Lies I Told(4)

“Good. We’ll have a family meeting tonight.” He tossed a set of keys to Parker. “Saab’s out front and ready to go.” He turned to me. “You ready, Gracie?”

I nodded, remembering the dark-haired boy with deep brown eyes from the subject files. It was time to go to work.





Three


A balmy breeze lifted my hair as I followed Parker down the stone path at the side of the house. Foliage grew thick overhead, blocking out the sun as the strange green pods of the paloverde trees crunched under our feet.

We were almost to the driveway when a chill iced the back of my neck. It was that universal feeling of being watched, and I looked up at the house next door just in time to see a curtain drop over one of the second-story windows. I kept walking. Some things were different city to city, but nosy neighbors were everywhere. I made a mental note to be extra vigilant.

The black Saab was like a jungle cat, sleek and gleaming in the morning sun. My dad had arranged it—in addition to the Volvo he’d purchased for my mom—just like he did everything. Parker didn’t even pause to admire it. He just climbed into the driver’s side, waiting for me to buckle my seat belt before backing out of the driveway.

We didn’t talk on the way to school, which wasn’t unusual. We spent a lot of our time together in silence. It was one of the things I loved most about being with Parker: we didn’t have to pretend. We both had our demons, and we knew from experience that talking about them didn’t change anything. I needed to concentrate anyway.

The new school wasn’t a big deal. Mom made that easy, insuring that we were pre-enrolled, our fake transcripts and immunization records sent over ahead of time so that all we had to do was show up and get our schedules.

It was the other stuff that was hard. The pretending to be someone else. The being careful not to let slip who we were, where we came from, what we’d done.

More and more, I had to really think about that part. Had to prepare myself for weeks or months of being in character, of losing a little more of myself with each passing day.

Parker turned a corner and the sign for Playa Hermosa High School came into view. His face was impassive as he reached over, cranking the music until the car vibrated. He hated loud music, but it went with the territory. A successful con required careful balance between avoiding the wrong kind of attention and getting the right kind.

And we needed the right kind at Playa Hermosa High.

The parking lot was nearly full when we pulled in. Some of the kids got out of their cars and hurried into the building, while others stood around, talking and goofing off in the warm September sunshine. School had only been in session for a few weeks, but most of Playa Hermosa’s student body had probably gone to kindergarten together.

Parker made a show of backing smoothly into a spot next to a sleek BMW. Several kids were leaning against the car and standing around it, the girls subtly tan in the way people are when they spend a lot of time on the beach—complete with SPF 50 as protection against the aging effects of the sun—the boys all sporting versions of a familiar haircut, a little bit long, slightly sloppy, totally surfer.

Parker knew his stuff.

The parking spot was no accident, either. I recognized a couple of the kids, including the dark-haired boy, from the subject files we’d read while preparing for the job.

This was the group Parker and I were assigned to infiltrate. They were all seniors, like Parker, but I wasn’t worried about doing my share. Parker and I were only eighteen months apart, and I spent most of my time with him. Besides, I hadn’t had the luxury of acting my age since, well, ever.

He cut the engine and surveyed the crowd. Some of the kids glanced over, trying to be sly, because everyone knows there’s nothing more pathetic, more desperate, than being too curious about anything.

“There’s your mark,” Parker said quietly, his eyes drifting to the dark-haired boy.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He glanced at me. “You good?”

Parker was tough. Some would even say hard. But he had looked out for me since the day he’d joined the family, even when it seemed he needed looking after more than anyone.

I smiled. “Yeah.”

It was the only possible answer, because it didn’t really matter if I was good or not. This was why we were here.

“Okay, then,” he said. “See you on the flip side.”

He got out of the car and started across the parking lot without a backward glance. We had to act like other siblings now. We couldn’t afford to display our closeness, born of all the times we’d moved, all the cons and near misses we’d weathered together when there was no one else we could trust.

I dug through my tote bag like I was looking for something, trying to stifle a wave of panic. I always got a little anxious before a new job, but I usually rallied at the last minute, remembering the payoff of doing my part, of keeping the family together.

Now I had the feeling that there were things I didn’t know. Things I hadn’t anticipated. I should have studied the subject files more thoroughly, should have taken a couple of days to get settled before starting school, just to get a feel for the place.

But it was too late. The group—especially the girls—had watched with interest as Parker sauntered toward the school.

Now their focus was on me.

I took a deep breath and opened the door. Walking to the front of the car, I avoided eye contact with the guys. Instead I cast a hesitant smile at the long-legged redhead standing at the center of the crowd. Her name was Rachel Mercer, and I knew from our research that she was the unofficial leader of Logan’s social circle.