Starcrossed (38 page)

I reached to do just that, then paused. “This thing is a little glitchy anyway—Uncle Louie complains about it. How about we short it out, instead? That’ll look more like an accident.”

He nodded and I could tell he was impressed, which pleased me a ridiculous amount. We held hands, then Rigel touched the recorder. A spark flashed for an instant and it hummed to a stop.

“That should do it,” he whispered.

“Yup! Let’s pick out a car.” I was as excited as if we were actually going to buy one instead of stealing a getaway vehicle. Or maybe that’s
why
I was so excited.

Back outside, we headed toward the far back lot, where I told Rigel they kept the cars that needed work before sale, and all the foreign imports they couldn’t sell.

“Check it out! A ’75 Mustang,” Rigel breathed in my ear.

I shook my head. “Too flashy. Plus it’s a stick. Can you drive stick yet?”

“Um, no.”

Chuckling—only half to myself—I kept walking. “Here. This old gray Corolla shouldn’t attract much attention. And it already has a dealer plate.”

“Let’s swap the plate with another car anyway,” Rigel suggested, sounding amazingly calm about all this. I tried to feel the same, for his sake as well as mine.

“Good idea. Then even if they do notice it missing, they’ll give the police the wrong plate number.”

He made the swap and we went back to the office, where I pulled out the tiny LED flashlight I’d stuck in my pocket and examined the keys. It only took me a couple of minutes to find the right one, though it felt like ages.
 

Making sure the door locked behind us, we went back to the Corolla, threw our backpacks into the back seat and got in.
 

“You
do
know how to drive this, right?” I fought to control a wash of panic as the enormity of what we were doing hit me. A few days ago, I’d surprised Rigel by being rude to a teacher. Now we were stealing a car!

“Hey, I’ve had two whole weeks of Driver’s Ed and I’m a fast learner. It’ll be fine, M,” he assured me, but I could feel his tension. He wasn’t nearly as calm as he was pretending to be, either.

I stayed quiet as he started the car, backed it out of its space and maneuvered it around the building and out to the road. He really did seem to know what he was doing, and it was my turn to be impressed.
 

“One last stop, then we’re out of here,” Rigel said. Maybe I imagined that hint of a quaver in his voice.

He drove us back into town and around the side of the now-closed post office, stopping by the Express Mail drop box. Glancing around to be sure no one was within sight, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

“Hey, Dad, it’s halftime. We’re winning—O’Gara’s dominating again, of course. Huh? Oh yeah, I’m outside—it was too noisy in the gym to call. Anyway, Matt wants to know if I can stay over, some of the guys are gonna crash in his rec room tonight. That way he won’t have to drive me till morning and you and Mom won’t have to wait up. No, of course I won’t be drinking, Dad, come on! Okay, thanks. See you tomorrow.”

He hung up, then pulled a prepaid Express envelope out of his backpack. It was addressed to Shim, in Washington, DC. He sealed his phone inside and stuck it into the drop box.

“There.” He sounded the tiniest bit breathless but not nearly as nervous as I felt. “It’s a six a.m. pickup, so by the time they think to track my cell it should look like we’re halfway to Grandfather’s place.”

We’d planned this part out earlier. Since Shim was the only member of the Council who’d voted against separating us, it made sense we might run to him. If that diversion worked, it should buy us a few extra hours or even a full day while they followed that lead.

As we’d agreed, Rigel headed east, then south once we hit the state highway, so we could pick up the interstate to Indy. From there, we’d go west.

“Do you think we should have gone to Shim after all, and tried to misdirect them in a different direction?” I asked worriedly, once we were past the town limits. It was one of the options we’d discussed.

He shook his head. “No matter how sympathetic he might be, he’d have to turn us over to the Council. If he didn’t, I don’t know what they’d do to him, but it would probably be bad. Then he wouldn’t be able to help us at all. It’s better if he doesn’t know anything about this.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Of course.” The idea of having
no
adult support was unnerving, but I’d better get used to it. This was going to be my life—
our
lives—for a long time now. Maybe forever.
 

