Tone Deaf(22)

I’m not going to let that become me. I’m not going to let my dad destroy my future. But I know I can’t fix everything by myself, and there’s pretty much only one person who can help me at this point.

Jace.

With a shuddering breath, I pick up my phone and reply to his text. I’ll come. When do you want to meet?

I’m going to leave with him. Maybe it’s stupid, or even insane, but damn it, I don’t care. I need to get away. Sure, I have eight grand in my pocket, and I can escape temporarily with that. But there’s no way I’d last long on my own, not when I’m still a minor and my dad has every legal right to drag me back here.

Plus, as a former police chief, my dad has enough power and contacts to make escaping on my own nearly impossible. Getting past airport security would be way too risky, and even if I could board a plane without being stopped, buying a ticket would make it obvious where I was headed. I’d just be caught the second I landed in New York. Driving would make it harder to immediately track me, but a young girl traveling on her own isn’t safe. A single flat tire on an isolated road could land me in serious danger.

If I’m going to make a clean escape, I need outside help. And if Jace wants to give me the resources I need to stay under the radar, I can’t pass that up.

For a moment, I think of asking Avery to come with me to New York. I know she’d agree. She’s always wanted to go there, and she’d be a good travel buddy, and . . .

No. I’m not dragging her into this. She starts her summer job in just a few days, and after that, she’s heading straight to UCLA for college. Her future is right here in Los Angeles, with her supportive friends and loving family. And I can’t tear her away from it so carelessly.

I jump in surprise as a text pops up. But it’s from Jace, not Avery.

Meet me at the stadium’s RV lot tomorrow at 10 a.m. Come in the back way over the fence. I’ll be waiting.

With shaking hands, I send a quick reply: OK. Then I open up a new message to Avery: I have a chance to get away and I’m taking it. I can’t tell you where I’m going, since my dad will ask you. It’s safest for us both if you just don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m leaving my phone so he can’t track me, but I’ll message you as soon as it’s safe. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.

I set my phone down on the desk and turn my back to it. I’m sure Avery is going to send a panicked reply, but I can’t let her convince me to stay. Grabbing a duffle bag from my closet, I start packing. I move quickly but quietly, careful not to make too much noise as I stuff clothes into my bag. Sweatshirts and Tshirts and some tanks, along with shorts and jeans. If we’re going to cross the country, we’ll be in all types of weather. I think. I haven’t traveled for years, and I don’t remember much about it. Hell, I don’t even know where we’re going exactly. All I know is that I’ll end up in New York City.

Hopefully.

The chills are back, and a sour taste itches the back of my throat. I keep swallowing, trying to stop from puking. This is a terrible idea, but . . . I have to go. I have to do something to protect myself. I have to give myself a chance.

I glance at my clock. It’s 10:38 p.m., which leaves me almost twelve hours to pack before I meet Jace. My dad will be away at his skeet-shooting club by 7:30 tomorrow morning, and then I’ll be able to sneak out of the house. Maybe if I pack quickly, I’ll have time to sleep before I leave . . .

Yeah, right. I won’t be getting any sleep. Not until I’m safe in New York, away from my dad, away from this hell.

And back home.





11


JACE


“SHE’S WHAT?”

From across the RV’s small living room, Arrow stares at me with his eyes squinted in disbelief. His mouth quirks into a half smile, like he’s hoping what I said is a joke, but worried it’s not.

“She’s coming with us,” I repeat. I turn in my desk chair and pretend to be busy clicking through some music downloads, trying to look as casual as possible. Maybe if I approach this like it’s a completely normal subject, then Arrow will believe it is normal. And maybe I’ll start believing it, too.

Yeah, right. It’s pretty obvious Ali somehow broke my brain, and it’s going to take more than a little pretending to fix it.

I stare out the window above my desk, watching the sunrise. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to tell Arrow. It’s barely eight o’clock, and no one in the band is ever happy after waking up early. But Ali will be here in just a couple hours, and that means telling the others about her can’t wait.

Arrow sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Twice. It’s a good thing he wears that I-just-rolled-out-of-bed style, or else his hair would be a mess, and Killer’s fashion radar would go off and wake him up. Killer’s asleep on the couch, his head in Arrow’s lap and his mouth lolled open. He really should be awake for this conversation, but I know better than to try rousing Killer when he’s napping off a hangover.

“You’re serious?” Arrow asks me a little too loudly. Killer stirs, his glasses slipping off his nose and clattering to the floor. He mumbles something in his sleep and nuzzles closer to his boyfriend. Arrow doesn’t notice any of this; he’s gawking at me like I just announced I’m pregnant.

“Oh, come on, dude,” I mutter. “It’s not that shocking.”