Pretty Sly (24 page)

“So then Cherise and I need to come with. We can drive you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cherise said, frowning. “I don’t want to get mixed up with anything illegal.”

“News flash. You already are,” Tre said.

“What about you?” I asked Tre. “Are you really sure you want to do this? What about your boundaries?”

“Boundaries are made to be jumped over,” he said. “I’m in.”

We all turned to Cherise, waiting.

“It’s your choice,” Tre said. “If you want out, you can take the next bus home. We can drop you off.”

Cherise looked at me and then back to Tre, and sighed. “No, I can’t leave you guys—not now. I just don’t want to get in trouble. I already lied and told my parents
that Rain and I were going skiing. If her car is spotted in Oregon, we’ll both be screwed.”

“Nobody will get in trouble if we plan this thing well,” Tre said. “I’m not going to take Rain’s car. Give me a little credit, okay? Now, does anyone here have access to a tractor-trailer?”

“Actually, I have something we might be able to use,” Rain said, a devious smile spreading across her face.

Between the five of us, we came up with something that sounded workable. A plan that would allow Aidan and me to fly under the radar, yet would advance us to our next destination. As the sun rose, we drove fifty miles north to Truckee and followed back roads to a complex of low-lying industrial buildings. Rain pulled the car behind a warehouse where loading docks were lined up like the teeth of a zipper.

She turned around and smiled at us as she put the car in park. “Finally, my nightmare summer stockgirl job can be put to good use,” she said. “Do you have a preference?”

“That one,” Tre said, pointing to a truck that was white and square, with a giant piece of powdered-sugar-dusted crumb cake painted on the side. Betelman’s Baked Goods. One of my favorites. My stomach growled as we staked it out.

Tre stepped out of the car to get a better look, but not before he readjusted his hoodie and sunglasses.

We’d all been careful to disguise ourselves. I felt bad that yet again I was dragging Tre and now Cherise into my criminal plans, but they insisted on coming with us. The truth was, we needed them to pull it off. Because this plan was as outrageous as anything else we’d done— and after the whole FBI/Denny’s scam, that was saying a lot.

“And you’re sure no one’s around?” I asked.

“I’m sure,” Rain said. “They don’t get here and load up for at least another hour. Just promise to bring it back when you’re done.”

“Of course. You think we want to keep this thing? I can only imagine how that’d go over back at home, trying to park in the VP lot,” Cherise muttered.

“So, does everyone know what to do?” Tre asked, looking at the rest of us. He’d gone through our positions about two hundred times.

We nodded and we gathered our things.

Rain hugged us each good-bye. “I wish I could go with you. Promise me you’ll call and give me an update,” she said.

“Of course,” Cherise said. “Have fun studying bio.”

Rain stuck out her tongue.

“Thanks, Rain,” I said. “I owe you big-time.”

“Just find her,” she said, giving me a squeeze. “We can talk paybacks later. It’s been great hanging out with you. The real Willa, I mean.”

“And you too,” I said.

“Enough cornball stuff,” Tre said. “Let’s move.”

At his call, we dashed toward the truck. My skin tingled as we drew nearer. We were really doing this. Aidan had the side door open within seconds. He grinned at me as he pocketed his screwdriver.

“Not bad for a poor little rich boy, huh? I knew this extra screwdriver would come in handy.”

“Not the best I’ve seen, either,” Tre said. “You chipped the paint.”

We crept up the steps and into the truck, and crouched between stainless-steel shelves of baked goods. Tre was there to close us in.

“You guys gonna be okay back here?”

“Sure,” I said, though I suddenly felt a wave of anxiety about being locked in. How long would this take? It was strange to not be in control. “We’ll call you if we need to stop.”

“All right.” He smiled and I caught a little gleam in his eye. Was he enjoying this? “Headed northbound.”

The door creaked shut. We were surrounded in the frigid darkness for what felt like hours as Cherise and Tre got into the front and hot-wired the ignition.

Finally, the truck lurched forward. Aidan took my hand in his. We pulled away and out of the parking lot, back onto the road like we’d never left it.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

TWENTY

THE TRUCK WAS
cold—freezing actually. Aidan and I huddled close together for warmth. After a little while, our eyes adjusted to the lack of light and I could make out Aidan’s profile, just a few inches away.

