Girl Parts (14 page)

He tried not to think of it that way, but he could still feel that kiss. His first kiss. Did it count with a robot?

The muscles in his legs burned. They’d be trembling all night if he kept up this pace. He pedaled hard up the
incline and let gravity take him down the other side. He liked that feeling, the momentary weightlessness as the wind whipped by. He rode for yards that way, coasting.

As he came around the bend he saw headlights. A trio of black cars turned from the nearest driveway. It wasn’t unusual. At least one important politician lived here, and Charlie had seen his share of motorcades.

But these weren’t state cars. In the fading light, Charlie made out the pink cherry-blossom logo.

The cars rumbled by, so close that Charlie had to pull his bike to the shoulder. Sweat prickled on his brow. The third car passed and had traveled only a few yards before its brake lights illuminated. The expensive automobile reversed and came to a stop beside him. A rear window lowered, and a man with wire-thin glasses and hair the color of ash spoke. “Excuse me, could I talk to you for a moment?”

The other two cars stopped as well. Charlie put down his kickstand.

“Shoot.”

“We’re looking for a runaway. Have you seen a young woman with red hair?”

“How old?”

“Sixteen. She’s my daughter, and I’m very worried about her.”

A chill cut through him. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen anyone, and I’ve been riding my bike around here for an hour.”

His eyes fixed on Charlie’s. The tight black pupils seemed to dissect him like a scalpel.

“Thank you,” the man said, and offered a business card. “She’s probably near this lake somewhere, so if you see her in your travels, please give me a call.”

Charlie looked at the card. Above the phone number was the embossed name. Coleo Foridae. Sounded Greek.

“I will, Mr. Foridae,” Charlie said, pocketing the card.

Coleo turned to the driver. “Let’s go.”

The window went up, and the cars moved out. Charlie could feel his pulse in his throat. There was something about Foridae, the way his eyes dug into Charlie. His bike tires wobbled on the wet pavement.

The caravan was headed north, toward the tip of the lake. There were no more houses that way. The road curved around to the east bank. And there was only one house on the east bank.

His.

He couldn’t beat them there, not by bike. But he had to try. Going around the southern shore would take too long. He had to double back and pass them going north, which meant going off-road. Charlie’s old roadster had no shocks to speak of, and it rattled and clanged on the dirt paths. Pebbles flew, pinging the spokes. Thicket briars clung to his socks as he pushed forward, breathing deeply.

At the hill he spied the motorcade. They’d pulled over at the fork between Cliff Road and Route 20. Coleo leaned against the rear bumper, cell phone to his ear. That was good luck. He passed the cars and pointed his front tire downhill. There was no path now, just root-buckled ground,
spotted with rocks. Charlie cursed Thaddeus for not believing in cell phones. Maybe he could reach her telepathically.
Run and hide! They’re coming for you!

He hit the driveway, gravel spraying in a fan from the rear tire. He jumped off the bike, letting it fall. Charlie burst into the living room. Thaddeus was at the counter, doing the crossword.

“Where’s . . . ?” Charlie gasped. His lungs felt full of sand. Stars danced before his eyes.

Rose’s head appeared from behind the couch. “Charlie! I’ve been reading the most amazing —”

“Come on.” Charlie grabbed her hand. “We need to go.”

“Now?” Thaddeus didn’t look up from his paper. “You just got in. Sit down, have some dinner.”

“Charlie . . .” Her eyes searched his. “What is it?”

“We’ve got to go, Dad.” Charlie pulled her to her feet.

Thaddeus peered over the paper. “Is something wrong?”

“Tell you later,” he called over his shoulder, and then they were out in the night and running.

From the woods behind the house they watched as the motorcade headlights nosed around the bend. The porch light ticked on. Thaddeus came to the front door in his shorts and T-shirt.

“They’re looking for me,” Rose whispered. Her breath was hot and close.

“Yes.”

