No Easy Way Out (12 page)

A sob shook Preeti’s shoulders. She fell forward into her own lap. After a few moments, she sat up. “How can you just say that like it’s nothing!”

Shay felt herself retreating, as if there were doors inside her that could be closed, sealed over, better than a Ziploc, leaving only this shell to respond. “It’s not nothing.”

Tears ran down Preeti’s face. She glared at Shay for a few seconds longer, then stood. “I want to talk to Ba.”

There’d been an announcement in the afternoon that CB radios had been set up in the old Silver Screen store. People were invited to sign up to use them to call their families. Someone in the med center must have told Preeti about it.
Probably that traitor Jazmine.

“There will be a line.” It was dinnertime, and Shay was sure that everyone would be trying to call out. Everyone, of course, except her. Like she could face her parents right now.

“I don’t care.” Preeti snatched the mask from Shay’s hand and started walking.

Shay followed.

There was a line at the table for the CBs, as Shay had predicted. Preeti was undeterred. She stomped to the end of the line and stared at the prodigious rear of the man in front of her rather than look at Shay. Shay did not mind. The last thing she wanted was to fight with Preeti about whether or not she was showing the appropriate amount of remorse for letting Nani die. Like there were measures for such things. If only Preeti could see the desolation inside her. Would that begin to pay her debt?

When they reached the front of the line, Preeti spoke for herself. “I need to call my mother.”

The man behind the table slid a clipboard toward her. “Write the name and the home and cell phone numbers, address, and then your name. The guard will contact the government on the outside, and they will call your mother and tell her to come to the mall. Once she arrives, they will contact us here and an announcement will be made over the mall’s PA system. Return to this location when you hear your name over the PA. All calls are monitored by the federal government.” From his deadpan tone, Shay could tell this was a speech he’d given one too many times.

Preeti began scrawling information onto the blanks. “We’ll wait here,” she said.

“There is no waiting area.”

She handed him back the board. “That’s okay,” she said. “We’ll find someplace.”

The guard looked over the form. “Suit yourself.” He then picked up his walkie-talkie and read out Shay’s parents’ names and their home address and phone number.

It was bizarre to hear the words. To be reminded that there was a house on Walnut Street with a room just for her. That all her clothes, her books, the scraps of her life still persisted beyond these walls. For some reason, the thought of them made her sick. That didn’t feel like her life anymore.

Preeti hunkered down against the glass wall that had once been the Silver Screen display window. It was covered over now with Kris’s mural of handprint trees. The image felt like a cruel joke. There was no world outside, not for them.

After only fifteen minutes, the guard called them. “Pretty Dixit?” he shouted.

Their mother must have raced to the mall—their house was close but not that close.

Preeti jumped up. “Preeti,” she corrected. “Long
e
’s.”

The guard handed her a CB. “Station five,” he said. “You have twenty minutes.” He waved her in. “Have a good visit, Preeti.”

Shay followed Preeti into the store. The guard didn’t even acknowledge her passing. It was better that way. Shay wanted Preeti to make the call without even mentioning her presence.

“Ba?” Preeti asked, voice cracking on the one syllable. She fell into a folding chair in front of the table with a number five taped to it. There was a second chair. Shay remained standing. Posters with scenes from famous movies lined the walls. Nearby stood a cutout of a handsome vampire. Oh, to have the blood sucked out of her body. By him, by anyone.

Preeti asked the machine for her mother again. This time, her mother’s voice boomed in answer. “Shaila?”

Preeti lowered the volume. “No, it’s Preeti.”

Ba started crying. Bapuji’s voice took over. “It’s so good to hear your voice,” he said.

They began speaking in Gujarati. Preeti cried as she told them about what had happened, how she’d gotten sick, how Nani was dead.

Ba cried out. Bapuji didn’t say anything for a moment. “And Shaila?”

“She’s fine,” Preeti said. “Here.” She held the CB out to Shay.

Shay backed away from the thing.

Preeti looked at her like she was crazy. “Just say something so they know you’re alive.”

Shay shook her head. She couldn’t even mutter the word
no
.

Preeti rolled her eyes. “Shaila-bhen is acting weird,” Preeti said into the CB. “The nurse said she hit her head during the riot.”

That got Ba screaming in English.
Riot? I’ll sue them! How could they?
Suddenly the channel squealed and went silent.

Preeti pushed the volume buttons. “Ba?” She squeezed the talk button. “Bapuji?”

Another voice interrupted the call. “This call has been censored by the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“No!” Preeti screamed. She marched up to the front and held the machine out to the guard. “I still have ten minutes,” she yelled. “Get my parents back.”

The guard took the CB and shut it off. “If the channel gets cut off by the Feds, it means we can no longer use that channel for a set period of time.”

“So give me another channel.” Preeti crossed her arms and set her face in a scowl. Shay knew this pose. The guard had no idea of how stubborn Preeti could be when challenged.

“The FBI now considers that receiver off-limits. They will investigate the violation, then contact us, after which time you may reestablish connection. The process is expected to take a minimum of twenty-four hours.”

Shay knew she should get angry. That she should tell the guard off, help her sister. But no anger came. She felt the mildest tingle of anxiety, like a skittering light through the black.

Preeti started to cry. The guard apologized, then called another name. The second guard, stun baton in hand, approached Shaila and told her to move her sister away from the station before she caused trouble. Shay followed the guy’s orders. She walked to her sister, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and told her they’d come back tomorrow.

Preeti snuffled loudly, wiped her hand under her mask, then walked where Shay led her, toward the JCPenney.

Preeti shrugged out from under Shay’s arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, her words catching on a sob.

“The guard said you could call back tomorrow.”

“To Ba,” Preeti corrected.

Shay didn’t answer.

