by Tracy Deebs
“My parents don’t need protection,” Alika says as she too stands up and makes her way over to us. “My dad’s job means they have Secret Service around them at all times.”
Relief nearly makes my knees weak—or maybe that’s just the whole losing-a-ton-of-blood thing. Whatever it is, I grab her with my good arm as soon as she’s close enough and pull her into my chest. I hold her there, refusing to let go. The fact that she makes no move to step away makes it even better.
And then there was one. Issa sits cross-legged on the floor, playing with a tuft of carpet next to her knee and refusing to look at any of us.
We wait for what seems like forever for her to change her mind, and I’m about to say, Never mind, we get it, go home to them, when she lifts her head and pins Ezra with the most deadly serious look I’ve ever seen.
“You swear you’ll keep them safe?”
“I swear,” he answers. “Call your dad and tell him to expect two security guards at your apartment. And a temporary nanny, if that will make things easier.”
“You don’t have to do that. They’ll manage—”
“I know, but why should they have to?” He holds a hand out to her. “There are a lot of things in life money doesn’t fix. But this is one thing it can. Let me do this for you, because God knows we can’t do everything we need to do without you.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she nods before slowly climbing to her feet and walking toward us. She doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of Ezra. “I’m in.”
“Thank God.” Ezra grabs her and pulls her toward him. Buries his face in her neck and just breathes. It’s a tender moment—and a real one—so I turn away, try not to look.
At least until Issa says, “Looks like we’re storming the castle, then.”
“What did you say?” Seth asks incredulously.
“I said we’re storming the castle.” When we all just stare at her blankly, she looks offended. “You know, from The Princess Bride?”
“Yes, we know from The Princess Bride,” Harper tells her. “But the quote is ‘Have fun storming the castle’!”
“I know that. It’s like the one movie quote I actually do know. I was just paraphrasing.”
“You can’t paraphrase movie quotes,” I tell her. “Otherwise they’re not quotes.”
“Seriously?” she replies. “After everything we’ve been through, and everything we still have to do, this is where you’re going to draw the line?”
I shrug. “A boy’s got to have his standards.”
“Ugh, seriously?” Harper says. “You’re quoting Real Genius now?”
“Excuse me, but that’s like one of the most iconic movies of the eighties,” Seth tells her, totally offended. “Maybe of all time.”
“Give me a break.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s got Val Kilmer in it.”
“Exactly my point!”
“Are you dissing Val Kilmer now?” I demand. It’s ridiculous to have this argument right now, with everything we still have to figure out in the next twenty-four hours, but I do it anyway. Because there’s something awesome about putting aside the enormity of what we have in front of us—even for just a few seconds—to enjoy being here with five people I’ve grown to care way too much about in way too short a time.
“It’s Val Kilmer,” Harper tells me, like that explains everything.
“Excuse me, but Val Kilmer has been in some of the greatest movies ever.”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Really?”
“Yeah, really!”
“Name five.”
“What?”
She crosses her arms and leans a shoulder against the balcony door. “List five Val Kilmer movies that qualify for the ‘best movies of all time’ list.”
“Well, Top Gun, obviously. Real Genius. Willow. Heat. Aaaaaand—”
“Top Secret!” Seth jumps to my rescue.
“Top Secret!?” she asks incredulously.
“I would have gone with The Doors myself,” Ezra says.
“Oh, that is a good one.” Seth smiles innocently at Harper. “See, there’s six.”
“It’s like you’re actually insane,” she says.
“Well, obviously,” Alika tells her. “Otherwise, what the hell are we doing here?”
That shuts Harper up. Actually, it shuts all of us up. Because she’s right. What we’re about to do is absolutely insane by every definition I can think of. But if we’re lucky, it will be just insane enough to work.
Because the alternative really doesn’t bear thinking about.
30
Harper
(5p3ct3r)
“Okay, we need laptops, phones, fake passports, clothes, backpacks, and—oh yeah—six plane tickets to Helsinki for tomorrow,” the Lone Ranger says, reading off the list we just made. “Am I missing anything?”
“You mean besides an actual plan?” Silver Spoon deadpans.
“Well, yeah. Besides that.”
“Six straitjackets, maybe?” Snow White volunteers. “Because, seriously, where are we going to get all that on such short notice?”
“And how much is it going to cost?” Buffy adds.
“Don’t worry about cost right now,” Silver Spoon says. “We’re saving the world from the threat of evil domination. Whatever it costs is worth it.”
“Spoken like the rich boy you are,” Buffy taunts.
He gives her a pitying look. “Is this because you’re still bitter about The Princess Bride?”
“I’m not bitter,” she says with a little pout. “But since you brought it up, that quote should totally have counted.”
“No, it shouldn’t have!” the Lone Ranger argues. “You have to be exact or it’s not a quote. Like, ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.’”
“Right?” Silver Spoon agrees. “Or ‘Sorry, guys. I gotta see about a girl.’”
“Ooooh, good line,” I agree, because it is. And because being a part of something is starting to feel more and more familiar. “But my all-time favorite still comes from The Cutting Edge.”