“I feel a little bad,” I said, my words echoing in the cavernous metal expanse.

“About what?” Aidan asked.

“About all of this.” The truck heist, bringing Cherise and Tre into our maneuvers, the ongoing police chase. I’d never meant for it to happen this way. I just wanted to find my mom. “It’s kind of another level of theft now. And, I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Sly Fox I know and love. Look, the whole point is that cops are not looking for a Betelman’s truck. It’s foolproof.”

“No plan is foolproof,” I said, trying not to think about the fact that he’d just said
love.
Had he really just
said that? Despite the cold, my face was suddenly hot.

“Don’t worry. Have a donut. And hey, think of it this way: You’re eating the evidence.” He pressed one into my hand.

I bit into the cinnamon-covered cake and tried to relax. I was stress-eating now. This was my third donut. My mom, the health-food nut, would have been appalled. But what good was hiding out in a Betelman’s truck if you didn’t partake in the snacks? And, come to think of it, she probably would have been appalled at just about everything that we’d done in the past few days.

In the darkness, with the low rumbling of the engine, I felt a certain amount of safety. “So where were you, when you left?”

“I called my dad.”

“And what happened?”

The truck shifted—Tre must have been changing lanes, and we were slung to the right. I grabbed hold of his shoulder for balance.

“Let’s just say he wasn’t quite as sweet as he seemed on TV. The first thing he said was, ‘Do you know how your little stunt is affecting my stock prices?’”

“So what’d you say?”

“I hung up on him,” he said bluntly. “But that was my fault. It was stupid to think he would be any different. People don’t change.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” I said. “You have to hope sometimes.
Anyway, I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”

“It’s a good lesson for me to learn. You shouldn’t be sorry.”

“Well, I pushed you away. I think that makes it my fault.”

“I know. I mean, we both made mistakes,” he said, his fingers tracing along the inside of my wrist. “But that’s not important now, is it?”

God, I had missed him. Those few hours he’d been gone were unbearable. With Aidan next to me, things felt right again.

Then a little doubt crept into the back of my mind.
You still don’t know, Willa. You still don’t know why he got into trouble or who this other girl is.

“I just wish we could do this all over,” I said out loud. “This hasn’t been the best time for us to start something.”

“We don’t need to. I mean, we’re still starting, aren’t we?”

The truck shifted the other way and we were thrown together again. I laughed, embarrassed that I was on top of him. Not that I didn’t want to be.

The truck straightened itself out, and we fell back into our positions. Before I could answer Aidan or say anything else, our phone buzzed. I rummaged through my bag to bring it up. “Hang on.”

It was a text from Tre.

COP ROADBLOCK AHEAD!!!!! GET OUT ASAP.

“Oh my God.” So much for our foolproof plan. I didn’t need a memo to know that the cops were most likely looking for us. “Cops. He says get out.”

“How?” Aidan said.

“Jump, I guess.”

“What are they going to do?”

WHAT ABOUT U? I texted.

Tre couldn’t afford to get in trouble any more than I could. My pulse tripled its tempo and my thoughts pinged from the police ahead of us to Tre and Cherise, to me and Aidan flinging ourselves onto the road.

GO.

I grabbed my bag and crouched by the door. Every nerve running through my body twanged with fear. We could feel the brakes clamping and the truck decelerating.

The moment was here. We had to go.

Aidan opened up the door. At first all I could see was the light, piercing the blackness in a sharp column. Instinctively, I reached up to shield my eyes.

“I’ll go first, okay?” Aidan said.

“Okay.”

“Then follow me.”

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Then, just like that, he was gone.

It was only me now in the gaping opening, air blowing in. I threw my backpack out first. Then I closed my eyes and dove after it. It was like swimming against the current, my head and chest going in one direction, my legs in another. When I finally landed, my feet touched the road. Just as quickly I was tumbling forward with the force of my own weight, down down down into a grassy gully until I finally landed on my back. I opened my eyes and watched the Betelman’s truck rev up and drive on, taking Cherise and Tre with it.

