I slip into school between fourth and fifth periods. Considering I’ve missed almost three hours of class, I’m half expecting Principal Matthews to be waiting, but either I’m lucky or he’s busy because I get in without any difficulty.
Tomorrow will be a different story. I’ll need an excuse and I spend a few hours in my room, trying to decide on one. I’m known for migraines so that would work. If I play the role of Tragedy Girl, I could claim a panic attack.
A branch taps the window. Griff. I spin my desk chair and . . . he’s not there. It’s just the wind kicking around. He must not be coming.
I could go to him.
“Bren?” I stick my head into the hallway, listen to my adoptive mom typing on the computer she keeps in her bedroom. There’s no way she’ll let me go to Griff’s place. She hates the neighborhood so . . . “Could I go to Lauren’s for a bit?”
I cross my fingers, praying Bren hasn’t heard about Lauren staying home from school to care for her mom. “I need some help with homework.”
“Sure, honey. Are you okay to walk? I have to take Lily to ballet in—oh, shoot—twenty minutes. I could drop you off on our way.”
“I’ll walk. No worries.” Bren doesn’t respond, but I can feel her objections coming on so I stuff my feet into tennis shoes and hustle out of the house. The schizophrenic winter weather has warmed, making the walk almost pleasant. I know exactly where I’m going. Griff and I lived a street apart for a few years and, even though I’ve never been there, I know which trailer he shares with his mom.
I’m just not quite sure how to announce myself once I arrive.
It ends up not mattering though because Griff’s under the carport, working on his Honda motorcycle. As soon as my sneakers hit the gravel drive, he puts down his wrench, watching me walk out of the dark like he’s been waiting.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I hesitate. I’m doing that a lot lately with him and I hate it. “I wanted to see you.”
Griff gets up, wiping both hands on his black jeans. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing right now, Wick.”
A kick to my stomach and I ignore it. “I wanted to tell you Carson’s given me one last job. If I do it, I’m out. I’m done.”
I’m an idiot. I’ve just laid my words at his feet like the pathetic little girl I am, that I’ve turned into. I’m done is lying there like a gift and I’m standing there like a moron.
Under the orangey carport light, Griff’s eyes are electric green. “What’s the job?”
“Break into Ed Price’s office. I found the hacker that called off Bay’s security guards. He was also hired to find some pictures that were sent to Price. They’re supposed to be in the guy’s office. If I get them, I’m done.”
“How are you going to do it?”
“Carson’s working out the details, but he’s going to have the security system disabled. After that, it’s easy. In and out.”
Griff nods. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No.”
“Are you still mad at me about the YouTube thing?”
“I’m still trying to understand you.” A door slams inside the trailer, startling both of us. Griff’s head dips, shifting the light on his face so his eyes turn into gouged-out holes. “Now really isn’t a good time. My mom’s . . . not well again. Can I take you home?”
“I could walk.”
“Or you could ride.” A smile walks slowly across his mouth and I know both of us are remembering the first time he talked me into riding with him.
“Yeah, sure.”
Griff cranks the motorcycle and passes me a helmet as I climb on behind him. I love this part: the speed, the touching, the way Griff guns the bike so we shoot out of the neighborhood like we’re flying. It’s great until it’s not because we get to my house too quickly and I have to tell each finger to let him go.
“You really believe Carson?” Griff asks, fastening my helmet to the back of his bike.
“Yes,” I say, and I almost leave it at that—almost—because if I’m supposed to be able to tell him everything, I’ll start with this: “He’ll have to let me go, Griff. I’m going to load a virus onto the judge’s computer. It’ll upload Carson’s digital fingerprints throughout the file system. He said his boss didn’t want him anywhere near Bay and I’m going to make it look like he was personally going through the judge’s files. Carson tries to touch me again and I’ll activate the virus. It’s the leverage we’ve been looking for.”
I waver. Did I repeat the word because it is? Or because I’m reminding Griff that leverage was his idea? I wasn’t honest with him about the YouTube stuff, about what happened. I didn’t give him a chance before, but I can now.
Griff studies me. “And the situation with your mom?”