by Barnes, Vivi
“What was that about?” I ask when we get to the parking lot. I stop and yank my hand from his. “What the hell is going on?”
He removes his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ll tell you. Just not here.”
I stare at him. I worry that if I give him time to think, he’ll come up with something that skirts the truth.
“Please,” he says. “I promise I’ll tell you.”
“Fine. Where?”
“The waterfall?”
The memory of kissing him at the waterfall surfaces in a way that makes my body ache, but I try to ignore it. I’d get completely distracted there, which is maybe what he’s hoping for. “No, that would make me at least an hour late, and that’s pushing it with Derrick. I think he’s probably capable of sending the cops after us if I stay out too long.”
“Gotcha. We’ll go somewhere closer.” We walk to his bike. “Liv, I promise, it’s not that big of a deal. Trust me.” Trust him? He tries to wrap his arms around my waist, but I grab my helmet and hold it between us.
“Do you work with Sam? Hacking? Just tell me.”
“Yes, but it’s not that simple. That’s why we need to talk.” He climbs onto the bike, looking at me expectantly.
I jam the helmet on my head and slide behind him, my heart heavy. Whenever someone says, “We need to talk,” it’s never a good thing. Never.
Z takes us out of the suburbs into another countryside, this one filled with pasture after pasture of cows, horses, and barns. He speeds up so fast that my adrenaline kicks in full-throttle as the fences and trees fly by in a blur. Slowly, I let the bundle of nerves from the conversation earlier be whipped away as the wind slashes at my skin. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation of flying, until a loud whirring sound breaks rudely through the rumble of the bike.
In my peripheral vision I can see a police car pulling off the road onto the highway after us. Z must hear it, but he speeds up. As the car closes in on us, I try yelling at Z to pull over, but my words get lost in the helmet and roar of the motorcycle. The police sirens scream behind us, not far back now, and I grip Z’s waist as he pushes the speedometer harder. He hasn’t gone this fast with me before. I’m not the praying sort, but I’m praying now as I hold on for dear life. What is he thinking? We’re definitely going to jail—if we don’t die first.
The car is right behind us now. As we approach a bridge, he careens off the road and down a grass ramp, completely freaking me out, then angles a sharp left under the bridge before speeding up again. The police sirens grow dim, then fade away completely. I try to catch my breath, both relieved and angry. Stronger than those emotions, however, is a strange sense of excitement, of danger and escape. An absurd feeling of exhilaration that reminds me of the way I felt after I’d been drugged in the club. I want to hit Z or kiss him—neither an option at the moment as he zips down the winding dirt road.
Z finally pulls into a weed-choked drive. The dilapidated house at the end looks deserted. He cuts the engine and removes his helmet.
I slide down from the bike and yank my helmet off to hit him. He ducks away, laughing.
“What the hell was that? You could’ve gotten us arrested. Or killed.”
“Relax, I knew we were almost outside the county. Those guys don’t try to follow when you pass over the county line.”
“Still…” I have nothing else to say. Especially because I’m mad at myself for being so excited by the whole thing.
He shifts slightly and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me to him. He pats the console of the bike and I slide to face him, lifting my legs over his. A fluttering of nerves tickles within me as his fingers run a trail up the length of one of my blue-jeaned legs to my thigh, and then the fluttering of nerves turns into an all-out war in my body.
I grab his hand, holding it firmly. Derailing me would be oh so easy to do right now, but I need answers. “What are you and Sam pulling? Obviously it involves me, and it has to do with this company that she—well, that you both work for, apparently.”
He sighs. “Sam and I work together, yeah. In a way. We’re hackers, but probably not quite what you’re thinking.”
“Okay, so what does that mean? You don’t hack security systems?”
He smiles a little. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”
I remember back to when I first rode in Sam’s Camaro, when I briefly wondered whether she stole money to pay for it. I had been embarrassed of the thought at the time. I grow cold inside as the truth dawns on me. “So you’re hacking for your own profit?”
“Pretty much.”