“‘Toe pick!’” Silver Spoon, the Lone Ranger, Mad Max, and I all shout at once.
Buffy and Snow White look at us like we’re crazy. “I stand corrected,” Snow White says after a minute. “I’m not sure straitjackets will hold them.”
“I guess you have to see the movie to get it,” I tell her.
“You think?” Buffy answers with a snort. “You’re on me about storming the castle, and you think ‘Toe pick’ is a line?”
“You’re right. Not bitter at all,” the Lone Ranger teases.
“Speaking of bitter,” Silver Spoon says, “let’s get back to the plan that’s not yet a plan.”
“Nice segue,” Mad Max tells him, with a roll of his eyes.
“Thanks.” Silver Spoon flips him off. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I’ll take care of the plane tickets for tonight.”
“Issa and I can take care of the laptops and phones,” Mad Max volunteers. “I mean, as long as we get to use Owen’s credit card.”
“What’s mine is yours,” he says, tossing Mad Max his wallet.
“I can do you better than that,” Silver Spoon says, walking into the master bedroom. He comes back a couple of minutes later with several bundles of hundred-dollar bills that he tosses onto the coffee table.
For a second we all just kind of stare at it. I’ve never seen that much money in one place in my life, and he acts like it’s nothing. I can’t imagine what that feels like. I’m not even sure I’d want to.
But he’s right about one thing. Having money does make some things easier.
“If you give me some of that, I can definitely take care of the fake passports,” I say. When the five of them turn to stare at me, I just kind of shrug. “I’ve got a contact in Walnut Creek who can help me.”
“In Walnut Creek?” Silver Spoon asks incredulously. “You have a contact in the suburbs who
can get you six fake passports in a day that are good enough to get us into Europe?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Okay, then.” He tosses me a bundle of money. “That’s ten thousand dollars. Do you think you’ll need more?”
“That should cover it. If not, I’ll let you know.”
He just grins at me. “I don’t know why it makes me so freaking happy to know that you have black-market contacts in the burbs, but it just really kind of does.”
“Well, as long as it makes you happy, who am I to complain?”
“So what’s left?” Mad Max asks after everyone stops laughing.
“Clothes and toiletries,” Snow White answers. “Which I can do, if Ezra is willing to drive me to the nearest mall.”
“You might want to do that first,” Buffy suggests. “Because I’m not sure how far we’re going to get walking around in these blood-splattered clothes.”
“I’ve already taken care of that,” Silver Spoon tells her. “Any minute now, the shops should be sending something up for each of us to wear today.”
Of course they are. The others all sound surprised, like they can’t believe he thought of it. But it’s totally Silver Spoon. He may act like he doesn’t care—maybe when we first met, he really didn’t—but now? Now he’s almost always the first one to figure out what needs to be done, and the first one to actually do it. And if that’s not caring in some way, then I don’t know what is.
“Which leaves me with figuring out the plan,” the Lone Ranger says with such an evil gleam in his eyes that, I swear, if he had a mustache he’d be twirling it right now.
“Should we be scared?” I ask, brows raised.
“You should be completely terrified,” he responds, deadpan.
“Well, as long as we’re on the same page.”
A knock on the door makes us all jump, tension filling the room so quickly that it’s hard to imagine we were laughing and joking around a few seconds ago.
“It’s just the clothes from downstairs,” Silver Spoon says. But I notice that he’s careful to check the peephole and then opens the door with the chain still attached.
It makes me wonder if any of us will ever feel safe opening a door again or if we’ll be haunted for the rest of our lives by what happened yesterday at Silver Spoon’s condo. I know I’ll never react to a knock or doorbell the same way.…
After Silver Spoon distributes the clothes—and we’re all dressed in outfits a hundred times preppier than anything we’ve ever worn before or ever will again—I shove the bundle of cash into the pocket of my denim skirt and slip out of the hotel room.
It’s a long train ride out to Walnut Creek, and I want to get this over with as soon as possible.
Case Study:
Issa Torres aka Pr1m4 D0nn4
DOB: 1/12/00
Sex: Female
Height: 5′4″
Weight: 125 lbs.
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown with a little bit of purple mixed in
Race: Mixed (Hispanic and white)
School: Denver Heights High School (public), San Antonio
Parents: David Torres and Samantha Lane Torres (deceased)
Personal Net Worth: $3,000
Family Net Worth: Negligible
Most Notorious Hack: Hacking the College Board for SAT answers and the subsequent distribution of them to students in poor communities. Never been done before, and to my knowledge, the College Board still doesn’t know it happened.
OBSERVATIONS:
At first glance, Issa Torres is nobody’s manic pixie dream girl. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if you looked up the term in Urban Dictionary, a picture of her would be listed under antonyms. Maybe with the warning: APPROACH AT YOUR OWN RISK.
She’s got attitude, no doubt about it. But after getting to know her, I’ve figured out there’s more to Torres than meets the eye—even if what meets the eye is a defiant stare, a pair of combat boots, and enough rage to power a small town.
