by Angie Morel
Do I feel that way about him?
But…if you wanted a guy to kiss you, aren’t you supposed to have butterflies and think about his lips and stuff like that? Thoughts like that had never crossed my mind before—about anyone.
The image of Rolo as he leaned in replayed every time I shut my eyes, causing me to toss and turn all of last night, finally forcing me to get up and sit in the chair on the other side of the room, staring into the shadows cast by the moon as if I’d find answers in those dark places. I sat there until the first light bled into the room and lightened it, not finding answers, but more questions.
I knew I loved Rolo. But I loved him like D, Snick, Cory and Claire. Like family. And it had been a tough journey for me to open myself up like that. In fact, it was all I could do to figure out those basic emotions again after Mary died, since she was the only one I’d given my heart and soul to. How I felt for him and the others came on slow and steady, a love that had snuck in and set itself before I even realized it. Hard though it was, I’d come to accept the feelings.
But romantic feelings? Those were as foreign to me as the landscape of Jupiter. Plus, Rolo and I were like the male and female version of the same person.
At least my sleepless night produced something. A plan.
Unfortunately it involved something very distasteful. Savannah.
After waiting until Rolo was asleep after his shift, and after checking with Savannah, I informed the others of my decision to take a quick test run to the mall with Savannah to see about blockages and any other problems on the road. I had to swallow down bile in my throat when asking Savannah, but there was no choice. I was desperate. And desperation made people do God-awful things. She asked no questions though, and even seemed eager for the outing.
I made sure Savannah had the car started and ready to roll before mentioning what our plans involved to the others. Although we’d been starting the cars once a week to make sure they were good, I wanted that car ready to move when I ran out of the house. As expected, they argued the fact that we shouldn’t go, that we should really wait for Rolo to get up so he could decide what was best. During the two minutes of arguing I felt my eyelid begin to twitch.
Rolo was also going to be pissed when he found out, which was one of the reasons I asked Savannah, so no one else would get in trouble. And I had to go with someone—no way would it fly if I’d said I was going alone. Acting like it was no big deal, I said not to wake him up, that we’d be back shortly. Ignoring their continued protests, I scooped up my backpack and shot out of there like my life depended on making it from the house to the car in 3-point-5 seconds. At least he’d be happy to know I planned well and had a gun with me.
Well, maybe not happy, but less pissed.
And anyway, there was a side benefit of asking Savannah. It would provide some one-on-one time. Just her and me. She was up to something, and I was going to find out what it was. The first part of the plan was started, which was to dangle the rope. Her head was partially in, but she hadn’t quite hung herself yet. But listening to her was tough.
“…not his fault that he hurt his back. Fucking company wouldn’t settle up either. It was their…”
“How far is it?” I interrupted.
“Jesus, rude much?” Savannah said, glaring at me. She looked back at the road. “I don’t know, probably another twenty minutes or so.” She huffed and quieted after that.
Thank God, a reprieve.
Reaching down to the backpack at my feet, I went to grab the water I’d jammed into the side mesh pocket this morning, only to find a half-gone Gatorade instead. Ugh. I must’ve been out of sorts to have mistakenly done that. A red one, too. Sighing, I twisted the cap off. Savannah was watching me. I slid my eyes towards her as I brought the bottle up, wondering what she was looking at. Her gaze cut to my feet and I heard her breath catch.
“Ah shit, I forgot my backpack,” she said with a touch of desperation, one hand clenching the steering wheel while the other made its way to her face and picked at a pimple.
Continuing to look at her, I took a quick swig, and then grimaced. The stuff got worse every time I drank it. Forget about dreams involving bangers—eggs and Gatorade were becoming the real stuff of nightmares. Twisting the cap back on, I shrugged.
“Well, we’re not going back for it.” Hell no, I needed a good couple of hours to sort things out.
“No shit,” was Savannah’s reply.
The county road was clear so far. We passed a few vehicles that had veered off into the ditch and crashed. The first blockage we came across was at an intersection where two cars and a white van had collided, fenders bent and snarling at each other. Savannah stopped twenty feet from the first vehicle.
