Transparent

by Natalie Whipple

  “No. I ran—I’m out in the desert. I’m gonna stay in this old ghost town I found.”

  “I’m coming to get you. You’re not allowed to argue.”

  “I wasn’t going to. I called to tell you we’re in Madison, Arizona.” I give him our address and directions to where I’ll be hiding. “I’m sorry I had to drag you into this, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Let me look this up.” The line goes quiet, save the faint tapping of keys. He lets out a soft whistle. “Jeez, Mom sure knows how to find the middle of nowhere, doesn’t she?”

  “And yet it’s never far enough.”

  He sighs. “I’m sorry, Fi, but you could hop a plane to Mongolia and it still wouldn’t be far enough.”

  His words hit me like a baseball bat. This will be my life, and whoever I let in will be dragged into this mess, too. It’s a never-ending nightmare.

  “Fiona?”

  “How will I ever get away?” I choke back tears. “This is impossible, Miles.”

  “It’s not.” He says it so softly I can almost feel the hug that goes with it. “We’ll figure it out. I promise. You’re about two and a half hours from me. That’s pretty good luck, all things considered.”

  I let out a wry laugh. “Maybe Mom was trying to move closer to you.”

  “Hey, maybe. I’ll just tell my boss I have a family emergency. She’ll give me a few days—she totally loves me. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  “Okay.” The rock’s shadow is getting longer, so I stand and prepare to go. “I need to run more before it gets dark.”

  “I’ll find you, sis. I won’t let Graham take you anywhere.”

  “Bye, Miles.” I appreciate his words, but there’s not much Miles can do against Graham. Even I have a better chance, since I can at least hide. Miles may be able to give off a nasty skunk scent, but that can only take him so far.

  It’s dusk when I reach what seems to be half of an old strip mall. The windows are broken, but it’ll be decent shelter. I scan the horizon, surprised to find yet another structure in the distance. More like the skeleton of something. The desert is weird like that, with its cracked monuments to failed civilization. The call to explore it is strong, but it’s too late today.

  I hurry through the first window, hoping to find something comfortable to sleep on before the sun sets. The place is covered in fine red dust. Treading lightly, I keep my eyes on the floor in search of living creatures. The last thing I need is a scorpion friend visiting while I sleep.

  It has to have been some kind of convenience store. There are a few intact shelves, sadly empty of Twinkies, which I hear last forever. The counter is still there, except half of it is missing, revealing a dark hole I don’t dare investigate. Other than that, it’s mostly broken plywood and twisted metal.

  I brush off a few planks of wood, since that looks like my only option for sleeping, minus the floor. The dust sticks to my skin, giving a faint outline of where my arms are. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but the idea of being seen right now is dangerous. I brush it off as best I can, leaving streaks thanks to my sweat. Hopefully it will absorb and become invisible soon.

  My stomach growls, so I search my bag for any remnants of school lunches I might have missed. I manage to find a half-eaten bag of pretzels and a smooshed grape. Yum. I guess I can eat my math book if I get really desperate. I laugh a little—I’d love to explain that to Seth.

  The desert is dark, but not pitch black. Starlight shines through the window, and I can’t help but step outside and take a look. The canopy of lights takes my breath away. I’ve seen stars like this before, but the sight never stops making me feel small and unimportant. I like that feeling.

  The stars twinkle like rhinestones, which reminds me of my mother. Will she worry when I don’t come back? Or will she run to Dad without a thought? We used to be closer. We’d shop for hours at the most expensive places in Vegas. It’s the only normal thing we’ve ever really done together.

  I used to like it. I used to think we were bonding like moms and daughters do. She would clap or smile when I came out of the dressing room, and it made me feel beautiful. But then I started to notice something.

  “Those clothes look great!” she’d say.

  Not you look great. Not you look beautiful. The clothes did—I didn’t look like anything. I was just the perfect mannequin.

  “What about me?” I asked her once. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”

  Mom froze, as if she didn’t know what to say, which said everything. “I don’t know, sweetie, but you shouldn’t worry about it. You don’t have to. Women everywhere would kill not to worry about that.”

