Elusion(34)

At the bottom of the stairs, we’re separated briefly by a massive throng of people that’s clogging up the exits. I press my way through, heading toward the door, every now and then checking to make certain Zoe is okay. Once we make it into the hall, she grabs my arm, pulling me off to the side so she can talk to me privately.

“You’re sure there’s nothing going on between you guys?” she asks again.

On any other day, I would have said absolutely not. But if I denied it right now, that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? There is something going on between Patrick and me—something mysterious and unfamiliar and actually kind of scary. Still, I can’t avoid her follow-up question. That might give her the wrong idea entirely.

As soon as the words “We’re just friends, I swear” escape my lips, I look over Zoe’s shoulder and my gaze lands on my locker, which is about twenty-five feet away from us. Josh is there, waiting for me, leaning up against the wall. His hands are tucked in his pockets, and the sleeves of his gray sweater are bunched up around the elbows. He turns, staring directly at me.

I inhale sharply, my pulse accelerating. Zoe waves her hand in front of my face, breaking the spell.

She turns around to see who is vying for my attention. When she realizes that it’s Josh, her lips twist up into a smirk. “Looks like I don’t have to worry about competing with you for Patrick after all.”

I flinch a little bit, thinking about that moment Patrick tried to steal a kiss from me in Elusion, but when Josh smiles like he’s eager to talk to me, I tell myself that Patrick’s brief romantic overture was just my imagination.

“I think Buzz Cut has a thing for you,” Zoe says with excitement. “He asked me for your InstaComm info in calc, and if I thought you’d go to Elusion with him. He’s totally scoping for a hookup, right?”

I give her a look that’s covered in pessimism, but I can’t deny the fluttering in my chest. “I doubt it, Zoe.”

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, then!” she says, practically pushing me in Josh’s direction.

I stumble forward a little, cursing under my breath at Zoe for making me look ungraceful. But then I steady myself and take a step and then another, moving toward him as I unzip the front compartment of my bag and pull out my passcard. But the closer I get, the more I detect this nervous energy coming from him, and not the good, happy kind. In fact, his eyes are kind of bleary, and his forehead is creased with worry.

“Hey,” he says, stepping to the right just enough so that I can swipe my card and open my locker.

I grab my school blazer off an inside hook and say hello, hoping he doesn’t hear the happy, nervous lilt in my voice. I don’t usually wear my emotions on my sleeve with just anyone, but he’s beginning to turn into an exception.

Josh crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans in toward me, like he’s about to conspire with me. “Do you have plans this afternoon?” he whispers.

“Not really. Why?”

“I need to take you somewhere,” he says.

As I close my locker door, my heart skips a beat. Zoe was right. Josh is here to ask me out. I try to think of some witty, flirty reply as I turn back toward him. But when I see how his lips are pressed together in a tense, straight line and how his chest is rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths, all I can say is “What’s wrong?”

Josh looks down at the floor, almost like he can’t bear to respond, but after swallowing hard, he does.

“Everything,” he says.





EIGHT


“MIND DOING SOMETHING ILLEGAL?” Josh asks.

We’re outside an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the Steel Sector, our O2 shields working at maximum levels. The helmets were too heavy, so we swapped them out as soon as we arrived. There aren’t air meters out here, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone in Detroit knows that the toxins in this area are worse than anywhere else in the city because the wind barrels through here like a dust storm, carrying all the pollutants from the refineries.

“I don’t know,” I say, eyeing the eight-foot chain-link fence surrounding the old abandoned building and the looming sign warning trespassers to keep out. “How illegal is it?”

“We have to hop this so we can look around,” he says, his voice totally audible through the clear breathing shield covering his nose and mouth. “There’s something inside you need to see.”

I can’t imagine what he means by that. My dad’s HyperSoar hangar wasn’t too far from here, and I’m familiar with this neighborhood, which isn’t all that impressive. The large industrial fields are made up of nondescript rectangular structures that house the assembly-line workers who help piece together everything from Florapetro-fueled cars to eighteen-wheel semis. Judging by the broken windows and boarded-up entryways, the place has gone downhill in the past few months.

But before I can agree to commit the unlawful act of trespassing, Josh grabs hold of the fence with his fingers, pulling himself up. Then he climbs over, jumping down on the other side and landing firmly on his feet. The whole maneuver takes seconds, and from the smile that appears on his face, I can tell he’s proud of his accomplishment.

“Did you learn that at the academy?”

“Ninja movies,” he jokes. His expression turns serious, his amber eyes staring at me through the chain-link fence. “Your turn.”