PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  There’s nothing I can do about it now, so I keep walking. The park is empty when I arrive. To the rest of the world, it still looks empty even after I sit down. Five minutes later, Robin pulls up to the curb and gets out of her car. She looks completely casual as she sits down next to me, keeping her phone in her hands.

  “Do we have a plan?” she asks.

  Not much of one. But to her I say, “They’ve got to be watching the house from somewhere nearby. It wasn’t by chance they found Olivia in a basketball park across town. Someone followed her and waited for the right opportunity.”

  “So if we find their lookout spot, we can watch them.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Great,” Robin says, “then let’s get started.”

  She pulls a pair of earbuds out of a black case strapped to her arm and pops them into the top of her phone. I watch her turn on the music, wondering what she’s doing. Robin sticks one earbud into her ear and slides her phone into the case on her arm. She stands up, and I realize she isn’t wearing the same clothes she had on at school.

  It catches me off guard to look up and see her tight running shorts and a green tank top. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever noticed how slender and athletic Robin is. I feel like a creep staring at her, but I can’t seem to look away. She starts jogging in place, which only distracts me more.

  “Okay, so you’ll have to lead me because I’m not very familiar with this neighborhood yet and I’m bound to get us lost,” Robin says.

  I try to come up with a response to that. “Um, yeah, sure.”

  Robin looks over at me with a curious expression. I shake myself and try to focus. “Ready?” she asks.

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  Glad that I had been feeling like crap this morning and didn’t feel like dressing up beyond gym shorts and a t-shirt, I start leading Robin around the neighborhood slowly. She does her best to keep an eye out without looking like a peeping Tom or tripping herself. Scanning the area is much easier for me.

  While Robin stays on the sidewalks, I look over plants and bushes to peek in windows looking for anything suspicious. We make it to the corner and past my house before anything catches my eye. Across the street sits a dark blue sedan with medium tinted windows. That’s not so odd in and of itself, but the guy sitting in the driver’s seat with his eyes glued to our house is definitely suspicious.

  “Robin, blue car across the street.”

  She peers over at it with a critical eye. “It’s not the same car we saw last time, but it definitely looks creepy. Let’s check it out on our way back around.”

  I lead Robin on a circuitous route that gets us over on the opposite side of the road. We’re two blocks behind the car in question when we cut across. I’m about to ask Robin if she has a plan when she suddenly slows and tugs her phone out of its arm band holder.

  “What are you doing?” I ask when she shuts the phone off and messes with the back of it.

  She smiles slyly and says, “Don’t worry. When he’s distracted, crawl under the car and mess it up. He shouldn’t be able to sense you from under the car. You normally have to be within a few feet of them for them to feel you.”

  “I know nothing about cars.”

  “Me neither, but I suppose all those hoses and things are supposed to be hooked up for it to run. So just pull something apart. Anything that’ll make him have to call for help.”

  I’m not sure about this, but I don’t have anything better. “Fine.”

  Robin keeps her phone in her hand as she walks up to the car. I almost yank her back when her hand comes up to knock in the window. Trust I’m not totally sure is warranted holds me back. Her knuckles wrap on the tinted window and I wait anxiously for something to happen. A few seconds later, the window rolls down halfway.

  “Can I help you?” a male voice asks.

  Robin beams at him. “Do you know what time it is? I was supposed to meet a friend in a little while. I had an alarm on my phone, but it died a few blocks back.”

  She wiggles the phone at him as proof.

  “It’s a quarter to five,” the voice says.

  Robin cringes convincingly. “Oh shoot. I’m supposed to meet him in five minutes, but I’ll never make it time. He’s going to be so mad at me.” Robin sniffs and makes her bottom lip tremble. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this stupid phone. It keeps turning off on me for no reason.”

  “Did you try holding the power button down?” the voice asks.

  The confused expression on Robin’s face makes me chuckle. “Huh?”

