I felt awful for Maya. I knew how sad and agonizing it was to be the one who had to leave all her friends behind. Maya’s perfect life had been totally upended in just a few weeks. And she had no idea when it would return to normal. As if that were even a remote possibility anymore for any one of us.
The truth was, our futures were just a giant black hole of uncertainty. This was our new normal. But right now Maya was the most vulnerable of all of us.
Maya ran her hand over Jackson’s Mustang and shrugged. “Sweet ride. I always did want to drive her.”
“Be good to her. She’ll be good to you,” Jackson responded, then handed Maya a cell phone. “It’s prepaid. Untraceable. I even programmed in all our numbers.”
“Our numbers?” I asked, wondering what he was talking about. “How can she call us when our phones don’t work any longer.”
“A minor inconvenience that I’ve rectified,” Jackson then handed another new phone to me and another one to Oliver.
“Genius,” Oliver remarked, admiring his fancy new smartphone from every angle.
“I’m not going to even ask where you got these from,” I remarked, half-joking.
“Made a little detour by the family store after Bar Tech,” he brazenly confessed, before turning his attention back to Maya. “Whatever you do, Maya, don’t use any credit cards, ATM cards . . . ,” Jackson advised. “Anything that can be traced back to you. They’ll be looking for a paper trail.”
“I don’t have any cash,” Maya reluctantly admitted, embarrassed.
“We took care of that.” He tried to hand her a wad of money that Oliver, Jackson, and I had pooled together. “It’s more than three hundred dollars. It’ll get you all the way to Chicago.”
“No. I can’t.” Maya shook her head, hands raised, refusing to accept the cash.
“You’d do the same for any of us,” I declared, insisting she take all of it.
Maya looked at me and sighed. She knew this was one argument she wasn’t going to win. I could be pretty stubborn. Finally she relented, taking the bills and stuffing them into her jeans’ right front pocket.
“Oh, and take this,” Oliver said, handing Maya a little USB flash drive.
“What’s on it?” she asked, looking at the flash drive, quite curious.
“A video I made a few days ago explaining exactly what happened,” Jackson replied, underscoring how valuable that flash drive was. “Think of it as an insurance policy.”
I was surprised but impressed by his forethought.
Maya nodded, letting Jackson know she understood its importance. Then she slipped it deep into her jacket pocket and zipped it up.
“You better get going,” I said with some urgency, keeping an eye on the street, watching for any security vehicles that might be driving by with their headlights off. “You want to hit the road before curfew officially kicks in.”
“You’re sure you guys will be okay?” Maya asked, her forehead lined with obvious concern for our well-being.
“For now.” Jackson said, though I could discern just the slightest hint of doubt in his voice. “They may have recognized me, but they don’t seem to remember much after the shock wears off.”
“And those bozos never even saw me.” I shrugged, with a sly grin. “Invisibility has its advantages.”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught Jackson shooting me an amused glance, which immediately made me look away, self-conscious. My face flushed red, as I couldn’t help but recall my highly inappropriate (but highly enjoyable) secret visit to his bedroom yesterday afternoon. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice with the exception of Jackson.
“We’ll be fine,” proclaimed Oliver with a newfound assurance he hadn’t possessed that day I first met him. “You should hit the road, Maya. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”
“Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I would’ve done if . . .” Maya couldn’t finish her thought she was so overwhelmed with emotion.
“Hey. No good-byes,” I insisted, looking at Maya, surprised that I had actually grown pretty fond of her.
“Yeah. Everyone knows they suck,” Oliver said dismissively.
“Drive safely,” Jackson said, avoiding any emotion. “And make sure you shift into fourth when you hit thirty-five.”
“Got it.” Maya nodded.
She then inhaled deeply, opened the Mustang front door, and slid right into the driver’s seat. I could tell by her smile she liked the soft leather bucket seat. She slipped the key into the ignition and started the engine. Jackson’s baby purred to life.
“Chicago, here I come,” Maya said, shifting the transmission into first gear.