  I nodded, wishing she’d lied and said I was the most beautiful girl in the world. It was then I realized even my own mother didn’t quite see me as a real person. I was a doll, an empty canvas, something to play with when Dad wouldn’t see her.

  I started shopping on my own after that. At grungy places she’d never go to, wearing all sorts of strange things. It almost hurt more that she never got mad about it, never asked why I stopped going with her. She just complimented the clothes, like always.

  A different light pulls my gaze from the sequined sky—a flashlight. My heart leaps. Miles! I can’t believe he’d navigate the desert in the dark for me.

  Then another light comes into view, and my stomach sinks. Miles wouldn’t have brought anyone with him, but Graham might have enlisted backup. If he was at the store alone, then someone was probably watching Mom for him. What if they are coming to take me back?

  I rush inside, stripping as I go.

  Chapter 10

  I have my clothes off in seconds. I’m not sure I should be proud of that skill, but it comes in handy when I need it. Searching for a place to hide my dress, I settle on stuffing it behind the counter. I mentally curse when I remember my bag is sprawled out on the floor. I creep toward it, trying not to disturb anything that could make noise or flare up dust. If I shove the bag under something, no one should know I’m here.

  The flashlights cast two distinct beams outside, both growing wider as they approach. Though the light helps me navigate, it also makes my heart thump up my throat. I grab my things as the footsteps grow louder. I pause, confused. There’s more than one pair, but Graham would never touch the ground if he didn’t have to. It’s “beneath him.”

  “Do you see anything?” a deep voice calls.

  I gasp, dropping my bag in shock. I know that voice, though I can hardly believe it. What in the world is Brady doing out here?

  “Uh … nope. Nothing,” another familiar voice says. Seth.

  It might not be Graham, but my pulse still hasn’t slowed. I can barely wrap my mind around it. I had no idea they even knew each other, let alone knew each other well enough to run around in the desert together.

  “Are you sure?” Brady says. “I thought I heard something.”

  I snap out of my daze, grabbing my bag and stuffing it under my plywood bed.

  “There it is again. Coming from the building.”

  A light shines from the window, and I freeze. I may be invisible, but there’s so much dust in here I have to be careful. I tiptoe to a corner, taking care to avoid leaving footprints, and huddle down just in case.

  “It was probably a lizard or something,” Seth says. “If Fiona was here, wouldn’t she come out if she heard us?”

  I can hardly believe it—they’re looking for me. But Seth’s wrong. I’m not coming out for anyone but Miles.

  “I don’t know.” Brady steps through the broken window, shining his flashlight right over my concealed bag. He doesn’t see it. “Trixy said she sounded terrified of her brother. Fiona didn’t even want her helping because she’d get in trouble, so Fiona might think the same thing about us.”

  I smile because he’s right. It’s freaky how he seems to understand me.

  “How considerate of her,” Seth says. “Maybe she should have thought about that before coming he
re in the first place.”

  “It is considerate, since she’s obviously trying to escape. There’s no denying it now.”

  “You guys are so slow.”

  “Shut up, brainiac. You could have told us.” Brady lifts things like they weigh nothing, checking for me. My heart warms at how concerned he seems. It’s probably because Bea’s worried, but it’s still sweet.

  “I promised her I wouldn’t.” Seth leans by the window, staring at the ground like he’s completely bored.

  Brady sighs. “Fine. I guess that’s a good excuse, but from the way you were acting earlier I thought you’d be more—”

  “Can we get going?” Seth stands away from the windowsill. “I don’t run as fast as you.”

  Brady laughs as he shines the light on Mr. Cranky. “Changing the subject, huh? You must—”

  “Will you quit it?” Seth holds up a hand to block the light. “We still have to check the factory, or we’ll never get Bea off our backs. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get at least a little sleep tonight.”

  “You’re not worried about her at all? It’s not exactly safe out here, and Bea said she didn’t have food.”