  I hear the seal of the driver’s door pop and I drop down to the ground. He steps out a moment later and beckons Robin over so he can look at her phone. My heart is racing as Robin motions for me to get busy before walking around the car. The asphalt digs into my back as I squirm under the car and start looking for something to tamper with.

  “You are so sweet,” Robin croons. “Thank you for looking at it.”

  “It’s no problem,” the guy says.

  I can hear a few clicks and “hmms” as he attempts to fix Robin’s phone. Eventually he realizes Robin loosened the back and made sure the battery wasn’t making full contact before putting it back in the case.

  I have no idea what I’m looking at as I stare up at the underside of the car. Most of the parts don’t look like I’ll be able to do anything to without some serious tools. There are a few hoses here and there, but I have no idea whether unhooking them will keep the car from starting.

  A few years ago Olivia’s dad had to fix something on her mom’s car. I sat out there and watched him, but there wasn’t a lot that stuck. I know the problem was something electrical, a wire coming off a round metal piece. I think it was the starter. I look for something similar on this car. It takes some shifting and digging around, but I think I find what I’m looking for. It’s round and has wires coming off of it, anyway.

  Fearing that Robin may be running out of ideas to keep that guy busy, I grab a fistful of wires and yank them away from the starter. The force of my pull is a bit much and my hand bangs into something sharp. Pain slices through my hand as I jerk it away. I grunt in frustration as blood drips down my arm.

  Getting out from under the car takes some maneuvering, thanks to my throbbing and bleeding hand, but I make it out without any other incidences. I stay down and keep my distance, just in case. I drop to the pavement across the street from the car and wave at Robin so she knows I’m done.

  A quick nod in my direction lets me know she saw me, but she continues to listen to the phone genius as he shows her something on her now-working phone.

  “Oh, wow! I didn’t know there was an app to track my running.” She touches his arm and smiles like the app is the most amazing thing in the world.

  The guy grins back like an idiot. He turns and leans against the car. I roll my eyes as he hands the phone back to Robin. His fingers trail down her hand. Mr. Smooth doesn’t stop there. The elbow he has propped on the roof of his car drops down and his hand brushes against Robin’s face.

  My hand tightens into a fist at his touch. Robin giggles and slaps a hand lightly against his chest, effectively pushing him back enough that his hand falls from her face.

  “I think you missed your date,” the guy says, stepping closer.

  Robin shrugs, but somehow makes it incredibly sexy. “I guess I did.”

  “Maybe I could make it up to you sometime.”

  I have the sudden urge to punch him.

  Robin shakes a finger at him. “I don’t accept dates from strangers.” She sidesteps gracefully out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll see you around, though. I run here fairly often.”

  “I’ll definitely keep an eye out.” He grins at her.

  When he tries to step closer and touch her again, Robin spins out of his grip and takes off jogging down across the street. The guy calls after her that he’ll see her around. Robin answers with a flirty wave. When she jogs past me, she makes a gagging noise and motions
for me to get up and follow her. I’m more than happy to oblige.

  We run to the end of the block, me trailing blood along the way and Robin trying to shake off that creep’s touch. Robin makes a graceful turn at the corner. I follow, grimacing as my hand throbs incessantly. We collapse on the lawn of a house halfway down the block and recoup.

  “Ugh,” Robin says with a shiver, “that guy was such a creep. I mean really? Picking up on some random runner while he’s supposed to be doing surveillance?”

  In his defense, Robin looks really good in her running clothes. I don’t say that, though. “My thoughts exactly. What was with all the touching?”

  Robin turns her chin up. “Well, I had to keep him distracted, and it worked pretty well.”

  “You’re actually pretty good at that.”

  “Yes I am,” she says with a grin. “Thanks for sounding so surprised.” She rolls her eyes at me.

  “That’s not what I meant, though, about the touching.”

  “No?” she asks.

  “I meant, why was he touching you so much?” I grumble.

  Robin looks over at me with a curious smile. “Jealous much?”

