Pretty Sly (7 page)

They turned to go, and I felt some of the day’s pressure lift off me. No matter what happened, it hadn’t been a waste. And now I knew what I had to do. It was clear.

I watched them walk across the dining hall, noticing that neither girl was wearing the couture clothes I’d sent them. Sierra was in boot-cut jeans and a flowy fuchsia top, and Mary was wearing a flouncy green dress. Nothing fabulous, nothing expensive, but they looked like themselves—cute and normal.

Waiting at their usual table were Shane Welcome and
Bradley Poole, who were part of VP’s A-list. So maybe I hadn’t really been able to change their lives or make a permanent impact on their wardrobes, but I’d at least gotten them some dudely attention.

As I sat alone, their words rang through me. I did something. I didn’t just stand by. I could be proud of that, at least.

And now that my mom was in trouble, how could I even think of not doing the same for her?

No, I had to get on that bus.

When I turned back again, Tre was approaching the booth with long strides, carrying a Gatorade and a panini. “How’s your first day back going?”

I heaved my shoulders. “Eh. Girlfights in the hallway, threats from the headmaster, general alienation. You know, the usual.”

He pointed his drink at me. “You’re still here, right? No one’s chased you away yet.”

“I’m still here,” I said. And as I opened my mouth again, I knew I had made a decision. There was no turning back. “But I’m leaving today, Tre.”

He raised his eyebrows over the orange liquid as he took a swig.

“And going where?”

“I have to find my mom,” I said. “I know you don’t agree with me. But they’re going to kick me out, anyway. Page said as much. And I have a plan, I think. Aidan traced the email to Santa Barbara. So all I need to do is
get a bus this afternoon. I’ve got my stuff with me. And then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“What makes you think I want you out of my hair?” He put his Gatorade down. “How will you get to the station?”

“Call a cab or something.”

He spread his long fingers out on the tabletop. “Well, I’ve been thinking, too.”

“And?”

“And I think you’re right. You need to go after your mom.”

I stared at him, shocked. “What about all that ‘you’ll break your probation’ stuff from yesterday?”

“The thing is, I know you, and once you get an idea in that head of yours, there’s no way to talk you out of it. You knew all along you were leaving, didn’t you? I did.”

“I didn’t really make up my mind until just now.”

“And if it were my mom . . . well, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, knowing she might be in trouble.” He paused and scratched at a spot behind his ear. “Of course, from a legal perspective you’re playing with fire. Naw, if I had my choice, you’d stay here.”

“Because you enjoy carting me around and making me breakfast?” I teased.

“Right.” He shook his head, a smile hinting across his face. “I’m just saying that once you get involved in the criminal system it’s real easy to keep getting sucked back in.”

“But you did it,” I said. “I mean, you managed to get out of it.”

“Just barely. People are still trying to act like I’m screwing up, even when I’m not. Maybe it’s easier not to fight that. Maybe you should just be who you are, you know?”

“A criminal?”

“C’mon, Willa. That’s not what I mean. I mean the part of you that wants to fight, to change things.” He looked away to drain the last of his drink. “That being said, I think you might need a little help with this half-baked plan of yours. Meet me outside when the final harp rings?”

I grinned. That I could do. Everything would be easier with Tre’s help—it would be just like old times. Yes, I’d be breaking the law again, but this was different. This was about my mom. “Do I need to bring anything special?”

“Just your true self.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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SIX

“MIND TELLING ME
where we’re going?” I asked Tre from the passenger seat.

He’d been silent for the past five minutes as he drove us along. Surprises were cute and all, but I was pretty sure I’d had enough of them in the past few days to last me for the next fifteen years.

I scanned the scene outside the window for more information. We were heading south out of the Valley on Route 51, I could tell that much. His Audi picked up speed as we merged onto a huge multilane highway lined with sound barrier walls, and passed under a big green sign indicating that the airport was five miles ahead.

“Are we flying somewhere?”

Tre just shook his head. “Damn, you’re impatient. We’re finding you an alternative means of transport. If you’re going to skip town, you can’t go taking public transportation or using your credit cards.”