  “Fiona can take care of herself.” Seth slips a backpack off his shoulders. “And that’s what this is for. We’ll leave half of it here and half of it at the factory. If she ran off this way at all, she’s bound to see both.”

  Brady’s shoulders slump. “I guess that’s the best we can do.”

  “Yup.” Seth unzips the bag, revealing several boxes of food, sports drinks, and even a blanket for the increasingly chilly night. “Let’s get going.”

  Brady heads outside. “Do you want me to carry you?”

  Seth scoffs. “I have some dignity, you know.”

  Brady laughs, and then their footsteps fade into the distance. I stay put for a few minutes, though the food and drink call to me. I don’t want them to come back and see it gone. They probably don’t realize I’m here, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra cautious. When I can’t take it anymore, I rush to the window and look out. No flashlights. The other building’s outline barely shows against the sky. They called it a factory, but it must be a ruin just like this. I’ll have to check it out when I get the food they’re apparently leaving there.

  With the coast clear, I dig into some protein bars. I stuff one in my mouth, and I about die when I notice the box of blueberry Pop-Tarts, too. Bea must have seen them in my cart and figured I liked them. I pause midbite. I don’t get it. I’ve never met people who’d risk themselves to help me escape, or who’d run around the desert all night leaving food just in case I was there.

  I grab a drink, gulping it down as I think. They could be lying. Just because Bea said they weren’t working for a syndicate doesn’t mean it’s true.

  Bea’s fearless eyes come back to me, then Brady’s worried voice, and even Seth saying I’m amazing for trying to escape. They … might care about me. A chill runs down my spine.

  Chapter 11

  It’s day three, and Miles hasn’t come yet. He should have been here by now. As I stare out the window at the same tall cacti and mesa-lined horizon, I fear the worst. Graham found him. Graham knows there’s only one reason Miles would be in Madison, Arizona. He’s probably being tortured into giving them my location, except he never would.

  If it were anyone else, I might be able to take it. But it’s Miles, and it’s my fault he’s in this mess. The thought of him being beaten for me is too much.

  I glance at my supplies. I went to the factory the first day, though it’s so torn up you could hardly call it that. There’s scrap metal everywhere, like a bomb went off. All that’s left is half a building, gutted out. I stayed the night there, since I could see the stars through the holes in the remaining ceiling.

  Brady and Seth left enough food to last a couple weeks, but I’ve already burned through most of the liquid. It’s too hot out here. Just opening my mouth dries it out. I’ll be dying for water before tomorrow night.

  My legs ache as I pull myself up. There’s not much choice—I have to get in cellphone range and at least try to call Miles before this phone dies. If Graham answers, I’ll just hang up and get rid of it. I grab my things and head for my favorite boulder. The second I power it on, five frantic texts show up from Miles. Each one simply says Where r u? My hand shakes as I dial his number. It barely rings once before there’s a voice.

  “Fiona?” Miles asks.

  Unexpected tears well up. “Are you okay?”

  He laughs, though I don’t think it’s very funny. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I went out there and couldn’t find a thing—I thought you’d be dead by now. Mom’s a mess.”

  I want to protest that I gave him good directions—at least as good as I could under the circumstances—but that doesn’t matter once I realize the bigger issue. “Wait … Mom’s still there?”

  “Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything after that, and I can’t seem to find words, either. Finally, he lets out a breath. “I’m not sure how to explain it, Fi.”

  “Is Graham there?”

  “He left. Two days ago.”

  “What?” Too many questions run through my head, fighting for my mouth but failing to move it. Graham left without her?

  “It’ll be easier to explain if you come back to the house. It’s safe, Fiona, for now. You know you can trust me.”

  I want to say it’s some kind of trap, but Miles wouldn’t do that. “You swear?”

  “On my baseball-card collection—the whole thing.” That’s a serious oath. Miles is a baseball fanatic, both the normal and gifted leagues. If he could, he’d watch it all day and talk your ear off about stats. He knows I don’t listen when he goes on his rants about batting average, but he does it anyway. He’s determined to make me a fan.