  I try to turn away, but Robin stops me with a light touch to my shoulder. She waits until I turn back to look at her. When I meet her gaze, her smile is warm and soft.

  I want to look away, but I can’t. “It bothered me . . . to see him touching you like that.”

  “It bothered me to have him touch me like that,” Robin says. Her fingers spread out over my chest. “I would have preferred it was someone else.”

  My hand comes up, but before I can do anything with it I groan in pain as the throbbing intensifies. Robin gasps.

  “Mason, what on earth happened to your hand?” she squeaks.

  “Scraped it on something under the car. It’s fine,” I insist. “Already stopped bleeding. It just won’t stop throbbing.”

  Robin hops up and slips her hands under my biceps to help me stand. “We need to get you home,” she says as she helps me up.

  “No, we need to keep an eye on that car and see who comes to help him.”

  “But, Mason . . . ”

  “No, Robin. I’m fine.”

  She huffs at me and lets go of my arm. “Fine, lead on.”

  I do. Robin can’t risk that guy seeing her again, so she stays back behind a scarlet bush while I watch from the front yard. I’m disappointed to see that nothing has happened. He’s back behind the wheel staring at my house.

  “Anything happening?” Robin whispers.

  “Not a thing.”

  She grumbles, annoyed that she can’t watch as well. After that she lapses into silence, only telling me what time it is occasionally. It isn’t until five o’clock that Mr. Handsy tries to start his car. He seems perplexed when the engine doesn’t turn over. I can see him looking around the dashboard and panel. Eventually he gets out of the car.

  I hear Robin sneak up behind me. She pulls out her phone and snaps a few pictures of the guy as he kicks the tire—like that’s going to help. It only takes the genius ten more minutes to figure out he can’t fix the car. Fear and excitement are stirred up as he pulls out his phone and calls for help.

  The car driving up behind him twenty minutes later is expected, but the guy walking out of the house across the street from mine is a shock. At first, I think maybe it’s just a coincidence. I’ve never seen him before, though, and I know Mr. and Mrs. Dewalt’s only child is a woman, and she lives in New Jersey. Worry fills my mind as he approaches the car we’re watching and starts poking around. Where are the Dewalts?

  Robin keeps taking pictures as we watch the Sentinels mess around for half an hour before finally giving in and calling a tow truck. Neither of us moves until the street is empty. Even then, we fall back on the grass in silence. My mind is swimming with a million questions.

  “I think it’s safe to say,” Robin eventually says, “that the Sentinels weren’t watching me like I thought in the beginning.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “They’re watching your house every second.” Robin shivers.

  Rubbing my hand against my forehead, I say, “Olivia’s mom and dad are going to freak out when I tell them.”

  “I’ll send all these pics to you so you can show them who to look out for. I’d come with you, but . . . ”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry, Robin.”

  She shrugs and stands up. Robin slips her hands under my arm to help me up again. My hand stopped throbbing so bad a while ago, but it still hurts. Once we’re both up, Robin puts her ear buds back in, but doesn’t turn on any music. We start back toward my house. Robin only mumbles a quick goodbye when we reach my house so as not to draw attention, but promises to call me later and check on me. I skirt around to the back of the house and go in through the back door where no one will see a door open seemingly by itself.

  On my way to the stairs, Olivia comes out of the kitchen. She stops cold when she sees me, and I can tell by the expression on her face that she wants nothing to do with me. An ache settles into my chest. I turn away, not wanting to force my presence on her. I try to hide my hand from her, but she catches sight of the blood and gasps.

  Chapter 27

  Sick Satisfaction

  (Olivia)

  I stare at the blood caked all over Mason’s hand, angry and concerned at the same time. I’m not sure what the black gunk is smeared in patches across his arms, but it’s pretty apparent Mason was out doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. I want to walk away, make him deal with his cut up hand on his own, but I just can’t do it.

  “What happened?” I demand.

  “Uh . . . ” He looks down at his hand. I can tell he is choosing his words carefully, which only makes me madder.