A trio of men walked up the drive, Mr. Foridae in the lead.

“That’s him,” she said. “The man who said he’d decommission me.”

Charlie and Rose were invisible in the dark, but still Charlie crouched lower. If spotted, they could take off into the woods, but the trees weren’t dense enough to get lost in. They’d be caught in seconds.

“What will your dad do?” Rose whispered.

The men introduced themselves. “Please, Dad,” Charlie said quietly.

The conversation came in mumbles. Charlie could make out the words
daughter
and
missing.
Thaddeus’s face was stony and unreadable. At last he spoke.

“I haven’t seen her,” he said loudly.
So we can hear,
Charlie thought. “But I’ll be sure and keep an eye out. A girl like that, all by herself, she probably wouldn’t stay out here after dark. I bet she’d head into town.”

Coleo nodded, said something else. The men returned to their cars.

“Oh, no.”

Rose tensed. “What? What is it?”

Coleo crouched to examine something on the ground. Charlie’s bike. His unblinking eyes rose to scan the woods. They passed over Charlie and Rose, moving in a smooth arc — and jerked back.

“Don’t move.”

Charlie stared into the gray irises behind the wire spectacles. Coleo turned to one of his men, said something Charlie couldn’t hear, and climbed into the car.

“He knows Dad’s lying,” Charlie said.

“What do we do?”

“Stay away. At least for a little while.”

Charlie felt warm pressure on his knee. Rose’s hand clasped his jeans. He could see her pale outline, her breath coming like a whisper. Maybe it was just the adrenaline or the terror, but suddenly Charlie felt like he was flying.

“I know where we can go,” she said, taking his hand. “Follow me.”

They rushed through the trees, their path twisting between the low branches. Rose could hear Charlie wheezing. The adrenaline in her system kept her moving, but Charlie’s body was less efficient, and he tired quickly. She slowed, squeezing his hand, pulling him on.

They came through the tree line onto a familiar back road. There was a break in the guardrail and three young trees —
saplings
was the word from
Reed’s Flora
— that even drunk kids in a speeding car could recognize in the dark.

“This is it,” Rose said.

They hurried down a short path and came at last to the campsite. With no fire burning, the pit was just an open maw, yawning at the stars.

Hand-in-hand they eased down the cement steps. A pink glow emanated from the pit — someone had been here not long ago. The ground was littered with crushed beer cans and cigarette butts.

“Are you OK?” Charlie asked.

“Just remembering.”

“Are you sure no one knows where this is?”

“No adults.” Rose sat on one of the stone benches. “I don’t think anyone will come back tonight.”

“Someone was here today, though.” Charlie toed a stray bottle. “Hey, look at this.” He bent behind a bench and produced a pair of dusty lanterns. The Sun Enterprises logo, a yellow semicircle with a halo of rays, was printed on the side. “Maybe we can get some light.” He brought them to the center of the clearing and fiddled with the weather-beaten controls. Nothing. “I guess they’re busted.”

Charlie sat beside her.

“How long should we stay here?”

“At least for the night. Right? They may be watching my house.” Charlie kicked a beer bottle. It ricocheted off a rock and rolled harmlessly into the fire pit. “God, I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I hide my bike?”

“You’re not stupid.”

Rose thought a kiss on the cheek might relax him a bit, but Charlie flinched.

“Sorry,” he said when their eyes met. “I’m kind of a wreck around girls.”

“I’m not really a girl.”

Charlie smirked. “Yeah, well, I keep forgetting.”

She took his hand, which was limp and cold. He was uncomfortable, but Rose didn’t mind. She was cold and scared, and Charlie made her feel safe.
Like . . . darkness,
Rose thought.
For hiding in.

“I know you don’t . . . you’re not familiar with how things work,” he said, “between most boys and girls. But you should know, girls don’t usually like guys like me. In fact, they never do.”

“Oh? Why not?”

