Don't Look Now

by Michelle Gagnon

  They drove in silence through the dusty landscape, wide stretches of desert punctured by saguaros, strip malls, and golf courses. Noa rubbed her bare wrist to comfort herself the entire way.

  Peter opened the front door wearing pajama bottoms and a plain white T-shirt, his hair rumpled from sleep. “Hey,” he said uncertainly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” Amanda said, stamping her feet against the cold. “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  Silently, Amanda followed him through the darkened foyer and up a flight of stairs to his room. Peter’s house was so enormous she’d always found it slightly overwhelming. Even though they’d shared long rants about how over-the-top and ostentatious it was, deep down she felt a slight twinge of envy as she mounted the main stairway. Carved of wood and set with inlaid marble, it was like something out of a movie. Amanda had never admitted it to Peter, but she loved the plush Oriental rugs, the insanely expensive furniture, and the enormous kitchen stocked with every possible amenity. Her family wasn’t poor, but they could never afford a house like this.

  Peter held the door to his room open, then eased it shut behind her. Not that he needed to worry—his parents’ bedroom was in a whole other wing of the house. Still, he seemed unusually jumpy tonight.

  “Everything okay?” Amanda asked, standing awkwardly in the middle of his room. As usual, it was messy: Clothing spilled out of the closet and drawers, the bed was unmade, and there were stacks of papers and computer equipment everywhere. The walls were covered with vintage movie posters: Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Star Trek. A few months ago she would have dismissed them as immature, but now she found them oddly charming and sweet. The room had that particular teenage boy musk, too, which should have been unpleasant but wasn’t.

  “You tell me,” he said, dropping down on his bed and cracking his knuckles. “It’s the middle of the night, Amanda. What’s going on?”

  Amanda stared at her hands. She knew this was nuts. Part of her was tempted to make up some lame excuse, then bolt for the door. The entire T ride here, this had seemed like the right thing to do—the only thing to do. She didn’t trust anyone but Peter with this.

  But now that she was standing in front of him, she didn’t know what to say.

  “Sit,” he said, patting the space beside him. “And take your coat off. You might as well crash here tonight, the T won’t be running again until morning.”

  “But, your parents—”

  Peter snorted. “Yeah, like they care. Please. If you want, I’ll make sure they’re gone before you leave.”

  Amanda pulled off her hat and sank down on the bed beside him. As Peter helped her out of her coat, his hand brushed hers. Usually when that happened, one of them ended up yanking it away. But this time, unless she was mistaken, his hand lingered.

  Amanda carefully laid her jacket on the bed beside her. Crossing her hands in her lap, she tried to figure out where to start. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  He waved a hand, his light-brown eyes fixed on hers. “Don’t be. I was up.”

  “More Noa work?” she asked, unable to contain the sharp edge in her voice.

  Peter hesitated, then said, “I was working on something else tonight, actually.”

  He didn’t seem to want to discuss it further, which was odd—she’d assumed that over the past few months, he’d been sharing everything with her. A terrible thought suddenly struck her—maybe he hadn’t been working at all, maybe he’d been talking or texting with a girl. It would explain why he was suddenly being so secretive. Not that she should care, Amanda reminded herself. She’d broken up with him four months ago. Peter had the right to date whoever he wanted.

  But she did care, Amanda suddenly realized, taking in his sleepy eyes and wavy brown hair. A lock of it hung over his left eye; looking at it, she remembered how surprisingly soft it was, how she used to love running her hands through it.

  “Amanda,” he said gently. “Tell me.”

  After seeing Mouse yesterday, she’d gone home and fallen into bed. Even though it had only been five p.m., she’d felt completely drained, and figured she had time for a nap before dinner.

  A slant of light in her eyes woke her. Groggily, she checked the clock: It was eight a.m.; she’d slept for nearly fifteen hours. On the plus side, she felt great, well-rested and hungrier than she’d been in weeks. She devoured breakfast in the student union and headed to class. Maybe she’d had a low-grade cold that had finally run its course, and didn’t need to go to the medical center after all.

  The next thing she knew, it was dark outside. It was like she’d blinked on the path to class, and been transported to an entirely different world by the time she opened her eyes again. She was standing in front of the diner, staring at the CLOSED sign hanging on the front door. Amanda had no idea how she’d gotten there, or how long she’d been standing on the deserted street. Checking her cell phone, she saw that it was nearly midnight. It was only slightly comforting to see that at least it was the same day.

  A lot could happen in fifteen hours, and Amanda fought rising panic as she flashed back to months earlier, when she’d woken up on a park bench with a warning scrawled across her back in black marker. So she’d rushed into the bathroom of a fast-food restaurant a block away, tore off her jacket, and pulled down her shirt.

  She craned her head in the mirror to check: Her skin was unblemished. If she had been abducted again, this time there was no sign of it.

  Which should have been a relief, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something else. Maybe something even worse.

  The diner wasn’t far from the green line. She’d purposefully marched into the station and caught the last train out to Brookline, making a beeline for Peter’s house.

  Amanda still wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe because Peter was the only person who knew about her previous abduction, so she could trust him with this. Plus, he would know better than anyone whether this was the sort of thing Mason would do.

