Heroes 'Til Curfew Page 12

  Joss came awake with a jerk that shook the bed and sat up so fast she almost broke my jaw with her head. She turned around and looked at me, wide-eyed and confused. I made a stupid face at her, putting a finger to my lips and watching the change in her expression as she remembered how I’d gotten there. She yanked the flannel shirt closed as her head whipped around to look at the clock.

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe we fell asleep!” she whispered.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. Come here.” I tugged her back down to the bed, taking her by surprise so she fell half on top of me, and put my mouth to her ear. “We have to be really quiet. I heard someone moving around.”

  A shiver raced up her spine. “That would be my dad. Did I ever tell you he always carries concealed, even in the house?”

  “Always carries what? Oh.” Always carries a gun. Of course he does. “You might have mentioned that sooner.”

  “I’ve been distracted by the leather jacket wearing bad boy who keeps showing up at my window.”

  “Chicks dig the bad boy thing. What’s that about?”

  She tried to pull her arm out from between us. I was pretty sure she was going to hit me, so I grabbed her elbow and held her still.

  “Would you get out of here?”

  “Yeah, sure. In a minute.” I kissed her ear, enjoying the feel of another shiver whipping through her.

  “Dylan…”

  I kissed my way across her jaw to her lips, threaded my fingers into her hair and just kinda lost myself in it. I rolled to my side, pulling her up against me. I loved the way she kissed me. There was nothing like it. It was like that hardness about her, that shell she showed everyone else just kind of broke apart and what was inside was softer and sweeter than—

  “Yeah,” I said, pulling back. I was getting in over my head. “I should go.” But then I had to kiss her again. “Really soon.”

  She put her hands on my chest and held me back. “No, really. I promised Heather I’d meet her before school, so I’ll see you in Homeroom.”

  “What’s that about?”

  “I don’t know. She called last night and asked me to meet her to talk.”

  “Okay, but I don’t have to like it,” I said, and she rolled her eyes. “Working tonight?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been thinking—”

  “Uh oh.”

  She swatted me. “About the protection racket thing. There have been a lot of petty crimes in the mall lately, so I was thinking maybe I’d skulk around down there tonight and see what I see. I don’t know who that guy was Dad gave the money to. Maybe there are other people involved I don’t know about.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” I muttered with heavy sarcasm.

  “I’ll be more careful.”

  “All right, what time?”

  “I didn’t mean you had to come.”

  I glared at her. “Time?”

  “Maybe around ten?”

  “I’ll meet you here at ten. Wait for me.” I was like, all commanding and shit. Why she was letting me get away with that, I don’t know, but she was smiling. I kissed her again.

  We both jumped at a sharp rap on the door. Next thing I knew there was a foot in my gut and I was hitting the floor.

  The door swung open and Joss’s mom poked her head in. “Morning, sweetie! What was that noise?”

  “Uh…I think one of my packs just fell. In the closet.”

  “Ah. Did you oversleep? More bad dreams?”

  “Um, yeah. I guess so.”

  “You worry too much, sweetheart.” She shook her head. “So much like your father. All right, up and at ’em. Breakfast is on the table.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  The door shut and I picked myself up off the floor. Joss was kneeling on the bed, squinting, trying to see me. I planted my fists on either side of her, phasing back into view right in her face.

  “Did I ever mention I’m invisible?”

  She put her spread hand over my face and pushed me back. “Get out of my room.”

  * * *

  Joss

  “Thanks for meeting me.” Heather stifled a yawn, pulled her books tighter against her chest and shivered.

  “No problem. I’m usually here early.” The wind was getting really nippy in the mornings, and that just made me think of how warm I’d been just a little while ago.

  “He slept over? Really?”

  I groaned, slapping a hand over my face to hide the fact that it was probably bright red. “This is not what you asked me to meet you for.” My voice came out all muffled and annoyed from behind my hand.

  “Wow. Things are moving along fast in Joss and Dylan land.” In my head I did this huge, gasping freakout, but before I could get the question out of my mouth, Heather went on, “No, not too fast. You are not being too fast, okay? Just relax. You and Dylan are fine. I mean good. Great. It seems great. You know, you guys have been dancing around each other for so long you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. It’s a wonder you didn’t rip each other’s clothes off the minute you got over yourselves and got together.”

  “For crissakes, Heather.” This was so completely embarrassing. And I also couldn’t help thinking that it was kind of helpful for Heather to just listen to my thoughts and offer up reassurance. Because I needed it, and it’s not like I could talk to anyone about this stuff, like with actual speaking. I was just not that evolved. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “First, that I am not going to remind you later that you thought that, about being glad I could read your mind.”

  “Are too.”

  “No. Because I am evolved.”

  “Clearly. I may evolve, or possibly freeze to death, before you tell me why we’re here.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, it’s that prioritizing the names thing you’ve been thinking about. No, don’t be mad. You know, I have this theory that if you talked more you might not think so loud. And your face could freeze like that.”

  I so did not care.

