9
“Who?” Bea searches between my rims, confused.
I regret bumming a ride off her. She shouldn’t be involved, but she is and now I’ve put another person in harm’s way. I take a deep breath. “He’s my brother.”
“I take it you guys don’t get along,” Bea says.
“Not exactly.” I’m glad she can’t see how I shake, because I’m seriously freaking out. Knees knocking, lip quivering, and all. Bea peeks around the corner, and I pull her back. “Don’t!”
“Calm down, he’s browsing for chips. He probably doesn’t even know you’re here.” Her hands go to her hips. “Besides, he doesn’t know who I am.”
I stare at her, shocked by the fearlessness in her eyes. “Bea, I’m sorry I can’t explain, but I have to go right now.”
She nods. “I’ll create a distraction, just in case.”
For a second I’m speechless. She can’t actually want to protect me. “No, you can’t.”
The grin on her face is positively impish. “Oh, yes, I can.” Her voice sounds exactly like mine. “It’s my specialty, actually.”
I almost choke on my words. “You don’t get it. Graham … he’s not good, Bea. He’d kill you if he found out.”
“He’s not going to find out.” Her eyes meet mine. “I knew it. You’re trying to get out of your syndicate, huh.”
First Seth and now Bea. “Is it that obvious?”
She shakes her head. “Not to people with average abilities. They don’t know what it’s like to be seen as a tool. How … hollow it makes you feel.”
“And you do?”
She looks down. “We may not work for Juan’s syndicate, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want us. You know how useful a voice contortionist can be; Juan could fabricate any sound with my voice, put out fake threats, trick people over the phone, whatever. He wants our whole family—my dad pays him off every year to keep him away. We may be poor, but it’s worth it.”
“It is,” I whisper. Paying a syndicate to ignore you isn’t new to me. Dad’s brute squad collects dues every month.
“So I’m helping, no matter what you say.”
I get this overwhelming urge to hug her, but I hold back. I never thought anyone else could relate. “Don’t use my voice. He can’t know you’ve seen me.”
She nods. “Go. Tell me you’re safe if you can?”
“Sure.” I gulp down the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Bea. You are—”
She waves me off. “Just go! I get it.”
I head for the exit, knowing I don’t have time to buy food and water like I wanted. I have to get as much distance between Graham and me as possible. He flies fast, and he won’t be at the store forever, no matter what Bea does to distract him.
As I reach the exit, a piercing scream comes from the back. I don’t turn to look, don’t stop. I have to make Bea’s risk worth it.
So I run. I run as hard as I can even though it feels like hell outside.
A few people stare. I hope they think I’m just in a hurry—at least the panic can’t show on my face. I turn onto a quieter street, but keep heading for the desert. I need to get to that run-down group of buildings I saw last week. It’s not much, but it’s shelter and it’s remote, which makes me feel safer.
I only stop when I find a green park, complete with shady trees and, most important of all, a water fountain. I drink until I can’t anymore, and I’m so desperate I fill a crinkled bottle I find on the ground. It might be gross, but I’ll be glad for it later.
Then I huddle under a bush and pull out my new phone. I curse when I realize my service hasn’t been activated yet. I don’t have time to wait around here, but who knows if I’ll get service that far from town?
I make for the desert anyway. My sandals are so not meant for running; I can already feel blisters forming around the straps. Sweat runs down my back. I almost pull my dress off, but it would only help for a second. The sun would soak into my exposed skin, sucking the water out of me faster. I look to
“Who?” Bea searches between my rims, confused.
I regret bumming a ride off her. She shouldn’t be involved, but she is and now I’ve put another person in harm’s way. I take a deep breath. “He’s my brother.”
“I take it you guys don’t get along,” Bea says.
“Not exactly.” I’m glad she can’t see how I shake, because I’m seriously freaking out. Knees knocking, lip quivering, and all. Bea peeks around the corner, and I pull her back. “Don’t!”
“Calm down, he’s browsing for chips. He probably doesn’t even know you’re here.” Her hands go to her hips. “Besides, he doesn’t know who I am.”
I stare at her, shocked by the fearlessness in her eyes. “Bea, I’m sorry I can’t explain, but I have to go right now.”
She nods. “I’ll create a distraction, just in case.”
For a second I’m speechless. She can’t actually want to protect me. “No, you can’t.”
The grin on her face is positively impish. “Oh, yes, I can.” Her voice sounds exactly like mine. “It’s my specialty, actually.”
I almost choke on my words. “You don’t get it. Graham … he’s not good, Bea. He’d kill you if he found out.”
“He’s not going to find out.” Her eyes meet mine. “I knew it. You’re trying to get out of your syndicate, huh.”
First Seth and now Bea. “Is it that obvious?”
She shakes her head. “Not to people with average abilities. They don’t know what it’s like to be seen as a tool. How … hollow it makes you feel.”
“And you do?”
She looks down. “We may not work for Juan’s syndicate, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want us. You know how useful a voice contortionist can be; Juan could fabricate any sound with my voice, put out fake threats, trick people over the phone, whatever. He wants our whole family—my dad pays him off every year to keep him away. We may be poor, but it’s worth it.”
“It is,” I whisper. Paying a syndicate to ignore you isn’t new to me. Dad’s brute squad collects dues every month.
“So I’m helping, no matter what you say.”
I get this overwhelming urge to hug her, but I hold back. I never thought anyone else could relate. “Don’t use my voice. He can’t know you’ve seen me.”
She nods. “Go. Tell me you’re safe if you can?”
“Sure.” I gulp down the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Bea. You are—”
She waves me off. “Just go! I get it.”
I head for the exit, knowing I don’t have time to buy food and water like I wanted. I have to get as much distance between Graham and me as possible. He flies fast, and he won’t be at the store forever, no matter what Bea does to distract him.
As I reach the exit, a piercing scream comes from the back. I don’t turn to look, don’t stop. I have to make Bea’s risk worth it.
So I run. I run as hard as I can even though it feels like hell outside.
A few people stare. I hope they think I’m just in a hurry—at least the panic can’t show on my face. I turn onto a quieter street, but keep heading for the desert. I need to get to that run-down group of buildings I saw last week. It’s not much, but it’s shelter and it’s remote, which makes me feel safer.
I only stop when I find a green park, complete with shady trees and, most important of all, a water fountain. I drink until I can’t anymore, and I’m so desperate I fill a crinkled bottle I find on the ground. It might be gross, but I’ll be glad for it later.
Then I huddle under a bush and pull out my new phone. I curse when I realize my service hasn’t been activated yet. I don’t have time to wait around here, but who knows if I’ll get service that far from town?
I make for the desert anyway. My sandals are so not meant for running; I can already feel blisters forming around the straps. Sweat runs down my back. I almost pull my dress off, but it would only help for a second. The sun would soak into my exposed skin, sucking the water out of me faster. I look to
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