I’m stunned. Here I am sitting on his bike with my legs propped up over his, listening to him admit he’s stealing money. All the desire that he stirred inside my body is gone as I think of the house—the mansion—at Monroe Street. All the expensive cars lined up outside. The group home full of insanely rich orphans.
“Wait a second, you and Sam and who else?” I narrow my eyes as he glances away. “Z, what exactly goes on at Monroe Street? How does everyone have such nice cars and motorcycles and stuff?”
He frowns. “Monroe Street is a really good home, and all of us are either unwanted or orphaned. Nancy is the best mom any of us could ever have.”
“I know, but…”
“It’s also a place of business.”
A cold knot pulls tight in my belly. The entire house? “What kind of business?” I’m guessing they don’t sell Tupperware.
“Well, we all have one thing in common—we’re experts in computer programming.”
I snort. “Programming? Or hacking?”
“Well, depending on how you look at it…”
More answers in circles. I resist the urge to shove him off the bike. “Z, I’m going to ask you a few direct questions, and I deserve some direct answers. No more bullshitting. Okay?”
He sighs. “Fine.”
“Is everything that you and Sam do illegal?”
“Yes.”
“Is that how you make all your money?”
“Yes.”
I try to keep my voice even. “Large or small scale?”
He pauses for a second. “Large.”
“And is the whole house involved?”
“Yes.”
Oh. My. God. I push myself away from him, sliding off the bike. “Are you saying every person in that house is a cybercriminal? Even little Dutch? Does Nancy know?”
His laugh is short, almost brittle. “Of course she does. How else do you think we can afford all those cars, motorcycles, even the house? We’re hackers. We target banks, corporations, even governments.”
“You’re not hackers, you’re crackers. Hackers do it for the challenge. You’re stealing from people.” But I did it, too. I hacked that account. I was an accomplice. The knowledge twists my insides until I can’t breathe.
His mouth drops open slightly at my choice of words. “Only those who can afford it, Liv. Kind of like Robin Hood, if you see it from our perspective.”
I can’t believe he’s trying to justify this. Robin Hood? I’m not five years old. As if on cue, a roll of thunder sounds in the distance, harmonizing my growing anger. “It’s still stealing. You’re like…organized crime. And why didn’t you tell me this before? Why didn’t you tell me you all were a bunch of criminals?”
He glares at me. “And what would you have done? Called the cops? Told me to screw off? Why do you think I didn’t want to tell you?”
“You’re going to end up in jail.”
“Wait a second,” he says, his voice sharper. He swings a leg over the bike and walks toward me. “You’re bothered about us taking a little money from those who don’t do shit for anyone else, but you don’t care that that house saved all of us. Some of us would be on the streets now if it wasn’t for that home. We make a lot of money from people who would never give us the time of day. I know this for a fact. Some of these people…you have no idea.”
His jaw clenches and he closes his eyes, his face screwed up like he’s in pain
. Damn it. I don’t want to feel bad for him.
“What?”
His eyes snap open to meet mine—his expression angry and sad and something else I can’t put my finger on that cuts deep into my heart. “Let’s just say I know for a fact that these people shit on everyone else. My own father was one.”
He trails off again, staring up into the gray clouds. “Before you go judging us, stop and think about it. Has anyone ever cared about you?” He gazes back down at me, his voice quieter. “What have you gotten from the homes you’ve been in but heartbreak?”
The pain so apparent in his eyes softens me. He knows. He’s gone to hell and back himself. “It hasn’t all been bad. Bernadette and Marc loved me.” I falter at my own use of the past tense.
He steps close to me, one hand sliding down my arm to thread his fingers through mine. His lips brush my forehead. “No one gives a damn about us,” he murmurs. “You know that. The only people we can rely on are ourselves.”
His other hand slides behind my neck, tilting my face up slightly. “Monroe Street is a family. We help each other out. And we make a lot of money, sure. How else could any of us survive? Think about it—what do foster kids get after we graduate? Tuition for college? Great. But what are we supposed to live on?”
