Intangible (24 page)

Luke settled himself back on his bed, and flipped open the book. “Only if you want to—”

“—pass the test. Yes, I know.” Sera just lay there without moving. “I hate history.”

“Me, too,” Fey said. “Me, too.”

TWENTY-THREE

“L
uke, why don’t you take a break and come talk to me.”

Luke looked up at his supervisor, Jorge, and nodded. He was a big balding guy, with a little paunch hanging over the waistband of his jeans. Luke placed the last few cereal boxes on the shelf and then followed Jorge into his office.

Glass windows looked out into the warehouse-like room where a few others finished stocking shelves with various non-perishable foods in preparation for tomorrow’s clients. The grocery side of the Emergency Food Shelf wasn’t open on Sundays, but they’d needed extra help tonight so Luke had come over from the soup kitchen where he usually volunteered.

The Sunday evening meal was a tradition for him and his dad. Part of their father-son time together. Now that his dad was gone Luke came on his own. He could feel his dad’s presence here. Almost hear the echo of his laughter when the place was crowded with clients and volunteers.

Jorge indicated that Luke should take a seat as he sat down behind the desk.

“I haven’t had a chance to check in with you since the funeral.” Jorge looked down at the papers on his desk, straightened the pens alongside them. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.”

“Because if you need to talk…”

“Thanks, but I’m really doing okay.” Luke smiled. Or pretty close to it, at least.

“You know, if you want to take a break from this—the Food Shelf—no one would blame you. If it’s just too hard, you know, without him.”

It was hard being there, in some ways, because he kept looking around expecting to see his dad. But that was also part of why he wanted to be there. It was like his dad was there with him, always just out of sight. He could almost pretend that his dad was still alive.

“No. I like being here, actually. He loved this place.”

“Your dad was a great man. He did a lot for us. We were thinking of putting up a plaque, maybe with a picture. If you’d be okay with that.” Jorge’s eyes darted back and forth between Luke and the wall. He looked so uncomfortable, like he was afraid he was going to upset Luke.

“I think he would have liked that.” Actually, it would have embarrassed him, the attention. But Luke liked the idea of still seeing his dad here, even if it was just in a photograph.

“Yeah,” Jorge said. “Me, too.”

They were silent for a minute, Luke not sure what to say.

“Well, I should probably get back.”

“Sure, yeah. Back to the soup kitchen? Looks like they’re done out there.” Jorge pointed at the grocery area.

“Yup. I’m on clean-up tonight.”

“Great. Thanks, Luke.” Jorge held out his hand and Luke grasped it. Then he turned and headed for the door.

“And, Luke?”

“Yeah?” He paused, one hand on the doorjamb.

“I’m glad you’re still coming. You’re just like your dad.”

Luke nodded and closed the door. A lump rose in his throat as he glanced around the now empty room and he swallowed a few times to clear it. He ran his hands through his hair and then glanced at his watch—fifteen minutes before the kitchen stopped serving. He needed to get back over there.

Quinn was already up to his elbows in soapy water.

“Sorry,” Luke said. “I got held up by Jorge.”

“I know.”

Luke’s eyebrows arched. “How?”

“Oh, I heard,” Quinn said. Then added, “Uh, that he wanted to talk to you.” Quinn handed Luke a clean bowl. “Good conversation?”

“He talked about my dad.”

“Yeah, I know,” Quinn said. “Tough topic right now, huh?”

“It’s not so bad.” Luke placed a dry glass back on a shelf. “I mean, it’s
bad
, don’t get me wrong. I’m not downplaying it. But I’m getting used to it. And so it’s not so bad. You know?” Luke sighed. “I’ll live.”

Quinn watched Luke closely, nodded. “That you will,” he said, and handed Luke another glass to dry. Luke wrapped the towel around the glass, twisted it back and forth.

“Hey, Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry about your dad.”

Luke felt that lump in his throat come back. He swallowed again, took a breath.

“Thanks, Quinn. Really.”

Forty-five minutes later Luke was drying off his hands and hanging up his damp apron. He turned off the lights, went out to the soup kitchen door where Jorge waited to lock up. Quinn already had his earbuds back in place.

Luke stepped outside into the cool dark night and stretched his arms up over his head. He said goodnight to Jorge and Quinn, and turned up the street toward his car.

Burlington’s streets were always quiet on Sunday nights. Especially in fall and winter. Luke zipped his coat against the chilly night air, and just stood there and breathed in the cool silence of the dark. His hand went to his back pocket, as it did many times a day, checking to make sure his dad’s flask was still there.

God, he missed his dad. Especially on Sundays. They used to finish up at the Food Shelf, then head to a diner to get a bite to eat and talk. It was probably his favorite thing to do all week.

But now he was alone. He worked alone, got out alone, and went home alone. Sure, Quinn was there, which he was glad for, and Jorge, and all the other volunteers. But he was still there by himself. Alone.

He found himself usually hurrying home each Sunday night to hang out with Sera, the one person who guaranteed he’d never be alone. But with what he’d Seen of the future, that guarantee was about to run out. And he still hadn’t figured out how to stop it.

So, he probably shouldn’t be daydreaming on the street when he needed to be home trying to change the future. He mentally kicked himself and headed to his car.

Quiet voices in the parking lot on his left and a prickly feeling up his neck made him turn his head. One of the Food Shelf’s clients—he thought her name was Gloria—was talking to some guy dressed all in black who he’d never seen before.

