Flying (23 page)

“It's okay,” I say. “It's … I'm not telling you something.”

Even though my voice is quiet, they both hear me, and they both turn to face me. Lyle's face softens, but it's China I address. “Before the man on the roof shot me, I heard a voice in my head telling me not to trust you.”

“You did?”

“Yes. And he told me to trust Lyle, not you, but the voice sounded exactly like Lyle's voice. And then in the restaurant…”

I don't finish. I wasn't supposed to tell China about the voices. That's what Pierce said.

China doesn't even flinch. He just says, “What happened in the restaurant?”

I tell them about Not Lyle. I even tell them about the workers in the kitchen. I tell them everything except for what Pierce said.

When I'm done, China grimaces. “This is my fault.”

We're still standing on Amherst Road, but we've moved to a doorway. Its granite recess blocks us from most of the cars that go by. You would have to really be studying the entire area, and possibly squinting, in order to see us.

“How is it your fault?” I ask.

“I went to the wrong roof.” He sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“The roof next door,” Lyle elaborates. He shudders in the cold and runs his hands up and down his arms. “The original roof at your dad's apartment building. He went there and realized we were both missing. Then he backtracked and found me in your dad's bathroom.”

“Wait. What were you doing in there?” I take this information in. “Why did nobody call me?”

“They blocked your cell signal.”

“So they
can
do that.” I was right about that, at least.

“Half the time you get ‘network busy' signals, that's them. I knew we were in trouble when I couldn't get through. They obviously wanted you to doubt me and trust Lyle, because they had already copied him.”

“Copied him?” I stutter. “Not just brainwashed? I mean, I know I sort of understand this, but part of my brain is just imploding as I try to think about it.”

“Didn't you two read the alien species files? You sat there for hours.” China's lips are thin.

“How did they copy me?” Lyle asks. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“With perception filters and a shape-shifting alien. They're the Wores. Very dangerous. They knocked you out in the bathroom, copied you, must have tried to use telepathy on Mana here,” China explains. “You read the file.”

My jaw tightens. I feel like there's iron in my bones. “I hate them.”

China nods. “That's normal.”

“We have got to get that stupid chip,” I say. “We have got to get it now. This is bigger than just my mom, and it has to end. We cannot have eight hundred million Lyles running around and my cell blocked so nobody can text me.”

China starts laughing.

“What?”

“You.” He snorts. “Texting … Eight hundred million Lyles … You crack me up.
Bigger than your mom
.”

Whatever.

 

CHAPTER 16

I basically know three things at this point:

1. We have absolutely no idea where the chip is.

2. It is impossible to not worry about your missing mother, especially if she has been abducted by aliens or their minions. Add your dad into the equation and your heart rate increases to twenty-five thousand beats per minute.

3. Being with China and Lyle is driving me absolutely insane.

Oh, sorry. There is another thing I now know:

4. Once you see a hot guy spit acid, get chased by a Windigo, read aliens' thoughts, leap around like a parkour hero, and meet an evil doppelgänger of your best friend, it is easy to accept that anything is possible.

*   *   *

China buys a new car at a local dealership, hauling out a massive wad of cash from some inner pocket of his leather jacket.

The Jeep salesman basically drools all over his bright yellow tie, which is way too short to be professional-looking. Poor guy. He flips through the cash. “Is this legal?”

“Absolutely,” China says. He flashes a confident-man smile, like he's some sort of movie star or real estate tycoon. The Jeep salesman totally buys it, although, to be fair, he does keep giving me these peculiar side glances.

“It's because your pants are soaked,” Lyle says. “Are you cold?”

“Uh, a little…”

“You're not okay, are you? You're just trying to be okay.” Lyle cocks his head to the side, seeming very much his normal, attractive self.

