Breaking Point (Article 5 #2)(64)

“You’re packing heat,” she asserted. “You’re like some crazy secret agent now.”

I laughed despite myself. “I’ve missed you. A lot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” But she half smiled.

“We’re trying to get to a safe house.” Eventually.

“Like the one Truck goes to?” she asked, referring to the Chicago carrier.

“He didn’t tell you where it is?” I asked. She shook her head. She had no idea what she was doing. But again, maybe it was better if she didn’t know.

“Yeah, we’re going somewhere like that. And you should too.”

“Um, sort of got responsibilities here,” she said, sounding more like herself again.

I shook my head, feeling a sharp pang of regret. “I wanted to graduate, too, but…”

She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She only did that when her feelings were hurt.

“This?” I realized. “This is your responsibility? You need to stop doing this. You should get out of town. Take your parents and your brother and go somewhere.”

“Ember, you’re freaking me out.”

I grabbed her shoulders and she flinched. “You should be freaked out!”

She stared at me unknowingly for a second before whipping away.

“It was for you!” she said, crying again. “I wanted to make sure what happened to you never happened again!”

I fell back, stung. Never again? It was like trying to explain to a child why bad things happened. I couldn’t make her understand. And worse, I thought in her shoes I wouldn’t have understood either.

“I … I know, I’m sorry. But, see, I’m okay. So you don’t have to worry about me. And you’ve got your family and yourself to look out for. Let people with less to lose risk it all.” People like me.

“Less to lose?” she said, an edge to her voice. “They took my best friend and killed her mom! What more excuse do I need to try to help?”

As much as I didn’t want to, I got that.

“How’s Ryan?” I asked, diverting her for a moment while I thought of a way to get her to see reason.

She turned toward a shadowed corner and knelt. A shine of the flashlight revealed a moving box.

“I don’t know,” she said petulantly. “I don’t care either.”

“You two broke up?” Ryan, with his studious jacket and school uniform, had had a crush on Beth since our freshman year. I had a hard time believing he wasn’t in the picture.

“Yup.”

“Wow. Why? He didn’t get drafted, did he?”

She shook her head. “He’s not a big fan of me hanging out here.”

I ignored the sharp stab of betrayal. Ryan had been my friend, too. He was there when I’d been arrested, but he wasn’t as brave, or as stupid, as Beth. He was smart. He was right.

I collapsed beside her on the floor.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about! You shouldn’t be here! I doubt your parents know or they’d have padlocked your door. What happens if Harmony’s brother turns you in? You don’t want to go to rehab, Beth, I’m serious.” If they even bring you that far.

“I’m older than you by four months,” she said sharply. “Stop lecturing me.”

I snorted. The truth was she didn’t feel older anymore. I felt older. Years and years older. I’d experienced things Beth hopefully wouldn’t for a long time, if ever.

“Here,” she said, softer now. “This is all I could save for you.”

She shoved the box into my knees, and I saw a full outfit, bra included, some silverware, half-used shampoo, a nail file, and a pre-War magazine. My fingers slid down the crinkled, waterlogged pages. My mom had liked to read these. She traded them with the ladies that volunteered at the soup kitchen. Knowing her hands had been on this, just as mine were now, provided me a small bit of comfort. I thought of the pictures Chase had, and his mother’s ring, but I wasn’t jealous. This was who she was. Someone who broke little rules she didn’t deem necessary. Someone who preferred to focus on the good and interesting things in life rather than the bleakness of our future.

“How’d you get all these clothes?” I asked.

“You left them at my house.”

Yes, I remembered now. I sometimes borrowed Beth’s washing machine and left some spare clothes to wear while the others were being cleaned. The jeans and sweatshirt weren’t my favorite, but they would fit, and so would the bra.

I gathered the clothes and the magazine and carefully tied them inside the body of the sweatshirt for later.

“He really bailed you out of reform school?” she asked, tipping her head down the hallway.

“That and a lot more.”

She sighed. “The way he looks at you … like if I twisted your arm, his would fall off or something. Ryan never looked at me like that.”

“He’s sort of protective.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Obviously.” She snorted. “You still love him, don’t you?”

I nodded. A reluctant smile spread across her face.

“Are you still a virgin?”

“Yes. Jeez.” I looked at the window at his empty house and wished he still lived there, and I still lived here, and things were as simple as him sneaking over after curfew.