“I’m going to go to the right. I think that’s the only way.” She said it more to herself as she eased her foot off the brake and rolled forward without waiting for any type of input from me. I hit the button for the window on my side to go down, leaning out a bit so I could make sure there were no hidden dangers. That’s when I noticed two bangers in the field, off in the distance. They shouldn’t be a problem, they were pretty far away.
There was an itching between my shoulders. I twisted around to look out the back window. Three more bangers were lurching toward the dead cars, heading straight for us. We must’ve driven right by them and not even noticed. And they, unlike the other two, were not far away. In fact, they were alarmingly near. About fifteen feet, I’d guess.
“Got three bangers coming up behind us, and two out in the field, so you might want to put a foot on it,” I informed her calmly.
“What? Oh, fuck!”
She drove onto the gravel shoulder and the car tilted as she went further, straddling the edge, the two tires on my side of the car digging into the slope of the ditch as we worked our way around the butt of the van. If the car tipped over we were screwed. I leaned towards Savannah, bracing my hand against the door. Glancing behind me, I saw one of the bangers directly outside of the back window, his black hand reaching out.
“Go!”
“I am!” Savannah yelled.
Finally we made it around the van, and as Savannah twisted the steering wheel back toward the road, the sedan’s tires spit gravel as they tried to find purchase. After a couple of seconds they grabbed ahold, allowing the sturdy vehicle to pull itself back onto the shoulder and then the pavement. Readjusting myself in the seat, I checked behind us. The banger that had made it to the car was stumbling after us in the gravel, getting rapidly smaller as Savannah stepped on the gas. The other two lost their footing along the steep grade of the ditch and took a spill into the standing water that lined the bottom. The bangers in the field hadn’t made it any closer.
Sitting forward again, I kicked myself for not bringing the hurling stick or bat. It was stupid to have forgotten those items. At least I had the gun. And Harvey’s switchblade nestled in my pocket, like always. I guess I didn’t think of bringing anything else because we wouldn’t be getting out of the car. There and back. Scouting mission only.
And buying time to face Rolo. But no one had to know that. In fact, I was doing a pretty good job fooling myself. And ignoring the voice inside calling me a coward.
I decided to leave the window down to allow the fresh air to dilute the perfume Savannah doused on this morning. Make-up and now perfume. Who exactly did she think she needed to impress?
Dismissing her for the time being, I focused on the wind filling the car. Rain was coming. The air rushing through the window, while refreshing, was thick with moisture and had a cool edge to it. Thankfully, in my mad dash to leave, I’d thought to throw on a jacket. It happened to be my favorite.
In addition to having a beautiful home, Claire’s mom had excellent taste in jackets. And she had plenty, enough to justify an entire ten-foot long closet on the main level devoted solely to them. The one I wore today was pale lavender in color and made from a slippery, quilty type of material. On it was a mixture of silver and dark purple
embroidered flowers blooming in random patterns throughout the sleeves and vest area. I liked it because it was soft and super lightweight and seemed to feel perfect, no matter the temperature. It was the most feminine item of clothing I’d ever worn, quite different from Harvey’s discarded zip-up hoodies that had been my usual cold weather attire.
When I discovered the jacket in the closet, I tried it on and then slinked into the bathroom to check it out. Turning this way and that (feeling silly with embarrassment) I decided the gentle lines and the floral pattern of the jacket softened the sharp angles of my face, not that my gaze lingered there for long.
“So, what are you?” Savannah asked after a couple of minutes.
“What? What do you mean?”
“You know, what mixture of, uh, races are you?”
I turned towards her, eyebrows raised. Really? And she thought I was being rude a few minutes ago? What a question to ask a person. Funny thing, I couldn’t honestly answer her. Not that I would’ve anyway.
“Irish and uh, Alahoian,” I said, for the fun of it. At least the Irish part was right.
“Alahoian? What’s that?”
