The Cage(59)

She leaned against the tree trunk, feeling her head pulsing. She hadn’t told anyone the truth of what had happened that night. Not her mother. Not even Charlie. And now this boy who she’d only known a few weeks, who she’d just had her lips all over, knew her secrets.

“The Kindred must have known,” she said. “It can’t be a coincidence that they would put us together.”

“Maybe they put us together because of this. So that I could make up for what happened. I didn’t know what to think when I saw you standing on that beach. I thought it was some kind of punishment for my sins. Then I got to know you. You weren’t anything like your dad. You were his victim. And my victim. And dammit—you were pretty. Even more pretty in person than on TV. You do this thing sometimes where you run your fingernails over your lips when you’re thinking, and you have no idea how much that killed me. How much I wanted to kiss you.” He paused. “I wanted to make it up to you. I’ve been trying. I had your back when they accused you of stealing food. I’ve run mazes and swung from trees because you asked me to. I nearly ripped Leon’s face off because he insulted you.”

She stared at him in a mixture of fascination and horror. The mazes? The fight with Leon? He took a step toward her, but she pulled back, wishing the shade didn’t hide his eyes. In a certain light they were the color of coffee, but now they looked black.

“We came up with the escape plan together, Lucky. You didn’t just do it for me.”

A petal fluttered down to his shoulder. He didn’t bother to brush it off. Cora just stared at that petal, wishing he would speak, wishing he would say he believed in their plan.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was so quiet it almost sounded like a stranger’s. “You wanted to go home so badly that you thought some sharpened sticks were going to get us out of here. But Rolf was right. We’d never have escaped from them. I went along with your plan because I wanted to make you happy. I still do—”

He reached for her, but she jerked away. The petals underfoot felt slick now. Sticky. The branches tangled in her hair like they were trying to trap her. She shoved them away. “You were pretending you wanted to go home?”

A shaft of light broke through the flowers to land on his face. His eyes were still coffee brown, not black. “Of course I wanted to go home—especially the first few days. I just never believed we actually could. I couldn’t bear to tell you how I felt. It would have broken your heart.”

“And now you suddenly decide to confess everything? Why, because the rain made you feel nostalgic?”

“Because we’re running out of time. Twenty-one days is coming fast. We’re going to have to . . . sleep together. And before that, I wanted you to know the truth.”

“Oh, thanks!” Her voice was laced with venom. “So I not only have to sleep with a guy I barely know, but he also happens to be the one who sent me to juvenile detention.”

“Dammit.” He was fighting not to raise his voice. “You think I want it to be like this? I want to be back home with an old man and his chickens. I want to visit my mom’s grave one more time. I want to meet you there, back home, and I want to show you the sky in Montana, teach you the constellations. But this is our home now. The others already know it. It’s time we grow up and admit it too.” He stopped abruptly. His words echoed in the quiet space beneath the tree. His eyes had gone dark again. Night must have fallen outside, or else the world only felt darker. “At least we care about each other. And I do care, Cora. I don’t think I’ve ever cared about a person more in my entire life.”

He reached for her, but she jerked back.

“Tell me one thing. Do you believe that I didn’t steal the food?”

He was quiet, his eyes shadowed in black. “If you did, I don’t care. I’m on your side.”

Cora pulled back, ripping the fabric that bound them. Her plan seemed so childish now, using sharpened toys as weapons and fighting their way out—to what? How did she ever think she could make her way home, when she didn’t even know where she was? And yet a force within her came screaming back up.

She wasn’t ready to give in.

She stumbled away from him, tearing through the branches that pulled at her like a thousand clutching fingers. Lucky called for her, but she kept running, faster than she ever had, tearing past Nok and Mali, who were dancing in the rain, past Rolf, who was plucking unsuccessfully at the guitar