Where No One Knows

by Jo Ramsey

  We stopped somewhere in Iowa—or maybe Michigan; my sense of geography was pretty shaky—for more food and drinks. My legs shook a little when I got out of the car. We’d been driving for almost four hours straight.

  “How are you holding up?” Shad asked as we headed into the store.

  At least he was speaking to me again. I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Are we almost there?”

  He did his laugh-thing. “Just like a kid. ‘Are we there yet?’” The whiny voice he put on was grating, and I glared at him. He shook his head. “Okay, fine, not funny according to you. We have about another three hours. I’d like to do it all in one shot if you can handle it. We can stretch our legs here for a little while, but you should find out when your train leaves so we don’t miss it.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” I didn’t think my powers extended to reading train schedules from three hours away.

  He nodded at the building. “They have Internet here, and places with Internet sometimes have computers people can use. If they don’t, I see people in there with laptops. We can ask to use one for a minute to look up the schedule.”

  “Um, okay.” I doubted a total stranger would let either of us touch his computer. I hadn’t showered in way too long. A stench like rotten cabbage floated around us, and when I raised my arm it got worse. I wrinkled my nose. “I could really use a shower.”

  “Yeah, we both could. Unfortunately they don’t have showers here. I don’t think you want to spring for a hotel room just for that.”

  I actually considered it. “You said you’d need a room for tonight anyway.”

  “I didn’t ask you to pay for it.” He grinned. “Don’t look so surprised. I told you I would have helped you even if it wasn’t for the money. You don’t have to pay for my room. The group said they’d cover it.”

  “So we get to Chicago, you’ll find a room, and let me shower before I board the train?” I made it a question because I didn’t want to assume anything. I really hoped he would agree. My binding itched like crazy from sweating, and I didn’t want to breathe too deeply because I didn’t want to know how bad I smelled.

  “Let’s find out what time the train is. A shower for you may be possible.” He opened the door and held it. “After you.”

  “I’m not a girl,” I muttered as I went past him into the store.

  “And I’m not a gentleman.”

  I ignored him.

  The Internet café section of the store didn’t have any public-use computers, but a woman about my mom’s age offered to let us use hers when Shad asked. “You guys look like you’ve been on the road a little too long,” she said.

  “Since last night.” Shad sat across from her and pulled her computer over to him. I stood behind him to read over his shoulder, because I wouldn’t have had any idea how to actually use the thing myself. My school had desktop computers, not fancy laptops. “My brother here’s going to Chicago to check out a couple colleges, and I said I’d drive him.”

  She frowned. “Since last night? Where are you from?”

  I silently begged Shad not to say anything more. He’d already given too much information. He shouldn’t have told her we were going to Chicago. Plenty of other cities had colleges.

  “Boulder,” Shad said.

  I wanted to scream. Okay, so he hadn’t told the truth. But Boulder was in the same state as Denver, which made it too close to the truth for me to be comfortable.

  “You two need showers,” she said.

  “That’s one of the reasons I asked to use your laptop.” Shad opened a browser window and started typing. “We didn’t plan too well, and we don’t have a hotel reserved. I want to see if I can find one online before we actually get to the city so we can head straight there and clean up.”

  “Your parents didn’t help you figure it out before you left?” The woman raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like a very organized trip.”

  “We don’t have parents.” Shad didn’t even look at her. “It’s just us. That’s why Fred’s checking out colleges even though he’s only a junior. We figure the earlier he applies, the more scholarships he might get. We can’t afford to pay for it ourselves.”

  Her face softened, and I felt guilty. She was only looking at us like that because Shad had lied. Except he hadn’t been completely dishonest. His parents had thrown him out when he was fifteen. I doubted he’d had any contact with them since, which meant he might as well not have any parents. My mother had thrown me out like a bag of trash, so I couldn’t really count her anymore either.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

  “It happened a long time ago.” I leaned over Shad’s shoulder, both to see the computer screen better and to give him kind of a warning to watch what he said from here on. “We don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Can I buy you boys some coffee or anything?” the woman asked.

  I was sure Shad would take her up on it, but he said, “No, thank you. We have enough money. We just didn’t bring a computer with us.”

  “All right.” She stood. “I’m going to order another drink and give you time to check things out without all my questions.”

  She walked away. “Sometimes you have to deal with too much talking,” Shad said. “There.”

  The screen displayed pictures of a hotel about as fancy as the one in Denver. I’d thought we were going to look at train schedules, but apparently he had other ideas.

  “I can get a room there,” he said. “I have to text the group for the credit card to reserve it. We can reserve your train ticket with their card too, and you can pay them back when you get there.”

  I didn’t like the idea of owing anyone. On the other hand, having a seat reserved on the train might be a good idea. I wouldn’t have to worry about it being sold out by the time I got there. “Ask if it’s okay. And doesn’t this mean you’ll have to talk to—”

  He cut me off. “Texting. They’ll text me the credit card number, and I’ll delete it when we’re done.”

  “Oh.”