Then Aidan was crouching over me. “You all right?”

“I think so.” I reached a hand down to my leg and felt the fabric torn, the flesh of my thigh hot and tender to the touch.

“Road rash,” he said. “Can you walk?”

I stood up carefully and took a few steps. We were still in the depression on the side of the highway. I turned back to look in the direction of the truck. It was tiny now, receding into the distance. Beyond it I could just make out the black-and-white police cars lined up in a row across the pavement.

“I hope they’re going to be okay,” I said.

“I hope
we’re
going to be okay.”

“I just mean Tre. I don’t want him to get in trouble again.” I limped a little bit.

“Well, he took that chance, didn’t he? He knew what he was getting into.”

“I guess so.” I was surprised at how callous Aidan seemed about the whole thing. They were our friends.
They’d risked their well-being and freedom for us.

“This is survival, Willa. There must be a rest stop somewhere along here,” Aidan said. “I suggest we walk that way. We can figure out where the hell we are and go from there.”

I hated to backtrack and I was eager to find another ride, to keep going and get as far from the police as possible, but I knew he was right.

We walked, huddled close to the ground, back in the direction we came. The grass was overgrown, strewn with tall flowering weeds, and it was easy to get lost in it. But I still felt like I was wearing a giant target.

TEEN FUGITIVE right here, folks. Step right up and take a shot.

Thankfully, a truck stop wasn’t too far off—my leg was throbbing by the time we got there.

We walked inside, stopping at the little store in front to buy a map. Then I went to the bathroom to clean my wound, wrapping toilet paper around it. Probably not the most advanced first-aid technique, but it would have to do. I balled up some extra and stuffed it into the bag. I’d finally gotten rid of my schoolbooks, leaving them at Rain’s house, and now it was much lighter with more space for needed supplies. Aidan was carrying the FBI files.

When Aidan went up to the front cashier to get us some snacks, I looked at our map. Judging by the distance we’d already covered that morning, I estimated it
would be another hour before we hit Fossil, which was the entry point to the Painted Hills, according to Rain’s parents’ guidebooks.

I traced the route with my finger, brushing over a town called Azalea, and another called Drain.

Azalea and Drain. That sounded familiar.

I reached into the pocket of the windbreaker for what I’d thought was my mom’s shopping list.

Needles, Posts, Crest, Azalea, Drain, 3RS.

Now, looking at the list and back at the map, I realized that those must have been places. Places she was going on her journey.

And Crest was where Corbin had found her car, wasn’t it?

Aidan came back to where I was sitting and I showed him what I saw.

“So this was part of her plan all along, too, to throw off anyone on her trail. The car was a decoy.” I said it with relief. Now, at least, I had some proof that she knew what she was doing.

“Nice work, Colorado,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “We’re nearly there. I can feel it. Are you ready to jet?”

He followed my eyes to where I was looking. At the entrance, where two policemen were shuffling in.

“Yes,” I said very quietly, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go now.”

Aidan and I turned around and walked directly—we
didn’t run, though I was tempted to—out through the back entrance. Behind the truck stop was a huge lot. There were a bunch of cars parked there, some tractor-trailers, and a row of motorcycles. Aidan made a beeline for the bikes.

“Are you crazy?” I pictured leather-jacketed gang members coming after us.

“Crazy and stupid,” he said. I watched as he sat down on the saddle and used his foot to jar the handlebars loose from their locked position. Then he got out his screwdriver, stuck it in the ignition, and pulled out the key barrel, tossing it on the ground. He jammed the screwdriver back in and started the bike. Aidan, the hot-wirer extraordinaire, revved up the engine, which roared and then dropped to a rumbling sputter. “Get on.”

I jumped on the back. Aidan U-turned out of the truck-stop entrance so that we were headed south. Then we picked up another road going west. All I could do was hold on to him, my arms encircling his back, feeling his muscles pulse as he steered and changed lanes. The windbreaker did not exactly live up to its name on a bike. The wind was freezing as it whipped around us, and the warmth of our bodies smashed together was the only thing that was keeping me from going totally numb.