Luke paused, peered at them. He glanced back down in the direction Jorge and Quinn had both walked. They were gone. The street was empty. He looked back at Gloria and the guy.

Something felt wrong.

Gloria, who was not even five feet tall, always dressed in tight, bright colors, and was the loudest, most cantankerous person Luke knew. But she was staring at the stranger as if bewitched, demure and doe-eyed. And the guy looked off. Strange. He almost looked like he flickered, as if he were lit with a faulty bulb.

When the guy beckoned and Gloria obediently followed, goose bumps spread up Luke’s arms. Before he even considered what he was doing, Luke jogged toward them.

“Gloria!” Luke called out. She didn’t turn toward him, but the guy did. And snarled at Luke.

That threw Luke, but only for a brief moment. He put on a burst of speed and called out again, louder.

“GLORIA! HEY, GLORIA!”

She turned then, her eyes unfocused and looked at Luke. He reached out for her and touched her shoulder.

And she was back. Instantaneously. Her eyes sharpened, she scowled, and slapped Luke’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me, boy,” she said. She turned to the guy. “What are you looking at?”

Luke looked from the guy to Gloria. “You don’t know him?”

“Never seen him before in my life,” Gloria said. “Now leave me alone, I gotta get home.” She pushed past Luke and limped over to her rusty old sedan.

Luke eyed the stranger. Up close Luke could see him better. Light brown skin, dark hair, black eyes. He was much shorter than Luke and built solid.

“You should probably get home too,” Luke said.

The guy looked at Luke’s right hand, the one with the ring on it, for a long moment, then said, “Sure,
amigo
. Whatever you say.” He grinned at Luke, exposing sharp teeth.

Gloria cursed as she struggled to get her car door to open. Luke glanced at her, then turned back to the guy again.

But he was gone.

Luke whipped around to the sound of pounding feet behind him.

Quinn.

Luke’s eyes scoured the parking lot, but there was no sign of the guy. Quinn came to a screeching halt feet from Luke, bent over with his hands on his knees and wheezed loudly. Luke clapped him on the shoulder a couple of times, and Quinn held up an index finger in a just-give-me-a-moment sign.

When he’d caught his breath, he stood up, and said, “Is everything okay? I heard you yelling. Oh god, this hurts.” He squeezed his right side. “Why do people run for fun?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just some guy bothering Gloria. Sort of.”

“Seriously. What could possibly be fun about running?” Quinn glanced over at Gloria as she pulled her car out of the parking lot and onto the street heading north. He looked up at Luke again. “What do you mean
sort of
?”

Luke shook his head. “I don’t know. It was just…strange, I guess.” He watched Gloria’s taillights disappear. “But he’s gone now.” He looked at Quinn again and smiled. “How far did you run?”

“Three and a half blocks. And running sucks, I’m telling you. I’ll probably have shin splints tomorrow.”

“I don’t know. Sounds like you need to get in shape. You’re whimpering like a total wuss.”

“I am a total wuss, and intend to stay that way. You jock-types think every problem is solved by exercise. Not all of us want to be like you, you know.”

Luke laughed and clapped Quinn on the back. “Well, thanks for coming to the rescue.” Luke looked at Quinn for a moment. “So you heard me yelling from almost four blocks away? Really? Wow.” Luke nodded. “You have dog hearing?”

Quinn half shrugged and shook his head. “You’re just exceptionally loud when you’re squealing ‘Gloria! Gloria! Oh, help! Gloria!’ It was really quite embarrassing,” Quinn said. “I mean for you. I just came to stop you from humiliating yourself any further.”

“Helpful,” Luke said. “And thanks.”

TWENTY-FOUR

M
arc pulled into the school parking lot a few minutes after the last bell rang. Students were everywhere, and he carefully maneuvered to the back corner of the lot where Luke and Sera always parked. They were already at their car, chatting with a guy he’d seen a few times.

His heart pounded, and he felt the bite of anxiety like thousands of sharp teeth pricking his skin. He was suddenly aware of how fast he was breathing. This had to work. He’d given it time, but he needed to get closer to Sera now, to know for certain. The Shadows would want another update and he needed to have something more to tell them. And if he was going to hand them over to the Shadows he had to be certain.

If
he was going to hand them over. No, he couldn’t think about that now. He just needed to focus on the task at hand. Cross that bridge, and all.

He’d been playing the part of the just-friend and his laidback approach didn’t seem to be working. Or perhaps it just wasn’t working fast enough. For he had been spending a great deal of time with Sera, Luke, and Fey, and felt like he was accepted. At least by Luke and Sera.

Fey was an odd one. He didn’t know what it was about her, but something was different. She was hot, no doubt. He’d never met anyone as beautiful. But there was something off about her.

Was it just that she didn’t seem to like him? Maybe. He wasn’t used to not being able to charm someone. Anyone. Everyone. He’d always eavesdropped on enough thoughts to find out just what he needed to do in order to win someone over. Of course, he couldn’t do that with Fey.

Sera and Luke seemed to genuinely like him. Sera, especially, he could tell. Which was good. He needed her to like him. He was banking on her liking him enough today to let him in. Really in.

He returned Luke’s nod as he drove past them to park at the end of the row, then walked back down a few cars to where they stood. Sera smiled at him. Good. A burst of adrenaline rushed his heart. He tipped his head down, looked up at her, and gave her a shy smile. That seemed to work with her.

“Hey,” Luke said, and reached out a fist to Marc.

“Hey yourself.” Marc bumped Luke’s outstretched fist with his own. He smiled again at Sera. “Hey,” he said softly.