She gave us a quick wave before pulling out of the parking lot and driving Jackson’s Mustang off into the darkness . . . and hopefully to safety.
“Think she’ll be okay?” Jackson asked as his Mustang’s taillights got smaller and smaller, receding from view.
“I do,” I asserted, knowing that Maya was a lot tougher than she let on. And so was I.
“What about us?” Oliver probed, looking at Jackson and me. “You think we should’ve left town with Maya?”
“Let’s go home and find out,” Jackson said, heading toward the street, ready to take on whatever came his way.
I looked at Oliver and shrugged. There was no way for us to know what would happen next, but standing around all night in the school parking lot was definitely not an option. Oliver nodded back, uncertain but prepared to face the inevitable blowback, whatever that might be.
• • •
Jackson and I delivered Oliver safely to the end of his driveway less than ten minutes later without incident. In fact the streets of Barrington seemed eerily deserted, way more than usual. On foot the three of us never encountered a single Bar Tech vehicle, which I attributed to a bit of good luck, not to mention clever maneuvering through neighbors’ backyards and side streets. Or perhaps it was because of something else that I wasn’t even aware of? Whatever the reason, I wasn’t concerned. The only thing on my mind at that moment was exactly what I would say to my father when I saw him again. I looked at Oliver and could tell by his fretful smile that maybe he was feeling the same thing.
The lights were on in every room of Oliver’s house. I even saw his mother sitting in the living room watching a big flat-screen television. Waiting for her son to return. On the surface the scene probably looked no different from a million other homes across America where parents patiently waited for their kids to return home, eager to hear about how their day had gone in school.
The difference here was that Oliver’s mom had been anxiously waiting for her beloved son to return home all day. Her apprehension was apparent even to me standing way out in the street. I could read her tense body language, the way she sat perched on the edge of the sofa, as if she were preparing to jump off a ledge. It told me that deep down in her soul she knew that Oliver had changed. He was no longer the same happy-go-lucky, unquestioning geek whom she had raised for sixteen years.
Oliver was changing—had already changed—in more ways than even she knew. He had challenged his mother and taken on the town’s status quo. And he had even dared to challenge his own personal history, beginning with his father’s identity, which now was no longer a mystery. Richard Cochran was Oliver’s father. Chase Cochran was his half brother. What that meant for Oliver’s future I didn’t know. And neither did Oliver.
What I did know was that Oliver hadn’t yet fully processed any of it, let alone the physical changes to his body. I certainly hadn’t processed the changes I’d undergone either. Not fully. Which was one of the main reasons why I wasn’t ready to leave town just yet. I had questions I wanted answered. So did Jackson and Oliver. More importantly, I had unfinished business with my father. Today’s events had thrown even more uncertainty into an already volatile mix.
So I wasn’t at all surprised that Oliver’s mother seemed so unsettled at that particular moment. I imagined that my own father and Jackson’s p
arents were feeling that way too. All I knew for certain was that I felt strong enough to find out.
“Well . . . here goes nothing,” Oliver quipped after exhaling audibly. He padded up the driveway toward the front door.
“See you in the morning at my house, dude?” Jackson suggested hopefully. “Be prepared to leave . . . just in case.”
Oliver turned and saluted before taking out his key and unlocking the front door of his house. As he entered the house, I heard Oliver say, “Mom, I’m home.”
“Will we? See him?” I asked Jackson warily as I watched Oliver’s mom embrace her son through the window. She was visibly relieved to see Oliver had returned unharmed.
Jackson just looked at me and shook his head, having no easy answers. In spite of all the newfound power my friends and I possessed, our parents still wielded tremendous power over our lives. Which meant I was vulnerable along with Oliver and Jackson. True, we might have gotten Maya out of harm’s way for the time being, but there really were no guarantees that we’d be safe too. As far as my future—our future—it was a vast unknown. To be determined . . .