  I handed him my phone and stepped back while he texted. I had no reason to know the credit card number, and I didn’t want to read over Shad’s shoulder anyway in case Royce typed something personal.

  “All set,” Shad said after a couple of minutes, just as the woman returned to the table with some big frothy thing in a plastic cup. Shad smiled at her. “We really appreciate this. I just need another minute to make sure the reservation goes through.”

  “Take your time.” She sipped her drink. “I know how it is with e-mail and everything. As long as you don’t try to walk away with it—”

  Shad cut her off too. “I’m sorry. I really ought to pay attention so I enter this correctly.”

  “Sure. Sorry.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Sometimes I talk too much.”

  Shad ignored her and entered the string of numbers on the cell phone display. It took a minute for a confirmation to show up. Then he went to the railway company’s website and entered the information necessary to find the schedule for my train.

  He didn’t say it out loud, because that would have given the woman a heads-up that we weren’t staying in Chicago. Instead he tapped the screen, where it showed a schedule with the train to Boston leaving at nine-thirty that night. That was good in a bunch of ways. We wouldn’t have to rush to catch it, I’d have time for a shower in Shad’s hotel room, and I’d be able to sleep during some of the trip.

  He pointed to the phone and looked up at me. I took that to mean the group had given permission to use the credit card to reserve my ticket and nodded. I wasn’t happy about owing them money, but it was better than wondering whether I’d actually have a seat on the train.

  He pressed a few keys on the computer, and then handed it back to the woman. He held up my phone. I took it and slipped it back into my pocket.

  “Thank you so much,” he said to the woman. “Like I said, we really appreciate it, right, Fred?”

  “Right, George.”
I had no idea why I had to be Fred, but I figured I might as well use a matching pair of names. I’d read those books in the school library, since Gene’s church believed they were satanic.

  “You’re both welcome.” She pulled her wallet out of her purse. “Are you sure you boys don’t need anything? I’m happy to help.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Shad said. “Have a good day.”

  He stood up and smiled down at her. The smile didn’t touch his eyes. They were cold and dark.

  He was making her forget she’d seen us.

  I didn’t like him using his powers on someone who’d helped us as much as the woman had, but I understood. She might have remembered the two brothers who’d used her laptop, and she would have told other people about us. She’d even said she talked too much sometimes. We couldn’t trust her to keep us a secret.

  I walked away while he was still doing whatever it was to her and started picking up bags of chips. I desperately wanted food. An actual meal, not junk food out of plastic packages. Maybe once we reached Chicago, we could find a restaurant and have burgers or something before I caught my train.

  Shad caught up with me by the soda coolers. “I had to,” he said. “She was already planning what to tell her friends about us.”

  “I know.” I wasn’t a big fan of soda, but right now I was desperate for sugar. And maybe caffeine. I was on edge again, even though I’d felt completely fine when we’d stopped. “Let’s get what we need and go, okay?”

  “Restroom.” He nodded toward the back of the store. “No way I’m going to make it another three hours, and I’d rather not have to stop again.”

  “Yeah. Good point.” I’d been so upset about him wiping the woman’s memory, I’d almost forgotten my own bladder was yelling at me.

  We used the restroom, bought what we wanted to eat and drink, and got back on the highway without calling any extra attention to ourselves. My gut ached as if I’d been punched, and danger murmured through my mind. Not a scream like before, but something still wasn’t right.

  “She doesn’t remember us,” Shad said. “I made sure of it. Something’s off anyway. You were right to get us out of there.”

  “If we both sense it, I’m worried,” I said.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” He motioned at the bag of stuff we’d bought. I didn’t know whether he was asking for food or soda, so I took a guess and handed him a bottle of lemon-lime something-or-other. He took it and wedged it between his legs so he could open it, since I hadn’t loosened the cap. “Thanks.”

  “Do you know the way to the hotel you found?”

  “There was a map on the website.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. “You didn’t see it?”

  “I wasn’t paying much attention.” I’d been too distracted by the picture of the room.

  “I read the map, and it’s pretty straightforward. If I get lost, I’ll call the group and they’ll give us directions. Or I’ll call the hotel. They’re probably used to people asking for directions.” He settled himself more in his seat and sighed. “I have to be honest. This has been way more stressful than I expected. I like you. You’re a good guy. But I hope I don’t have to take you anywhere else. Nothing personal.”

  I laughed. I didn’t even know why, because he definitely hadn’t said anything funny. “Yeah, it’s been crazy. No offense taken.”

  “You want to know what’s up with Royce and me.”

  It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need to ask what I was thinking, since he could read my mind. And he would know if I lied. “Yeah, but it’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s probably good if you know. I mean, he wouldn’t bother you or anything, but you should still know what kind of person he is. I used to think he was amazing. When I first joined the group, he helped me settle in.” He paused for a few seconds while he navigated around a couple of slower vehicles. “We became friends. I had a crush, I guess. I mean, he’s good-looking and he was helping me. He was the first person who heard I was gay and didn’t act like I was disgusting for it.”

  “He’s gay too?” I said. I was guessing.

