The Outliers (The Outliers, #1)(29)

He links his fingers through hers but keeps his eyes on the road. He’ll forgive her, but not yet. And there they are again, my mom and dad. At least like they always were, up until those few weeks before my mom died when all they did was bicker.

I look away from their hands to the shadowy outlines of the buildings passing in the darkness. A farm equipment rental store, a shuttered ice cream shop, a hardware store, a meat market. All of them are dark and deserted at this hour. Some of them shut for good or the season maybe. Past them is the motel, long and low, its small parking lot glowing eerily under a single streetlight. A TV flashes on and off in one of the rooms, but the rest are all pitch black. I’ve never been to this part of New Hampshire before, far away from the seaside resorts and the beautiful national parks, but it’s creepier than I would have thought. I shudder hard, which makes Jasper turn. I avoid looking back at him and instead stare down at my phone. Already, my chest feels tighter, and so does my stomach.

U OK? I write to Cassie as we drive on. Car trouble slowed us a little. But we’re back on the road. B there as soon as we can. No police.

I wait for an answer. But there’s nothing.

??? I type.

Wait again. Still no answer. Maybe I shouldn’t have even mentioned the car trouble. I look up and feel worse when I meet Jasper’s eyes. He’s worried, too. Not as worried as me, maybe—that would be stiff competition—but more worried than I want him to be. I look back to the window. The buildings are gone, so I try instead to count the trees. Focus on the details, the little things. But soon, it’s so dark. The woods are just a thick and shapeless mass. There is nothing left for me to hold on to. Had I really convinced myself that an actual emergency meant my anxiety had been banished? What stupid, wishful thinking. My anxiety has always had a mind of its own. And that mind is exceptionally tenacious.

“What’s the meteor shower you’re going to see?” Jasper asks.

Good. Yes, talking. Something to think about other than my insides twisting themselves into a knot.

Doug’s eyes flick up to the rearview, then narrow. Is he annoyed by Jasper’s question? I can’t tell. “You familiar with astronomy?”

Be careful, I want to say. Don’t push our luck. But Jasper doesn’t notice. His eyes are locked outside on the darkness.

Jasper shrugs. “Does having a telescope when I was seven count?”

“Big Dipper?” Doug asks.

“Come on, man,” Jasper says with a genuine smile. “Give me some credit. Orion’s Belt. And Cass-something. I can’t remember.”

“Cassiopeia,” Doug says, his voice softening a little. “Not bad for a seven-year-old.”

“We lived on this hill near the beach.” Jasper sounds like he misses it. A lot. “The sky went on forever.”

“We’re going to see the Eta Aquarids,” Lexi says, her hand moving to the back of Doug’s neck. “If you don’t believe in God after seeing something like that, you never will.”

“So you just go there and, what? Watch it?” Jasper asks.

“Just?” Doug asks, and with an edge again. Shut up, Jasper, I want to say. This is not the time for his aw-shucks, stereotype-defying curiosity.

“I meant, what are you looking for?”

“You always wanted someone to mentor, Doug,” Lexi says playfully. “Sounds like you have a budding astronomer back there.”

“Not exactly. I like astronomy, but I’m going to law school. Public defender,” Jasper says, because he can’t just be polite and go along with anything, apparently. “My dad’s in prison for something he didn’t do because he had a terrible lawyer.”

“Oh, wow,” Doug says, looking over at Lexi like: what the hell did you get us into? We are in the backseat with his baby, after all. “What was he convicted of?”

“You’re not supposed to ask that.” Lexi swats at him. “It’s none of our business.”

“That’s okay,” Jasper says. “Aggravated assault. Like I said, he didn’t do it. His lawyer didn’t call half the witnesses he should have. Really basic stuff.”

“Well then, I’m especially sorry,” Lexi says, sweet, but a little awkward. “I’ll keep him in my thoughts.”

“Are you saying you’ll pray for him, Lexi?” Doug asks sharply. “Sounds like he needs a good appellate lawyer, not some Hail Marys.”

“Forever the rationalist,” Lexi says.

This is their shtick. She’s the mystic. He’s the scientist. Like they want to show off how great their relationship is despite being so different. Almost like maybe their relationship isn’t so great after all. But I’ll play along if what they want is an audience. I’ll do whatever they want me to, as long as they keep on getting us closer to Cassie.

“I have a religion,” Doug says. “It’s called science.”

“Also known as sucking the joy out of life.” Lexi wags a finger at him. “The vast complexities of human experience reduced to dots on a graph.”

“My dad’s kind of like that,” I say, without fully meaning to. “He doesn’t believe in anything without evidence.”

“Sounds like my kind of guy.” Doug looks at me in the rearview. He seems genuinely pleased. “Scientist?”