  “Tacos. That’s the code word. We say, we should go get tacos, and that’s our cue to cut and run. Got it?” He sounds so confident while my stomach is all rolled up in a giant ball.

  I chew the inside of my cheek. “Sounds good.” Maybe with Maddox coming with us, he’ll have no choice but to tell me what he knows. Although I have this feeling deep down that he won’t say a word with Dylan around. If I can get him alone, I’ll be able to figure this out.

  Maddox walks back up the driveway with a bag slung over his shoulder. Good guy or bad guy? Whichever you are, Maddox, I’m about to find out.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Dude, what the hell? You said we were going to San Fernando,” Maddox barks from the back seat.

  “Did I?” Dylan winks at me and fails miserably at keeping the amusement out of his voice. “I meant we’re going to Lebec.”

  We’re over three hours from San Diego. Dylan’s been messing with Maddox along the way, and he keeps changing our destination as soon as we pass wherever he said we were going. First, it was Carlsbad, then Irvine, and last time it was San Fernando.

  “Yeah, sure.” Maddox huffs, and then laughs a little. “If we’re going all the way to Lebach, maybe we should stop in Paris along the way.”

  I chew the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh. Lebec—Lebach, Germany. It’s actually pretty funny.

  Dylan, however, doesn’t respond. I’m not about to get back on his shit list and suggest he give Maddox credit for trying to play along. Instead, I turn my head and look out the window.

  Maddox doesn’t say anything else, either, so the car is quiet. Except for the thrum of the tires eating up the road and the soft music playing from the radio. I exhale slowly. I still need to talk to Maddox, but that can’t happen now. Not with Dylan here. So I lean my head against the window and stare at the passing hillside, letting my eyes close.

  “Hand me one of those sandwiches from the cooler, will you?” Dylan’s voice is soft, close to a whisper, so I know he isn’t talking to me. He probably thinks I’m asleep, and really, I wish I was.

  There’s sounds of rummaging then Maddox grumbles, “You want some kind of meat or PBJ?”

  “It’s turkey. But I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

  “Then you’re getting turkey,” Maddox teases.

  “Touché. Peanut butter is my usual go-to, too,” Dylan says, and then there is the crinkle of plastic bags being passed. “Thanks. So what’s with the France comment? I’ve been trying to think of a good comeback, but I’m not sure where you were going with that.”

  Maddox chuckles, barely under his breath. “If I have to explain, it won’t be as funny.”

  “Damn. That’s what I always tell people.” Dylan laughs this time, a deep rumble that he tries to hold in his chest, but it comes out like little puffs of breath.

  It’s quiet for a moment, probably because they’re eating.

  “So, how long have you and Drea been friends?” Something about Maddox’s voice. It’s softer, too. Not just the sound of it, but like he’s letting himself relax a little. Like how he talks to me when we’re alone. It’s so open, I force myself not to move. Afraid I’ll break the spell, or whatever it is that’s going on with the two of them. Boys can
be so weird.

  “A long time.” Dylan sighs. “When we were younger, I’d go to her house and we’d make these monster cookies with her dad…”

  As soon as he says it, the memories rush in. Dad worked at home a lot when I was little, since Mom had to be at the hospital. Dylan would come over, and Dad would say, “How about some cookies?” And Dylan would run around the house screaming that he was going to make the biggest one in history. Then Dad and him would spend way too long talking about the right thickness so it would cook all the way through, and all I wanted to do was eat the darn things already. My chest tightens, but not in a bad way. It’s nice to remember.

  “…Drea would get so pissed that the edges would be burnt and the center was raw, and we’d have to eat around those parts, but it was funny.” Dylan does that quiet laugh again.

  “It must be nice to be so close.” Maddox’s voice is so low now, I’m not sure if he’s really saying it to Dylan or to himself, but I stay quiet and keep my eyes closed with my head resting on the warm window. Who knows? Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.

  The sun’s starting to set when I open my eyes and stretch out in my seat. I don’t even remember falling asleep. And for once, I didn’t wake up from a wild dream or nightmare.

  “Did you have a nice rest?” Dylan asks.

  I roll my shoulders a few times. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Good, ’cause we have a problem.” His voice is strained and he stares at the rearview mirror. Something’s wrong. His crinkled brow confirms it.

  I sit up straight, my pulse speeding. “What are you talking about?”

  “Looks like we’re being followed.”

  Maddox sticks his head between the seats. “What are you talking about?” There’s an edge to his voice.

  I tip forward to look past Maddox. “Why would anyone be following us?” No one even knows where we’re going.

  Maddox glances behind us. “It’s probably someone who happens to be going the same direction.” Now he sounds bored.