I hate that what he’s saying makes sense. It’s exactly what I’ve been worried about this whole time. Why I need a good job. I always wanted to go to Princeton, and Bernadette said she and Marc would support me. She told me she’d be there to help me.
And now she’s gone.
I swallow over the lump in my throat. I promised myself not to cry about this anymore. She’s gone, and I have to move on. I have to do what I need to survive.
Z’s thumb brushes down my cheek to skim over my parted lips. The dark look in his eyes gives way to something that stirs the butterflies of desire inside me again.
“I didn’t make the world this way, Liv. I just try to live in it.”
He leans in, his lips pressing mine apart in a gentle caress. All the words I want to say—all the coherent thoughts that once made sense—dissolve at his touch. But as hard as it is to pull away from him, I lean back and look directly into his heavy-lidded eyes. “I don’t think I can do what you do. I mean, I don’t know.”
“It’s okay. Just think about it. All right?”
“But what if I decide not to?”
He teases my lips with a light kiss. “Then I guess I’ll just have to take you to the movies or mini-golf like every other boyfriend out there.”
The word “boyfriend” makes my insides melt, thought it’s pretty hard to picture Z playing mini-golf. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and we kiss for a while, minutes or hours, doesn’t matter. In the entire world, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here. With Z, who doesn’t care if I join his gang of hackers or not.
Thunder cracks directly overhead as the sky lights up. Several large drops skim my face. “We need to go. I don’t want to get caught in this.”
We run to the bike and I shove the helmet over my head while he starts the engine and pulls out of the yard. The darkening sky taunts us as Z speeds toward the blue patch hovering over the skyline of Richmond. I close my eyes and huddle into his jacket as large drops spatter against us. Then the sky opens up and all hell breaks loose, drenching us before he’s able to pull off the road into an old abandoned barn.
I dismount from the bike and remove the helmet, shaking out the one dry part of me. The downpour is loud, crashing against the metal roof of the barn, and I shiver. Even though it’s late spring, the rain makes the air especially chilly.
“How long do you think this will last?” I ask, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. Derrick is probably already foaming at the mouth at my being late.
Z joins me to look out at the white sheet of rain. “Not long. It’s a short afternoon storm, no big deal. Will you get in trouble?”
I snort. “Y-You think?”
He glances at my soaked clothes. “You need to take off your shirt.”
My mouth drops open but I manage to croak out, “Excuse me?”
“No, really. You’re freezing. Here,” he says, sliding out of his jacket. “Don’t worry, I won’t look.” He turns his back to me.
I manage to pull the soaked shirt over my head, all too aware that I don’t have a tank on underneath. I had thought with the warmer spring weather I would only need the one layer. Stupid, stupid. I slip my arms through the dry sleeves and pull the jacket tight around my body. It smells deliciously masculine, giving me goose bumps despite the warmth. “Okay, you can turn around.”
His arms circle my waist, and I rest my head on his chest. It’s a surprisingly comfortable feeling, considering I’m practically naked under the jacket. I wonder what I’d do if he were to slip it off my shoulders. The thought of his hands moving across my bare skin sends a sharp spasm through my body that borders on frightening. I push the image from my mind and concentrate instead on the rain. We stay like this for a while until the torrential downpour becomes a light drizzle.
“I guess we should be heading back,” I say reluctantly, caressing the smooth leather of the jacket. “I shouldn’t let Derrick see me in this. He’d blow a gasket, and I really don’t feel like sitting through another lecture on birth control.”
Z gapes at me, such a foreign look on him that I start giggling. “Derrick talked to you about birth control? Are you serious?”
“Yes, and it was the worst half hour of my life. Don’t even get me started.”
He starts to laugh but then stops, tilting his head to look at me seriously. “Wait, a half-hour conversation about birth control? Didn’t that creep you out?”
I shrug. “I guess he’s just against teen sex. Come on, let’s go already so I don’t have to sit through a lecture on how rain can magically give a person a cold.”