“So what do you propose?”

“What do you think?” He looked at me knowingly, keeping a palm on the wheel.

I thought he meant stealing something. But then I thought better. Tre wasn’t doing that stuff anymore. He probably had something else up his sleeve.

I clutched my schoolbag in my lap. The overnight bag was at my feet. If his idea, whatever it was, didn’t pan out, I still probably had time to make that bus.

The highway filled up with more traffic as we approached downtown Phoenix. It was getting close to rush hour. Being on the road felt good—at least I was now doing something instead of moping around school. There was a purpose to fulfill. And going after a goal always raised my spirits.

We were still headed toward the airport. I frowned. Planes didn’t count as “alternative” unless it was a private jet. Or he was sneaking me into freight. Which could be a little extreme, but kind of cool. I pictured crouching in a darkened compartment with pets and baggage. Maybe we were going to use some other kind of airport vehicle, like a rental-car shuttle or a skycap buggy.

Tre signaled to exit the highway at Sky Harbor Circle. “We’ve got one more stop to make. Just stay with me, okay? I’ve got this on lock.”

I was. I was right there with him, going along with his obviously thought-through scheme.

That is, until he pulled into a Chevron station.
Because sitting on the curb in front, legs splayed out and sipping a frozen coffee like he had no care in the world, was Aidan.

What the . . . ?

“You called Aidan,” I said.

Tre honked the horn and waved to Aidan before turning to me. “Yes, I did. And dude actually took public transportation to meet us here. Imagine that.”

As happy as I was to see him—and there’s no describing the exact joy of watching Aidan stand up and shake out his mop of hair, sliding on the strap of his backpack, the crooked smile of recognition slowly spreading across his face—I was a little weirded out. These two were like peas in a pod. What was up with the conspiracies between them? Why were they always making secret plans to meet each other without telling me? Why did all the men in my life suck?

“Now look.” Tre patted my shoulder. “Don’t get mad. I knew you were going to try to do this on your own. And I knew if I asked, you’d say no. But there’s strength in numbers, Willa.”

I thought back to the previous night. Maybe that was true, but I still wanted to be in charge of my own plan.

Of course, as Aidan came over to the car and nodded at me through the window and got in the backseat, my twisted-up face relaxed into a smile. Involuntary response. I blame hormones.

“Hey, Willa.”

“Hey,” I said softly.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“Kind of.”

“I wanted to help out, make sure you were okay. And I wanted to give you this.”

He handed me a salted caramel, wrapped in cellophane. This was an inside joke between us, about his sweetness and my saltiness.

Touched, I took it from him. “I’ll save it for later.”

“Don’t wait too long. They have a tendency to melt.”

Like my brain.
Snap to it, Willa. We have a job to do here. You need to get to California, remember?

“I won’t forget it.” I slipped it into the pocket of my jacket. “So can we move along with this, Tre? I need to hit the road soon.”

“All right, we’re going. Girl’s got an attitude.”

“Doesn’t she?”

I ignored their jibes. As Tre drove, the scenery outside was growing more industrial with warehouses and docking areas full of trucks, plus the occasional motel or strip club.

Tre pulled off onto another street with a row of long-term parking lots. “Time to check out our options,” Tre said.

“So we
are
stealing a car.” My pulse quickened at the thought—anticipation, tingling and hot, burned in my hands. Then my brain flashed back to Judge Prendergast. The look on his face in the courtroom. My promises to be good.

Stealing was wrong. So wrong.

But it was so
exciting.

“We can’t. I mean, I can’t do that.” The feelings I was having, just thinking about it, were making me squirm in my seat. Bottom line: I didn’t trust myself. I loved thieving way too much.

“What did you think we were doing?” Aidan asked. “Going to pick out curtains?”

“Look, Willa, I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought there was a better way,” Tre said, putting the car into park. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a strategy.”

“And what’s that?”

Tre slipped back into crime-professor mode. “Simple. We pick a car.” He pulled out a pair of binoculars from the glove compartment. “Then we wait for it to get dark.”

