Only now did I notice that his hands shook slightly, that his face was pale and his jaw tight from the pain. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” Kaz shook his head. “This is good. This can help us. Now we know where to find them.”
“What was… Rattler doing? Was he at Quadrillon too?”
“I couldn’t tell, but he was… he looked really angry. He was hitting something with his fist. A wall or-I don’t know-a post or something. Over and over.”
“Oh.” I felt the fear deepen inside me. I’d seen Rattler angry before, but now I wondered who the target was-and given what I had done to him the last time I’d seen him, it could easily be me. As if we didn’t already have enough obstacles ahead of us. “You didn’t see Prairie? She wasn’t with Chub?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t, you know, all that definitive. Hey, cheer up, Hailey,” Kaz said, forcing a smile. “It’s not all bad news. I got us a car.”
“What-how?”
“I went to see a friend from school this morning. A guy from the team. I had him come up here; then we drove to my car and switched. He said we can take it for a few days.”
“Kaz, you went to your neighborhood?”
“Don’t worry, my car was parked on the street. Nobody saw us.”
“But-” They could have, I thought. They could so easily have been watching the car. “What if they’d seen you?”
“But they didn’t. They didn’t, Hailey. Look, I know this is hard, and I’m sorry, I’m just so damn sorry to be taking these risks, putting everyone I care about in danger. But I don’t know what else to do.”
Because it had never occurred to him not to try. I felt my fear retreat a little. Kaz wasn’t reckless… only determined. And brave. And committed.
I tried to smile at him. “You must have been up for hours. And I didn’t even hear you get up.”
Kaz looked relieved that I was letting it go. “Nah, you were out. Woke me up with your snoring. I figured I might as well get out for a while.”
I felt my mouth drop open, my face flooding with embarrassment. I never snored-at least, Prairie had never said anything, or Chub for that matter.
Then Kaz grinned at me, that big slightly crooked grin, and I knew he’d been kidding.
“So your friend didn’t mind?”
“Getting stuck with my clunker?” His grin turned rueful. “He’s a good guy, Hailey. You’d like him. And it’s not like he traded me a BMW or anything. Don’t get too excited, his car isn’t a whole lot better than mine.”
“I wasn’t-I don’t care,” I protested. And I didn’t care, not about what kind of car we drove. As nice as it had been to drive with Prairie in the relatively new Camry, it was still a novelty to have a car at all. I had spent most of my first sixteen years riding the bus and walking. “I just, you know, does he know where you’re planning on taking it?”
Kaz raised an eyebrow at that and lowered himself to the other bed. He was close enough that I could smell soap on him, and his hair was still a little damp from the shower. So I’d slept through that, too.
“I told him we were going for a drive in the country.” He picked up one of the pillows and set it next to him, smacked it a few times. “You know, with cows and all.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “You say ‘cows’ like you’ve never seen one before.”
“I’ve seen plenty. After they’ve been made into burgers-”
I laughed. “Seriously? How close have you ever been to one?”
Kaz pretended to think. “Football field? A few hundred yards? They have some in the Lincoln Park Zoo, I think. Why, have you, like, petted them or something?”
“You don’t really pet cows,” I said, but it wasn’t entirely true.
Walking half a mile through the woods in back of Gram’s house took you to grazing acreage where Bud Eisle kept half a dozen head of black angus. I’d taken Chub there a few times once he was old enough to make the walk. I picked him up so he could put his hand on top of the cows’ velvety noses when they stood at the fence, chewing, showing only the faintest interest. It was before he could talk, but he loved to pet the soft muzzles.
But that wasn’t the kind of thing I could explain to Kaz.
“I can’t believe I’m going back there,” I said. “When I left Gypsum, I thought I’d never go back.”
“It won’t be forever,” Kaz said softly. He reached out for my hand, and I took his-and then suddenly it was the most natural thing in the world for him to tug me gently next to him. He kissed my hair and I let him draw me closer against him, until I could feel his heartbeat through his T-shirt.
This wasn’t like yesterday’s kiss. This was comfort, and a promise-that he would be there for me, with me. Prairie had made me such a promise. It had taken me a while to believe her-had taken a shared experience of danger, the blood bond of violence-but with Kaz, I simply knew.
He wouldn’t let me face what waited in Gypsum alone.
Maybe that was why I felt safe enough to say the rest. “You know I was… different there.”
Kaz murmured, “Yes,” tucking my head under his chin and holding me. I had told him about what it was like to live with Gram-the run-down house, the constant struggle to keep enough food on the table, the stream of drug-buying customers. I’d explained about the Morries-the kids from the Banished families who attended Gypsum High-and the meanness and poverty that defined their life in Trashtown.
What I hadn’t explained was where I fit into the high schooclass="underline" how I’d never had a best friend, or any real friends at all; how I’d been mocked and ridiculed for my clothes, my hair, my rusty bike; how the other kids had whispered about Gram, calling her a witch and worse.
I knew Kaz wouldn’t judge me for these things. But I was afraid that if I returned, I would lose the confidence that had come at a high price. I was afraid that even though I knew I had changed on the outside-the way I looked and dressed-I would stop believing I had changed on the inside.
“I don’t want to go back,” I whispered against his soft shirt.
“I know,” Kaz said. “But you won’t be alone.”
14
KAZ HAD TOLD THE TRUTH: the car was only a slight improvement over his rusted-out Civic. It was a dented brown Bonneville with a creased bumper. The one splurge his friend had made was to upgrade the sound system with a set of good speakers.
The last time I’d made this drive, traveling in the opposite direction, was the first time I had ever left Missouri. Now the hours passed more swiftly. I was well rested, and music filled the car. We didn’t talk much, but occasionally Kaz reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.
Whenever my thoughts turned to Chub, I forced myself to take deep breaths and remember only good things: the way he laughed with his mouth wide open, showing all his baby teeth; the sound of his voice when he said my name, the one word he sometimes pronounced the way he always had, “Hayee.”
I knew that Kaz had to be desperately worried about leaving his mother in Chicago, but he didn’t say anything about it. When he caught me looking at him, he smiled as though nothing was wrong. But after we’d been in the car a few hours, his expression changed.
It was a subtle change at first, a tightening of his jaw, a clenching of his hands on the wheel. I watched him carefully and saw that his skin had gone pale and a faint sheen of sweat stood out on his brow.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Much. It’s just…” He glanced at me, his expression troubled. “I’m getting flashes. Little ones.”
“Visions?”
“Not a full vision, not yet. But… I probably will. When this happens, it’s usually a sign of one coming, a new one. Not the ones I already had, not Quadrillon or Rattler. This one is darker.”
He winced, and I could tell it hurt. “What do you see?”
Kaz shook his head. “Nothing specific. It’s that damn flicker, the way I get just the pieces. It’s water. I think. It’s all wavery and shimmering and there’s-there’s something-someone…”