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Authors: Elisa Ludwig

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“You know what this means, right?”

“What?” he asked.

I smiled. “I’m coming back to Paradise Valley. It might not be for a while but just you wait.”

“Don’t worry,” Tre said. “We’ll be ready for you.”

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EPILOGUE

“WILLA.”

Nudge.

“Willa, are you awake?”

I felt Aidan’s elbow on my ribs and I opened my eyes. It was almost fully dark inside the bus from our seats on up to the driver. All was quiet except for the vague sound of music muffled by headphones, some soft snoring here and there, and the steady scrape of the wheels on the road.

I wasn’t, in fact, awake at all. I’d fallen into some weird style of sleeping, my knees crunched up against my chest, my head resting on the cool, fogged-over window. But it was unconsciousness nonetheless.

“What is it?” I rasped, rubbing at my face. “Did we miss our stop?”

“No,” Aidan said. “I can’t sleep.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Just, I realized something.”

“About . . . ?” I was still groggy, my brain smudged in dreams.

“About us. I’m taking a risk by coming with you. Probably a bigger one than before, even.”

I sat up in my seat, straightening my limbs, a little alarmed now and unsure what he was getting at. Was he changing his mind? Was he going to get off at the next stop?

“And?”

“And, so, I hope you can do the same thing—I mean, go with it. We only have each other out here.”

This again. “What you’re saying is that you still can’t tell me what happened.”

“I don’t want you to think it’s anything personal. It’s just . . . complicated.”

“You’re asking me to take a leap of faith.”

“That’s what trust is, right? Sometimes people just need their space. Sometimes people have their reasons.”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking of Leslie. Of Tre and what he’d told me about Aidan’s legal agreement. Of all of our own deceptions. We hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. “Maybe so. The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I didn’t say it. Oscar Wilde did.” He grinned. “But very good, Willa-san.”

“If anything, I should be Miyagi-ing you right now. After all that stuff I taught you?”

“True. You did teach me well. The motorcycle was pretty good, wasn’t it?”

“Your finest work.” I reached into my pocket, remembering, and pulled out the caramel he’d given me. “It’s a little smashed up, but do you want to split it?”

I broke it in half. He took his part and popped it into his mouth. I ate mine, savoring its deliciousness. Sweet and salty—Aidan was definitely on to something.

We were quiet for a moment, chewing.

“Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, you know,” he said. “We should celebrate.”

“How?” I asked.

He looked at me, open and questioning, like he was searching my face for an answer. Like he was waiting for some kind of invitation.

This time I wasn’t going to wait for him. It was all me. I angled my head and leaned across the seat toward him. He met me halfway and our lips pressed together. The skin on my neck tingled as he traced his fingers along the back of my head and behind my ears. I felt myself melt into him and the kiss grew more forceful, more feverish.

It was like we’d been looking at a painting from a distance and now we were right up against it, seeing every last detail in a new way. It was stunning, and breathtaking. And a little scary, too.

After a few moments we pulled away but we were still locked in each other’s arms. I felt the warmth of
him, the specific imprint of his breath and touch on my skin.

And then my picture grew wider. I thought of Leslie, who was hopefully closing in on Mexico by now. And beyond her, the family that I knew nothing about. The stark, frightening emptiness of my own canvas, which had just been wiped clean.

I rested my head against Aidan’s chest. Directly in front of us, the road stretched out, long and straight, illuminated only by the headlights as they swept over it. We, in the back, were pressed together as the bus hurtled forward into the darkness.

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Acknowledgments

SOME NOT-SO-SLY THANK-YOUS:
First and foremost, Willa Fox would not have gotten off the couch, much less across state lines, were it not for Claudia Gabel’s brilliance, patience, and encouragement; Melissa Miller’s savvy edits and eye for detail; and Katherine Tegen’s vision and loveliness. I’m so proud to be part of your fine imprint.

Thank you to my agent, Leigh Feldman, whose constant, fierce support has become a pillar in my life. Big thanks to the rest of the team at HarperCollins, including editorial assistant Katie Bignell, marketing mavens Megan Sugrue and Lauren Flowers, and publicist Casey McIntyre—clever and delightful collaborators, one and all—plus Joel Tippie, Amy Ryan, Howard Huang, Tom Forget, Laura Lyn DiSiena, Cara Petrus, and Barb Fitzsimmons for delivering a cover that once again stuns with its fabulosity.

Huge love to The Apocalypsies, my fellow 2012 debut authors, for their kindness, counsel, Thursday-night chats, and tweetage. A secret writers’ handshake and a hug to the Philly chapter: K. M. Walton, Eve Marie Mont, Tiffany Schmidt, and E. C. Myers. And another big squeeze to Diana Renn, Laura White Handy, Kristen Kittscher, Talia Vance, W. H. Beck, Trisha Wolfe, Cole Gibsen, Lynne Kelly, Karen Abbott, and the KidLit Authors Club—wonderful writers, wonderful people. Could I take a moment, too, to thank the blogosphere? Because the amazing dedication of book bloggers has blown me away time and time again.

I’m so very lucky to have a family whose loyalty is very nearly biker gang–ish, minus the blood oaths and tats. Thank you to my father, Stephen, for loving Willa and offering ingenious plot twists and marketing ideas, and to my mother, Zella, for keeping me calm, offering daily reinforcement, and bravely approaching teens in B&N to pimp my books. To my sister Aubrey and her husband, Jared, for reading this book in small, stolen snatches of office paper (Willa would totally appreciate this) and for being awesome in general. To my sister Susannah, for her creative intuition, professional experience, and always-right gut instincts. To the love of my life, Jesse, who keeps me grounded, reminds me what matters, and makes me swoon daily. Finally, a pâté-flavored thank-you to my late cat, Beau, for his snuggles.

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About the Author

ELISA LUDWIG
lives in Philadelphia and studied writing at Vassar College and Temple University. Her work has appeared in the
Philadelphia Inquirer, Philadelphia City Paper, Details, Publishers Weekly
, and many other publications. Visit Elisa at www.elisaludwig.com.

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PRETTY SLY

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Ludwig, Elisa.

Pretty sly / Elisa Ludwig. — 1st ed.

p. cm.

Sequel to: Pretty crooked.

Summary: Fifteen-year-old Willa takes to the road with Aidan in a stolen car after her artist mother disappears, heading for the Santa Barbara, California, hotel from which her mother sent an email, but soon they are the targets of a nationwide manhunt.

ISBN 978-0-06-206609-1

EPub Edition July 2013 ISBN 9780062066091

[1. Fugitives from justice—Fiction. 2. Missing persons— Fiction. 3. Crime—Fiction. 4. Identity—Fiction. 5. Mothers and daughters—Fiction. 6. California—Fiction.] I. Title.