  “Yeah. That was kind of the problem.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “You’re right. This isn’t any of your business. Yanking up memories again.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I said again. He had the right to change his mind.

  He shrugged. “I don’t talk to anyone about it. Maybe I should. For your sake, since you’ll be staying with him for at least a little while, and for my own. I didn’t realize how much I still hate him until I talked to him today, and I don’t like hating people. Makes me feel gross, you know?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t know, not exactly. I’d never truly hated anyone, not even Gene’s friend. But I knew hatred was dark and consuming, so I definitely understood what Shad was saying.

  “I was with them for a year before he and I did anything,” he said. “He knew I was interested in him. I didn’t try to hide it. Pretty much threw myself at him, to be honest. I had experience throwing myself at guys. He kept turning me down for a long time. I was only fifteen when I went to them, and he was twenty. He didn’t want to break the law or anything.”

  “You said he only waited a year.” That would have made him sixteen. My age. I couldn’t imagine being involved with someone five years older. But Sadie had been older. I’d been interested in her, so maybe it wasn’t so weird.

  “Sixteen’s legal in some places,” he said. “I don’t know about Massachusetts. I didn’t exactly take the time to study the sex laws. Royce and I had grown really close, and I finally decided I was tired of dancing around it and being turned down. I made a move on him, and he took me up on it.”

  He stopped talking, and I didn’t dare to say anything. Clearly talking about Royce really bothered him.

  “For a while things went really well,” he said after a couple of minutes. “We were like a couple. Actually going on dates and stuff. He took care of me. We didn’t live together. The group had put me in sort of a foster home with two women my parents’ age, and Royce didn’t want to pull me out of there. But he and I spent as much time together as we could. I thought we would stay together.” He rolled his eyes. “I was sixteen. I didn’t know crap.”

  “I’m sorry.” I said that to him a lot. It was the easiest response when he told me about such painful things. I wasn’t sorry for him, exactly. I was sorry that people had hurt him, because I didn’t believe anyone should be hurt.

  “Just be smarter than I was.” He paused. “At least he won’t get his hands on you. You said you aren’t into guys. And he’s probably learned from his screw-up, so I doubt he’d try anything on anyone else or accept anyone else hitting on him.” He paused. “I mean, he didn’t, like, push me into anything. It was my idea. But others didn’t see it that way, and in the end, he threw me under the bus.”

  “I’m straight,” I said. At least that was how I saw it. Most people probably would say I was a lesbian since I had a girl’s body. “I like girls.”

  “Yeah. You told me.” He took a deep breath. “So anyway, one of the leaders of the group found out about us somehow. They all knew we were spending time together. I guess they figured he was still mentoring me or something. Then they realized what was actually going on and called us in. They weren’t so worried about me. It isn’t against their rules for members to have relationships. It was just that he was over twenty-one and I was under eighteen.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Yeah. It all made sense except the part where he lied. He said there was no relationship and accused me—right in front of them—of spreading lies about him.” He thumped his fist against the side of his seat, and his eyes narrowed. “It still ticks me off, as you can see. He blamed me for the whole thing. Told them I’d lied, and once we left the meeting, he said it was my fault we’d gotten caught.”

  I finally came up with something to say besides
sorry. “What a jerk. They must have known he was the one lying. Someone else there must have been able to read minds.”

  “Jerk isn’t the word I’d use, but yeah.” He paused again. “I don’t know if they realized he was the liar. None of them said anything except I should stay away from him. I didn’t stay in Boston too long after that. He and I were over, even though he tried to apologize and get together with me again. I couldn’t stand staying there knowing I might see him at any time.”

  He was silent for a few seconds. I waited for him to speak, because I had no idea what to say. His pain filled the car and added to the pain I was trying not to feel about my family. If I’d tried to talk, I probably would have cried again. I was tired of doing that.

  Finally he said, “Love is stupid, Kellan. Keep that in mind. I loved him, and he screwed me over. He made me believe he loved me. He lied. Now you know why I wanted to break your phone when I heard his voice this morning.”

  He was so angry now that I was a little afraid for the other drivers. He was going about eighty miles an hour.

  “Calm down,” I said in a mostly failed imitation of the voice he’d used to try to calm me at the rest area. “You’re going too fast. I understand you’re angry, but you should probably slow down a little.”

  He glanced at the speedometer and swore. “Sorry. This is why I don’t talk about him.”

  “I get it,” I said, relieved as his anger lessened.

  “He isn’t a bad person.” He lifted his foot off the gas pedal until the car slowed to something a little closer to the speed limit. “He helped me a lot until that whole mess. I trusted him, and he kept me safe. Taught me to control my abilities. Helped me with my homework, for crying out loud. Then he screwed me over.”

  “He was scared.” I didn’t know that for sure, of course, but it was a reasonable assumption. “He was afraid he’d end up in jail or something.”

  “That’s no excuse to blame everything on me.”

  “I know. But it’s a reason.”

  “Yeah.” He looked at me again. “How do you know anything about it?”

  I shrugged. “Psychic?”