  “Okay. I’ll see you soon.” I close the phone and lean against the rock. There has to be some kind of catch. Graham couldn’t have just left. Still, if he’s gone, then we have time to plan. I don’t know how much time, but it’s better than hiding out in the desert and doing nothing but reading my math book. I was that bored.

  I suck in a breath to calm my nerves and then head for town at an easy jog. By the time I reach the house, I’m drenched in sweat and sick to my stomach. I can’t help thinking Graham’s in there, waiting to trap me and take me back to Dad’s casino. Now that he knows I tried to escape, I have this feeling we’ll never leave Dad’s watch again.

  I almost turn back, but then Miles’s warm laugh carries through the open window. My knees nearly buckle at the sound, and before I know it I’ve turned the doorknob.

  There he is with Mom on the couch, all easygoing in his baseball tee and cut-off shorts. His hair is wild and wavy as usual, sun-kissed from the summer but still brown. He smiles at me, his eyes almost meeting mine. Then the room blossoms with the scent of blueberries. He knows how much I love them.

  Scent imitation is a pretty useless gift, but in our family I consider that lucky for Miles. Dad hardly notices him, just remembers his ability is worthless. He made sure Miles knew that, too. I could never quite tell if it actually hurt Miles, but he’s definitely no fan of Dad.

  “I’d hug you, but I can smell you from here,” he says.

  “Thanks a lot.” I shut the door, but stay where I am. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

  “I told you Graham wants to help us!” Mom’s glare feels like a laser. “How could you run off like that? We thought you were dead! You can’t just disappear on me!”

  I scoff. “That’s kind of hard to avoid, don’t you think?”

  “Don’t use that attitude with me, Fiona Claire. I am trying to get us out, and every time you run off you risk ev—”

  Miles puts his hand on her knee. “Mom, not exactly helping.”

  “I was just so … You shouldn’t have done that.” Her shoulders slump, and I stuff down the guilt. Let her be mad at me—I’m plenty mad at her for calling Graham. She deserves any worry I migh
t have caused her.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Is he waiting for me to show up?”

  She purses her lips. “Graham is covering for us. He’s making up fake leads, sending your father on a goose chase so we can live here in peace.”

  My jaw drops. “You’re kidding.” I look to Miles. “You can’t actually believe this.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know, Fi. He seemed genuine. He didn’t bring a team or even a phone. It’s … possible.”

  “Possible?” This isn’t happening. My family cannot be this stupid. After years of lies and manipulation, how can they not see through this? People don’t change. Graham couldn’t have woken up one day and decided he was going to be a good person again. “I need a shower.”

  “Hey, wait!” Miles calls, but I rush to my bathroom and lock the door.

  I smell too awful to think clearly. So I pull off my clothes and let the warm water run over me until it gets cold, though it doesn’t get that cold. Desert water only feels cool. I watch the water bead on my skin, try to hold perfectly still so I can see pieces of my fingers and arms. It’s strangely beautiful, like dew on a spider web that reveals the shape.

  My mind is surprisingly blank in comparison to the questions that pounded me before. I keep thinking about how thirsty I am, how much I want to sleep in my bed instead of on dusty plywood, how I should savor every day of freedom I have left.

  When I shut the water off, Miles’s voice comes from the hall. “You better wear something I can see you in. No shorts or stupid dresses.”

  “Fine.” For some reason his joking never offends me. He’s trying to tell me being invisible is no big deal, and it works with him. Mom could say the same thing and it’d piss me off. I dig out a pair of black jeans and a tight orange shirt, but then I feel like I’m dressing for Halloween. I slip the jeans off and grab some blue ones. Much better. Now I just have to accessorize… .

  There’s a knock at my door. “Are you decent?” Miles says.

  I laugh. I once asked him why he doesn’t barge in like everyone else does. He said it was awkward enough just thinking of me naked, and he’d prefer not to “see” it. “Yeah, come in.”