The Flight of the Silvers (Silvers #1)(111)

“Hi. Is this . . . this isn’t Peter Pendergen, is it?”

The boy fell into a suspicious pause. “Who is this?”

“I’m a friend.”

Another pause. The boy took a bite of something crunchy, then spoke through chews. “My dad’s not known for his maturity, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any ten-year-old friends.”

Relieved, intrigued, and a little indignant, Mia stopped pacing. “I’m fourteen.”

“Okay. Fine. You’re fourteen. And you apparently have no idea what your friends sound like.”

“Well, I never actually talked to Peter. I’m sort of his pen pal.”

The boy choked on his snack. “Excuse me?”

“What?”

“If I heard you right, and if you’re not rubbing me, then I don’t think you meant to say ‘pen pal.’”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re implying you had homosexual relations with my father in prison. I don’t even know where to begin with that.”

Mia flushed hot red. “What? No! I didn’t . . . that’s not what it means where I come from!”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Mia Farisi, and I promise you that Peter really wants to talk to me! Is he there or not?”

The line fell silent again. Mia could almost feel the air in the boy’s hanging mouth.

“Holy Christ. You’re one of them. You’re a breacher.”

Mia scoffed. “I’m pretty sure I don’t like that term.”

“Are you insane calling here? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Look—”

“If you value your life, hang up! Hang up right now and get rid of your phone!”

With a panicked yell, Mia hurled her phone. It sailed over a chain-link fence and disappeared into bramble.

Soon the other Silvers returned to find David and Mia embracing at the side of the van. Hannah was convinced the needle had finally swung all the way into romance until she saw the girl’s shattered expression. Mia fixed her frantic eyes on Zack.

“I think I told Rebel where we are.”

—

They fled the Power Boy with an 88 percent battery charge, and didn’t stop until they were halfway into Missouri. Mia was the last to unclench her fingers from the seat rests. The theoretical danger had theoretically passed. They were as safe from Rebel as they always weren’t.

The group ate dinner at a highway truck stop, their first experience in a bona fide speedery. Each booth and table was encased within a large glass cube. The place looked more like a human aquarium than a greasy spoon diner.

Theo was the first to spot the peculiar dial on the table, right above a sticker advising pregnant women and epileptics to avoid using it. After confirming that nobody in the booth suffered either condition, he turned the knob to 10. Suddenly the door to their enclosure locked, the glass lit up with a crosshatch of bright lines, and the outside world became ten times slower. Waitresses creaked their way between tables. Coffee poured like syrup from tilted pots.

As she casually perused her salad options, Hannah welcomed the others to her world.

Theo watched through the kitchen window in awe as a flipped burger rose and fell in slow motion.

“I just bent the fabric of time at a roadside grill. With a knob that sits next to the napkin holder.”

Amanda suffered a tense flashback to the fuel truck that dawdled over the Massachusetts Turnpike, seventeen years ago. She hid her bother behind a glib smirk.

“Great. A way to make the service even slower.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not meant to be used until after you get your food,” David said.

“Yes, thank you. I’d worked that out already.”

“So this is what you see every time you shift?” Mia asked Hannah. “It goes all blue like this?”

“Yeah. The faster I go, the bluer it gets. And colder. Sometimes I see my own breath.”

And sometimes she saw more. Hannah thought back to the hallucination she’d suffered on Monday—the handsome Jury Curado, embracing a second Hannah from behind. He adored you, I assure you, but he always died before you. :(

Mia pressed a finger to the glass. “You think this would work if the walls weren’t here?”

“The enclosure’s just for safety,” David explained. “If you put your hand beyond the field, it would exist at a different speed than the rest of your body. According to the book I’m reading, that’s called rifting, and it’s not a pleasant experience.”

Amanda checked Zack’s stony expression, still fixed on his menu. He’d been morbidly quiet since they’d fled the chargery. This wasn’t the best time to learn the term for what he did to Rebel.

Hannah looked to David with sudden concern. “Wait. I don’t have glass around me when I shift. I don’t have a suit. Am I in danger of rifting myself every time I speed up?”

“I imagine if you were, it would have happened already,” he mused. “I’d guess you’re more a danger to others. I certainly wouldn’t suggest touching anyone in your accelerated state.”

Czerny had told Hannah the exact same thing, some weeks ago. She’d assumed he was just worried about high-speed bruising and breakage. Apparently there were worse dangers.