Pretty Sly (22 page)

“I’m just really tired.” The more I said it, the more convinced I was that it was the right thing to do. Even with the help of these guys, the whole thing was too risky. And being on the road was getting riskier by the minute, it seemed. There were scary people out there. People who wanted to hurt my mom. I shivered again involuntarily, thinking of Chet. So maybe that wasn’t him just then, but the real guy was still out on the loose, somewhere.

“I’m a criminal,” I said out loud, like it was a confession. Like they didn’t know already. “I should do my time.”

“You’re not a criminal. Murderers are criminals,” Rain said.

“She broke the law,” Cherise said. “That makes her a criminal. But you shouldn’t give up.”

“I don’t know. Maybe Willa’s right,” Tre said. “Maybe turning herself in would be the safest thing. She’s had a good run.”

Rain pulled the car up a gravel driveway, the little frozen stones rattling against her tires. In her headlights, a three-story house emerged, a rustic structure built with granite pillars and redwood logs.

As we got out of the car, Rain grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. “I agree with Cherise. You can’t give up now. Not with all these people on your side.” Her
round dark eyes peered at me with earnestness. “Your mom’s still out there, Willa. And you’re going to find her.”

The lights outside, sensing our motion, flipped on as we neared, guiding us to the house, where we would be warm and safe. Rain’s words hung in the air like the mists of our breath. But there were other things to think about besides those strangers on Facebook, weren’t there? There was Aidan, and Corbin, and my mom.

“Maybe we shouldn’t pressure her so much,” Tre said, as if sensing my thoughts. “It’s her life, after all. Whatever she does will be the right choice.”

I smiled painfully, wishing like anything that I could believe him.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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EIGHTEEN

“FIRST THINGS FIRST,”
Tre said as we entered the house through a tiled hallway. “Let’s find out what’s going on out there.”

We walked into Rain’s living room, a cozy wood-paneled nook with sofas and bookshelves. Before we could settle in, Tre reached to turn on the TV.

We landed on a commercial for a lemonade drink— a bunch of kids played around a backyard pool while a mom poured sunny juice into tall glasses. The cleanliness and shininess of it reminded me of Paradise Valley, and I realized how much I missed it. While I didn’t want to go back to
my
life there, I remembered what it used to be like, with hot showers, and school, and friends, and a real family home. Like heaven.

Then the commercial ended and a news report came on. The line at the top of the screen said,
Stateline, Nevada.

They were
here.
They knew I was here.

Cherise looked at me and shook her head. “Could you be any more of a headline hog?”

“I’m not trying to be,” I pointed out. “Believe me. This isn’t by choice.”

The reporter, a blond woman bundled up in a silver parka, spoke gravely into her microphone. I immediately recognized the condominium complex behind her.

“Officials say a home break-in was reported here tonight. Police are already linking it to the Sly Fox, aka Willa Fox, a fifteen-year-old fugitive, and her associate, Aidan Murphy. Both are on the run and wanted for crimes in Arizona, California, and now Nevada.”

Dramatic pause.

“With me now is Thomas Baden, who saw the two leaving his condominium just this afternoon.”

The camera panned to the bald man I recognized from earlier. “I was coming home, and I heard a ruckus upstairs.” He spoke loudly and clearly like a language teacher. “Next thing I know, the sliding glass door is open and these two kids have jumped off my deck into the snow.”

Back to the reporter. “Baden got into his car and chased after the two suspects but says they disappeared into the woods behind his house before he could apprehend them.”

Baden again. “It was like, poof. They were gone as quickly as they came in. They didn’t steal anything,
either. Just seems like they used my computer.”

The reporter stared solemnly into the camera. “While the suspects seem to be enjoying their notoriety, police are growing concerned about their next steps and are worried the two could be armed. They’re now combing the area and looking for clues.”

“Armed?” I said. “Give me a break.” If you counted my pepper spray and my English books, maybe.