“What’s wrong with you?” Preeti asked.

Shay didn’t answer.

Preeti stopped. “Shaila-bhen.” She glared at Shay.

“I’m tired,” she said finally.

Preeti turned and stormed to the guard at the entrance to the JCPenney. “I need to register or something?” she asked.

Shay, frozen in the hallway, watched as Preeti took the bag of toiletries and stack of clothes the guard gave her and disappeared into the store. The emptiness would devour her if she let it. But Preeti needed her. However ridiculous that need was—like Shay had anything to give—it was a tether to reality.

She approached the guard and gave her name, then trotted to where Preeti had slumped on a cot near Shay’s own.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “We’ll call Ba tomorrow. I’ll talk.”

“Promise?” Preeti said.

Shay forced herself to nod. “We still have a couple minutes to get dinner.” She held out her hand and Preeti took it.

• • •

The last thing Lexi wanted was to face the happy couple of Maddie and Ginger after slaving all day on her mother’s projects, and yet there they were, hunkered down on neighboring cots in the alcove Lexi had procured for her and Maddie. They’d even wheeled one of the small TVs in there and were watching some series involving very pretty, very skinny girls and oily guys with no chest hair.

“Hey, stranger!” Ginger said, waving as Lexi approached.

Maddie held out a Ziploc bag containing popcorn. “They handed out popcorn to everyone. They said it was to thank us for a
great first day of work
!” She said the last words in a squeaky voice, arms scrunched in and fake grin on her face.

“Thanks,” Lexi said, surprised that they saved her a bag. She wouldn’t have put it past them to eat her share and not tell.

Ginger stretched out on her cot. “Lexi, are you okay with me moving in here with you guys? There was an extra space, so I dragged my bed over.”

“Of course she’s okay,” Maddie said, play smacking Ginger’s leg.

“Yeah,” Lexi said. “Of course.”
Like I have a choice . . .

“Where were you, by the way?” Maddie said, munching kernels from her bag.

“My mom had some stuff she needed me to do.”

“Well, you missed some choice clothing sorting,” Maddie said, sarcasm dripping off the words.

Ginger lifted her T-shirt to reveal a sequined tube top. “We
borrowed
some stuff that the head sorter said to throw away.” She snapped the edge of the top against her rib cage. “How could she expect me to throw this away?”

Maddie grabbed Ginger’s shirt and tugged it back over the top. “You want everyone to see?” she growled.

Ginger blushed hard enough that her face matched her hair. “Did anyone notice?”

“You’re fine,” Maddie said, and flipped back on the show.

Lexi had never seen this particular sexy-teen soap opera, but from Maddie and Ginger’s running commentary, it was clear they were watching it for a fourth or fifth time. She munched her popcorn, feeling alone even with the two next to her, and wished the minutes to fly by so that she could escape into her office and meet Marco.

• • •

Marco slapped another glow-in-the-dark star sticker against the wall. They were barely visible in the fluorescent light of the service hallway, but after Lights Out, they’d shine.

He was putting down the final bread crumbs that would lead his would-be partiers to his makeshift party. He’d started at the exits to both the JCPenney and the Lord & Taylor and snaked a path marked in star stickers to the fire staircase between them, then through a passage to the exit across from the bowling alley. They would have to make a run for it from there across the open mall walkway, but Marco figured few guards would be patrolling the third floor, since after Lights Out it was supposed to be empty, and honestly, if some kids got caught, he couldn’t give a crap.

Ryan had better have held up his end of the bargain. The party would definitely not happen without his spreading the word. True, Marco should have done the spreading himself, but when Fate hands you a gift like having leverage over someone who is obviously much more qualified to talk to your peers about a party, you take it. Why hot girls specifically? Marco assumed that if you told hot girls there was a party somewhere, they would spread the word faster than this virus. This assumption was mostly based on bad movies he’d watched on late-night television. He hoped it was true.

On the subject of hot girls, Marco wondered if Ryan would invite Shay to the event. He could not hope to keep his girlfriend bluff going with her right there in front of them. How could he convince her to choose him?
Screw it.
It didn’t matter. Whatever he did, of course she would choose the douche over him. Like he had anything to offer a girl in the boyfriend department.

This party was not destined for success. He’d found the keg the senator had promised him and it looked small. With the way Mike and Drew had been sucking back vodka, Marco imagined this thing would be gone in ten minutes flat.

The space, though larger than the parking garage closet, could hold maybe ten people comfortably. Assuming that comfortably included sharing the space with stacks of chairs and parts for the pin-setting machines.

Marco did what he could to improve things. He threw what scraps of material he could find over the machinery. He unstacked some of the chairs. He stole a CD player with an iPod dock in it from the back of the BathWorks and plugged that in opposite the keg for safety’s sake. And, in his one effort at making the place cool, he’d also filched a strobe light. If that didn’t say party—well, what the hell did he know about parties anyway?

He reached the door to the main hallway and stuck a star to it. It was out of his hands at this point. If people came, great. If not, well, it was the senator’s dumb idea to begin with.

The senator. Lexi.
Crap
. He had promised to help her investigate the ice-skating rink for bodies during the goddamned party. How the hell was he supposed to host a fraking party and play Sherlock Holmes with the daughter?

He needed a personal assistant at this point to keep track of his schedule. Time-management was not his forte. This had never before posed a problem, as he was used to no life at all, no friends, no one giving a crap about what he was doing ever. But now he had three different—no, four scams running at the same time. What the hell was he thinking?

Calm the frak down.
He could do this. Get the douches and drop them at the party. Then sneak away while they get blitzed and meet Lexi. Be back before the midnight raid. Save the douches’ collective ass. And the senator will never be the wiser.
All in a day’s scheming.