From across the RV’s small living room, Arrow stares at me with his eyes squinted in disbelief. His mouth quirks into a half smile, like he’s hoping what I said is a joke, but worried it’s not.
“She’s coming with us,” I repeat. I turn in my desk chair and pretend to be busy clicking through some music downloads, trying to look as casual as possible. Maybe if I approach this like it’s a completely normal subject, then Arrow will believe it is normal. And maybe I’ll start believing it, too.
Yeah, right. It’s pretty obvious Ali somehow broke my brain, and it’s going to take more than a little pretending to fix it.
I stare out the window above my desk, watching the sunrise. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to tell Arrow. It’s barely eight o’clock, and no one in the band is ever happy after waking up early. But Ali will be here in just a couple hours, and that means telling the others about her can’t wait.
Arrow sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Twice. It’s a good thing he wears that I-just-rolled-out-of-bed style, or else his hair would be a mess, and Killer’s fashion radar would go off and wake him up. Killer’s asleep on the couch, his head in Arrow’s lap and his mouth lolled open. He really should be awake for this conversation, but I know better than to try rousing Killer when he’s napping off a hangover.
“You’re serious?” Arrow asks me a little too loudly. Killer stirs, his glasses slipping off his nose and clattering to the floor. He mumbles something in his sleep and nuzzles closer to his boyfriend. Arrow doesn’t notice any of this; he’s gawking at me like I just announced I’m pregnant.
“Oh, come on, dude,” I mutter. “It’s not that shocking.”
Arrow shakes his head and laces his fingers behind his head, like he’s trying to keep it from exploding. “But . . . she’s deaf.”
“I know.”
“You publicly gave her the finger. No, two fingers.”
“I know.”
“And now she’s suddenly tagging along? All the way to New York?”
“I already told you. Yes, she’s coming. And, no, you’re not going to change my mind.”
Arrow pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he thinks he can physically hold back a headache. “This is a bad idea, Jace. No, a terrible one. Inviting an underage girl to travel along with us? Hell, are you trying to get arrested?”
“It’s not like anything is going to happen between us. This is about helping her and nothing else. She’s in trouble.”
Arrow groans. “What, did you knock her up or something?”
“Of course not,” I snap.
Arrow gives me a disbelieving look and crosses his arms over his chest. Great. Every second I stay silent, his suspicions are just going to get bigger. I shake my head and quietly say, “She’s being abused. Honestly, I don’t know much about it, but she’s got bruises all over. That’s why I offered to help her get away.”
“How old is she exactly?” Arrow demands, although he speaks slower, like he’s finally starting to consider what I’m saying.
“Seventeen.”
“Then she shouldn’t have any trouble getting away on her own.”
“She says her dad’s a police chief. According to her, he won’t just let her escape.”
Arrow throws his hands up in the air. “Are you hearing yourself? ‘She says.’ ‘According to her.’ How do you know this girl isn’t just some rabid fan who’s lying to you?”
I cross my own arms over my chest, mimicking Arrow’s defensive position. “Well, for one, she’s deaf.”
“We have deaf fans.”
“Seriously? Rabid deaf fans?”
Arrow looks away and mutters something, but doesn’t bother with a real argument. An awkward silence passes, filled only with both of our heavy breaths and Killer’s quiet snores. Then I hesitantly say, “It’s just a couple months, Arrow.”
Arrow scoffs. “Jace, thousands of girls attend our concerts every year, and I’m sure lots of them have abusive boyfriends or families. What makes this one girl so special?”
“Because she . . .”
I trail off, not wanting to say what’s on the tip of my tongue: Because she looks like me. That look in her eyes, of fear and anger and self-loathing, is the same one I see every time I glance in the mirror. Well, the same one I used to see. All that’s there now is the blank stare I’ve mastered over the years. But Ali hasn’t mastered that expression, because she hasn’t escaped yet.
Because I haven’t helped yet.
Arrow raises an eyebrow at me. “What? Because she what?”
“Because I know she’s in trouble,” I snap. “I know that look. You know that look.”
He flinches. I do, too. We avoid each other’s eyes for a long moment, as if we’re both afraid we’ll see the past reflected there.
“Fine,” Arrow finally says, his words emerging slowly. “The deaf girl can come.”