Freak (20 page)

I pressed on. “I do remember that she said she was moving to Vegas after my wedding to get a job in one of the casinos.”

Hiro looked at me incredulously. “Isn't that a strange transition to make? From being an English tutor to working at a casino?”

I shrugged. “I don't know,” I said. “Katie . . . she's a risk taker. She came over from the States to tutor me, didn't she? Why not go to Vegas after that?”

“Huh,” Hiro said. I frowned.

“Besides,” I said. “It's not like I have much going for me here in L.A.” This was true: I had no friends. Cheryl was dead. Hiro and I could never be together. And he had a beautiful girlfriend who hated me and wasn't afraid to say it.

Hiro didn't say anything.
Maybe he agrees,
I thought.

“I could take a bus there and look for her,” I continued. “The bus would be much safer than a plane—more anonymous. And I have some money on me from working, so I could stay in a hotel while I looked for Katie.”

Hiro cleared his throat after a few moments. “I think that might be the best idea,” he said slowly.

I nodded. “I think so, too,” I said. But inside, my stomach started to gurgle with anxiety.

“Take us to the Greyhound bus station,” he told the cabdriver. We zoomed off.

I looked at him. He shrugged. “You're right,” he said.
“The case you made for going to Las Vegas is a better idea than anything we can come up with in L.A.”

“Of course,” I said, hiding my shock. “Let's go, then.”

I stared out the window as the cab zoomed toward the freeway. Hiro looked out the other window. I longed for the togetherness we'd been feeling on the cab ride to my house (
Hiro touching my hand, Hiro telling me how strong and incredible I was, Hiro denying he was moving in with Karen, Hiro's gorgeous face, his hot body, his delicious skin, his soft hands . . .
)

But he thought I should go to Vegas.

We pulled up to a large lot in front of a squat, dimly lit building. A few buses were idling in the lot. The red, white, and blue Greyhound logo flickered on the top of the building.

“Swanky,” I whispered.

Hiro leaned in to the cabdriver. “We're dropping her off,” he said. “If you could wait here for a moment for me . . . I'm going back to Echo Park.” The cabby nodded.

“You're having the cab
wait?”
I said, my voice breaking a little. All of this was catching up to me. One minute, we were standing in front of my burning house. Suddenly the next, Hiro was shuttling me off to Las Vegas with barely a good-bye! He was having the cab
wait
for him! Meaning . . . he only wanted to see me off for a minute or two! When did he think a bus was going to show up?

“I don't have any clothes,” I blurted, uncertain. “They've all burned up in the fire.”

“You can get new ones in Las Vegas,” Hiro said. He wiped his palms on his pants. I glared at him, suddenly angry. It was pitch-dark out. There was no one at the bus station. It was
creepy.
What was his problem? Why was he just leaving me like this, on the curb? What had made his mood change? How could he just drive home and snuggle into his warm bed with Karen at his side while I staggered onto some smelly bus to a city I'd never even seen?

My throat went dry. I didn't want to show Hiro how nervous I was. Instead I let my emotions turn to controlled rage.
Fine. So he thinks I should get out of town. Well, then, I'll go. Sayonara.

I walked up to the counter as chill as possible and checked the timetable. A bus for Las Vegas would be leaving in an hour. I glanced behind the ticket window, but it was dark and empty. I turned to Hiro, but he was standing with his back to me, facing the car. I breathed out, frustrated, and walked as calmly as I could over to the Greyhound To-Go machine console. I shoved money in, and out popped a ticket. I examined it, trying to figure out what it said under the dim lights.

“The bus is in an hour,” I said, walking back to him. Hiro turned. The cab lights lit up his face, and my heart flipped over.

“So,” I said in an authoritarian voice. I wanted to be fully in Independent Heaven mode when I said good-bye to Hiro. “What about training? If I find Katie and everything—I mean,
when
I find Katie—I'm going to want to keep up my training. Should I check in with you every once in a while?
Are you going to want to give me drills or something?”

Hiro shook his head slightly and stepped closer to me. He put his hands softly on my shoulders. Tingles instantly rushed through me. “Listen,” he said. “This is very important. You have to listen to me carefully. When I get back into this cab and leave you, I want you to forget all about me.”

I breathed in sharply.

“I want you to forge your way ahead, Heaven. Make your own life. Become your own rock. Train according to your own needs. Find your training within yourself.” He spoke slowly and evenly, not quite looking into my eyes but instead at a faraway place, past the bus station.

I stared at him, completely dumbstruck. “Say
what?”
I sputtered finally.

He stood there, arms crossed, a look of total serenity on his face. I mean, Hiro always had a pretty deadpan expression on his face
anyway,
but I expected him to crack up soon.

He shook his head. “I'm not joking. It's your mission. This is very serious.”

I felt a movement behind me and flinched. But it was only the stationmaster, unlocking his booth. He nodded at me. “You're here a little early, aren't you?” he asked. I looked back at Hiro. I had an hour to kill. They could find me here. The people looking for me. The people who set fire to that house. The Yukemuras. So many people.

He didn't meet my gaze. “I have to go,” he said.

“But . . . ,” I squeaked. “The bus . . . is in . . . an hour!”
Don't lose it,
I told myself.
Keep it together.
Instead I blurted, “Does this mean you don't want . . . me . . . around?”

Hiro looked out at the cab. He purposefully wasn't looking in my direction. What was his
deal?

“It's not that, Heaven. My feelings for you are . . . very strong. . . . You don't understand . . . but . . . ” He put his head down. He bit his lip, turned away. “This is what we have to do.” His voice sounded muffled, strange.

“What are you
talking
about?” I said. I knew I sounded desperate. “What do you mean your feelings are strong? Why is this what you have to do? I don't get it!”

“I . . . I can't explain it now,” Hiro said. “Forget me. Please. You have to. Now go wait for your bus.” He pointed at a bench. I tried to speak, but no words came out.

The cabdriver peered out disintrestedly at Hiro. “You getting in or what?” he growled.

“Good-bye,” Hiro said to me, still avoiding my eyes. And then, without even a touch—much less a kiss—he turned and got inside the waiting cab.

“Good-bye,” I said softly. I watched him get in the cab and instruct the driver to take him back to Echo Park. I chewed the edge of my lip, then turned away as the cab pulled out of the lot. I didn't want to look at him.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Simon Pulse edition November 2003

Copyright © 2003 by Francine Pascal

Cover copyright © 2003 by 17th Street Productions, an Alloy company.

SIMON PULSE

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

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www.SimonandSchuster.com

Produced by 17th Street Productions,

an Alloy company

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New York, NY 10001

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

For information address 17th Street Productions, 151 West 26th Street, New York, NY 10001.

Fearless™ is a trademark of Francine Pascal.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2003109086

ISBN: 0-689-85767-5
ISBN 978-1-4424-8946-2 (eBook)