Flee (23 page)

****

The school parking lot was full when I pulled in, which served me right. I was an hour late to class.
Looks like auxiliary parking for me
. I headed to the empty lot at the edge of student parking. I hated to pull my little mini onto the rutted, hard-packed dirt. At least it wasn't the only car here. I saw Danny's jeep a few feet away, and then was startled to see Danny sitting in it, his ear pressed against his cell phone.

What is he up to
? I couldn't help but be suspicious. Of course, I was as jumpy as a frog right now. I would be suspicious of the Easter Bunny. I hesitated briefly before opening my door and climbing out. Not surprisingly, Danny opened his door a split second later.

Here goes,
I thought and then felt foolish. There was still the possibility that he was just a student. I fixed a smile on my face and greeted him.

“Hey, Danny. What brings you here at this hour?”

“Dentist appointment, as well as my intense hatred for first period class. I'm convinced I can live a successful life with no knowledge of the molecular structure of pond scum.”

“So I guess the world will not be counting on you to rid it of red algae?” I returned, calming down as I responded to his light banter.

“Nope, the world will just have to find another way.” He grinned, looking boyish and innocent.

Again I wondered if we were crazy to suspect him of anything.

“So what's your story? And where's your favorite accessory?”

“Would you believe I overslept? And if you're referring to Mateo, we think he has the flu.”

“Oh.” Danny looked genuinely disappointed. “Hope that doesn't leave us hurting for the scrimmage. I hear those guys are good, and I hate to lose. Puts me in a very bad mood.”

“I'll warn Abby,” I replied.

“Don't bother. It's over. She's a little, uh, too needy for me.” He grinned again. I felt myself warming up to him.

“I would have warned you, but it was really fun to watch you be her puppet for a while. And you accused me of being controlled!”

He laughed. “I guess it takes one to know one.”

Walking beside Danny gave me an idea. Maybe it was time to set the trap. “I love this weather.” I took in a big breath of the cool autumn air, feeling the sunshine, no longer summer-oppressive but warm and welcome on my face. “Perfect for an early morning run. I'm sorry I slept in and missed my chance today. I hope it's like this tomorrow. A little jog through the neighborhood is the perfect way to wake up.”

Danny was looking at me seriously, a strange expression on his face. I felt a prickle of fear. “Be careful, Blake, especially with your overprotective bodyguard down. You're a pretty girl. You shouldn't go around unescorted.”

He opened the door to the school for me, and I entered, confused and off-kilter. That seemed to be the way I left every conversation with him. I just couldn't figure him out. I shrugged my shoulders and headed for class.

****

The school day dragged by, slowly, monotonously. I was nervous and jittery, missing Mateo and unsure of how to fill my free time without him. Callie was preoccupied by Chad, Wade was keeping his distance, and I had pretty much chased away all of my other friends during my dark days. Several times throughout the day I found Danny watching me, a curious expression on his face. He didn't bother to look away when I caught him either. It was disconcerting. I sat with Callie and Chad at lunch, doing make-up work as I listened to them argue the morality of the death penalty. Those two liked to debate more than date. Surely one day they would figure that out.

After last period, I headed over to the locker room to change for the game. I rounded the corner of the hallway behind the gym, and there stood Mateo, leaning against the wall beside the girls' locker room door. He was dressed for the game, the navy blue uniform emphasizing his athleticism and strength. My breath caught in my throat in an audible gasp when I saw him, and my eyes filled with relieved tears. I ran toward him and grasped him in a tight hug.

“Hey, what's this all about?” he said, hugging me back quickly and then disentangling himself from me.

“I just missed you, that's all.” I glanced down at my feet, embarrassed at the intensity of my display of emotion. “What are you doing here, anyway? Are you feeling better?”

“Artificially so, thanks to four ibuprofen. That should be enough to sustain me for the game. Besides, I missed you too. You left without saying goodbye.”

“I said goodbye. You were just unconscious for it. And I thought you were opposed to taking comfort medicine?”

“Not as opposed as I am to you being out of my sight right now,” he said softly.

I took a step toward him again, and he took a step back, smiling.

“Don't get too close. I don't want to get you sick.”

“Okay, but I'm probably already exposed. And if you think you're playing in this game, you're crazy. You need to go home and go back to bed. I'll stop by when it's over and check on you. I'll be fine.”

“No chance,” Mateo replied in a voiced that invited no argument. “I've played with worse. The only way I leave is if you leave with me, and we both know you aren't going to let Joe down like that. He needs us, so you might as well go get changed.”

“Joe is too competitive for his own good.” I grumbled as I headed into the locker room, wondering what good it was going to do to try to save Mateo's life when he was just going to go and let himself die from the flu. No wonder my mom had always been frustrated when my dad had gotten sick. Men were horrible patients. Moaning and groaning and pathetic one minute, and full-steam-ahead-doctors-orders-be-cursed the next.