Suddenly a pair of blinding headlights appeared down the road, catching Jackson and me unaware. It was Bar Tech Security, and they were heading straight toward us, flashing their high beams.
Just as the lights were about to expose us, Jackson grabbed my hand, yanking me away from Oliver’s house and out of sight of the oncoming vehicle. It wasn’t clear whether the guards in the car actually saw us, but Jackson and I weren’t about to take any chances.
The two of us darted across the backyard of the neighboring house, moving as stealthily as possible. We hopped over several fences, skirted around trash bins, and crisscrossed at least a dozen other backyards until we were several blocks away from Oliver’s house. It seemed as though we had ditched our tail and were finally in the clear. Until I spotted the rogue vehicle passing through the intersection, turning at the next corner, and heading up the block.
Jackson and I quickly backtracked a street or two and decided to lie low for a few minutes. I hoped the car would eventually move on to another neighborhood. It methodically cruised up and down each block, flashing its searchlight across front yards and through the trees.
The two of us hid silently among a grove of spruce trees. Side by side, our bodies wedged close together, barely touching. I felt the hair on Jackson’s muscled arms lightly graze the top of my hands. It was soft and tickled my skin. I couldn’t help but let out a tiny laugh.
“You okay?” Jackson whispered.
“Yeah.” I nodded, suddenly having an inappropriate case of the giggles. “Sorry. It’s just . . .”
Maybe I was just overtired, or maybe it was the culmination of the strangest day of my life, but I couldn’t stop giggling. All my pent-up emotion was finally bubbling to the surface, and I couldn’t contain it. I watched Jackson’s strong jaw set and neck muscles tauten. He was really getting pissed.
“Shhhh,” he ordered, shaking his head, his anger brimming. Which only made me giggle some more. I couldn’t stop myself.
Suddenly I heard the cruiser riding up the street. Its search beam scanned the trees where we were hiding. Before I could even react, Jackson pulled me into his arms, just seconds before the beam was about to expose me.
And then Jackson kissed me. Deep. Hard. Jackson’s mouth tasted sweet and just a little bit salty. I got so lost in the moment that my giggling immediately ceased, replaced by an overwhelming heat and desire to rip his clothes off right then and there. And unlike our prior kiss, this one felt different. This time I felt an equal desire rising up from Jackson. Like he really wanted me too.
Even after the squad car had driven down the block and disappeared around the corner, Jackson didn’t stop kissing me. And I didn’t stop kissing him. I let his hands discover the curves of my body the same way mine were discovering the taut contours of his sculpted torso. I had fantasized about this moment for so long I couldn’t believe it was actually happening to me. In the middle of a thicket of evergreens, of all places . . .
I didn’t want to second-guess what was happening or why it was happening to me. I just shoved all rationality aside. I wasn’t going to worry about any of the reasons why this might be a really bad idea (for instance, Jackson’s lingering feelings for Dana Fox). At that moment I was giving myself over to Jackson and to all these powerful feelings I had stifled for so long. And he was doing the same.
The simple truth was that I was in love with Jackson. I had been since I’d arrived a month ago. And in the heat of that moment I actually started to believe that he was allowing himself to feel something very real about me, too. He didn’t need to shock me with his power for me to feel the electricity the two of us were generating together.
My hands shook as I unbuttoned Jackson’s shirt and he unbuttoned mine. But our arms got tangled up in the sleeves as we tried to pull our shirts off each other. Not my most graceful moment. I was trembling and felt so nervous. We both started laughing at the crazy circumstances of trying to undress when surrounded by evergreens with large branches and very sharp needles. It was definitely not the most conducive place to make love.
Just then a blaze of yard lights flared on, interrupting our moment. From one of the nearby houses I heard a door slam and someone yell, “Who’s out there?” The man sounded angry.
“Shit,” I whispered, cringing at the thought of being caught with half my clothes off.
“Hurry,” Jackson replied, grabbing me and whisking me through the trees before the guy discovered us.