“Pretty much.” I'm glad he was still him at the compound and at my dad's, at least before the bathroom altercation. And I'm glad he wasn't actually hurt, just unconscious. I'm glad that China found him. I'm glad he was the one who chose to hug me so many times, to hold my hand, to … Are those stress responses? Or does he like me? Like me in a way that's not as a best friend?

I wonder for a minute what he would do if I just tried to kiss him. If I just took his hand, instead of him grabbing mine.

We prop ourselves against the chilly wall of the showroom while China and the salesman bend over a big, iron desk, filling out paperwork in a tiny side office. There's a giant window, so even when the worker is at his desk he can see the cars on the showroom floor, and any potential buyers. The cars are so shiny compared to the dingy, gray, wet world outside.

Lyle takes my hand in his just as I'm thinking about taking his, which feels awkward and perfect. His fingers are much thicker than mine and they bend so that his fingertips touch the skin on the back of my hand. I shiver.

“See?” he says. “You
are
cold.”

That's not actually the kind of shiver that I was shivering, but I don't say anything because he keeps right on talking.

“I want this to all work out okay, Mana.”

“Me too.”

I wince. Of course I do. What an inane thing to say.

“I'm going to help you, you know. We'll find your mom and then we'll get that chip thing and the world will not be invaded by aliens and…” He pauses. “Um … and then something good will happen. Something we can think forward to and get excited about.”

“Like what?” I squeeze his hand, just a little.

He thinks. “A
Doctor Who
marathon?”

“Lyle!”

He laughs.

“A world without an alien invasion?”

“How about something simpler?” I stare up at him. His eyebrows are raised up a little bit. Damn, they're so cute. Wait. I think eyebrows are
cute
? The stress is obviously getting to me, or maybe it's just because I'm super relieved to have Real Lyle back and Not Lyle gone.
Kiss me,
I think.
Kiss me.

“Like what?” he says, and his voice is hoarse and low.

I make myself not think about all the girls he's dated.

I make myself not think about all the times I've seen him making out at a party or at a dance.

I make myself not think about the fact that we're supposed to be just friends, because seriously? We might not even survive all this craziness. What if I never take the chance and therefore never get to kiss him, or see if he wants me to like him that way, or potentially even likes me back that way, and instead just die not knowing?

Crap.

Crap.

Crap.

I can do this. I am fearless and tough and I can do this.

So I make myself go up on tippy toes and I kiss him. My lips push against his lightly.

He tugs his head away, just an inch, not too far. He makes my name a question. “Mana?”

“Please, Lyle.”

And then he doesn't hesitate. His lips come right back, brushing against mine. And it doesn't matter that we're at a Jeep dealership, standing in the middle of the showroom floor, and it doesn't matter that I have voices in my head, or that we both need new, nonsmelly clothes, or that the world is full of aliens, or that China is making a joke about us to the car salesman. All that matters is the way our lips touch each other, the way his hand is all curled into my dirty hair, the way he feels so solid skinny against me, and how his arms are lifting me up, off the floor.

“Don't let me fall, Base,” I whisper against his lips, laughing.

“Never, Flyer. Never.” He kisses me again. He breaks away to say the words. “I'll never let you fall.”

*   *   *

Twenty minutes later, all the paperwork is filled out and we're tooling around in a brand-new Jeep. I try not to keep touching my lips and instead pump the heat up all the way. China and Lyle argue incessantly, for freaking ever, about what the right thing to do is. Lyle votes for telling the regular police. We decide that Mom would never keep the chip on her person.

“The more I think about it, it's against her nature. If she was kidnapped, or if she was worried, she would hide that chip because she'd know that if it was on her? Well, aliens do pretty good searches. They'd do it right away,” China says and we agree. China votes for going back to my house and searching for the chip, and then China says we don't even have a say, because he is the expert and in charge and blah blah blah.

“It's got to be there,” he says for the five hundred millionth time. “I can't think of any other place she'd put it. Can you?”

“No.” I smoosh my legs into the heated seat and tuck my backpack beneath my legs.

