Touch (Denazen #1)(11)

“Brandt?”

“Dez? Where the hell are you? It’s three a.m.! Your Dad called the house. He said you ran off with some dangerous guy? He’s worried for you.”

I snorted. “Trust me, Brandt. He ain’t worried for me.” As much as I hated to drag my cousin into this, we needed help. “Listen, I’ve got a major favor to ask. Can you meet me tomorrow at noon—at the Graveyard? Bring some of your clothes. Long-sleeved stuff. And a pair of gloves. And something for me to change into. I’m gross.”

There was a pause. “Dez, you’re scaring me. What the hell is up? Why don’t you just go home?”

“I can’t really say.”

Another pause. “Are you okay? Where are you? Are you alone?”

How much to say? Could someplace like Denazen trace cell phones? “I’m okay,” I answered finally. I wanted to add, for now, but I knew that’d only worry him. “I’m not alone, but I can’t tell you where I am. Not right now.”

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “What else do you need?”

I thought about it and realized I was starving. I’d found Kale on my way home from the party. Party equaled no wallet. No wallet meant no cash. No cash meant serious case of the munchies. “Some water, definitely. Maybe something to nom? Some spare cash if you’ve got it, too. I’ll totally pay you back.”

“Done and done. You gonna be okay till then?”

“Gonna have to be,” I sighed. We’d lay low until morning. It’d be easy to stay off the radar for a few hours.

Or would it? Curd’s place was close, but there were a hundred other houses between his and mine. He’d never been to the house and Dad had never met him. How the hell had Denazen found us so fast?

My fingers tightened around the cell. Duh. GPS. What a moron.

“Don’t try calling me back. I’m ditching the phone. And whatever you do, don’t tell anyone you talked to me. Not your Dad, and especially not mine.” Without waiting, I pushed end.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” I said to myself. Looking down at the phone, I only hesitated a moment before throwing it at the tree behind me. The cell crashed into the trunk, shattering into several large pieces, and falling to the ground. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”

§

We killed the rest of the night and early next day by trying to lay low—which wasn’t as easy as one would think. Kale, though cautious, was amazed by almost everything thing he saw. Everything from skateboards and takeout food to the outfits people wore was a brand new experience for him. He especially liked how people in the outside world dressed—namely, the girls. He really liked their short skirts and high, spiky shoes.

The morning slipped away without incident. We hadn’t had any further run-ins with the men from Denazen, leading me to believe I’d been right. They’d been tracking my phone. Without it, we could stay off the grid. For a little while, at least.

The Graveyard was an old junkyard on the edge of town we used for partying. Usually, even in the daylight hours, kids could be found hanging out. Avoiding the home scene, ditching school—when it was in session—and winding down after work. This early, it was a ghost town.

We made our way around the back to the rip in the fence and slipped through. Brad Henshaw, the owner, died two years ago, leaving the place in limbo. The rumor was his daughter, a plastic surgeon in the city, had yet to take the time out of her busy schedule to come up and deal with the property. This meant we were free to come and go as we pleased, some nights partying till dawn. We were never really loud, not that there was anything much in the area, and we didn’t hurt anything, so the cops pretty much left us alone.

At the very back of the lot, there was a collection of old vans that had been dragged, cut, and fit together like a makeshift fort. This was where everyone usually met. We made it within ten feet when movement inside caught my eye. I stopped mid-stride.

“It’s cool,” Brandt called. He stepped from the van into the sunlight. Setting his board down, he ran a hand through his wild, sandy blond hair and nodded. He had on the same jeans he’d worn to the party last night. I knew because of the ink stain above the right knee and the huge gaping hole in the left. He kept saying he was going to toss them, yet he never did. I couldn’t understand why guys found it acceptable to wear things more than once without running them through the wash. At least he’d changed his T-shirt. “It’s only me.”

I fell forward, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Like I wouldn’t,” he said, pulling away. His eyes widened when he spotted Kale. “This is the dangerous guy?”

Kale regarded him with the same cool, but sad, expression he’d given me last night right before he tried to kill me. “I’m not dangerous to her.”

“My uncle seems to think you are. If you hurt my cousin, I’ll kick your ass from here to Jersey. You what, in a gang or something?”

“A gang? Seriously, Brandt. Less TV from now on, okay?” I inhaled. “I ran into Kale on the way home from the party last night. Some guys were chasing him.”

Brandt folded his arms and nudged the skateboard at his feet. He always had to be touching the damn thing. Like a security blanket with wheels. “Okay…”