He laughs at that.
I pick up the sad-looking waterlogged shirt off the ground. This will be a cold, uncomfortable ride back to town. “Let me put this on so I can give you back your jacket.”
He takes the soggy shirt from me and slings it over his bike. “Keep the jacket. You can bring it to school tomorrow.”
Because of the wet roads, Z drives slower back to my neighborhood. He drops me off in front of the house and I kiss him quickly before running up the steps to the front door, wet shirt in hand. Unfortunately, when I step inside, Derrick is standing at the window, watching Z pull away.
“Again, Olivia? Do you really have no care at all for what we ask? And look at you. Out for a ride with the bad boy?” Disgust is plain on his face as he glares at Z’s jacket.
“He’s not a bad boy. He’s a friend, and you can’t tell me what to do,” I say sharply, turning to walk to my room.
He catches up to me and grabs my arm. I whip around. “Don’t touch me.”
“Look, all I want to know is that you’re safe. You’re kissing all over this guy who’s supposedly your tutor, then the next thing I see is you pulling up on his motorcycle, wearing his jacket and carrying a wet shirt. What do you think I’m supposed to say? I know I’m new at this parenting thing, Olivia, but help me out here.”
“Okay, I get it.” I sigh. “Sorry I worried you. But you can’t expect me not to hang out with my friends.”
“Just respect our rules. That’s all I ask.” His eyes rake over my damp jeans and waterlogged shoes. “Go change. We’re having a get-together tonight with some of my coworkers. I expect you to help Denise out. I don’t want any drama from you, all right?”
“Sure, no problem. No drama here.”
He nods curtly and I head to my room. “Oh, and Olivia?”
“Yes?”
“Straight home tomorrow. On the bus. Got it?”
The way he says it means there’s only one possible answer that will avoid a lecture. “Sure. Got it.”
I get into my room and slam the door, knowing I’ll be on the back of Z’s bike again tomorrow afternoon, and every afternoon after
that. I hug the oversized arms of the jacket around me and breathe in the familiar warm scent. Being close to him like this makes every cell in my body sing.
…
Z
I don’t go back to Monroe Street. Instead, I ride around on the bike for a while, ignoring the damp chill that slices through me without the leather to block it. For the first time, I’m letting myself be stupid-happy and not thinking about what’s going to happen next. I don’t care about Bill, about Nancy, Sam, or anyone else who would disapprove. No longer does it bother me that Liv’s face fills my thoughts all the time. It doesn’t even matter that she’s hesitating to join us. She’ll come around eventually. And if she doesn’t, screw it.
I throttle the engine and speed down the lonely country road.
Nothing matters anymore. Just her.
Chapter Fifteen
“He stood for a moment with the blood tingling through all his veins from terror, that he felt as if he were in a burning fire; then, confused and frightened, he took to his heels.”
—Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist
Z
Sam must have said something. Not only is everyone in the house coming out of every room to look at the guy who’s always pulled together—now a windblown, chilled mess—but their emotions are written all over their faces: disapproval and misplaced concern from Nancy and Sam, surprise from Micah and Cameron, though they bump my fist as usual. Bitterness from Jen, though that’s nothing new.
What bothers me is how Sam felt she could so blatantly discuss my business with everyone at Monroe Street, not to mention put me on the spot with Liv. She looks as if she wants to talk to me, but I head straight to the office and slam the door behind me. I refuse to let the high I’m on from my afternoon with Liv be punctured by Sam’s ranting about how I’m neglecting my job, how I’m screwing things up for her, too. How I’m going to break Liv’s heart.
My lips tug up at the memory of kissing Liv, holding her as we watched the rain—and God help me, the way she looked wearing my jacket. Sam has no clue; breaking this girl’s heart is not in my plans.
Needing a distraction, I sink into the chair and pick up the file I’m supposed to be working on for Bill. He’s going to start asking about it soon, and I’ve only looked into the business and charitable dealings for background. I start with some of the leads I pulled for personal information that could help me break his password.