Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) (27 page)

“Was he drunk?” asks Franco.

“No. I mean, he acted a little bit crazy, but he didn’t smell like booze or anything.”

I frown. “Did he at least apologize and make sure you were okay after he hit you?”

“That’s the funny thing.” Liam pauses. “I think he hit me on purpose.”

“What? But
why?”
Franco tenses. “Did you recognize him?”

“No, I’ve no idea who he is. But he knew me, that’s for sure.”

Franco’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“Like I said, he probably ran me over on purpose. Then he jumped off his bike, grabbed my arms, breathed his rotten meat breath right into my face, and said, ‘You’re a dead man if you run that race. Did you hear me? A dead man.’”

Franco tenses. “He
threatened
you?”

Liam shrugs. “Maybe he just wants somebody else to win.”

I sigh. “I don’t know why everyone assumes we’re going to win. It’s starting to bug me.”

Franco stares at me a second then breaks his gaze. “Maybe he’s right, Liam. And at least you’d have an excuse to back out now. You could show them your leg.”

Liam shakes his head. “But I don’t want to quit. And I can’t believe you’d want me to give in to some freak show bullying me into giving up on something I wanted.”

Franco frowns. “This guy sounds dangerous. Who knows what else he could do to you?”

“I’m not afraid of him.” Liam turns to me. “Silvia, what do you think? What would you do if this happened?”

I pause to consider the question. “I probably would’ve been so pissed that I’d have grabbed his bike and rode off with it. See how he liked it. That is, if I could do it with a bum knee.”

“You see, Franco?” Liam laughs. “Silvia’s got more balls than both of us put together.”

Franco rolls his eyes. “Lovely analogy.”

“At any rate, I’m with Silvia. I’m going to rest up, fix this knee, and run the race to win it—no matter what anyone else has to say. I hope that guy doesn’t show up and breathe his deadly breath in my face again. It was
awful.
Thank goodness I floss.”

iam’s mom, Linda, hovers at the apartment door as we approach. She points to the couch where a soft blanket awaits. As soon as we have Liam situated, she brings over a small tray crowded with ointment jars, bandages, and wet clothes. Linda opens two jars, and the room fills with the smell of camphor and lavender.

“What do you think?” Franco asks his aunt. “How bad is it?”

Liam gestures at me. “Oh, hey, Mom, this is Silvia Wood.”

“Yes, I know,” Linda answers without even a glance in my direction. Instead, she focuses on Liam, who winces as she flexes and extends his swollen knee.

“He can bear partial weight on that leg,” I add, trying to be helpful.

“It’s too swollen for me to say how much permanent damage has been done.” Linda grabs a fragrant jar and begins to rub a greasy yellow ointment around the affected knee. “We’ll have to try to get the swelling down and see what happens.”

I cross the room, grab a few pillows, and bring them to over to the couch. “Do you want to elevate the leg? Should I get you some ice?”

Linda turns to me. Her frosty gaze makes me feel I’ve done something wrong. I’m just not sure what it could be.

“I’ll take it from here,” she says. “Thanks for bringing him home.” But her gratitude is aimed at Franco, not me.

For some reason, she doesn’t like me. Maybe it’s something stupid like how Citizen Family Planning wants to inject everyone with birth control the second they come in contact with a member of the opposite sex. Perhaps they aren’t the only ones who believe I’m sleeping with her son.

“Ouch!” Liam squirms on the couch. “Come on, Mom, that hurts!”

Franco elbows me. “We’d better hurry out of here if you don’t want to see Liam turn into a infant. He’s not good with pain.”

Feeling a bit dismissed, I head for the door. Franco and I exit the apartment, head down the hall, and turn a corner before either of us speaks a word.

“Listen, I have to ask.” I pause, wondering if I really want to know why Liam’s mom was so cold toward me. Her instant dislike of me is irrational and, perhaps, irrelevant. I couldn’t possibly have done something wrong. “Why does your aunt hate me so much? I don’t even know her.”

He frowns. “She doesn’t really hate you.”

“It sure feels like it.”

“Yes, I’m sure it does. You have to understand—Linda’s not the happiest person on the planet. Liam’s a lot different than her. He’s more like my Uncle Jack.”

Liam’s more like his dad. Now, I understand.

“Is it because I remind her of the accident?” I ask. “Is that why she doesn’t want me around?”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s it. So, don’t take it personally.”

“I’ve never understood that saying. It doesn’t make any sense. How do you
not
take something personally when it’s about you—which is personal, right?”

“I guess so,” Franco changes the subject as we enter the elevator. “What do you want to do now? Are you still going running?”

I sigh. “No. I don’t really feel like using the treadmill, and if I go outside on my own, I’ll worry that freak guy on the bike will run me down, too.”