  Or maybe it was because she felt terrified and alone and wanted to see him. Wanted to feel his arms around her, if she was honest with herself. Maybe wanted even more.

  And now she was here, and Peter was sitting next to her on the bed, his eyes filled with sympathy. And she found that part of her didn’t want to tell him, because the very worst thing would be for him to pity her. She didn’t want to feel like a victim; she wanted to feel something else for a change.

  So she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

  Peter froze for a second, then his lips relaxed, and he kissed her back. His hand reached up to stroke her cheek, then he ran it through her hair and pulled her head closer. And suddenly the kisses were deepening, and she had her hands up under his shirt, feeling the muscles of his back tauten, and they were lying down. . . .

  A cell phone rang. Peter abruptly pulled back, a puzzled expression on his face. “That’s not the iPhone,” he said reluctantly after it rang again. “I need to get it. I’m really sorry, Amanda.”

  “Okay,” she said breathlessly. “Just . . . be quick.”

  She watched him cross to his desk, straightening his shirt as he went. Peter dug a TracFone out of his backpack. Her eyes narrowed. Of course—Noa. A knot of resentment formed in the back of her throat. She knew that most of their communication involved coded messages exchanged on that Quad message board only hackers knew about. So if Noa was calling, there must be some sort of emergency.

  Still, Amanda felt irritated. When Noa called, Peter jumped. He’d never been like that with her; at least, she didn’t think he had.

  Peter checked something on the phone, then dialed a long string of numbers. Amanda propped her head on one hand as she lay on her side, watching him. Noa must have answered, because he said something in a low voice, his head tucked down. Still, it was impossible to miss the spark in his eyes, and his slight smile as they spoke.

  Something inside her shriveled. She wa
s suddenly glad that she had no idea what Noa looked like—Peter had always been vague about it, so she was probably stunning. And based on the awe in his voice whenever he mentioned her, she knew he admired her. She’d suspected there might be more; and seeing his reaction now, it was clear. She’d lost him.

  Amanda flopped over on her back and stared up at the ceiling, wrapping her arms around a pillow. Peter was speaking in such a low voice, she could only make out fragments: “Phoenix” and “Mason” and “blueprints.”

  “Be careful, please,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. Then he hung up.

  He looked worried as he came back over to the bed. “They’re going through with the Phoenix raid,” he said before she asked.

  “I figured,” she said, trying not to let the peevishness show in her voice. “When?”

  “Soon.” Peter sat down. His eyes were a million miles away from her—or, more accurately, about two thousand, somewhere in Phoenix, with Noa. “It’s kind of a genius plan, actually.”

  “Of course it is,” Amanda snapped. “Noa came up with it.”

  That caught his attention. Peter frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she muttered. “I should go.”

  “Wait, what? You can’t.” He sounded genuinely perplexed. “The T stopped running an hour ago.”

  “So I’ll call a cab.” Angrily, Amanda sat up and tugged her hat back on, fighting back pinpricks of tears.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Peter said in an infuriatingly reasonable voice. “Stay. I’ll crash on the couch, you can take the bed.”

  “No,” she said obstinately. “I’m going.”

  “Amanda.” He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Amanda paused, still facing the door. She was torn between a wild desire to get away from the look in his eyes that no longer had anything to do with her, and the conflicting urge to fall into his arms and start sobbing.

  “Please,” she said in a small voice. “Just let me go.”

  “No,” Peter said firmly.

  She turned. Peter was gazing up at her, his brown eyes full of concern. “You don’t love me anymore,” she said quietly.

  He looked dumbfounded. “What?”

  “You heard me.” She tugged hard, but his grip on her wrist tightened. “Let go.”

  “You can’t just say something like that, then run away,” he said angrily.

  “I’m sorry I said anything,” Amanda said, meaning it. What had come over her? Now she really wanted to flee. She’d walk back to her dorm if she had to. “Just forget it.”

  He released her hand. Amanda fumbled with the buttons on her coat, stumbling and nearly falling in her headlong rush for the door.

  Her hand was on the knob when he said, “I never stopped loving you.”

  Slowly, she turned to stare at him. Peter was standing next to the bed, hands hanging loose by his sides as he gazed back at her. “Never, Amanda. Not for one minute.”

  She crossed the room in three strides and threw herself into his arms. Peter pulled off her cap and dug his hands into her hair, then tilted her head up to meet his. The kiss ran through her whole body, familiar and yet different at the same time. It felt warm and safe and right. Amanda wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. In spite of herself, she felt a slight twinge of victory as Peter murmured her name in her ear.

  “Any questions?” Noa asked.

  No one said anything. The atmosphere in the room was keyed up and tense. Noa had just laid out her plan for breaking into the lab. They’d get in, deal with the guards, and save as many kids as they could. She’d gone through it step by step, laying out the role each would play in the assault.

  Hopefully, this time there would be some kids left alive for them to save.

  She glanced across the room to where Zeke stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t looked her in the eye since they’d gotten back. She wished she’d handled it better. It had been years since she’d been able to rely on anyone, and he’d been there for her through this whole crazy thing.