• • •
Jackson and I pulled our clothes on as we ran through the streets, laughing at the absurdity of our situation. It might be the end of the world for all we knew. But as we turned up my block, he took my hand, and we strolled back toward my house, just like boyfriend and girlfriend. I looked at him and smiled. The moment felt so ordinary . . . so normal . . . so wonderful.
And yet I couldn’t help but think about my mother at that moment. I wondered if this was the sort of ordinary (but special) moment Lydia had hoped I’d experience by moving to Barrington. Was this secretly what she’d had in mind when she’d conspired to send me to live with my father? Whatever my mother’s reasons had been, at that particular moment, walking hand in hand with Jackson, I felt blissfully happy. All my fears and the other crap I had to deal with seemed to fade away for those few moments.
Jackson walked me to the back door of my house like we had been out on a date. I took out my house key. We stood there staring at each other.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yeah,” I replied, nodding my head, looking up at the house. I didn’t see any lights on, though my father’s car was parked in the driveway. “How about you?”
“Yeah,” Jackson said with a smile, uncharacteristically nervous.
Suddenly I felt my pessimism rear its ugly head as I was filled with all sorts of doubts and insecurities. I couldn’t help but question whether he was regretting what had happened between us back among the trees. Then his hand touched my arm affectionately. He smiled at me. Regret seemed to be the last thing from his mind. At that moment he seemed just like any other high school boy saying good night to his girlfriend. I didn’t want to risk him changing his mind, so I thought it was time to go inside and end the day on a high note.
“Well I guess I should . . . ,” I whispered, gesturing at the door. I hoped I could quietly slip inside and avoid a major scene with my father.
“Yeah,” Jackson responded. “Text me if you need anything.”
“You too,” I snapped back. “I’m a light sleeper. So what are we going to do tomorrow? Stay? Leave? Alert the media?”
“Beats me,” Jackson joked with a shrug. “Wing it, I guess.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I grinned, feeling as though I could take on the world—or Barrington, at least—with Jackson at my side.
Jackson then leaned in for a final good-night kiss. I leaned
in to meet him. Our lips softly touched. He held me in his arms. It was sweet and tender.
“Better go home. Curfew starts in fifteen minutes,” I reminded him, even though I didn’t want him to leave.
“Night, Nica” were Jackson’s parting words to me as he touched my hand. “Call me if anything . . .”
“I will.” I nodded, assuring him.
Jackson then turned around and trudged down the driveway.
“Night,” I called back with a half wave of my hand. Jackson looked back one final time, waved, then continued walking to the street.
I waited until Jackson disappeared down the block before going inside, bracing myself for the eventual inquisition and third degree from my father. Beyond that I had no clue what was going to happen.
• • •
I stood in the kitchen in the dark. The house was eerily quiet. Was it possible my father had gone to bed already?
I crept up the stairs to the second floor, where I heard him speaking on the phone to someone in a hushed voice. Instead of just disappearing into my room and hiding under the bedcovers, I listened outside my father’s study, eavesdropping on his clandestine conversation.
“Things are at a very dangerous stage,” Dad muttered to the unknown person on the other end of the line. “It’s too early to predict the outcome. I need time to do more testing.”
I held my breath and tiptoed closer to the door, which was slightly ajar, carefully avoiding the sliver of light from the study that illuminated the hallway. I clearly saw my father sifting through confidential files from his locked cabinets.
“It’s not clear what he’s up to,” my dad continued, “or who’s involved.”
Oh my God. It sounded like my father was talking about Jackson to Richard Cochran. I took out my new disposable cell, ready to warn Jackson. Perhaps we needed to leave Barrington before morning after all.
My initial impulse was to retreat away from the study and run, but then something deep within me made me stop. Was it anger? Or blind rage? Or just massive stupidity on my part? I didn’t have a clue—just an overwhelming compulsion to confront my father head-on and stare him in the eye. Next thing I knew I was pushing open the door of my father’s study. My dad looked up in surprise to find me standing in the doorway. Defiant. Demanding answers. Ready to have it out with him.
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