Franco shakes his head. “He’s probably long gone by now.”

The elevator door opens on the first floor, and we stand in the entryway, staring through the windows. The sun beckons us outside. Now what?

“What are
you
going to do?” I glance at Franco, wanting to stay with him though I have no idea what he’s doing next or if he’d even want my company.

“Well… we’re both done with work, I guess.” He squints at the sun as we step outside. “And your mom isn’t expecting you home for a while, right?”

I nod, full of hope.

“How about the park? You like plants, right?”

“Yes, of course.” I smile. Finally, a moment alone with Franco. Not that it isn’t a shame Liam had to get hurt in order for me to spend some time alone with his cousin.

We hurry our steps to the Northwest Citizen Park. A couple times, Franco’s fingers brush mine, and I hold my breath, wishing he’d take my hand. But he doesn’t. As we reach the tall metal gates leading into the garden, a flood of people rush out of the park.

“Oh, no,” I exclaim. “Is it closing time already?”

“No. Everybody’s heading home for supper. These are just the day pass people, but you can go at night anytime.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I come here a lot.” Franco gestures at the lilacs. “It’s peaceful here.”

“Yes. It’s like home… Or what my home used to be like.”

Franco pats me on the back twice then quickly removes his hand. I wish he’d put his arm around me and leave it there.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“No.” Food is the last thing on my mind.

“Good. Me neither.” He smiles. “Let’s walk around and pretend this is what the whole world looks like. Forget there’s row after row of identical gray apartment buildings outside the gates.”

I smile. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

We head down the nearest trail. Franco points out which plants he’s researched—which is the vast majority of the fruit trees, herbs, and vegetables on display.

“This one’s mine, too.” He points to an apple tree, heavy with immature fruit.

I glance at the placard label stuck in the ground at the base of the tree. “Wow. Your name is listed on there.”

He chuckles. “Did you think I was lying?”

“No, but I guess I didn’t realize—“

“Actually, if you’ll look, my name is on a lot of these signs.”

I smirk. “Oh, I see. Now it’s braggity-bragster time.”

He smiles. “Let’s just say I’m highly interested in the subject matter.”

Franco raises his gaze to mine. I begin to drown in his eyes. People walk by, but I don’t see them. My heart races, and, yet, he doesn’t say a thing. He doesn’t step any closer, and I’m afraid to move. I don’t want to break this spell.

My brief stint in wonderland gets interrupted by a small girl toppling over on her bike next to us on the path. She whimpers, hunched over on the ground.

“Are you okay?” I bend down, noting her scraped knees and tear-stained face.

“Marissa! Don’t go so fast.” A short man rushes toward us as I help the girl to her feet.

She tentatively tries out both legs.

“See, you’re okay,” I reassure her, and she rewards me with a smile.

The guy finally reaches us, puffing hard.

The little girl runs up to him. “Did you see me, Daddy? I was
super
fast.”

“Yes. That’s the problem, dear. Daddy’s
not
super fast. Here, let me have a look at your legs. Oh, no. Your mom’s gonna kill me.”

I stand up. “Oh, I think she’ll be fine. She’s a toughie. She barely cried.”

The girl’s dad glances at me, worry etched all over his face, then pauses. “Wait, I know you. You’re Silvia, right? From Mortuary Science, Northwest sector… with Dr. Gus Andrews?”

It takes me a moment to recognize the shorter Handler who drove back with me in the front of the truck through the fireworks-studded night on July 4
^th
.

“Yeah.” I smile. “Sorry I didn’t remember you at first. You look so different in street clothes.”

“It’s Marissa’s birthday today,” he explains. “I got a work pass.”

I wave at her. “Well, happy birthday, Marissa.”

She grins. “Thanks.”

“I’m here after work today myself,” I explain.

We both turn to Franco, who appears to be intensely studying the tree he’d just pointed out.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy who—” The Handler pauses, takes his daughter’s hand, and moves away. “Never mind. Have a nice evening, you two.”

After they disappear around the next heavily mulched corner, I murmur, “I think he recognized you.”

“Yep.” He chuckles. “Pretty sure he did.”

“Why do you hate those guys so much, anyway? They’re just doing their job. If you really have an issue, you should go above them.”

Franco avoids my gaze, still smiling to himself.

“At least you didn’t go after him in front of his kid,” I continue. “In fact, that’s probably why he took off right away, so you wouldn’t freak her out.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Franco’s face turns serious. “Believe me.”

“I don’t get you. Half the time, you seem so pissed off, and the rest of the time, like right now, you act like you’ve heard some joke I don’t understand.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, Silvia.”

I narrow my eyes. “It’s like you’re a chameleon or something.”

Franco nods. “Let’s just say: I find it useful that no one really knows who I am.”