“I can meet you in Forgetown, at Otis and Parker’s place. Would that be better? I was planning to go there for the weekend.”
This is what I want, I realize. It feels huge to admit it, like I’m letting a hammer break out of a block of ice. “Okay,” I say. Take that, Berg. I’m coming to town.
Linus laughs. “Really? Good. I’m so glad. You sound a little tired. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Berg said something strange to me, like he let me out of the vault on purpose.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know, but there hasn’t been any news about me,” I say. “I don’t think he wants anything contradicting his story that he’s taking care of me.”
“I know what you mean,” Linus says. “I went to see Portia and Jenny. They wouldn’t say anything about you. I think they were bought off. I think Berg doesn’t want the public to know that you’re missing.”
So Linus tracked down Portia and Jenny. I wonder if he’s trying to get me to confirm I was with them. What else does he know?
“Rosie?” he asks.
“I’m here.”
“Have you talked to your parents?”
I get the sense he thinks I should. I don’t want to. I frown as a drop on the windshield merges with another. “No.”
“That girl Althea called me again,” he says. “She wants to talk to you.”
“I don’t give a crap about that girl,” I say, annoyed. “She’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Okay. I’m sorry,” Linus says.
Confusion is churning in me, and I flip on the windshield wipers so they cut through the raindrops.
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “It’ll be better when we can talk in person.”
“Will it?” I ask.
His voice is slow in coming. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t know. Except that it has to do with before. “You made me doubt myself, that last time we talked at Forge. You left for St. Louis like you didn’t care, but then you came back to look for me. Why?”
“Because I did care about you, obviously,” he says. “I watched you sign that contract with Berg, and I knew that wasn’t good. It was my fault for making you admit what you thought to the cameras on the show. That’s what got you in so much trouble.”
“Then did you believe me about the mining or not? I still don’t understand.”
“I believed you enough to go down the clock tower pit and look for the vault of dreamers,” he says. “Give me credit for that, at least.”
I can’t quite voice the next question, the obvious one: do you believe me now? That’s the question that leads back to why he still hasn’t done anything to expose Berg.
My throat feels achy. “How well did we ever really know each other?”
“I can only speak for myself,” he says quietly. “I used to talk to you more honestly than I have ever talked to anybody else. I miss that. Don’t you?”
I hold my phone tightly and nod out at the rain. He doesn’t sound like a TV star tonight. He sounds real. “Yes,” I say finally. “See you soon.”
We say goodbye. Before Berg can call me, I drive to the nearest recycling bin and chuck my phone out the window.
*
Late the next evening, near nightfall, I drive into Forgetown, Kansas, and unroll my window an inch. I’ve left the rain far behind, and the familiar smell of dry prairie blows into the Fit. The towers and buildings of the Forge School loom darkly on the slope to the west. It’s after hours. The students sleep. A light shines from a top window of the dean’s tower, where Berg lives in his penthouse like an evil lord who controls all he surveys.
I turn away from campus, driving slowly along the shadowed streets of Forgetown. Even though it’s Saturday, it’s quiet. Most of the people who live here work at the school, and their schedules revolve around the daily timing of the show, which knows no weekends. I forgot to ask Linus for an address. In theory, I know where he stays because he pointed out the little gray house once when we were up in the lookout tower with Otis, but the angle is different from street level, and even though it’s a small town, it takes me a few passes to find the right house.
I check for Ian’s Jeep, just in case. It isn’t there, and I don’t see any other suspicious cars, either. Berg might have cameras aimed at Linus’s house, but I’m hoping they won’t pick up much in the dark. I park near the end of the block, take my jacket and a bag with a few of Sammi’s clothes, and walk up the dark alley behind his place. An old golden retriever wags her tail and pants at me through a metal fence as I approach.
“Hey, girl,” I say, keeping my voice low. I open the latch on the gate and go in, crouching down to pet her head and shoulders. “Good dog. Good Molly.”
She sniffs my pocket where I have the vials and syringes.
“Nothing for you in there,” I say.
I stay low, peering up at the house. I could call Linus, but I don’t want to clue in Berg that Linus is getting a call from another new number. A bank of lit windows reveals a kitchen at the back of the house. I can’t see anyone inside, so I wait, studying the place. This is Otis and Parker’s home, where Linus started living when he was fourteen, after his time on the streets of St. Louis. He must have played catch with Molly in this very backyard. My stomach growls with hunger. Molly gets bored with me and wanders away.
In time, a light goes on upstairs, and Linus reaches up for a window shade. My stupid, hammering heart charges around like wild. He’s right there. In the house. Right now. I see his dark hair, straight nose, and brown shirt. Then the shade comes down. I grin in the darkness, shocked by how powerful my reaction is. Clearly coming here was the right thing to do.
I scratch around in the grass for a pebble to throw. This gets Molly interested. She comes back to me and barks.
“Shh!” I say.
She barks again.
Above, the shade rolls back up, and the window opens.
“Molly!” Linus calls. “Keep it down out there!”
Molly wags her tail. She barks once more, proudly.
I push back my hood and lift a hand in a silent wave. Linus ducks to put his head out. He squints a moment, and then he smiles. I’m shredded. He lifts a finger to his lips. Then he goes back in, and the window closes. I stay where I am, with a hand on Molly’s warm head. My heart lifts with anticipation. Soon the lights in the kitchen go off. Another minute later, he opens the back door and beckons us in.
Molly darts up the steps and wedges past his knees. I come a little more slowly into the dim kitchen, happy and shy, and a bit thrown by my reaction to him. Linus closes the door behind me with a soft click. Chili is simmering nearby, emitting a savory fragrance. Molly laps water noisily in the corner. I clutch my bag in both hands. For a moment, Linus silently looks at me. Then he shakes his head with a smile.
“Come with me. Be quiet,” he says.