But as long as we were together, we’d be okay.
 

I hoped.

Rigel
(RY-jel):
an important navigational star

Every extra mile between us and Jewel, the safer we are—or so I keep telling myself as I drive West on I-70 out of Indianapolis. But I can’t help thinking of all the things that can go wrong. Neither can M.

“What if one of the guys calls your house, asking why you’re not at the game?” she says, forgetting she already asked me that.

“They’d call my cell, not the house,” I reassure her, though I don’t
know
that, since my cell will go straight to voice mail.
 

She nods, but she’s still tense. We both are. Because it’s
not
impossible they already know we’re gone. M’s aunt might have called or dropped by the O’Garas’ house, or they could’ve called her. And if they do know . . .

For about the twentieth time, I stiffen as a car comes up to pass us, glancing out of the corner of my eye to make sure they’re not staring, trying to identify us. I feel M looking at me, feel her worry, and force myself to relax again, projecting all the calm and confidence I can.
 

“Even if they figure it out tonight—which they
won’t
—they can’t know what we’re driving, or even
that
we’re driving. Or which way we’ve gone,” I remind her. “We made it out of town. That was the hard part.”

I wish I really believed that.
 

I wake up, my neck stiff from sleeping half sitting up, and glance at the old wristwatch I’m wearing. Crap! Two hours later than I thought. But when I glance down at M, still fast asleep, snuggled into the crook of my arm, I smile. How can one person be so adorable?

Before waking her, I give myself a minute to just love her. And then another couple of minutes to really
feel
all the emotions I’ve been trying to hide from her the past few hours: anger at everyone trying to run our lives, worry about our future,
her
future, and just plain terror we’ll get caught and separated. Because I don’t see how that won’t happen eventually. And it’ll only be “eventually” instead of “immediately” if we’re really, really lucky.

I watch her beautiful, peaceful face while I get my feelings back under control, taking deep breaths and focusing again on just how much I love M and how perfect we are together. Too perfect to even consider not staying together forever. One more breath.

“Hey,” I whisper, jostling her slightly. “We need to get moving again, and I kinda need both arms to drive.”

She stirs, then opens those amazing green eyes and gazes up at me through her long lashes, still bleary but with a smile on her lips. “Mmmm. Good morning. I love you.”

My heart squeezes painfully, but I grin down at her. “I love you, too, M. But it wasn’t supposed to be morning yet, remember? We slept for three hours.”

Now she sits up and I can feel alarm from her—the same alarm I’m trying to suppress. “Three hours? I thought your watch was supposed to go off after one hour!”

“Yeah. Either it didn’t or we both slept through it.”

We’d driven all night, getting gas in St. Louis, along with a couple of awful hot dogs from the gas station, before continuing west until about five a.m. By then it was starting to snow, plus I was in danger of nodding off. So I exited near the western border of Missouri, found a church parking lot in the middle of nowhere, set my watch alarm and fell asleep. At least the snow has stopped. For now.
 

I realize I’m starving, plus I have to pee. I can tell M feels the same.

“Food and bathroom?” I suggest.

“Sounds great,” she agrees. “Maybe not in that order.”

I can’t help laughing. It feels
so
great to be together, just the two of us, at least pretending it’s for good. I try to keep my doubts buried deep, so she won’t pick up on them.

“I think we passed a burger place when we first got off the highway,” I say, to keep her mind on food. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect! Let’s go.” She scoots away from me and fastens her seat belt, making me miss the contact so much I reach over and squeeze her hand before starting the car.

There are only a few cars in the parking lot of the restaurant. The drive-thru would be safest but we both need the bathroom, so I park.

“Do you really think they’re after us yet?” M must have picked up on my thought about the drive-thru. I need to be more careful.

“Probably not.” I unbuckle my seat belt and open my door, trying to sound confident. “But they will be soon. When does your aunt expect you home?”

