“I want more than that and you know it.” Carson studies me, unblinking. He’s waiting for me to fold and I won’t. I can’t. The only thing I really know now is he wants her to go down. When I told myself she could escape if I just left her enough room, if I just omitted enough of her actions, I didn’t realize how stupid I was being. Wick will never escape—not with this guy so hard up to catch her.
I can’t save her. You can’t save anyone, but I can’t hand her over either. I won’t be able to live with myself. Of course, I’m not sure I can live with the holes she’s dug in me either. There’s something breathing in the dark and it points always to her.
The detective leans forward. “Wicket has to have something to do with this. There’s no other explanation for her presence.”
“You’re wrong.” I keep my face blank, open. It’s so easy to say the actual lie—protecting her from Carson will be entirely different. “Why would I lie?”
15
The sun’s low on the horizon when Carson leaves me near the school’s lower entrance. I’ve gone in and out of these doors dozens of times, but right now, all I can think about is the first time I saw Wick and what she looked like this afternoon when she asked for help.
What the hell have I gotten myself into? I grab my history and math books from the bottom of my locker, looking up when sneakers squeak against the linoleum. A dark-haired girl is power walking toward me, car keys already in hand. Lauren Cross, Wick’s best friend.
It’s not like we know each other that well, and I almost turn back to my locker, ready for her to pass—and then see my opportunity, remember it actually. If everyone’s going to be at Lauren’s party, maybe that means Wick will be too.
“Hey,” I say, spinning my combination lock.
She turns, eyes wrinkled until she recognizes me. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”
“Um, that party of yours tonight . . . Will Wick be there?”
The corner of her mouth tips up. “Maybe. Why?”
“I really need to see her.”
“Sounds desperate.”
Doesn’t it though? I grin at her, relieved when Lauren grins back, enjoying the moment. I look hard up for her friend and she likes it. That’s useful for me. “I have to tell her something important.”
“Such as?”
“School stuff.” I make sure to glance at my feet like I’m bashful, then, this time, I give Lauren a half-embarrassed grin. It makes her smile even wider. “Tell her I have the names she needed for her computer science project—the ones associated with the IP address she’s researching.”
Lauren’s eyes go a little blank. I’m pretty sure she’s heard only blah blah blah project blah blah blah. It’s not that she’s stupid. At least, I don’t think. It’s just that most people look like that when you start talking any type of technical to them. Probably for the best anyway because I don’t have the names yet, but I will. For Wick, I’ll get them.
I zip my book bag, sling it onto my shoulder. “Look, I really need to see her. Think you could talk her into coming?”
“Guess you’ll have to come and find out.”
“Guess so.” I don’t think I’ll have to though. We walk to the parking lot together, and judging from the light in Lauren’s eyes, I’d bet good money Wick will be there. Even if Lauren has to drag her kicking and screaming.
Ben brings my mom home just as I’m getting ready to leave for Lauren’s. From the looks of it, neither one of them is super thrilled about the development. Mom slams out of Ben’s cruiser like she’s on a mission and he follows along behind, mouth set in a grim line.
“He is not welcome inside.” Mom takes the front porch steps two at a time, her shoulder catching my arm as she brushes past me. “I don’t need his sanctimonious bullshit right now.”
“I’m the bullshitter?” Ben charges up the steps after her. “I’m the one who’s full of it, May?”
Mom slams the front door as a response and my cousin’s face goes purple, the vein on his forehead standing up.
Ben lunges for the doorknob and I slide in between. “Hey. Knock it off.”
“Stop shielding her! You’re only making her worse!”
“And screaming is going to make her see the light?” I bump my chest into Ben’s, holding until he finally steps back.
“Typical Griff. She screws up and you cover for her.”
My hands roll into fists. “What do you care?”
“You’re right . . . I don’t.” Ben’s shoulders relax. He retreats one step and then another. “And you know what? Eventually, you won’t either. She’s going to take it right out of you. But by the time you realize May’s nothing more than a drain, it’ll be too late. There will be nothing left.”
I swallow. “Just go, Ben.”
“You know I’m right.”
“I know you’re saying that only because you think I won’t hit you, and you’re wrong. Leave now.”
“Gladly.”
But even after Ben’s gone, I can’t bring myself to go inside. He’s right. What she needs . . . I don’t have it in me anymore. I did once.
The door creaks open. “Griff?” Mom asks.
“How long have you been there?”