Chapter 29

WE TAKE THE ELEVATOR down to the basement. I watch the floor numbers tick down, my racing heart urging it to go faster, faster, faster. It’s hard not to bend around the pain in my side, or grip the elevator’s railing like my life depends on it. I just press on the wound through my pocket and try to do my breathing exercises as quietly as possible. The moment Zahira notices something is wrong is the moment she takes me to the hospital instead, and I can’t afford any more setbacks.

We finally reach the basement, and as we’re opening the door to the garage, there’s a flurry of footsteps echoing down the stairwell, and goddamn Aaron bursts from the doorway.

“Wait,” he calls, out of breath. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you are not,” Zahira says, shutting the garage door.

He catches it before it fully closes and hurries ahead of us. I scowl at him. I’ve made it this far without talking to him, but I swear, if he doesn’t leave us alone—

“I can drive,” he says, still a little breathless, and it’s the first time I get the sense he has a spine.

“I can drive,” Zahira growls, trying to push past him.

“You don’t know how to drive stick-shift.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You mean the time you drove it into that rich dude’s car? That time?”

If I didn’t hate Aaron so much, I might have laughed. I keep my eyes fixed on JJ’s car, but out of the side of my mouth, I say to Zahira, “Do you want me to mess him up?”

“You have cops after you!" Aaron cries. "You have—you have people who might kill you! You think if they see you, you’ll be able to Fast & Furious your way out of it?”

“Just go away,” Zahira snaps, her clear voice echoing in the dim garage. We reach JJ’s car, but Aaron cuts in front of us, his eyes burning with the clear message of I’m not giving up.

“Go. Away,” Zahira seethes.

“Please, I want to help.”

“Go away, or I’ll let Dany mess you up.”

He frowns, his mouth half open, his eyes darting to me, and I remember that he doesn’t know about my power yet. I level him an icy look, crossing my arms.

“Look.” He presses his hands together. “I…I messed up. I know I did. And I don’t want you to think I don’t know that. But you don’t care that I apologized, and I want to…I just want you to know that…”

“Did you?” says Zahira.

“Did I what?”

“Apologize.” She shifts her weight back, her arms crossed. “Go on. Say you’re sorry.”

He opens his mouth, but seems to have to wrestle the words out. “I am.”

Zahira shakes her head. “You can’t even say it.” She shoves him aside and unlocks the car door. I round to the passenger side. I need to sit down before my side finally decides to explode.

“No, wait,” Aaron blurts, and I groan. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sorry.”

Zahira holds his gaze for a good long while. Then, slowly, she nods, like she’s still mad but knows Aaron really means it. “Good.”

She gets in the car and pulls on her seatbelt.

“Zahira, please,” he says. “Let me help.”

Zahira ignores him and tries to start the engine.

“Clutch,” Aaron says.

“I knew that,” Zahira grinds through her teeth, and peers beneath the dashboard to locate it. Eventually she manages to put the car in reverse, but when she starts to back out of the parking spot, the car lurches with a puttering sound, and I cling to the seatbelt as she cusses.

“You’re releasing the clutch too fast,” Aaron points out. At least he’s not condescending about it.

Zahira tests the clutch, inching the car back a little more, but when the engine stalls again, she stops, gripping the wheel hard with annoyance. Aaron puts his hands on his hips and lowers his head, sighing.

“Come on,” he pleads.

“Aaron,” Zahira says. “Understand something. This isn’t me trying to make you feel bad. I can’t let you drive us.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

He opens his arms, his eyes wide. “And I can help you out of that danger!”

Zahira sags back with a gnash of her teeth, but when she looks at me, the message is clear. I tip my head and groan.

“Only if you’re okay with it,” she says, as if there’s much of a choice.

“Fine,” I say. Not because I like Aaron all of a sudden, but because the pain in my side is getting serious now, and I can’t bear another second sitting here idle while it gets worse.

Zahira cusses under her breath and shoves open the door. “Alright,” she says crankily. “Get in.”

With a shower of thank you’s, Aaron slips into the driver’s seat. Zahira kicks me out of the passenger seat, and I’m stuck in the back with the trash again.

“Just so we’re clear,” Zahira says, “this doesn’t make us friends. It just means that when I speak to you, I’ll be a little less pissed.”

Aaron nods vigorously.

And then finally, finally, we’re pulling out of the garage and seeking a path to the highway. Zahira pulls out our book of maps and begins recalculating our route.

“Where am I driving to?” Aaron asks.

“Ornament City,” says Zahira. “Downtown.”

“That’s far.”

“You wanted to come,” she snaps. “What did you tell JJ, anyway?”

“The truth,” Aaron says, shrugging. “That you suck at stick-shift.”

Zahira slaps his shoulder with the atlas, and here I am, stuck being the third wheel again.

“Anywhere in downtown?” Aaron asks, glancing at me. “Or like, a specific street?”

Anywhere, I’m about to say, but when my side protests, I bite the word back. I could barely walk forty minutes down the highway. I can barely stand the pain now, even through the medicine. How long is the walk up the winding road leading into Suddence? An hour? Two?

I don’t want Aaron and Zahira to come with me. No one is supposed to know where I’m going. Leave no trace, Marisa says. But this is the only way I’ll get there.

I say, “I’m not going to Ornament City.”

Zahira gives me a look that could slice me in half. “Where, then?”

She’s angry that I lied to her, I can tell. But I don’t have the will to snap back with my excuses, so I just say, “I’m going to Suddence.”

“Suddence,” Aaron says. “Where’s that?”

I find it in the atlas for them. It’s actually a little closer than Ornament City, which seems to give Zahira some relief. Aaron does the math, and estimates we should arrive by 1 a.m.

Zahira sits back with a sigh and cuts me another look. “Alright. Come on. Spill it.” Then she adds, “All of it.”

I sink into the seat. Like the road to Suddence, all of it is long and winding and painful, but I tell it.

I tell them about Johnny McKay and the clinic and Doctor Heed and Lilian.

I tell them about our two years on the run and The Stadium Incident and The Motel Incident.

I tell them about Marisa, how she took care of me all this time, how she suddenly became sick.

But I stop when I get to the high school, my throat sore from talking and the reminder of what happened next.

Going by Zahira’s expression, she doesn’t expect me to tell this part, anyway.

“That’s it,” I say, perfectly aware of how tight my voice is. I keep my eyes fixed out the windshield, hoping the familiar sight of the road would lift the weight on my chest. “Happy?”

“That’s not exactly the word I’d use,” Zahira mutters.

To his credit, Aaron has been quiet through the whole story, but now he says, “Sparks?”

To prove it, I stick my hand between the front seats and call up a cluster of pinprick stars dancing over my palm.

“Oh,” he says weakly.

Yeah. Oh.

I sit back, releasing a long breath. The story leaves me exhausted, and so does the pain, but I don’t try to sleep. If we get spotted by cops and they give us a chase, I have to be ready. I can’t let my guard down. I’m too close to have it all be ruined by carelessness.

The first hour passes without incident.

So does the second.

By the third, Zahira is yawning, and so am I, but I keep my eyes open.

We’re almost there.

We’re almost there.