When I emerged from the locker room ten minutes later, Mateo was standing on the sidelines, talking with Hector and Thomas as they watched the visiting team warm up. Judging from their grim body language, I could tell something was wrong. I jogged over, straining to hear what was being said. They fell silent as I approached.

“What's up?” I said, stopping beside Mateo and dropping my ball. He trapped it under his foot without thinking, running a worried hand through his hair before responding.

“This team,” he said quietly, indicating the opposing players with a quick jerk of his head. “They're suspicious. At least three of them are tattooed with the death angel. It's…”

He didn't have to continue. I knew. My eyes were focused on the left arm of their center-mid. He was dribbling his ball in the middle of the field, his jersey off and his sleeveless undershirt clearly revealing the tattoo. Like a puzzle piece locking into place, I saw the bottom half of the tattoo on the arm of the man who had killed my parents. This one wasn't an exact match, but close enough for me to realize it was depicting the same thing. The white angelic robe and skull face seemed to be mocking me, even though the center-mid never broke his concentration and looked my way. I shivered.

“It's the same tattoo as my parents' murderer,” I whispered. “But not exactly. A little smaller, maybe. And more brightly colored.”

My eyes roved over all of the opposing teams' players. Mateo was right. Two others possessed the same tattoo. I searched their faces but didn't recognize anyone, for which I was thankful. What would I do if he were there on the field right in front of me? Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stay calm. “What does it mean?”

“The tattoo is of the Death Angel, or
Santa Muerte
as she is known in Mexico. It's a cult of sorts, complete with priests and altars and ceremonies and thousands of worshipers, if you can call them that. They pray to her to give them favor on things they figure God or the Virgin Mary wouldn't honor, say a prosperous drug run or curses upon an enemy. Las Lunas is full of devotees. And these guys are flaunting this. I don't like it.”

He was right. While most of the team went about their business warming up, the three tattooed players, the only ones not yet wearing their jerseys, juggled their balls in clear visible range of where we stood. They never looked our way. They didn't have to. Their body language depicted that they were as aware of us as we were of them.

“What do we do?”

“They're sending a message to us. We send one back,” Hector replied angrily.

“Hector, I don't think…”

“Mateo, listen. They won't strike here. It's too visible. They would never get away with it. This isn't Mexico. They're not going to go vigilante on a high school soccer field in the United States. This is for intimidation, and I, for one, do not feel like being intimidated. We cannot let them have the upper hand.”

“Hector's right, Mattie,” Thomas joined in. “I say let's respond with a little intimidation of our own.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and began to dial. “We'll surround this field and this school with security.” He began speaking into his phone. I could hear him ordering Foster to show up en masse to the game.

“Are you crazy?” I practically shouted. “How're we going to explain a soccer field surrounded by security to everyone?”

“
Everyone
will not be aware. We know what we're doing, and they know what to look for. To the undiscerning eye, it will appear that we have a lot of fans. But these guys will know the difference.” He had paused in his conversation with Foster. He now pressed the phone closer to his ear and continued.

“Blake,” Mateo said, moving as close to me as he dared. “I still don't like this. Let's leave. Let me get you back to the safety of the house.” His eyes were pleading, serious.

I waited for a minute before answering, considering all options.

“No, I think Hector and Thomas are right. What can they do here? I'm tired of being a victim. At least they've approached me on a field where I have some skill. And where you totally dominate. If they want to play us in soccer, then I say let's play soccer.”

“I think they came to do more than play soccer, but I agree that at least for the duration of the game, with all the students and parents around, that they won't try anything. It's probably the safest place for you right now…” He broke off, coughing into his elbow for what seemed a long time. I watched his face turn red as he struggled to catch a breath.

“Mateo, you can't play. You know that, don't you? You are way too sick and…”

“And nothing. If you're on the pitch, then so am I. I won't watch you out there with them from the sidelines. You are unbelievable, you know?” he said softly, a look of admiration on his face.

I rolled my eyes. “How so?”

“I just pointed out three possible assassins who would love to see you dead, and all you can think about is my cold.”

“Flu, and it's serious. It could turn into pneumonia and then…”

“If something happens to you, it doesn't matter what happens to me. Let's just determine that we'll both be fine. You let me protect you out here, and then we'll whisk you away to the safety of my house, and I'll let you take care of me there if you like. Deal?”

“Deal.” I grumbled. But I didn't like it. He really looked horrible. I didn't know how he expected to last a whole game. I was about to ask when Joe approached, clipboard in hand.