“Alahoia is a country in the South Pacific.” I hid my smile. Ask a stupid question get a stupid answer.
“Huh, never heard of it,” she paused. “How old are you?”
What was this, twenty questions? However, this was a good opportunity to get some answers of my own. “Seventeen, eighteen in October,” I replied. “And you?”
“Just turned eighteen.”
“Where were you holed up before you came to your cousin’s house?”
I could tell before she opened her mouth that lies were about to come out. A backstory deliberated and decided upon prior to arrival. I watched closely as her manner changed.
“Oh, uh, I was able to stay at my trailer the whole time. It was tough making it through the winter, though. I um, went around my neighborhood, well, the trailer park, and got food from there. And then I remembered my aunt and uncle’s house, how it’s pretty much, what do you call it? Self-sufficient? Whatever. Anyway, I thought, what the heck, it’s only a couple hours away, might as well try and grab a car and get here, see if anyone was alive.”
Bull. Shit.
“So you never met up with any other survivors?” I asked, playing along.
“No,” she said, the exaggerated innocence used in conjunction with the word pulled her eyebrows up and the corners of her mouth down as her head slowly went back and forth. “I mean I saw a few at first, but I stayed in my trailer. And then,” she barked out a laugh. “When spring came and I hadn’t seen anyone in like, months, I was afraid I was the only one left.”
“Hmm. Back at the house you said—” I began, only to be cut off.
“How old is Rolo? He’s Mexican, right?”
The redirection was painfully obvious. What exactly was she hiding? She certainly didn’t want me asking any more questions, probably worried that she’d mess up her story. Interesting. One way or another I’d find out what she’d been doing and what she was up to, because not for one second did I believe she’d been holed up in her trailer all these months. Call it my complete lack of faith in people, but she had a side plan going on, and it was detrimental to the well-being of my group.
“Seventeen,” I replied, letting the second question go unanswered.
“And that little black shit, what’s he, like nine, ten?” she asked with a curl to her lip.
Girl was unreal. Forget trying to ease it out of her. “You know what? I’m done answering your questions. You though, you’re gonna answer a few of mine. Your story? Bullshit. No way do I believe that you hung out at home for months, not meeting up with any others. Are you with people? Is that it? Are you trying to scope out a new place? Because I’m gonna tell you somethin’, it ain’t happenin’. And even if that’s not what’s going on, and you’re on your own…well, let’s just say our group is tight. We look out for each other, and it seems to me you’re not a good fit for us, relation or not, foul plans or not. But something is up with you, I know it. And just so you know—I will fuck you up before I’ll let any harm come to my family,” I paused, letting the words sink in. “Yeah, that’s right, they’re my family now, not yours.”
Surprise flashed across Savannah’s expression during my speech. It was there only for a second, quickly replaced with outrage, but it was there.
“What the—who the fuck do you think you are!”
“I’m just someone who sees right through you,” I said, returning her glare. “We clear on that? I’m just making sure you understand me, is all. You don’t want to find out what I’m capable of.”
Blissful silence followed.
The closer we got to town the more congested the roads became, forcing Savannah to slow down so she could maneuver around blockages. About ten minutes had passed since our prior discussion, and neither of us felt the need to speak again, which was fine with me. I figured out what I needed to know, and I’d be informing the others when we got back.
She wasn’t staying. Period.
At least that was one thing I could be confident about, if nothing else.
Mouth dry, I drained the rest of the Gatorade, shivering at the taste, and then put the empty bottle in the small garbage hidden in the console. No more of that stuff, I vowed. I’d rather drink toilet water. Not really, but I was definitely done with any type of sports drink for a while. They’d never been my thing anyway.
Before too long, I became aware of a warm sensation spreading out from my core. Following that, beads of sweat popped out on my face. Huh. Weird. Removing my jacket, I folded it carefully in half lengthwise before rolling it, collared end first. As it went into my backpack, I admired how nicely it compressed. What a great jacket.
