What Have We Done (19)

Jenna starts trying door handles on parked cars, seeing if any are unlocked.

Willow still looks like she’s in shock, punch-drunk. “What are you doing?” she whispers.

“We need a car.” It’s been years since she’s hot-wired a car, and she’s worried she’s forgotten how. Worse, they’ll have to pick something older, unreliable, since newer cars are virtually hot-wire-proof.

“Who are you?” Willow says, walking away from Jenna, palms facing out, distancing herself.

Jenna frowns, then realizes that this is a lot. “We need a car, we need to get to your dad and Lulu.”

Willow replies, “I’m applying to college and I’m not going to get caught in a stolen car.”

Jenna is almost amused. Tracked by a woman with some type of death-tube weapon, her stepmother’s gone crazy, and Willow’s mind is on her college applications.

Willow says, “I can ask Billy for his car.”

It’s not a bad idea. It won’t be completely untraceable, but it’s unlikely anyone would be tracking the boy’s vehicle. Hell, even Jenna didn’t know about this boy.

They head back to the school. Out front, Willow says, “Wait here.”

Before Jenna can protest, Willow strolls inside. A few excruciating minutes later, she reappears.

She leads Jenna to the garage, which is underground. It’s filled with luxury sedans, but Willow stops in front of a Jeep Wrangler.

“He’ll be here in a minute.”

“How’d you—”

“I got my phone from my locker and texted him.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry. I put it in airplane mode and left it there.”

Jenna feels weirdly proud for a moment.

A few minutes later, the boy with floppy hair—the same kid from the 7-Eleven—appears. He looks nervous when he sees Jenna but is soon distracted by Willow. She races over, throws her arms around him. Willow says something Jenna can’t hear. The boy—his name is Billy, Jenna reminds herself—hands over his keys. Just. Like. That. With no questions. They must be close.

That’s confirmed when Willow gives him a kiss—and it’s a kiss, not a friendly peck. After, the boy makes eye contact with Jenna, blushes, then offers a small wave and heads back to class.

Willow comes over, swinging the keys on a lanyard. She looks like she’s going to say she’s driving but thinks better of it.

They climb inside. Jenna lets out a breath, collecting herself.

It’s going to be three hours to the cabin. She needs to get there—get Willow to her father and Lulu where it is safe—then figure out what the hell is going on.

Who is the woman with the death tube? And why is she after Jenna?

And why now?





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DONNIE

Donnie eyes the food tray on the hospital room table. The spinach and sweet potato curry looks like someone sneezed on a pile of mushed carrots. He needs to get the hell out of this place.

He takes a pee, then examines himself in the mirror. He looks like a sight with his bandaged forehead and the hospital scrubs they said he could borrow since he’d arrived from the fishing vessel shirtless and they’d had to cut off his jeans. The cruise ship has docked and Mickey says they’re delivering his luggage to the hotel, so that’s good. He’s not so sure about meeting with this writer, but it’s a free meal—and drinks—and he’s ready as hell to be out of this place. And who doesn’t love Miami Beach? Palm trees, beautiful girls, perfect weather.

The doctor comes by again, ignores his charm offensive, and advises him to stay in the hospital one more night. When he declines, she shakes her head but says someone will come by with the waivers and forms to sign.

As he sits on the bed, his eyes go to the food tray again. He stares at it a long time, trying not to think of Benny, but the memories are everywhere.

They’re in line at the school cafeteria as the lunch lady plops a scoop of mush on Donnie’s tray.

“No one’s seen Marta since yesterday,” Donnie says. “She wasn’t in homeroom this morning.”

Benny listens as they shuffle down the line. He plucks a bruised apple from the pile, the only fruit option to go with today’s mystery meat, and takes a bite.

“Maybe she finally ran off,” Benny says, with a mouthful. “She’s been talking about it.”

Donnie makes a face. “Without saying goodbye, man? No.…”

They make their way into the lunchroom. It’s loud as always, the sound of barely supervised teens. There’s only one attendant, a lady so old that she probably worked here when the area was a thriving factory town, and she’s no match for the heathens of Chestertown High.

They weave through the tables. Benny stops, looks to the far corner. “I’m not in the damn mood for this today.”

Donnie follows his line of sight. At the table in the back for the outcasts, Derek Brood and two of his friends are looming over Artemis. Derek is moving in slow jerking movements, imitating a robot.

When Artemis doesn’t seem to respond, Derek puts a finger on Arty’s tray and digs up some mashed potatoes and flicks it, a glob of white sticking to Arty’s face. Arty completely ignores him and looks

ahead, continues eating. Annie appears to be telling Derek off when one of Derek’s friends makes a V