Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(70)

“I never said you weren’t.”

“Oh,” she said, “but you’re taking a bigger risk, is that it?”

“I never said that, either,” protested Ethan, his voice rising with hers. The birds scolded them from the trees, but neither of them noticed or cared. “I just want to know why we should be completely cut out of this.”

“Because we’d get grounded until we’re eighty,” she snapped. “You said that yourself. Besides, do you think anyone would ever trust you with evidence if you were the guy who stole case files from your own uncle?”

“Hey, I didn’t steal anything. I put it all back exactly as I found it.”

“Like that will make a difference when you apply for a job.”

“And I suppose your dad’s not going to ground you?” said Ethan. “From what I heard, he’s pretty harsh.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my dad.”

“I’m just saying—”

“No. You don’t talk about him. Or anyone in my family. You don’t know him or us or anything.”

“Dana,” said Ethan, trying to step back from the moment, “I didn’t mean anything.”

She spun around and marched away.

“Whoa!” he yelled, starting after her. “You’re not supposed to go anywhere alone.”

When he caught up to her, she whirled on him and jabbed him hard in the chest with her index finger. “Back off! I don’t need you to protect me, Ethan. I can take very good care of myself, thank you very much.”

“You’re just a girl and—” he began, and then bit down on the rest.

Dana got up in his face, as much as her height would allow. She glowered up at him. “I’m just a girl and what?”

“No … no,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean…”

“Yes, you did,” she said. She stepped back, and it was like stepping off a cliff. “Yes, you did,” she repeated.

Then she turned and walked away.





CHAPTER 64

Francis Scott Key Regional High School 5:32 P.M.

Her route took her past the school.

It was quiet there, the windows dark, the parking lot empty, everything bathed in the orange glow of sodium-vapor streetlights. Dana walked past, then stopped and went to the side of the building, to where bleachers rose above the soccer field. She climbed to the fifth row, which was exactly as far as her energy would let her climb, and then she sat down hard and stared into the middle of nowhere.

She wanted to scream. That would probably feel good, but there wasn’t really a place in a town this small where someone could just let loose. She was too scared and mad to cry. So she sat with jaws clamped and fists balled.

Everything in her life felt weird and complicated and in a collision, and now this mess with Ethan. That really hurt, because she actually cared for Ethan, and now he’d done this. Now he’d shown that he was no different from any other boy, any other man. She was a girl and that meant she was less. That was what he tried not to say; but it was what came out. The world wasn’t built for girls or women. It was built by men who did not want to share. Not the power, not the money, not the advantage, not anything. It made her so mad. After all, this was 1979. Shouldn’t all this have been solved by now?

“?Qué pasa, mai?”

She lifted her face from her hands and looked down to see Angelo standing at the foot of the bleachers. He was dressed in his janitor clothes, a blue sweat rag tied around his forehead.

“Go away,” she said.

“No,” he said, “I don’t think I will.”

“Look, I just want to be alone, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, but he didn’t move.

“Did you hear me?”

“Sure,” said Angelo, “I heard. But you’re sitting here all alone in the dark, looking like you want to strangle someone.”

“It’s none of your business.”

He placed a foot on the bottom bleacher and rested his crossed forearms on it, looking up at her. His forearms and hands were very tanned, except for some small pink scars and a paler band where he usually wore a wristwatch. “Maybe not, chica, but I’m here anyway. So are you. If there’s something wrong, maybe I can help.”

“You can’t.”

He smiled. “How do you know? I’m a good listener.”

“You’re a guy,” she said.

“Last time I checked, sí.”

“Then no thanks.”

“Ah,” he said. He straightened and climbed the steps. When she tensed, he shifted to sit well apart from her. “Not trying to make problems, chica. I see you at Beyond Beyond all the time. You’ve been talking with La Bruja a lot.”

“Who?”

“Corinda. The witch.”

“She’s not a witch.”

“I know, I know. She’s a psychic. I work there. I get it.” Even so, he shook his head. “She thinks she knows everything, but she don’t know much. Not the way she says. She’s a—”

“She’s my friend.”

Angelo inhaled through his nose, then exhaled slowly. “Okay. Got it. Keep my opinions to myself. What do I know, anyway? I’m just a wetback working two jobs for crap wages. Who am I?”