by Carrie Arcos
I wiped the tears with my hand and tried to focus on the road ahead of me. Tyler’s laugh subsided. A silence, a small grace, rested between us.
“You laugh just like your brother,” Tyler said.
“I know,” I said, and smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Though traffic wound ahead of us, we made it to the parking lot where we had started our journey in a little over an hour. Tyler’s truck was waiting. I pulled up next to it and turned off the engine.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” He remained in his seat, looking out the front windshield.
“Sorry about all the drama. It’s not what I anticipated.”
He laughed. “Made things interesting, that’s for sure.” He made no move to go. “Rachel, I have to tell you something.”
He said the words the way someone does when they’re about to tell you that they just ran over your dog.
“What?” I tried to sound casual.
“It’s something I didn’t say at the church.” He continued to stare ahead. “The truth is, I am kind of glad that Micah went missing.”
I looked at him in surprise.
He turned to me. “If Micah hadn’t left, then you wouldn’t have called me and we wouldn’t be here today.” He kind of rushed the words together. “I wanted a chance to be alone with you.”
I didn’t expect him to say that. “You barely know me.”
“Are you serious? I’ve known you for forever, since fifth grade.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I know you.” He said the words softly.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“You’re Micah’s little sister. You know how much shit I’d take for it?” He chuckled when he said it.
“Probably a lot.”
Suddenly the car felt too warm in the heat of the sun, so I opened my door and got out. I leaned back against the hood and closed my eyes. Tyler’s door opened and shut. Then he stood next to me.
“What’re you thinking?” he asked.
Thinking is overrated, I thought. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was afraid of where things with Tyler could lead. I was afraid of getting hurt again.
“I should call my mom,” I said. “She’ll be wondering what my plans are for the day.”
“Oh.” His voice sounded dejected. “Yeah, you should probably call her.”
I felt bad. I didn’t mean to act like I was brushing off what he’d told me. Such a raw admission of truth deserved at least the same response in kind.
“It’s just . . . weird. Micah . . .”
“Micah,” he said.
We stayed quiet for a few moments, leaning against my car.
“Well, at least you got your miracle today.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You got your car back.”
He was right. I hadn’t thought of it that way.
“Hey, you never told me your miracle.” I looked into his eyes playfully, hoping he’d see I was interested.
Instead of answering, he put on his sunglasses and said, “Some other time. I’ll see ya.” He walked over to his truck.
As he opened the driver’s side door, I decided to take a step toward a more authentic self. “Tyler.” He turned around. “I could have asked anyone to come with me. I asked you.”
He smiled. “Call you later?”
I nodded, and he ducked his head inside his truck.
He pulled out of the parking lot, and I picked up my cell phone. Amazingly, everything in the glove compartment had been left untouched. I saw that I had about ten texts from Michelle. She could wait a little longer. I dialed a number.
“Mom?” I said when she answered.
“Hi, Rachel.” Her voice sounded tired. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, I just wanted you to know that I’m on my way home.”
I hung up the phone and started the car.
* * *
Later that night, after spending at least an hour on the phone, filling Michelle in on the details of Operation San Diego, as I was now calling it, I decided to e-mail Micah. I doubted he’d get it, but I couldn’t help it. I was a sucker for closure.
Dear Micah,
Tyler and I went looking for you yesterday down by that beach you love. I found bits and pieces of you in the people we met, and I think this is how it will be for a while. The bits and pieces will find me until the whole of you is ready to find its way home.
Thank you for sticking up for me with Keith. Finn told me. For what it’s worth, I think she really loves you.
I want you to know that I’m not going to look for you. I’m not going to write to you again. This will be my last e-mail. I am letting you go.
Love,
Rachel
I pressed send and released the e-mail into cyberspace like a prayer. On the table next to my bed was my small notebook with Micah’s picture. I opened it to yesterday’s date and crossed off pretty much everything on my list. I paused for a moment at Find Micah. But I crossed that off as well, and wrote tomorrow’s date on a new page.
I took Micah’s picture and placed it inside a small frame that had held a goofy picture of some friends and me. It fit perfectly.
My phone beeped. It was a message from Tyler.
Night.
I smiled. If anything about the trip had surprised me, it was Tyler.
Night, I texted back.
I got under the covers. Pale moonlight streamed in through my unveiled window and shone through a couple of dirty smudges, like stained glass. Barely visible but still there was MS. Micah’s initials. Mine were there too, a little beneath his, right where they should have been.
Acknowledgments
No work of art lives and breathes without being shaped by many hands. For that I am profoundly grateful.
To my superagent, Kerry Sparks, who saw the potential and said yes. This book would be stashed away on a lonely flash drive if not for you.
To the team at Simon Pulse, who welcomed me and believed. Emilia Rhodes, whose initial enthusiastic notes started me on the journey. My wonderful editor, Annette Pollert, whose insight and care with this story has made it better than I ever could have on my own.
To friends and family who supported me. Michelle Dokolas, for being someone with whom I share the news first. Your encouragement and critiques were like water. Ted and Judy Lawler, my parents, who taught me to follow big, impossible, God-inspired dreams and make them possible.
And finally, to my husband, David. You are the dream maker. This is as much yours as it is mine. Thank you, my love.
Aiden, Matisse, and Judah—this is proof. Dreams can come true.
CARRIE ARCOS lives in Los Angeles, California, with her family, and is an adjunct professor. This is her debut novel. To learn more about Carrie, visit her at carriearcos.com.
Jacket designed by Angela Goddard
Jacket photograph copyright © 2012 by R. Wolf/plainpicture
Author photograph courtesy of Hank Fortener
SIMON PULSE
Simon & Schuster, New York
Watch videos, get extras, and read exclusives at
TEEN.SimonandSchuster.com
* * *
Thank you for downloading this eBook.
Sign up for the S&S Teen Newsletter —
get the latest info on our hot new books, access to bonus content, and more!
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
or visit us online to sign up at
eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com/teen
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SIMON PULSE
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Div
ision
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
First Simon Pulse hardcover edition October 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Carrie Arcos
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event.
For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Designed by Mike Rosamilia
The text of this book was set in Adobe Caslon Pro.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Arcos, Carrie.
Out of reach / Carrie Arcos.
p. cm.
Summary: Accompanied by her brother’s friend Tyler, sixteen-year-old Rachel ventures through San Diego and nearby areas seeking her brother, eighteen-year-old Micah, a methamphetamine addict who ran away from home.
ISBN 978-1-4424-4053-1
[1. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 2. Methamphetamine—Fiction. 3. Drug abuse—Fiction. 4. Runaways—Fiction. 5. California, Southern—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.A67755Out 2012
[Fic]—dc23
2011044501
ISBN 978-1-4424-4055-5 (eBook)