Propping an elbow on the door ledge, I planted my face in my palm. Finally the countryside had changed from farmland and rolling hills to neighborhoods and businesses. My eyes wandered along the landscape for a while, but before too long my vision crossed. And then a huge yawn snuck up on me. Jesus. Payback for the sleepless night, I guess—which sucked because I needed to be clear-headed in order to deal with the Rolo situation once we got back.
Fat drops of rain began dotting the windshield.
My eyes closed. I popped them open again. Wow, I was really tired. I didn’t want to close my eyes though, didn’t want to sleep, afraid I’d dream about the words that had come out of Rolo’s mouth and the hungry way he looked at me right before I punched him last night. It was a look, I now realized, that he’d worn on his face a few times in the past months when I glanced at him, especially when we were training. He’d shift his eyes away once he realized I was looking at him, but I never really thought anything of it until now.
It’s no wonder I missed the signs, I thought, letting my fingers rub along the side of my sweat-damp face, the tips going up and down over my cheekbone. Why did my skin feel sensitive? I moved my face around until my fingers touched my mouth, tracing my lip line.
I’ve never been in a relationship with a boy. Or been kissed by a boy. Never had any interest. There’d been interest directed at me a time or two, but that usually went away quick once I revealed my thoughts on the situation.
Admittedly, it was odd that a girl my age hadn’t had any type of romantic interactions, not even hand-holding, that went along with being a teenager. There’d been no mooning over a boy, no giggly girl talk over who liked who and whatnot. Of course I’d actually have to have girlfriends in order for that to happen, but still. What it really came down to, was the fact that I’d been too busy taking care of Mary, and surviving the day-to-day bullshit, for silly thoughts like that to cross my mind.
Plus, all I had to do was look around. In my neighborhood it wasn’t all that unusual to see girls popping kids out at thirteen. That wouldn’t do for me. The only thing I yearned for and dreamed about was colleges offering full-ride scholarships (in my exorbitant dreams they were Ivy League) and finally being able t
o take Mary away from the shithole environment in which we lived.
My eyelids drooped as I continued to explore my lip line. What would it feel like to be kissed? To have a boy embrace my body, our hips and chests pressed firmly against one another, the sensation of his lips dragging along my neck…
I jerked awake when my knuckles bumped against my nose.
What the hell was wrong with me? I shook my head to try and clear it. There was a buzzing in my ears. Was the rain making that sound?
I yawned again and my head bobbed. Something wasn’t right. I turned towards Savannah, my neck feeling segmented, taking twenty moves to turn. Her face blurred and then came into focus long enough for me to see the evil smile. Laughter followed, tinkling like broken glass inside my head.
“Aww, what’s wrong, a wittle sweepy? And yes, I drugged your Gatorade. Course I didn’t think you’d guzzle the whole bottle!” she laughed again. “We clear? Now you’ll know what I’m capable of, bitch.”
My eyes slid closed and my head fell forward as if it weighed a hundred pounds and then I knew nothing else.
Chapter 24
SAVANNAH
There was a deep sense of satisfaction in Savannah’s gut, like the events that had transpired today were a wondrous five course meal she’d consumed. A smile pulled at her face. Finally, things were going her way. It’s about damn time, she thought.
She couldn’t believe her luck when, bright and early this morning, Asha found her and asked if she wanted to drive the route they’d be taking to the strip mall and wholesale store where they’d be restocking their supplies, to check if the road was clear. Savannah tried to act put-out, but couldn’t quite hide the delight at the opportunity that had just presented itself. Now she wouldn’t have to think of a way to get back to Coben Cross Mall, where her group had been staying throughout the winter.
There had been a moment of panic though, when she realized that she’d left her backpack at the house. She knew exactly where it was, too—at the base of the stairs next to where Asha’s backpack had been. She’d been thrown off because someone was coming just as she’d started swapping out the bottle of water for the spiked Gatorade. There’d only been enough time to shake it up quickly (although most of the crushed up pills had already dissolved) and jam it into the mesh pocket, as well as rolling the bottle of water under a nearby table, before crouching down, acting like she was tying her shoe just as the person appeared.