Lyle leans forward between our seats. “It's too dangerous to go back there. That's what they expect. It's too obvious. They were waiting for us at Mana's dad's apartment. They'll be waiting for us there. They might even be at my house now, or Seppie's. They're not stupid. To go back is to play right into their hands.”

China scoffs. “We can handle whatever they try to do.”

“We almost lost Mana! Do you even remember what happened at the compound? With Pierce?” Lyle's face reddens. “Have you even checked in? Do you know if they are okay?”

“Of course I've checked in.” China's cheek muscle twitches.

Lyle leans forward a bit. “And?”

“They haven't responded.”

“Is your seat belt on?” I ask, trying to decrease the tension with the first thing that I can think of, which is kind of a dumb thing, I guess. “Lyle, is your seat belt on?”

He fake glares at me. “Yes, Mom.”

“Do not ‘Yes, Mom' me. Just because you're pissed that I don't think we should go to the police, either,” I say. “You are totally taking it out on me.”

“No, I'm not,” he says. He makes direct eye contact.

My insides get a bit melty, but I insist, “Yes, you are.”

China nods. “You are, dude.”

Lyle's hands lift into the air. His knuckles knock on the roof. “Don't call me dude.”

China does this little side-glance thing, where he keeps all his attention straight ahead but for one second acknowledges the object in his peripheral vision. That object is me. He has got just one hand on the steering wheel, hanging over the top, all casual. “The kid's really cranky. Is he always like this?”

“No,” Lyle and I say at the same time.

“Only after kissing you?” China snarks.

An awkward silence descends. I lean forward, touch my nose to my legs, try to not have a heart attack of anxiety right there. What if me kissing him made Lyle an ass? Was it bad? I thought it was amazing. But what if—

“The kiss was good,” Lyle says sheepishly. “That's not why I'm grumpy. Please don't think that's why I'm grumpy, Mana.”

China taps his thumb on the steering wheel. “Not well played, dude.”

“Do not call me dude. I am not a dude,” Lyle says, and then adds, “please.”

“Dudette?” China asks.

“Look, I have no idea why you have to put me down, but we have bigger things to worry about, so can you lay off?”

“I have an idea!” I say. “The chip is obviously not at the house. The aliens searched it; you searched it, too, right, China?” I ask.

“Right.”

“So Mom had to put it somewhere safe or with someone safe. She normally goes where after work? The grocery store and the gym,” I say. “We should look there.”

China drives us to the grocery store first. All the food aisles and people make it seem pretty impossible. Disheartened, I throw up my hands. “How can we possibly find it if it's here?”

“It would be a good hiding place,” China says, starting to walk straight toward the organic produce aisle. He really does know my mom. “She wouldn't put it in any of the front items because they could get purchased.”

He starts knocking boxes off the shelf. Cups of organic kimchi soup, Annie's macaroni and cheese, and additive-free fruit gummies topple to the floor. Lyle gasps. “What are you doing?”

I answer for China. “Looking.”

“You're making a mess!” Lyle glances around, embarrassed and horrified. A crowd has begun to gather. They all make faces.

“It's the fastest way,” China says, without even looking up. He's just moved on to the Thai packaged food. People stare at us, and I've never felt so disconnected from the rest of humanity as I do right now. All these people, who must think we are beyond deranged, staring at us like we're the bad guys, like they are better than us, while simultaneously they are scared by us. Even with China and Lyle right here, I feel so alone.

I rush off. I have to look all around the front of the store before I find it: the fire alarm. Yanking it down, I sprint back to the aisle. There's a second of delay and then the lights begin to flash and the alarm sounds—a horrible blaring noise that hurts my ears.

“Good job,” China says. “You take after your mom. Quick thinking.”

I smile and start searching. “We don't have much time before the fire department gets here.”

“About five minutes,” China agrees. “We can get through this in five minutes if Lyle helps.”