  “Where were you?” I snap.

  Mason finally looks up at me. “Spying on the Sentinels.”

  “What?”

  How did he figure out where the Sentinels were in order to spy on them? Why didn’t he tell me? Why would he do something so stupid and risky? A dozen other questions start flying through my mind. They jumble and stick, keeping me from uttering a single one of them.

  My hand rubs across my forehead slowly. The desire to walk away is compelling. I know he’d never be able to bandage up his hand on his own, and as angry as I am with him right now, I still can’t bear to leave him in pain.

  Shoving him toward the stairs, I say, “You talk, I’ll bandage. And you better tell me everything.”

  “I will,” Mason says quietly.

  At the top of the stairs, we both freeze. Suddenly, I can’t stand the thought of being in the bathroom with him again. I could barely handle coming in here this morning on my own. I reach for the door handle, but I can’t do it, not with him standing next to me.

  “Go down to the kitchen,” I command. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

  Mason nods wordlessly and makes a beeline for the stairs. My breath shudders out of me shakily, painfully. Determined to not be a wimp, I reach for the door knob. That’s as far as I get for a few minutes. I feel like an idiot. Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to cry over Mason again. Fighting back every emotion, I shove the door open and dig through the cabinet desperately. I’m not even sure I got everything I need when I dart back down the stairs, but I don’t care.

  When I round the corner to the kitchen Mason is standing at the sink trying to rinse off his injured hand. He winces as he gently rubs away the clotted blood around the cut. Not running over to him kills me. At the same time, seeing him in pain gives me a kind of sick satisfaction. I don’t help him.

  As he finishes washing his hand, I open the kit and sort through the bottles and ointments I grabbed for some hydrogen peroxide and antibacterial cream. I’m so focused on not thinking about Mason, I jump when he sits down next to me. He doesn’t say a word as he lays his hand palm-down on a towel. I grimace at the cut running from his middle knuckle across his hand to just below where his thumb con
nects with his wrist. The flesh around the cut is red and swollen.

  “How long ago did you cut this?” If it had just happened it wouldn’t look so agitated yet.

  “About an hour ago,” Mason mumbles.

  Staring at him angrily, I say, “Then why didn’t you come clean it up?”

  “I couldn’t. I had to wait for the other Sentinels to show up.”

  “What?” I demand. Then shaking my head, I hold up a hand. “Start from the beginning.”

  The clippity-clop of Evie bounding down the stairs momentarily distracts us both. She skids to a stop just inside the kitchen door. Her eyes pop open wide at the scene before her. “What’s with all the bandages? Is Mason hurt?”

  “Cut his hand,” I say curtly.

  Evie plops down on the stool behind Mason. “How?”

  “That’s what he was just about to tell me,” I snap.

  Evie shuts her mouth and places a hand on Mason’s shoulder—once she finds it. She jabs him in the ear first, which almost makes me laugh.

  I dump hydrogen peroxide over Mason’s cut, making him groan, and say, “Start talking.”

  “After you were attacked in the park, I suspected the Sentinels were watching you more closely than we realized. They must have followed you to the park that night. I didn’t remember seeing any cars lurking around, so I wondered if they were using something else, a house maybe, or a camera somewhere.”

  “So you decided to go hunt them down?” I ask.

  Evie frowns. “Mason, that wasn’t safe. What if they spotted you, or felt you or whatever?”

  “I kept my distance,” Mason argues. He glances down at his hand. The guilt in his expression warns me that he’s hiding something.

  “Well, did you find them?” Evie asks.

  Mason nods. “There was a car parked down the street. He was far enough away not to be noticeable right away, but he was definitely watching the house.” Mason pauses and takes a deep breath. “He wasn’t the only one, though.”

  As I smear antibiotic ointment over Mason’s cut, my whole body tenses up. Whatever he’s about to say is not going to be good. I want to slap Mason every time I see him, but that still doesn’t mean I want to lose him.