“Mateo, I'm so glad you're feeling better. I was getting worried there.” Joe stepped in between us, looking Mateo in the face. “Um, you don't look so hot. Sure you are up for the game?”

“No, he's…”

“I'm fine. Not one hundred percent, but I can play.”

I glared at him behind Joe's back. He ignored me.

“Listen, this is just a scrimmage so you don't have to overdo it. We didn't even hire refs, but your brother and uncle offered to officiate just now. Think they can be impartial?”

“Of course. Reynas don't cheat.” Mateo coughed again but gained control quickly. I knew he didn't want Joe to know how sick he was.

“Great. I think your uncle will ref, and your brother and one of their assistant coaches will sideline judge. Go get warmed up. Game time in thirty minutes. Blake, loosen up that left foot. These guys look good.” Joe jogged off, leaving Mateo in the midst of another coughing fit.

“If you insist on playing, at least hydrate well,” I said, handing him my sports drink. “And promise me you'll pull yourself if you have trouble breathing.” I took a step forward, grabbing his free hand before he could pull it back and squeezing it. “And stop looking so worried. We're not supposed to be intimidated, right?”

He nodded and squeezed my hand back before releasing it. His hand felt as feverish as his face looked.

We moved onto the field and began to warm up. After a few minutes, I glanced back at their team. The three tattooed players were now warming up with their other players, their jerseys concealing their markings. I knew their faces, though. Again, I searched for the one from that horrible night. He was not here, at least not visibly.

My eyes moved around the perimeter of the field. I saw familiar faces beginning to not so subtly place themselves at even increments along the edges. Seriously, how could anyone overlook that? It seemed so obvious to me. But then again, I knew what I was looking for. And so apparently did they. I watched as the three players took in the activity along the sidelines, making eye contact with each other and their coach, who nodded slightly back at them.

Mateo was watching, his eyes moving between the players and Danny. He was warming up with Malcolm Miller, but his eyes were also roving the sidelines. It was obvious Danny wasn't missing anything. As I watched, he made eye contact very deliberately with Mateo. He didn't signal in any way. He just locked eyes with him for several seconds before looking away.

So much for just being an innocent student. He clearly knows what's up
. But why tip his hand now? It didn't make sense. Before I had time to give it any thought, Callie jogged up to me, her ponytail bouncing and her blue eyes bright.

“Wow, have you seen these guys? They're seriously good.”

Chad walked up behind Callie, nodding in agreement.

“And remember what I said about
Viva la Mexico
? There are some good-looking men on that team.”

“Ouch!” Chad said mockingly. “At least have the courtesy to wait until I'm not standing beside you to point that out.”

“Oh, you know I like you best. I'm just sayin'. I don't care for the creepy tattooed ones, though. They look a little too menacing. An angel with a skull face? I wonder what's up with that?”

I knew, but I wasn't saying anything. No need for anyone else to freak out.

“You're awfully quiet, Blake. What's wrong?”

Callie was studying my face. She knew me too well. I forced a quick smile.

“I'm just worried about Mateo. He's still sick and shouldn't be playing, but I can't make him leave.”

As if to emphasize my point, Mateo walked up to us then, coughing and struggling to catch his breath. He leaned over and placed his hands on his knees, but only for a second.

“Stop worrying about me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I've got a plan.”

The rest of the team started to fall in around us. Coach stood to the side, trusting Mateo to speak and get the team motivated for the game. Everyone knew he was much better informed than Joe when it came to soccer. In the couple of weeks of practice, he, as team captain, had pretty much taken over training.

“Okay, guys, we have to play our best game. Be first to the ball, aggressively go after every tackle. Callie, Chad, and Sawyer, keep it away from the eighteen. Clear it to the midfielders every chance you get. If something gets past you, run to back up Griffin and cut off their line of attack. We can't give them chances. They're too good. Griff, try not to come out of the goal. They'll totally take advantage of that.”

He paused to cough again. I could see Joe beginning to look worried.
Finally
.

“Midfielders, control the middle, but mostly just try to get it to Danny.” He looked apologetically at Malcolm, Josh, and Ryder. They were all from the football team and athletic and aggresive, but everyone knew Danny had the only real foot-skills at midfield.

“Danny, our best chance is for you get it to Blake on the left, and she crosses it in to me. I can't run the field today. I'm sorry. I've got to conserve my strength and hang out by the goal. Hopefully they'll have a defender dropped back so I can stay pretty close. Jamie, if it comes to you on the right, try to switch the field by getting it to Blake.” Jamie's attempts at passes usually ended up on my side anyway.

“Obviously, anyone takes an open shot. Any questions?”

Mateo locked eyes with Danny with a look that shot daggers. It was a warning and a threat all in one. Danny returned the look unflinchingly. Obviously he was a wild card in this game. Whose side was he really on?