“But this one, they threw away like it didn’t matter. It was broken. Faded and chipped, an ugly brown color that probably didn’t look so good with the other brightly painted horses and animals on the carousel. Have you been on that merry-go-round?” His gaze met mine and I nodded. “It’s bright and loud, with the bells and the buzzer and music. This guy didn’t fit in.”
I had this weird feeling he wasn’t talking about the horse anymore. He was talking about himself.
“We need to go,” he said, sounding irritated. He gave one last, longing glance toward the horse and then we left. He led me to the gate and opened it, indicating I should walk through it first, and I did, my chest tight, my gaze sharp. A tiny piece of me was afraid this could be a trap. He might be leading me to my doom.
We were in a neighborhood, lines of small houses seemingly stacked nearly on top of each other, in neat little rows. The yards were nothing more than weeds; old cars sat parked in driveways or along the street. Rusted metal bars covered most of the tiny windows on the houses, keeping the bad guys out or the good guys in, I’m not sure which.
No kids played outside, no voices carried from backyards or from within the tiny houses. It was eerily quiet, the sun bathing the sky in an orange-pinkish glow as it slowly settled in the west. We trudged uphill, Will keeping his pace even and measured, me trying my best to stay with him, but I was already tired. Exhausted. In pain.
Ready to give up and we’d barely started.
Once we reached the top of the hill, I realized where we were. Not far from the main drag that led straight down to the beach and the boardwalk. I glanced over my shoulder, my breath catching in my throat when I saw the ocean, the sun a yellowish orange ball sinking into the rippling blue. The amusement park was already lit up, the circle of the Ferris wheel a flashing red-and-green beacon, the roller coaster’s towering path lit by white lights.
Regret hit me like a punch in the stomach. I never got to ride the roller coaster with Sarah. I never ate a deep-fried Twinkie like I wanted to, either. I didn’t get to do much of anything.
But at least I was still alive.
“It’s not much farther,” Will promised me, and I turned to look at him, saw the guilt pass over his expression. I wondered if he was lying.
Uncertainty rose within me, as well as suspicion. “Where are you taking me?” I asked. More like demanded.
“Police station.” He flicked his chin in the general direction, one that was all uphill. I seriously didn’t believe I would make it up that stupid hill. “It’s closer to downtown.”
“How close are we to downtown?”
“Not too far.” He dipped his head, his hair falling in front of his face, as if he used it like a shield.
He was lying. I could tell. “Don’t you have a cellphone?” I didn’t. Sarah did. I wished I had one. I bet Mom and Dad now wished I had one, too.
“No.” He shook his head, the slightest sneer curling his lips. “Can’t afford it.”
Without another word he started walking again and I had no choice but to go after him. We huffed and puffed up the hill—me doing more of the huffing and puffing since he was in perfectly fine shape. He hadn’t been shackled to a wall for the last few days, beaten and brutalized and fed nothing but a donut here and a bunch of cookies there, the occasional bag of Doritos accompanied by a Dr Pepper.
I hated Dr Pepper. That I was able to focus on my hatred for a certain brand of soda after everything I’d been through was probably some indication that I was in a state of shock. I didn’t know. I’d watched CSI with my parents and picked up a few criminal/police terms, but most of the time, I wasn’t paying attention.
There were a lot of things I hadn’t paid attention to that I wished I had.
“You all right?” Will called over his shoulder and I muttered a yeah in response. I winced with every step, the muscles in my calves ached, and I shivered when a cool breeze off the ocean washed over me.
Somehow, he noticed. He noticed everything, and I wasn’t sure if I should be afraid of that or not. Out came a light gray sweatshirt from his magical backpack and he handed it over. I took it from him and pulled it on, inhaling deep the scent that clung to the fabric. It smelled of laundry detergent and something else. Something unidentifiable, and I pressed my nose against the neckline, breathing it in. The sweatshirt was soft and warm, the smell comforting, and it swallowed me up, much like his shirt I wore.
“Put the hood over your head,” he told me, and I did.
“Why?” I cinched the ties so that the hood fit me tight, molded around my face.
“Your hair. It’s bright. He might . . . he might recognize you if he happens to drive by.” His voice was hesitant and I saw the wild look in his eyes. “He went in to work. He should be off soon. If he doesn’t stop off at the bar first.”
Everything within me fell. My stomach tumbled and my mouth went dry. God, I felt like I could throw up. I was foolish to believe I could be free of him. He could find me. He could find us both. For all I knew, this boy was leading me to him and I was idiot enough to follow him wherever he went. “Who is he to you?”