Cut to police headquarters and an officer in full uniform: a square-headed man with bushy eyebrows and a soft jowl. “They may be kids, but this is a crime spree, plain and simple,” he said. “The longer it goes on, the more dangerous they become, to themselves and others. We’re taking this very seriously. And we
will
find them.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. They’re pretty close by,” Tre said, clicking off the TV and folding his arms in front of him. “What do you want to do? And what about your boy?”

“He’s not my boy,” I said. That was exactly the problem, wasn’t it? “Tre, you were right. I can’t trust him.”

Tre shrank back a little. “Did I say that?”

“The day we left. You told me not to get too close, remember?”

“I was probably just exaggerating. So you didn’t get too distracted. Dude’s flirtatious, but I didn’t mean you couldn’t trust him, period.”

I frowned. Now he was taking it back? “I mean, I spent all this time with him and we’re supposed to be
together but he still won’t tell me why he got kicked out. Not only that, but I think there are other girls. . . .”

Cherise whistled. “Murphy, Murphy.”

“I don’t know about the other girls,” Tre said. “But as far as I know he’s under a legal agreement not to talk about what happened at Prep. So that part is definitely not about you.”

I thought about this for a moment. Aidan was willing to go on this crazy jaunt and break all sorts of laws, yet he was somehow still concerned about breaking a measly legal agreement with the school? It didn’t exactly make sense, but then I was learning that everyone had their own boundaries, to use Tre’s word.

I sighed. How much did it matter, anyway? “Well, regardless, he might already be in custody by now, or on his way home. I don’t know where my mom is. So I guess I have to turn myself in.”

No one said anything this time. Not one word of resistance. We all sat in silence, and the truth weighed on us like a leaded X-ray shield.

“Just sleep on it,” Cherise said. “You’re all wacked out right now. Just wait until morning at least.”

“Before you go anywhere, I want to show you something,” Rain said. She got out her laptop and logged on to the Sly Fox Facebook page.

She handed me the computer and I scrolled down, running my finger along the mouse pad to read the messages on the wall.

Sebastian Kerry
You rock, Sly Fox. :D

Jenny Kaiser
Sly Fox and Aidan Murphy are so cute together. I hope they get married.

I winced. That one got me in the gut.

Sam Jenkins
Free Willa and her friend! They’re just kids.
The Great John B
They r so brilliant. I don’t know what the big deal is. They never hurt anyone. They just stole stupid possessions that people didn’t need, anyway.

Tina James
If only the police would spend time trying to catch real criminals and murderers and the crooks on Wall Street instead of bothering these two. They’re just trying to live their lives. Yes, they’ve made mistakes but who hasn’t? They must have a good reason to do what they’re doing. None of us are in their shoes so we can’t judge.

The page went on and on. It was so easy to get sucked into the flattery, all the people rooting for us. I didn’t want to start believing all of my own hype. But I did have to admit that we had a mission. We stood for something, even if it wasn’t quite what our fans thought it was.

As those thoughts cycled through my head, I had to wonder again whether all of this was really happening to me. From the moment my mom disappeared life had gotten more surreal by the day. Reading Facebook posts about Aidan and me took the cake.

Aidan. I couldn’t believe he was actually gone.

Rain wrapped her tiny arms around her chest. “Well, I’m going to go up to bed, you guys. Cherise, you want to show Willa her room?”

“Okay,” Cherise said quietly. “G’night.”

I reached over to hug her. “Good night, Rain. Thank you for everything.”

“I’m going up, too,” Tre said. “Unless you need me.”

“No, that’s okay,” I said. “Get some sleep.”

“I’ll see you in the morning?” He eyed me as his question curled around itself.

I gave him a hug, too. “Yup. I’ll say good-bye before I go.”

Cherise and I started up the stairs behind them and she led me to the guest room at the end of the hallway.

It was a sweet little setup: a fluffy, down-comforter-covered bed with a wooden four-poster frame, a full-length mirror, and a brightly colored Turkish rug on the hardwood floor. On the walls were some postcards that I assumed came from places Rain and her parents had traveled.

