Geekerella (Starfield #1)(58)

“No, I know what you mean,” she says. “You’ve worked hard, Darien. You’ve worked so hard.” She looks at Lonny as if she expects him to add something.

Weirdly, he does. “You have, boss,” he says. “Now let’s get moving.”

Five minutes later I’m out the trailer, costume rolled up in my duffel and headed home. I follow Gail and Lonny out of the lot, where an SUV is parked. Jess rolls down the front passenger window.

“Dare, you coming?” she shouts. “We’re partying!”

“We?” I ask.

The window behind her rolls down. It’s Calvin, and for once he doesn’t look angry at me. “Come on, Carmindor. Don’t wuss out on us now.”

Maybe it’s just the exhaustion-induced adrenaline rush, or maybe it’s the thrill of finally having done something, but whatever it is, it’s making me want to celebrate. But I can’t just go anywhere. I glance at Gail and Lonny, my de facto parents. Gail looks instantly worried, but Lonny grabs her shoulder and whispers in her ear.

“Okay,” she says. “We’ll cover for you. Just this once.”

I pump my fist into the air. “Yes!” I kiss her on the cheek. “I love you, Gee.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Dare!” Jess shouts again. “We won’t wait forever!”

“Seriously,” Calvin says. “Put on your big boy pants and hurry up.”

“But remember”—Gail digs into my duffel for a plain black hat and hands it to me—“if you show up on so much as a Snapchat tonight—”

“I know, I know. Mark will kill me.” I pull my hat low over my brow. “I’ll be fine, Gee. You worry too m—”

A ringtone cuts between our conversation like a knife. Gail and I exchange a look, but when she shrugs, saying it isn’t hers, I dig into my hoodie pocket. All of my phone numbers have assigned ringtones, but this one is generic. The only person whom I never assigned a tone to is—

Elle, the caller ID reads.

My heart jumps into my throat.

“C’mon, Your Highness!” Calvin shouts. “Celebration time!”

She’s probably not actually calling me. It’s probably a butt dial or something.

“You gonna answer that?” Gail asks. “Should I?”

It rings for the third time. Fourth.

“C’mooooon,” Jess echoes Calvin. “You’re only young once, Carmindor!”

I hold up a finger and slide my phone unlocked.

“Hello?”

I wait one second. Two. Three. But there’s no one there. And then the line goes dead.

“Huh.” I pull the phone from my ear. CALL ENDING.

“Nothing?” Gail asks.

“I guess not.” I hide my disappointment with a cough. “Well, I promise I won’t get into much trouble.”

“Like I haven’t heard that before.” Gail looks unconvinced, still staring at my phone. I tighten my grip on it and instantly feel stupid. Elle obviously doesn’t want to talk right now. Besides, she’ll be there tomorrow. And tonight’s the only tonight I’m going to get.

“Here.” I give the phone to Gail. “So I can’t make any underage drunk dials. Or Snapchats. Just don’t lose it. Or snoop through it,” I add. “Can I go now?”

Gail nods, looking relieved as she pockets my phone. “All right.”

I jog toward the SUV, the night air brisk and vibrant, leaving all the baggage of Starfield behind me, taking only the parts that I want to remember—the fit of a stargun in my grip, the power of standing at the helm of the Prospero, the nights talking with a girl who calls me ah’blen—and leaving the rest of it behind.





SAGE DOESN’T TURN DOWN THE ROAD to my house—the truck’s way too loud. She stops at the entrance to the neighborhood as I loop my duffel over my head. 9:31 p.m. This is going to be one hell of a sprint. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” she asks.

“Meet you at the bus station? Six a.m.?”

“Six it is!” She leans over and hugs me tightly. I return it.

“Wish me luck!” I cry as I roll onto the pavement.

All the houses are dark with sleep. I cut across lawns. The motion lights pop on as my feet thunder across dew-covered grass, my heart thrumming in my ears. I can’t be late. I can’t.

Turning into our driveway, I realize with a wash of relief that Catherine’s Miata isn’t there. No one is home yet. What’s today? Friday?

Wait. Friday. Shopping day. Holy sweet merciful credit cards, Batman.

I slow down and creep around to the side, hoping I won’t wake Giorgio as I climb up the creaky branches of the Bradford pear by my bedroom window. Halfway up, my foot slips. I curse, grappling onto another limb for support.

I pause, making sure no one heard me, before climbing up the rest of the way. When I slide through my window, my knees go to Jello and I sink to the ground, my heart still thundering in my ears.

I made it.

Relief wells up inside me. I curl my knees to my chest and press my forehead against them, trying to catch my breath. That was incredibly stupid—tonight of all nights. So stupid I’m shaking. Because I’m so close, so close to going to ExcelsiCon. So close to my father I can almost see him, like a figure in the distant dusk.