I unclicked my seat belt, realizing that we’d be sitting here for a while on our stakeout. “We’re just going to hot-wire it, right here in plain sight?”

He circled the area outside the windshield with his finger. “Hardly plain sight. No one’s hanging around here at night. People park for weeks at a time, and security is a joke. These companies can’t even be held responsible for break-ins. If we look like we know what we’re doing, no one will notice us.”

He was right—there were no pedestrians around, seemingly for blocks. Just litter, cracked, weedy sidewalks, and billboards with scantily clad women.

“But . . . you said you weren’t going to do this anymore,” I said.

“I’m not,” Tre said pointedly. He looked around and shook his head. “I thought this was supposed to be a shady area. Please. Phoenix is wack.”

Aidan laughed. “Sorry, dude. This is as shady as we get here. You’ll just have to work with it.”

I wasn’t done with the previous line of conversation. “If not you, then who? Me?”

“No,” Tre said. “Not you.”

“I’ve got it covered, Willa.” Aidan pointed to a gold Cadillac Escalade. “What about that one?”

“You?” I asked, incredulous.

Since when did Aidan know how to steal a car? And again, when was all of this decided and why was I the last to know?

“Too flashy,” Tre said, lifting the binoculars to his eyes. “We need to think practical. We also need to look for the farthest end of the lot, on the edge where the cameras won’t pick it up. Assuming there are cameras, which we have to do. Even if some of these lots just have them for show.”

“Well, it’s a long drive to California,” Aidan said. “It should be a comfortable car.”

“Just hang on. I’ll pick the car,” I said, not wanting to lose control. This was my mission, and I couldn’t lose sight of that, not until I’d found my mom. “And I’m driving.”

“No way. You don’t even have a license,” Aidan pointed out.

He was going to be a stickler for a little rule like that? “We’re already breaking the law here. And how hard can it be to learn? All kinds of idiots know how to drive.”

“It’s harder than you think,” Aidan said, raising an eyebrow. “Driving is a subtle art.”

Forget Aidan. I had to appeal to the mastermind. “C’mon, Tre.”

“‘C’mon, Tre’ what?” Tre’s eyes rolled upward like he was pleading with an unseen god on the ceiling of his Audi.

“Let me try,” I said, gesturing to an empty parking lot at an abandoned restaurant-supply store. “Let’s go in there. I’ll show you.”

Tre looked at his watch. “Well, we do have some time. If you’re serious, we’ll give you a shot.”

He did as I requested, driving into the lot and parking square in the middle. We traded seats.

I got behind the wheel and examined all the dials and buttons like I knew what I was doing. Then I adjusted the mirrors and the seat and waited. For what, I don’t know.

“It’s in park,” Aidan offered. “All you have to do is put it in drive. The
D
.”

“I know,” I said, but my tone was too brittle to be convincing. Already I could feel my bravado slipping away.

You can handle this.

I’d done way scarier things than this recently, hadn’t I? And my mom’s life could be depending on me. I
shifted the gear and put my foot on the gas. The car jerked forward as though sprung by an industrial-sized rubber band. Even I, who’d made this happen, was shocked by the force.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Tre said, laying an arm across me to hold me back—from the windshield and the road on the other side of it. “Gently. Hit the pedal gradually.”

I tried again, a little less jerky this time.

Driving. I was driving. It was kinda like flying. I couldn’t believe how powerful I felt.

I eased up on the pedal and let the car roll to the outer edges of the lot before braking. I hit the brake pedal with my left foot—more like a clomp. The left foot, apparently, was even less controlled than the right because we stopped all at once, eliciting a screech from the tires and an
ack
from the backseat.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t graceful but I had achieved stopliness.

I turned to my skeptical passengers. “See? I can do this.”

“I think that’s still up for debate,” Tre said, rubbing at his temples.

“What’s next?” I asked, ready to show them what else I could do. Wanting to get on the road already.

“All right, hotshot, why don’t you reverse now?” Aidan asked, grinning. Unlike Tre, he seemed to be enjoying this.