I sat down on the soft mattress, feeling my weight sink into it. Cherise handed me two towels for my personal hygiene needs—which at that point were pretty major—and a pair of pajamas.

“You should be good, right?”

“Cherise,” I ventured. “How come you decided to forgive me?”

She looked up at me from under hooded lids. “I don’t know if I have yet exactly.”

“Well, you know what I mean. How did you decide to come here?”

She leaned back against the wall, setting the sole of her foot on it and crossing her arms. “I still think the stealing was wrong. But I guess, the more I thought about it, the more I could understand what you were trying to do. And those guys, well, they’re kind of hideous. I’m not really hanging out with Kellie and Nikki too much these days. You were right about them. I’ll give you that.”

So she’d disassociated herself from the Glitterati. This came as a shock. I thought back to that day at school when she’d stood up to them. It couldn’t be easy for her to cut ties like that. “What happened?”

“Well, you know Kellie and I had a beef back in the day. It was just like Lower School all over again. I defended you and she started in with the blog, calling me names, starting rumors that I was a thief, too.”

I drew in a breath. The last thing I wanted was for Cherise to be caught up in this. “And then what?”

“I found a wallet they planted in my locker and I confronted them, in front of Mr. Page. I told them I wasn’t going to be their puppet. I was done.”

“Are you okay?”

“It hasn’t been the best time at VP. Let’s put it that way. And to be honest, I was starting to get sick of hearing about you all the time from everyone.” She arched an eyebrow.

“So then, why are you here?”

“Tre was the only one who’d talk to me at school. He was really there for me. And when Tre told me what was going on, I knew we could help, me and Rain. No matter what’s happened, I want you to find your mom. I know how tight you guys are.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It means a lot to me. I hope we can—”

“—be friends again? We’ll see, Fox.” She gave me the side-eye as she stepped out. “Bathroom’s in the hallway. Good night.”

“Good night,” I called after her, feeling almost foolish for my sudden lift of hope.

I showered and then came back to change. As I toweled off my hair, I looked at the wall with the postcards. One was a street scene in Mumbai, India; another was of London. Then my eye fell on the one on the end: wavelike hills with bands of bright colors.

I untacked the postcard from the wall and looked at the back.

Painted Hills, Oregon,
it said.

My heart started racing. I was afraid to even be thinking what I was thinking. Still, I went into my backpack and pulled out the printout of my mom’s painting.

All along I had been holding it vertically, thinking it was cliffs. Now I rotated the paper and held it so it was horizontal. This way, the ragged edges of stone now looked like the ground, and what I’d thought was the water now looked like the sky. Could this be the same place? I held the paper up against the postcard. There
was no mistaking the bright colors, the unusual layers of green and brown and red.

No no no. So it looks a little bit like the postcard. So what? You can’t keep doing this, Willa. You’re losing your mind, on top of everything else. You need to give up.

I put down the paper and pinned the postcard back. Then I got into bed and slipped under the covers and pulled them to my chin and stared up at the ceiling.

I was probably just hallucinating, I told myself. That’s what sleep deprivation could do to a person. Hadn’t I thought I’d seen Chet just an hour before? Well, no more fooling myself. No more playing detective. In the morning I was going to turn myself in and let the authorities take care of finding her. I put my hand over my heart and felt it still beating hard.

What I’d done was wrong. Cherise had said it herself. And if it was wrong then, it was wrong now. I had to quit.

In the dark, I mentally rehearsed what I would do when I woke up. How I would call Corbin. How I would get Rain or Cherise or Tre to drive me to the bus station. How, if they wouldn’t do it, I would call a cab. It was resolved.

The search, or at least my part in it, was over.

It was almost completely silent, except for the sound of snow sliding off trees in the woods. Another night in another bed. I tried not to think about where I would be sleeping next. I tried not to think about the fact that I might not even make it through the night. They could
show up at any moment. I would surrender. I was ready to surrender.

My limbs were leaden with fatigue. I used my counting-backward trick to slow down my mind and lull myself into the sleep I so desperately needed.

Eventually, it came.