Don't Fail Me Now(27)

“You didn’t tell me your school has a bouncer,” I say. Cass rolls her eyes.

“Did they stop you?” he asks, genuinely confused in the way only a privileged white boy could be.

“Not yet, but I don’t want to give them a chance,” I say. “Can you come down the road?”

“I don’t think so,” he says with a nervous laugh. “It’s probably harder for us to get out than for you to get in. Listen, I’ll call and put you on the list. I’ll tell them you’re dropping off Leah’s math textbook—they hardly ever question academic stuff.”

“Okay,” I say, acid churning in my stomach.

“Also, what does your car look like?” he asks. “They’ll want an approximate make and model.”

“Tell them it looks like it doesn’t belong here,” I say. “Just like us.”

“I’m serious,” he says.

“So am I. It’s a 1973 Datsun that looks like shit run over twice. I’m pretty sure they’ll know it.”

Somehow we make it past security, like Annie’s grubby orphan friends sneaking into Daddy Warbucks’s mansion, and drive up to the main campus, which looks like one of those Ivy League schools on the college brochures I may or may not like to page through in my school’s library on low days.

Tim and Leah are standing in a handicapped parking spot under a big maple tree, having what looks like a heated conversation. Leah is willowy and almost as tall as Tim, with long, skinny legs that my mom would call a symptom of TTDT—Thighs That Don’t Touch—Disease. They’re both in polo shirts and khakis (him, pants; her, skirt) that look so aggressively matched they’ve got to be uniforms. As we pull up, they stop fighting and turn to stare at Goldie. Leah says something to Tim and then stays put, staring down at the toes of her black Mary Janes, as he walks up to the car. He taps on Cass’s window, but she doesn’t react, so I put the car in park and get out to meet him. The breeze smells fresh and a little bit sweet, like someone sprinkled it with cinnamon.

“Hey,” he says, grimacing a little. I look past him to Leah, who refuses to break eye contact with her shoes.

“She wasn’t in on this one, huh?”

“No. Well, she knew you might call, but she didn’t expect—it’s all just a lot for her, I think.”

I take a few lungsful of this real-life Yankee Candle air and weigh my options. I could make everyone’s life easier and just leave her out of it, get the details for the hospice like Cass wanted and then split. But for some reason I can’t shake a nagging feeling not only that we need her but that she needs us. Why else would she have made Tim drive her out to a Taco Bell in a bad part of town? Also, as far as I know, we’ve only got four living blood relatives, a number that will soon shrink by a full 25 percent. And she’s one of them. I push past Tim and walk straight up to her.

“I’m Michelle,” I say, forcing my hands to stay at my sides and not hug my chest defensively like they want to. Leah glances up at me, taking in my hair, my face, my slept-in shirt and well-worn jeans. I clench my fists, not out of anger but because I don’t want her to see my nails, chewed down to the quick—another coping mechanism I’ve relied too much on lately.

“Hi,” she says, avoiding eye contact and crossing her arms. She reminds me a lot of Cass already.

“Look,” I say. “I know we’ve never met, and this is a weird way to do it, but I feel like I should tell you that we’re going to California. To see Buck.”

Leah knits her thin blonde brows and looks over my shoulder at Tim.

“You didn’t tell me that,” she says.

“I didn’t know!” Tim appears at her side, and now I have two Children of the Corn staring me down. “You’re driving to California?” he asks incredulously.

“Yup.”

“In . . . that?” Leah asks, nodding her head at Goldie. I look back and see Denny watching us through the back window. He’s got a finger up his nose. I turn to Leah and offer a thin smile.

“Yup.” Tim and Leah exchange perplexed looks. They don’t understand why I’m here. They’ve never had to live with an escape route constantly evolving in the back of their minds. “I heard,” I say, looking pointedly at Tim, “that you might want to try to see him before he . . . you know.” Leah bites her lip. “So I figured I should come and ask if you want to come with us.”

“What?” Leah says, shock replacing her frown of confusion. “Drive cross-country? Like, today?”

Tim grabs my arm and pulls me a few feet to the left. “I thought you were going to talk to her,” he whispers.

“We are talking,” I shoot back, yanking my arm away. Behind me, I hear the car door open and know without even looking that Cass is standing on the curb now, ready to have my back if I need her. That’s what real sisters do, I think, watching Leah pout. But then it dawns on me that if Cass saw enough commotion to break her mime act and come to my defense, there might be people inside the school—people with a lot more power—ready to come to Leah’s. We have to get out of here soon.

“If you don’t wanna come, don’t come,” I say, holding up my hands. “But you’re the one who found me. I figured I should at least ask.”