Lock and Key(23)

Then something occurred to me. I glanced at my watch. It was just before four, which meant I had a little over an hour before I’d be late enough for anyone to notice. It was enough time to do what I had to do, if I got going soon. All I needed was a little help, and if I worked things right, maybe I wouldn’t even have to ask for it.

As I hitched my backpack over my shoulder and started toward the road, I made it a point not to look at the Perkins Day contingent, even as I passed right in front of them. Instead, I just kept my focus forward, on the big intersection that lay ahead. It was a long walk home, and even farther to where I really needed to be, making this a serious gamble, especially considering how I’d acted earlier. But part of being nice was forgiveness—or so I’d heard—so I rolled the dice anyway.

Two blocks down the road, I heard a car horn, then an engine slowing behind me. I waited until the second beep before arranging my face to look surprised, and turned around. Sure enough, there was Nate.

“Let me guess,” he said. He was leaning across the passenger seat, one hand on the wheel, looking up at me. “You don’t need a ride.”

“Nope,” I told him. “Thanks, though.”

“This is a major road,” he pointed out. “There’s not even a sidewalk.”

“Who are you, the safety monitor?”

He made a face at me. “So you’d prefer to just walk the six miles home.”

“It’s not six miles,” I said.

“You’re right. It’s six point two,” he replied as a red Ford beeped angrily behind him, then zoomed past. “I run it every Friday. So I know.”

“Why are you so hell-bent on driving me somewhere?” I asked.

“I’m chivalrous,” he said.

Yeah, right, I thought. That’s one word for it. “Chivalry’s dead.”

“And you will be, too, if you keep walking along here.” He sighed. “Get in.”

And it was just that easy.

Inside, Nate’s car was dark, the interior immaculate, and still smelled new. Even so, there was an air freshener hanging from the rearview. The logo on it said REST ASSURED EXECUTIVE SERVICES: WE WORRY SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO.

“It’s my dad’s company,” he explained when he saw me looking at it. “We work to make life simpler in these complicated times.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That sounds like something right off a brochure.”

“Because it is,” he said. “But I have to say it if anybody asks what we do.”

“And what if they want an actual answer?”

“Then,” he said, glancing behind him as he switched lanes, “I tell them we do everything from picking up mail to walking dogs to getting your dry-cleaning to frosting cupcakes for your kid’s school party.”

I considered this. “Doesn’t sound as good.”

“I know. Hence the rule.”

I sat back in my seat, looking out the window at the buildings and cars blurring past. Okay, fine. So he wasn’t terrible company. Still, I wasn’t here to make friends.

“So look,” he said, “about earlier, and that joke I made.”

“It’s fine,” I told him. “Don’t worry about it.”

He glanced over at me. “What were you doing, though? I mean, on the fence. If you don’t mind my asking.”

I did mind. I was also pretty much at his mercy at this point, so I said, “Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, I suppose it was,” he said. “I think I was just, you know, surprised.”

“At what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Just seems like most people would be trying to break into that house, not escape it. Considering how cool Cora and Jamie are, I mean.”

“Well,” I said. “I guess I’m not most people.”

I felt him look at me as I turned my head, looking out the window again. My knowledge of this part of town was fairly limited, but from what I could tell, we were getting close to Wildflower Ridge, Jamie and Cora’s neighborhood, which meant it was time to change the subject. “So anyway, ” I said, shooting for casual, “I do appreciate the ride.”

“No problem,” he said. “It’s not like we aren’t going to the same place.”

“Actually . . .” I paused, then waited for him to look over at me. When he did, I said, “If you could just drop me off by a bus stop, that’d be great.”

“Bus stop?” he said. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, just to a friend’s house. I have to pick something up.”

We were coming up to a big intersection now. Nate slowed, easing up behind a VW bug with a flower appliqué on the back bumper. “Well,” he said, “where is it?”

“Oh, it’s kind of far,” I said quickly. “Believe me, you don’t want to have to go there.”

The light changed, and traffic started moving forward. This is it, I thought. Either he takes the bait, or he doesn’t. It was four fifteen.

“Yeah, but the bus will take you ages,” he said after a moment.

“Look, I’ll be fine,” I said, shaking my head. “Just drop me off up here, by the mall.”