Basically, she’s also a lot more vulnerable than she lets on. Not weak, because she’s as tough as they come. But definitely vulnerable. Despite all the outer trappings, she’s just a good girl trying to do right by her family and make a life for herself.
I don’t want to relate to her, but I do.
SURVEILLANCE FOOTAGE:
12/29/18
23:21
PRIVATE HERNANDEZ BALCONY, MAJESTIC HOTEL
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
Footage begins at 23:21 when Issa Torres is picked up by security camera MH22A as she walks onto the Hernandez balcony, which spans the entire width of the twenty-second floor of the Majestic Hotel (also, incidentally, the length of the Hernandez family suite). One hand is heavily bandaged, as are both arms, as she moves to the railing and stares into the darkness, alone, for twelve minutes and nineteen seconds.
At 23:33, Seth Prentiss joins her on the balcony. Planted audio recording device EH1 provides the following conversation, even when Torres and Prentiss take seats outside the considerable range of camera MH22A (believed to be in the shadows in the back right of the patio).
Prentiss: Hey. You okay?
Torres: Yup. How ’bout you?
Prentiss (laughing): I’ve been better. But at least…
Torres: What?
Prentiss (after a long pause): How are your cuts?
Torres: How do you think they are? (Long pause.) Sorry. I’m just…
Prentiss: We all are.
Torres: Not Owen.
Prentiss: Yeah, well, that guy’s superhuman, in case you haven’t noticed.…
Torres: Oh, I noticed. Sucks about his dad, though. Mine’s pretty useless right now, but at least I get to hope he’ll snap out of it. Owen…
Three minutes and fourteen seconds pass in silence before the conversation recommences.
Prentiss: Can I ask you a question?
Torres: Yeah. As long as it’s not another one of your stupid knock knock jokes or—
Prentiss: No jokes this time, I swear. (Long pause.) Why did you come here?
Torres: Uhhhh, because Ezra’s penthouse was shot to hell and I didn’t want to die?
Prentiss: Not to the hotel. I mean, why did you come to San Francisco?
Torres: Don’t.
Prentiss: Don’t what?
Torres: Don’t try to make me feel better about going to Helsinki. I said I’ll go, but I’m scared to death, and I’d really rather be on a plane back home.
Prentiss: Believe me, I’m not trying to make you feel better. Especially since Austin is looking really good to me right now.
Torres: Really? You always seem so…
Prentiss What?
Torres: Ready to save the world.
Prentiss: Right. Turns out not so much.
Torres: I don’t believe that.
Prentiss: I’m scared, Issa.
Torres: That’s because you’re not insane. Fear is a pretty healthy reaction to this situation, I think.
Prentiss: Yeah, but… I’ve been in dangerous situations before, you know? The Habitat for Humanity group I was with in Haiti got attacked by a street gang. I was beaten up, had my wallet and passport stolen. And when we were in Africa volunteering with a Doctors Without Borders group, the local warlord—
Torres: Jesus, you really do think you can save the world.
Prentiss: That’s what I’m saying. I’ve always tried to do my part, always tried to help. But now that it’s on us—just us—I want to run in the opposite direction. I feel like a total wimp.
Torres: Seriously? You’re horning in on my identity crisis here.
Prentiss: What, we can’t both have one?
Torres: No! That’s not the way friendship works.
Prentiss: Sorry, I’ll try to do better. (Long pause.) Is that what we are? Friends?
Torres: Well, we’re not enemies.
Prentiss: Wow, damned with faint praise.
Torres: Is that another movie line? Because I swear
to God…
Prentiss (laughing): I get it. No more movie lines.
Torres: It’s going to work out. We’re just being paranoid.
Prentiss: You really think so?
Torres: No. But I figure if I tell myself that often enough I won’t run away before we get on that plane for Helsinki.
Prentiss: You’re not going anywhere… and no, that’s not a threat. I just mean, you’re not a runner.
Torres: How do you know that?
Prentiss: I may look like a goofball, but I’m actually a pretty good judge of character. And you have a very good character.
Torres: I like the Mohawk. It’s sexy.
Prentiss: Oh, really?
Torres: Whoa there, Casanova. Not that sexy.
Prentiss: You’re only saying that because you’ve got a thing for arrogant Colombian boys with a billion dollars in their pocket.
Torres: I don’t have a thing for Ezra.
Prentiss: Oh yeah? Because I didn’t mention his name. You did.
Torres: Like there are so many billionaire Colombian boys floating around in my life?
Prentiss: Stranger things have happened.
Torres: Yeah, like the fact that we’re about to save the world from the worst blended threat ever.
Prentiss: See? You’re sounding more optimistic already.
Torres: It’s the Mohawk. It spreads cheer wherever it goes.
Prentiss (laughing): I’ll remember that.
Torres (after a long pause): It’s going to be okay, Seth.
Prentiss: How do you know?
Torres: Because I’ve got your back. (Laughter.) And Alika’s got mine. No one in their right mind would cross that girl.
Prentiss: Right? She scares me a little.
Torres: I’m pretty sure she scares everyone. Even Owen. Which she should.