The Hearts We Sold(27)

“Ah.” He flashed her a grin, one that was far too chipper for eight in the morning. “Perfect.” He offered her his elbow, as if this were some old movie, but she made no move to take it.

“What are you doing?”

“At the moment, attempting to be gallant and gentlemanly. And apparently failing at it.” He dropped his arm and instead ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “Look, I’ve got to run an errand for the Daemon and this particular task is easier with more than one pair of hands. It’s not dangerous or even particularly interesting.”

She crossed her arms. “What is it?”

“Rock collecting,” he said, utterly deadpan. “Now, you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to. But I thought you might have questions you didn’t want to ask with Cora and Cal around. This would be an opportunity.”

She was about to refuse him—but James was smiling, so hopeful, and it suddenly occurred to her that he didn’t want to run this errand alone. He wanted someone with him.

Dee was too well acquainted with loneliness not to recognize it in another.

She sighed. So much for her relaxing Saturday.





They drove out of Portland. She watched the familiar sights slide by, in hues of gray and blue and green. Portland was a sprawl of city encroaching on tangled suburbs, but she liked it. There was a quiet hum of activity, a sense that there was always something going on beneath the surface. She rapped her fingers absentmindedly on the car’s door as James drove. He was a restful car companion—he didn’t blast the radio or try to roll down the windows.

“Where are we going?” Dee asked.

“A park,” he answered. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you back long before curfew.” He slid her a look, then his gaze went back to the road. “Speaking of which—you managed to get into your dorm all right after that void?”

Dee grimaced.

She hadn’t, actually. Cora had dropped her off at the gate and Dee had snuck through the brambles and bushes, and slipped on a patch of moss. Knees muddied, hair even frizzier than usual, she had nearly managed to get into her dorm—until a teacher spotted her.

Dee had made up some quick story about needing samples of pond water for a biology experiment—and thankfully she’d been let off with a warning.

She explained as much.

“Ah, boarding school,” said James, smiling. He glanced over his shoulder, then merged into a faster lane. They were southbound, heading down I-5. “That’s kind of cool. The only boarding school I know about is Hogwarts.”

“You are aware that Harry Potter isn’t real, right?”

He shrugged. “Well, I mean, in the movies the dorms looked cool.”

She shook her head. “I’ve never seen the movies.”

“You read the books, then,” he said, with a knowing little nod. “You would be a book reader.”

“I do read. But I never read Harry Potter.”

His fingers jerked on the steering wheel. “But everybody’s read those books.”

“Not me.”

He made a sound of distress. Actual distress. “I can lend you the books if you want them.”

She made no attempt to hide her own skepticism. “I don’t read fantasy.” It was too close to fairy tales. Trying to change the subject, she said, “So, are you a big reader, then? You in school?”

He laughed. “I dropped out when I was seventeen. And don’t look at me like that, I got my GED. It’s just… I didn’t really like school all that much. I went to quite a few of them. Moving around as a foster kid will do that to you.”

“Foster kid?” she repeated.

He nodded. “Parents gave me up. No idea who they were. It wasn’t terrible—I mean, I’m sure other kids had it worse. Some of the parents were fine, and others… well. It’s hard to feel like you’re wanted when you’re told you’re only there to up their paycheck. And I think I went to five different schools in as many years. After a while, I gave up. I ended up getting my GED and leaving.”

“How old are you?” she asked, confused. He didn’t feel that much older than her.

“Eighteen. Nineteen in two months.”

He pulled off the highway, taking them to one of the many state parks that bordered the Willamette. This park was situated with a parking lot and a long concrete ramp, leading into the river. Clumps of trees were clustered near several picnic tables, and there was a familiar large sign over a wastebasket, reminding them to keep Oregon clean.

James parked the car, then reached into the back and snatched up two burlap sacks. Dee frowned, confused. “And what are we doing with those?”

“I told you we were collecting rocks,” he said.

She took one of the bags and gazed at it. “I thought you were kidding.”

James began to laugh. “Come on. It’s easier with two people.”

She got out of the car and followed him toward the river. It was a rather nice day to be outdoors—streams of sunlight lit up the billowy clouds, and the greenery was still damp and fresh. The scent of the river hung heavy in the air. It being a Saturday, the park was already occupied. That made her feel safer; nothing truly bad could happen while there was a herd of toddlers trundling about like slightly drunken wildebeests. A bedraggled woman was attempting to corral them onto a worn blanket laid out on the damp grass. There was another person, a man with one of those large cameras, snapping pictures of birds in the overhead trees. And two twentysomething girls were perched on the rocks near the river, passing a cigarette back and forth.