  “Yeah, I know you might never have brought it up,” she said quietly, still speaking to my thoughts. “It’s not the nicest thing to think about, and yeah, it does seem mercenary. But no, I don’t think less of you for thinking it. It’s why we need you. Who else would be thinking like that?”

  Who else would be thinking about selecting the most tactically useful Talents to notify and/or rescue in the event of all Hell breaking loose in Fairview? I could still feel the sting of Kat’s anger in the tunnels when she said I’d blow off my friends who trusted me.

  “You’re just thinking in terms of the best chance of saving the most Talents. The best chance for all of us. I’m saying I get it. It makes sense. Yeah, it feels ugly to think about, but honey, we didn’t start this. You are not the bad guy here.”

  “No, I’m just the one who thinks about choosing who to save first so I’ll have the best chance of saving my own ass.”

  “That’s not how you think at all, and I know it. Don’t make yourself out to be something you’re not. Plus you and Kat need to get over this thing. You’re feeling guilty for doing the right thing, and you shouldn’t. We asked you because we—okay, mostly I—know you can think like this where none of us can. You’re doing the right thing by keeping information from people we’re not sure about, and as soon as it affects her in a way she doesn’t like, she lashes out at you. That’s not fair.”

  “Don’t get in the middle of it. No sense having her mad at both of us.”

  “I’m not sure if it would help for me to talk to her or not, at least right now. But I want you to know that I think she’s dead wrong. I don’t usually come out and take sides when my friends fight, and I love Kat, but—Dead. Wrong.”

  The thing was, while I let Kat make me feel guilty, I also knew in my gut that I was doing the right thing by keeping things from Eric. Not because I thought he was the mole. Jesus. But because I couldn’t assume he wasn’t, and controlling information was part of the responsibility these guys had d
umped on me.

  But I was really upset about Kat being mad at me. And I was really surprised by how upset I was about it. The truth was that, while I totally disapproved of her penchant for sticking her nose in other people’s business, which was a recipe for trouble, and for letting other people know about her Talent, which just invited disaster, I really had to admire her. She was fearless, and…good. I was all about playing it safe, but Kat was about justice, helping people. She was—

  “If you start singing that old Did you ever know that you’re my hero? thing, even in your head, I am totally leaving.”

  “Oh shut up.”

  “No, you shut up.”

  “I wasn’t speaking,” I growled, but I actually had to laugh, just a little. Having her back me up did make me feel better.

  “So,” she started again, all rapid-fire and business-like, “about this prioritized list. I got started on it, but I got stuck. Some things are obvious, like Raine’s little brother, Lakota, is a healer. Obviously useful. And then Jessie, with the clear-making, we’ve seen how that can really help, but then some stuff I’m not sure about, because I wouldn’t have thought of Jessie’s as really useful if I hadn’t seen it, so maybe I need to think outside the box, you know? But I’m not really good at that, so I made a list of kids and their Talents, and I’m thinking we can go through and—”

  I made some garbled noise and threw up my hands to ward her off, to try to stop the info-lanche. “T-M-I! I don’t want to know that. This is the whole thing we’ve been talking about. Controlling information. I don’t need to know who everyone is and what they do.” I shook my head when she tried to shove a bunch of spiral notebook paper under my nose. “I can’t believe you wrote it down!”

  “Sor-RY. Geez. So how are we supposed to go over this stuff if I don’t write it down?”

  “We’re not. My fault. I should have gone over this with you before, because Dylan and I talked about this when you weren’t around. Dylan and Rob are working on getting us some disposable cell phones. Don’t know how, don’t wanna know. Rob’s going to get those all set up with phone numbers. You’re going to take everyone you know is a Talent and assign them a phone number. Their phone number will be their identity, as far as all of us are concerned. This prioritizing thing you’re doing is good, but I don’t want to know who’s a Talent and who can do what. After you get all the numbers assigned, and everyone’s nice and anonymous, then we can probably work together on the priorities, and we’ll get with Rob because I think he has the brain we need for coming up with some kind phone tree network whatever.”

  She blew out a breath, annoyed. “I don’t understand why you and I can’t just talk about this.”

  “Because revealing everyone’s secrets to me is against your principles. I’m just trying to help you maintain your high moral standards.”

  “Ha ha. You’re hilarious. And help me maintain my high moral standards, says the woman who woke up with a man in her bed this morning!”

  My mouth fell open and she broke up laughing. “Bitch.”

  “You should see your face right now.”

  “Just get those numbers from Rob, match them up to names randomly—randomly, okay? Don’t be putting them all in order by names or birthdays or something.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  “And you can start that prioritizing thing by just breaking them into groups of, like, Talents that can be used as weapons, support stuff like…like the healing thing or someone who can find food or water. Make a group for people who can be stealthy or get information, like Jessie and Dylan. Um…on the weapons stuff, go back and split those people up into who can do things from a distance versus who needs to make physical contact. Maybe best to do that with your intelligence group too.”

  “My what? Oh, the stealthy info-seekers. Gotcha. Geez. Anything else you need me to do?” She sounded put out, but it was hard to tell if she was serious.

