Starry Eyes(95)

Besides, Lennon’s right. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

From now on, no new plans. No trying to control every detail of my life. You can plot a course that will get you to your destination, but you can’t predict what you’ll find along the way. So I’m just going to let life happen, and whatever that brings, I’ll face.

Starting now.

The photo book is still in the drawer where I left it. I take it out, along with the letter. It’s not my secret to keep. It never was.

My purse is where I left it in the closet before the camping trip. I stuff clean clothes and my cell phone charger inside it. Then I head downstairs, calling Andromeda to follow and get in her dog bed at the foot of the stairs. All of the lights are off but the one over the kitchen sink, where Mom is drinking a glass of water. My dad is nowhere in sight.

“Here,” I tell her in a quiet voice when she looks up at me. “This is the package you asked me to get from the Mackenzies the week before my camping trip. I told you they didn’t have it, but they did. They opened it by accident, and when I was carrying it back to the office, I peeked. I hid it from you. I’m sorry.”

Hesitantly, she takes it and opens the letter. Her hand shakes. She blinks several times. And then she closes the letter and slips it inside the photo book.

“Dad lied to you. It wasn’t just Molly, or this Catherine person. Reagan knows about another incident. I saw Razan Abdullah at the glamping compound, and she asked me if you and Dad were still together.”

She stares at me with a shocked look on her face.

“People are talking,” I tell her. “That’s probably why Dad’s been losing clients and you haven’t. Because everyone knows he’s a scumbag.”

We stand there, neither of us looking at each other for a long moment.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I love you, and I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she says quietly, and heads toward my parents’ bedroom. A second later, she disappears, shutting the door.

I don’t know what’s going to happen now, but dread knots my stomach, and I feel the urge to run after her and snatch the photo book away.

But it’s too late. Nothing I can do will turn back the clock. Deep breath. I scribble a quick note to my mother and leave it on the kitchen counter. And as the sound of my parents’ voices arguing gets louder, I quietly head out the front door of the apartment.

It’s cool outside. A soft breeze rustles through the fronds of the palm tree outside our house. I jog down the front steps, hiking my purse higher on my shoulder. It’s so much lighter than the backpack. I almost miss its weight. Almost.

Half the stars have disappeared out of the sky. Like the universe just swiped a hand and erased them. But as I’m walking, a pale white streak appears, and I hope Lennon is watching it with Avani. Miles away, but the same starry sky.

I head toward the left apartment in the blue duplex across from our house. Lights are still on in the windows. The Mackenzies have always been night owls—another thing my dad points to as proof of their hedonism. But I’m not thinking about him now as I ring the doorbell and wait. In fact, I’m not thinking or planning anything past this moment, and when Sunny’s oblong face appears, and she’s blinking into the porch light, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late. Can I spend the night here with you and Mac? My parents are having problems.”

She stares at me, surprised, standing in a pair of pajama bottoms printed with tiny cartoon trolls. “Of course you can, baby. Come on inside before you freeze to death.”

Then she pulls me over the threshold, past the photos of Lennon and his dad dressed in Halloween costumes. Their house smells just like it always has, like vanilla frosting and old books. And when I see Mac curled up on their worn living room sofa in front of the TV, looking up at me with welcoming eyes, I feel as if I’m finally home.





27




* * *



When I wake the next morning, I’m completely disoriented. It takes me several seconds to realize that I’m not in a tent with Lennon; I’m sleeping in his empty bed, and the sheets smell like him, freshly laundered and sunny. So good. For a moment, anyway. Then I spot his dastardly wall of reptiles, including Ryuk, who’s staring at me through his lizard habitat.

“Sorry, buddy,” I tell the bearded dragon. “Your dark master is not here.”

And he won’t be for several hours. Mac got a text from Avani last night before I showed up. Apparently, Lennon’s phone is still dead, and she informed them that he was safe and would be riding home with her today.

I hope he’s okay.

Sitting atop a pile of gruesome graphic novels, the clock on Lennon’s beside table says it’s half past nine. I smell bacon and coffee, and my stomach leaps with joy. Even though I showered here last night before I dropped dead in Lennon’s bed, I didn’t eat, and my body is more than aware that the last meal I had was freeze-dried stew yesterday afternoon when Lennon and I were hiking toward Condor Peak.

Part of me wants to hibernate in Lennon’s room among the stacks of horror comics and DVDs, but I know I can’t linger here forever. So after checking the state of my hives—not great, but not out of control—I dress in the clothes I stuffed in my purse last night and head down a short hall to the Mackenzies’ main living area. Sunny and Mac are already dressed and sitting at the dining room table, browsing news headlines on a tablet with a cracked screen.