“What?” I’m antsy, fidgety. My heart’s been beating fast ever since Dana told us about Charlie’s plan and I feel consistently lightheaded, as though I’m experiencing some low-level, steady state of shock.
“Lena,” Aubrey says, “we can beat this thing. We can outsmart Charlie. We’re better than he is. More stable. Crazy people always get impatient, make mistakes. We’ve got sanity on our side. Charlie thinks he knows us better than anyone . . . and that’s why we’re here. But we know him better than anyone—all sides of him. And we’ve changed. He doesn’t know us like he did. He brought us together, but maybe that’s what’s going to save us.”
I hope that what I’m about to say isn’t the byproduct of my panic. “You mean, we beat him at his own game?”
Aubrey nods. “You know he was able to hack. He might be able to check our email, wherever he is. So let’s lead him to us the way he led us to him. Except we’ll lead him in the wrong direction—and then we’ll spend the rest of the night doing all the things Lena and Aubrey, as Charlie knew us, would never do.” I draw my knees to my chest and think. Aubrey taps her foot while I consider the implications of what she’s saying.
“Okay,” I begin. “Let’s try to get into his head. And out of ours. We can’t go to the hostel or the airport. That’s where he’d expect us to go if we were running.”
Aubrey looks at me hard, her eyebrows furrowed.
“You’re really okay with this, though? Are you sure you’re not just . . . reacting?” she asks.
“Of course I am. I’m reacting to everything. That’s all we do, react and react and react. How do you think we got here in the first place?”
Aubrey’s voice is quiet. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m not okay.”
“You’re not the one who might only have one night left to live.”
“We’re leaving first thing tomorrow, Lena. You’ll be fine. We were never supposed to know about this—we were supposed to stay in Bangkok and walk right into whatever spidery mess he laid out for us. We have choices now. Just don’t fall apart.”
I flash her my widest grin, though inside, my heart is hammering and tears are welling up at the back of my throat and behind my eyes. If Aubrey weren’t here—if there were no one to put on a show for—I don’t know what I’d do. Aubrey’s asking me not to fall apart, and I won’t.
“I think it’s time to call home,” I say. “Shake them up a bit.” I give her a wink to show that I’m okay, I’m fine, totally! See? But she gnaws on her lower lip and shoots me a sad smile. It’s all I can do not to burst into tears. I can’t look at her anymore. I can’t stop myself from feeling like I’ve gotten the raw end of this deal. I spent three years with him, she only spent one; I fell in love, she kept her heart under wraps; I’m the one he wants to kill. She plays it safe and she stays safe. I’m the wild one, the one always getting into trouble for leaping before I look. And now it’s caught up with me. My throat tightens. I’m afraid of what I’ll sound like when I call home. I’m afraid I won’t be able to pull it off. I turn on my phone. This is the last time I’ll use it; I’m too frightened now that he’s tracking it somehow.
It rings four times. No one picks up. Then I remember: 7:30 p.m. here is 6:30 a.m. there. They’re still asleep, and their phones are on silent.
“Hi, Mom; hi, Dad,” I say into voice mail. “Hi, Cara. Hi, Chester; hi, Freud!” This last group shout-out is to Cara’s canaries. “Hope you guys are doing okay. Just wanted to let you know that, um, I’m going to be home in a few days. Don’t blame Cara, Dad. It’s my fault the flights were wrong . . . as I’m sure you’ve guessed.” I laugh at this, my eyes welling. “I can’t wait to see you guys in a few days. We have midnight flights on Thursday,” I say, hoping there’s a flight that really exists around that time. “I’ve missed you a lot. Please trust me—there are just a few things out here I need to take care of. I met Charlie’s brother, and he’s great. We’re safe with him. Later today Aubrey and I are going to Chatuchak. And we’re going on a riverfront cruise,” I say, improvising. “Remember how you told me you guys loved that on your anniversary? We might even get foot massages.” I pause, trying to breathe. I’m rambling, and it’s got to be sounding weird to both my family and Charlie, if he’s listening. I want to say a proper goodbye, something profound, but when I open my mouth I find that I can’t. I need to stay breezy and casual as always, or Charlie will be suspicious.
“Anyway, I’ll see you at Logan on Thursday,” I say keeping it upbeat. “Can’t wait! I’m—I’m sorry . . . to—” There’s a long beep and the message cuts off. I was going to say, I’m sorry to put you through all this. I just hope I have the chance to say it in person. I hand the phone, with clammy palms, to Aubrey. “You should call yours too,” I tell her.