All too soon, Bron pulled up in the driveway. Whitney felt like a bundle of nerves. She climbed into the passenger seat, and could still smell Galadriel's perfume.
Bron glanced up at her house. Over at the neighbor's trailer, their red rooster leapt up on their car, let out a "cock-a-doodle doo," then crapped on the rusty hood.
"Well?" Whitney said, afraid that he'd ask her to get out.
He turned and peered into her eyes. "This is definitely the most scenic place I've ever been." He smiled, and Whitney realized that she didn't need to worry. He leaned forward and kissed her, and by the time he was done, all her nervousness felt as if it had washed away.
Bron started the car and headed to school. Whitney wanted to warn him about Justin Walton, but she wondered if that was a wise idea to tell him so soon. She didn't want to scare him off.
"So," she said to fill the silence as Bron eased out of the trailer park, "How are you doing?"
"Great," Bron said.
"What was all that stuff about last night?" Whitney asked. "Mrs. Hernandez got a call from the sheriff, and ran out of the auditions in a panic. He said something about you... and murder charges."
Bron didn't answer immediately. It was like he was trying to figure out what to say. Then he shrugged. "I... haven't got a clue what you're talking about. Maybe we should talk to Olivia about that."
His answer seemed so strange. "So ... you didn't get arrested?"
"No," Bron said. "I drove Galadriel home after the auditions, then went and played my guitar for a few minutes before I went to bed. I don't know when Olivia got in. When I left the house, she was still in bed."
Whitney felt sure that he was hiding something.
"Whitney," Bron said. "I have a confession to make. Galadriel's mom asked me to give her rides to school. She said she'll keep my tank full if I do. So I gave Galadriel a ride this morning. I didn't want to do it, but I can't really say no."
"Okay...." Whitney said, thinking furiously. That explained why the car still smelled like Galadriel's perfume. She understood Bron's dilemma. She knew all about being poor.
"The thing is," Bron said, "I want to be with you. Is it okay if I taxi her around, in between?"
"Promise you won't fall in love?" Whitney teased.
"Not with Galadriel," Bron promised.
Whitney reached over and took his hand in hers.
Olivia had arrived at school early on Wednesday morning. She was just looking through the morning transfer reports when Bron walked into her office, with Whitney in tow.
"Hey, Olivia," Bron said. "Whitney here had a question for you. She said that she thought she saw Officer Walton's ID on your cell phone. He said something about arresting me, and murder charges? What's he talking about?"
Olivia peered up at Whitney, who clung to Bron timidly. Olivia knew what Bron wanted from her, what he needed. She felt sad and a little guilty.
"Oh, there must be some kind of misunderstanding," Olivia suggested. She looked at Whitney and said, "Excuse me, but you have a ladybug in your hair."
Olivia reached up touched Whitney's brow, and sent a thought pulse out. Electricity arced, and she peered into Whitney's mind—saw the caller ID, heard the accusations that the poor girl had fretted about half the night, and then pulled them all away on invisible strings.
She felt the snap as the memories left.
Whitney's green eyes blanked for an instant, and then she jumped, startled.
"Oh, excuse me," Whitney asked, "what... what was I just saying?"
"Um," Olivia said. "I... don't know." There was always a moment of disorientation with humans after they'd had a thought stolen. "I came in here," Whitney peered toward the door, "and wanted to ask you something. It was something important." She chuckled nervously.
"Well," Olivia said, "I'm sure that if it was important, you'll remember."
Whitney smiled.
Bron stood looking down at the floor, as if ashamed, shuffling his feet. He hated having to take a memory from a friend, but at least he understood that it had to be done.
Olivia asked Whitney, "How did the auditions go after I left?"
"I'll show you my notes," Whitney said. "We found a couple of possibilities."
"Great," Olivia said. "I look forward to it."
The bell rang, and both students hurried out into the hallway, hand-in-hand.
Bron stopped at the door, glanced back at her, and his face said it alclass="underline" I don't ever want to have to do that again.
Olivia nodded.
She'll be good for him, Olivia thought, after they left. Bron had never really bonded solidly with anyone before. She suspected that this might be his chance. Whitney was as good a girl as he'd ever find.
Olivia felt unsettled. How many other little clues did we miss that the enemy might yet pick up? Olivia had to wonder.... Trying to clean up after last night's fiasco was like struggling to wipe a frying pan after it has gotten burned on the stove. Sure, you could scrub it well, but you could never get it completely clean. You couldn't take out the bits of grime cooked into the metal. Every event in our lives leaves its residue.
She'd dusted the rooms for her fingerprints, but had she cleaned them all off? And Bron's?
She couldn't be sure.
Dozens of police officers had been in the room when Bron was brought in for questioning. Had the priest missed wiping the mind of someone who might have heard Bron's name?
One thing was certain: with so many policemen dead, this incident was getting international scrutiny.
By now, the Draghouls knew that something was going on. The priest might try to lead them off on a false trail, but how long would that last? A day? A week?
The Shadow Lord would figure out what was going on eventually. He'd demand answers. He'd send Draghouls into the homes of police officers, silently interrogating everyone who'd worked yesterday. He'd peer into the minds of their spouses and children, seeking answers. His agents might even scan the minds of their neighbors.
The priest hadn't had enough time to be thorough. Time was on the side of her enemies.
The human body can't be scared all of the time, Bron noticed. He felt on edge after last night, but once he got to school, he was able to go for an hour or two without worrying about the Draghouls.
He settled into school nicely, felt eager to get there, to see Whitney. Suddenly they were an item—clinging to each other in the hallways, kissing in the shadows. Bron relished every minute of it. He ate lunch with Whitney that day, out at the pavilions.
One young man who called himself 'Tuba-licious' played near a statue of some Sioux warriors. His tuba had a sweetness that belonged to a French horn, and an earthiness reminiscent of a sax. With the music in the background, and the sun on the hills, Bron and Whitney talked intently at lunch.
Bron switched out of Spanish after lunch, and into theater tech, just so that he could hang out with Whitney in the evenings.
Every moment left him wanting more. He learned a few things about her at lunch: memorized her phone number, favorite color (purple), favorite movie (Avatar). But she still held a lot of mysteries.
Bron had never been in love before. He'd never trusted anyone fully, and Whitney had a way of earning his trust.
That night, he drove Galadriel home after school, then returned to watch the auditions. At midnight he went to Whitney's home and met her mother, a tiny thing with Whitney's slim figure. She seemed to like him all right. She invited Bron to join her and Whitney on a hike to Bryce Canyon over the weekend. Whitney's mom even promised to make her special barbecued chicken and some "Saint George" salad, whatever that was.