“No. No, I guess you didn’t.”
Something in his tone slices right through me.
“Go,” I say, because it’s just about all I can manage. “I’ll do this on my own.”
“Jolene . . .” His voice trails away.
We used to make plans together, laying out by the river on the far side of town. We plotted our escape there, tossing old soda cans into the water and imagining the world beyond state lines. New York. LA. Austin. Any town with a decent record store and a roller derby would suit us fine. But he’s gone now, living his life without a second damn thought to those hazy dreams. And me? I’m never getting out.
“Go.” I pick up the fire extinguisher and aim it for the glass with everything I have.
It smashes so loud, I don’t hear him leave.
We wait.
Of course we wait. Sometimes it feels like I spend my entire life waiting — in hospital waiting rooms and hard plastic chairs, the shadows of the library carrels. There’s a skill to it, I’ve found. You have to empty your mind and slip into a kind of haze; let the time drift by while you wait for something to change.
I exhale, gazing restlessly at the digital clock on my dashboard — the numbers flipping over with infinite slowness. I would have been better heading straight home from prom to accept Dad’s and Stella’s awkward sympathy. At least then, there would have been brownies.
“I’m, um, sorry.” Bliss’s voice comes from the backseat, hesitant. “About what I said before.”
I don’t turn.
“It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s anything but. “No big deal.”
“Yes, but —”
“I said it was fine.” My voice is sharp, and even Bliss can take the hint. She falls silent, leaving me to stare into the neon-lit dark. The things she said to me back at the Loft have been echoing ever since, and even though I try to push it all away as petty bitching, I can’t.
Because what if she’s right?
The thought is more terrifying to me than the deserted warehouses and black, empty street. Some days, the only thing that makes life bearable is the knowledge that I’m graduating next year. An end to this silence, to being constantly ignored — my chance to start again. But if Bliss is right, then it’s not simply circumstance that’s making me miserable. Part of it is me.
I see lights behind us.
“Get down,” I say, ducking down behind the wheel. Bliss is already lounging low in the backseat, but she scrunches even farther as the car draws closer.
“Who is it?” Bliss asks, twisting around to get a clearer look.
“How would I know?” I peer over the dashboard as the vehicle passes us by: a white car with blue insignia printed on the side. It begins to slow. “It’s security.” Fear twists in my stomach. “This place must have a dedicated patrol.”
Bliss swears. “But which building?”
“I can’t tell.” The car turns lazily into the industrial park, the same block that Jolene disappeared toward not fifteen minutes ago. I panic. “What do we do?”
“Call her,” Bliss orders, and I fumble with my phone to find her number and dial.
Silence.
“It’s not working.” I try again, but there’s not even a dial tone, just a low static buzz. I call my voice mail, just to test, but it won’t connect either. “My battery must be low — try yours.”
Bliss is already tapping at her tiny pink thing, but she shakes her head. “Me neither. But we can’t be out of range.”
“No,” I groan, suddenly realizing. “That device she got for surveillance must be jamming cell signals too.”
Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.
“We’ll just have to go get her, then.” Bliss twists her hair up into a makeshift ponytail and then pulls her heels back on, reaching for the door.
“Are you crazy?” I protest. “That guy is parked right out front!”
“Which means he’ll catch Jolene the minute she walks out the door,” Bliss insists. “She doesn’t know he’s there. She won’t be looking out for anyone.”
She wants us to run toward the danger?
I shake my head vigorously. “Jolene’s the expert in all this, remember? If anyone can look after themself, it’s her.”
Bliss doesn’t listen. She climbs out of the car, looking carefully around before easing the door shut behind her with a silent click. I watch her, bewildered, as all the terrible consequences spin through my mind. I’m not one for worst-case scenarios, but it doesn’t take a huge leap of imagination to move from the office security