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t show up on their radar. I just . . . I just don’t understand how. How to be around people.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Well, that’s obvious.”

“Not to me.”

Charlie met her stare. His expression was hard. “Because guys who
do know
just act like idiots.”

“I see.”

“They just try to make themselves look cool or funny. They never say or do anything real. Or honest. And that’s not how I want to be.”

“How do you want to be?” Rose asked quietly. Charlie was puffing up before her eyes, filled with something hot and scathing.

“I don’t know! Just . . .
me,
I guess! But girls don’t want that. They just want to laugh and be impressed. So you try
to talk to them and they look at you like you’re crazy!” He stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It’s stupid.”

“The girls?” she whispered.

“Mostly.”

“And the boys are stupid?”

“Yes.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m . . .” Charlie was practically shouting at the sky. “I’m . . . different!”

“Special?”

“Yes.”

“So, better.”

“Yes!”

His answer smacked against the cement walls and came back to him — a cold, flat echo.

“I mean . . .” he said, his voice softer now. “Not better, I just . . .”

“Gee, Charlie. I’m amazed you don’t have more friends.”

He stared hard, shoulders rising and falling, until at last a smile cracked the crusted exterior.

“That was supposed to be sarcasm,” Rose said. “Did I do it right?”

“Yes.”

Charlie sat again. Rose threaded her fingers through his. Charlie didn’t change. Charlie was Charlie no matter what. And she liked that.

“You show up on my radar.”

He laughed. Rose liked how it rumbled.

David and Clay sat on the steps of the Peony Pavilion, sipping whiskey from a flask. Inside, dance music thumped. Clubbers went in and came out again to smoke cigarettes. Whenever the door opened, David caught a glimpse of the dancers inside, writhing under the colored lights.

He’d been dancing with girls all night, and his feet hurt. None of them wanted to make out, and when he tried to grind, they pushed him away. He was trying too hard, forcing it. It looked desperate. Now it was late, and the whiskey was nearly gone. Clay tucked the flask into his jacket and burped. “I’m gonna head out. Nothing going on tonight, anyway.”

David nodded.

Clay punched his shoulder. “You gonna be OK, D?”

Another nod. Then a shrug. “Yeah, man. I guess so.”

David sat for a long time on the steps, slowly sobering up. He was blinded when a car turned into the lot, shining its high beams in his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw a familiar houndstooth coat and swath of blond hair crossing the pavement. She was on the arm of a tall guy in a baseball jacket — he looked older, maybe in college. David looked away. If he stood up, she’d see him. He slouched lower, willing himself invisible. Then, just as he glanced to see if they’d gone, he saw her walking over, that prim little stride, heels clicking.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, Willow.”

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“I know, right?”

She looked around. “Where’re Clay and Artie?”

“Not here,” he said. “Who’s that?” He nodded toward the guy in the baseball jacket, who was checking his voice mail.

“That’s Mike,” she said, crossing her arms. “He goes to Clark.”

“Boyfriend?’

“Sort of.”

“Is he gonna mind you talking to me?”

She smiled. “We’re not like that. It’s an open relationship. We’re independent.”

David nodded. “Oh. That’s cool.” It was the coolest thing he’d ever heard. Their age difference had never mattered
to him, but now Willow seemed so much older, more mature. Somehow she’d grown up since they’d split, and he’d stayed a kid. It wasn’t fair, but it still gave him a hard-on.

“What are you doing right now?” she asked.

“Who knows. The night is young.” Actually, he was exhausted, but he couldn’t say that. Only high-school kids quit at midnight.

“Do you want to hang out?”

“With him?” David nodded in Mike’s direction.

“No, just the two of us.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Willow clicked back to Mike, her hair bouncing. Mike looked in David’s direction and smirked. David’s cheeks grew hot. What was she saying to him?
Oh, babe, don’t worry about him. We used to date, but he’s just a kid.
When she came back, she was all smiles.

“You have the Caddy?”