  And if she was honest with herself, that’s why she’d drawn back. Not because she hadn’t wanted to kiss him—she had, for a long time, she suddenly realized. But she was terrified that falling for him would jeopardize everything else. What if it didn’t work out? Would she end up doing this all on her own?

  Noa suddenly realized that they were all staring at her expectantly. Zeke caught her eye and threw her a questioning look. She cleared her throat and said, “The radios should work while we’re in there, so make sure to maintain contact with one another on channel twelve.”

  She scanned the room. Everyone looked back at her steadily—except for Teo. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face, and he looked like he might throw up. Noa sighed internally. He seemed like a sweet kid, well-intentioned. But they’d had others like him join the group, and they never worked out. They just didn’t have the stomach for walking into dangerous situations. Maybe they were the smart ones, she thought wryly. With that in mind, she added, “No one has to come if they don’t want to. Same deal as always, if you stay behind, we understand.”

  “But we could use all of you,” Zeke interceded. Noa threw him a look, but he ignored it and kept talking. “I mean it. We don’t know how many guards are inside the building, or what kind of security measures they’ll have. And without Turk, well . . .” He looked uncomfortable. “It’ll be a lot harder,” he said, mumbling the last bit.

  Noa chewed her lower lip. He was right. Despite his faults, when things came down to the wire, Turk had always risen to the occasion. It was going to be a lot tougher without him, especially in a situation like this, where they didn’t know exactly what they were up against. “Any questions?”

  A few heads shook—no one spoke up. Relieved, she said, “All right, chill out until then.”

  As they filed out of the room, she bent over the warehouse blueprints that were spread across the kitchen table. She sensed Zeke at her shoulder, and caught her breath.

  “Sorry about earlier,” he said in a low voice.

  “That’s okay,” she said, relieved. “I’m sorry, too. I just kind of . . . freaked,” she finished weakly.

  He laughed quietly. “I know, Noa. Not your thing.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, frowning as she turned to face him.

  He shrugged. “Just that you’re not so comfortable with the emotional stuff.”

  Flushing, she opened her mouth to retort, but he was right. She was sixteen years old, and could count on one hand the number of times she’d been kissed. Half of those hadn’t been voluntary, either.

  But that wasn’t strange, right?

  Zeke stepped closer, and Noa forced herself to hold her ground. Standing like this, they were nearly eye to eye.

  He trailed a finger down her bare arm, making her shiver. “You know how I feel about you,” he said softly.

  Noa felt like her face was on fire. A familiar ball of panic settled in her chest, and she had to fight the urge to run, as far and fast as she could. “I don’t know how to do this,” she finally said.

  “So we take it slow.” Zeke leaned in and brushed his lips lightly across her forehead. The sensation made her inhale sharply.

  Then he turned and walked away.

  Teo had planned on taking off before the raid, but so far, he hadn’t had an opportunity. The house they were camped out in was in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but desert and other abandoned houses all around. It was some sort of upscale development that had fallen apart; the closest signs of life were a few miles away. Phoenix wasn’t what he’d expected; based on what he’d seen driving in, it was all strip malls and weird cookie-cutter housing developments like this one. There had to be a downtown somewhere, but how would he get there? And so far, he hadn’t seen a single panhandler, which didn’t bode well for surviving on his own.

  Still, dying in the desert might be better than what was in store if he went along with them. Noa had
announced that they were going in tomorrow night, even though they’d pretty much just arrived. He might be wrong, but it didn’t seem like they’d taken time to get a sense of what they were rushing into. All the details on how many guards there were, and where they might be, seemed awfully vague for his liking.

  Daisy smiled at him. “Damn, you look nervous.” The two of them were hanging out in what probably used to be the master bedroom. Now it was bare, save for huge dust bunnies and a ragged carpet fragment they’d found in the garage. Daisy’s blue hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and she was wearing short shorts and a halter top.

  “Me, nervous?” Teo said with false bravado, conscious of the embarrassed flush spreading across his face.

  “It’ll be fine,” she said confidently. “Noa and Zeke have done a bunch of these, and they never have any problems.”

  There’s always a first time, Teo thought, but he kept it to himself.

  “You’re coming, right?” Daisy whispered, nudging him.

  Her skin was warm and soft against his arm. Teo felt himself go even redder. He kept his eyes on her bare feet; her toenails were painted with chipped neon-green polish. He wanted to ask her to come with him; they could slip away tonight, long before everyone piled back into that damn van. But he had the feeling she’d say no. And worse, she’d think he was a coward.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Course I’m going.”

  “Good,” Daisy said in a low voice. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed. “We’ll take care of each other. And when it’s all over, we’ll celebrate,” she promised with a wink.

  Teo’s heart leapt. He was right; she had been flirting with him. Hopefully she meant what he thought about celebrating later. He’d wanted to kiss her ever since he first saw her; maybe she’d even let him do more.

  Of course, Teo realized, he wouldn’t get to “celebrate” unless he stuck around. Which meant going up against armed guys just as tough as the one they’d held captive. The good feeling quickly dissipated. “Yeah,” he said desolately. “It’ll be a hell of a party.”