  “As a matter of fact... I need to talk to you about the stuff going on with Marco and his crew. The crimes and stuff.”

  “I didn’t know anything about your dad paying anybody off until you thought about it at the Warren the other day.”

  “Warren?”

  “Those tunnels. If it’s going to be a meeting place, it needs a name. Not everyone’s communication is as efficient as mine.”

  “Good point. The Warren it is. Anyway, what do you know about what’s going on with Marco?”

  “Not a lot. There’s so much static in his head. Like I told you the other day, with Tony.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. You could read him before.”

  “I am not hiding anything!”

  “I didn’t say you were. Now, you just need to listen to my voice and let me work things out in my head on my own. I know how you are about not wanting to reveal stuff about people’s thoughts if you don’t have to. But I’m just saying, he’s doing wrong. I don’t think you’re morally obligated to protect—”

  “I’m not protecting him! I don’t know what’s going on. Buildings are getting burned, you got kidnapped—yes, you did, and it was serious. Robbery, vandalism, your dad’s being blackmailed, so probably other merchants too…How can you think I wouldn’t say something if I knew about it?”

  “Don’t be mad.”

  “Well damn, Joss, how do you think it makes me feel when you think things like that? When you question my loyalty? My decency. My common sense!”

  “Hey, now, that’s not fair. I didn’t say anything like that. I didn’t even really think it. I’m just trying to figure things out, and you can’t hold that against me.”

  The first bell cut through our argument.

  “End of round one,” Heather muttered. “The point is, you don’t trust me.”

  “I’m not really good at that. You know that. You know it’s not about you. Don’t go away mad.”

  “I’m not. I’m just going away.”

  But as she walked off, I knew she was lying.

  Chapter 9

  Joss

  “So…are you ready to tell me what’s bothering you today?” Dylan swung our linked hands as we walked down the service road that ran behind one side of the mall, as if he needed to remind me that he was there.

  Are you ready to tell me what was up with you last night? But that was the kind of thing old Joss would say, to push him away. So I bit it back. Don’t screw this up, too.

  “You don’t have to. I mean…but you can. Tell me. If you want.”

  Or I could just leave you floundering and trying to figure out how to talk to me, while I try to figure out how to talk to you. Yeah, Dylan could tell something was up. It kind of bothered me, just that he could tell, you know? I wasn’t used to having anybody read me, or even having anybody try.

  But it wasn’t like he was pushing.

  “Look, I’m sorry if—”

  “Heather’s mad at me.” We had both spoken at once.

  “Why?”

  “She took something I thought the wrong way.”

  “Something you thought? Not something you said? That’s not fair.” He stopped walking, and our joined hands jerked me to a stop before I realized it. We were almost as far as the charred husk that used to be Mueller’s. A few shop owners, my dad included, had installed more security lighting behind their buildings, not able to wait for the city to do something. In the glow of those lights, Dylan scowled down at me.

  I kind of liked the scowl. “Well, no, but…” I decided I had to fill him in on the whole she said/she said mess, and ended with, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I get it. No one wants to feel like someone doesn’t think they’re trustworthy. But the trust thing is really hard. For me. I guess I just don’t understand people like I should, and I keep screwing up.”

  “What do you keep screwing up?” His hands came to rest on my shoulders, and that was probably my cue to look him in the eyes. But I was finding the tops of his boots really interesting.

  “The friend stuff. Kat’s still not
talking to me. Now Heather.” I tried for a short laugh. “I just suck at the people stuff.”

  “Hey.” He tipped my chin so I had to look up at him. “You do not suck, okay? This kind of shit just happens. People get mad, it blows over. Usually when they realize they were stupid and then forget to mention that part. Trust isn’t easy, and if someone expects it the minute they say ‘let’s be friends,’ they don’t really know what they’re asking for.”

  I nodded as I pulled away from him and started walking again. I said, “Thanks,” but I don’t really know if he heard me.

  We came to the end of the mall and turned to cross it. Everything looked quiet across the bricks, as far as I could see. Without saying anything, we continued to the service road that ran behind the shops on the other side.

  Dylan hadn’t taken my hand again, maybe because I had it stuffed in my pocket. He walked at my shoulder, his arm brushing mine every once in a while. In spite of how I had pulled away, it still felt like we were closer, like maybe it would be okay to ask him about stuff I wanted to ask.

  “Did you trust Marco?”

  “Yes.” A pause. “And no. I always felt like Marco had my back. As long as he was my friend, he was never going to let anybody mess with me. But he has a temper, you know that, and I never really trusted him not to take it out on me.”

  “Did he ever?”

  “Yeah, once. When we were kids. I’ve got screws in my arm.” He flexed his arm, and then I felt his shrug beside me. “What did I just say? People get mad, especially kids, especially boys, maybe. And then it blows over. Right after, I think he was just as scared as I was, and we promised each other we’d never fight again. But I don’t think I ever felt totally safe around him after that.”

  Well who would? “And your parents let you stay friends with him?”