We both get out before M answers. “I didn’t give her a time, but I wouldn’t put it past her to call if I’m not back by eleven, since I’m supposed to have taekwondo at noon.”

“So we’re safe for another two or three hours . . . but then all hell will break loose. Hope they at least keep it quiet.”

“Yeah.” I focus and can tell she’s thinking about everything that could go wrong—for us and for all the
Echtrans
—if the police get involved. The stuff we managed to ignore when we were so desperate to get away seems big and unavoidable now that we
are
away.
 

You’re just gloomy because you’re hungry,
she thinks at me as we enter the restaurant. Then, out loud, “You want to order while I run to the bathroom? Or vice versa?”

“You go first. I’ll order.” Seems like the least I can do since I’m screwing up her whole future.
 

The stern look she gives me says she caught that—or at least the emotion that went with it. She’s definitely getting better at picking up my random thoughts. Oops.

I go to the counter while M heads to the ladies’ room. “Breakfast?” the girl behind the counter asks. She looks bored, which is good—means she’s less likely to remember us.
 

“Yeah. Two egg sandwiches, biscuits, a Coke and a hot tea. To go.”

She looks closer at me and smiles a little, but I avoid her eye and make like I’m watching for M to come out of the restroom. After a second, she punches in our order and gives me the total, looking bored again.

I hand her a twenty, doing the math in my head while she makes change, trying to figure how far the three hundred and sixty dollars I was able to scrape together will take us, if we’re careful. Not far. I’ve already spent fifty on gas and food. Money’s going to be an issue.
 

M’s coming back, so I switch mental gears. “I’ve ordered and paid. You take over and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“’Kay.” She winks, forcing a grin out of me. I wish again this trip could go on forever.

She has our order in a bag when I get back and we head to the car. We wolf down our breakfasts—M actually surprised I remembered she likes tea—and plan the next leg of our trip.
 

“I’ve been watching you drive, and I think I can probably spell you some during the day,” she says. “If it doesn’t start snowing again, anyway. Then we can take turns sleeping and get farther, faster.”

I frown at her, wondering how safe that would be since she’s never driven a car in her life.

“Safer than you falling asleep at the wheel.”
 

“Okay, now I know how you feel when I do that.” I grin so she knows I’m not upset, though it means I need to work harder to stay upbeat inside my head. “And yeah, as long as you stay in the right lane, you’ll probably do fine. But I’ll drive for now. We can switch over at a rest stop or something if I get sleepy again.”

Five minutes later, we’re back on the highway. “Why don’t you go ahead and get some more sleep so you’ll be fresher if you have to take over?” I suggest.

“I’m not at all sleepy right now. How about I read some more of this scroll thing for a while instead? You know, just in case.”

“Good idea.” I try to keep my voice and thoughts light, but I know she’s getting as much worry from me as I am from her. Nothing to do but keep driving. I continue to tense every time a car passes, though I know I’m being paranoid.

M just gives me an understanding smile, then snaps her book open and starts reading. Every now and then she reads something out loud to me, which is good since it keeps me from zoning out between panic attacks.

“Whoa! Did you know a Regent doesn’t have to be a Royal?” she says at one point. “That’s just a tradition, not law. Bet Allister didn’t want me finding
that
out. Not that it matters,” she adds quickly. “He can be the stupid Sovereign himself, for all I care.” I can tell she doesn’t really mean it, that she’s more bothered than she lets on.
 

“Still, good to know,” I say. “You know, just in case.”
 

She grins at me, but the worry’s still there underneath.
 

“Hey, can’t hurt to have a few backup plans.” I try to sound brisk and cheerful. “You want to brainstorm some?”

“Not yet.” Her smile is gone now. “Let’s stay positive, okay? We’ve made it a lot farther already than either one of us expected. We can do this, Rigel. We have to.”

I nod, my eyes on the road. I don’t need to say anything. We both know what the alternative is. I speed up just a little.

For the next hour or two, M keeps reading, faster and faster, but she stops to talk to me every now and then when she senses I need the distraction. I noticed I read faster, too, since Thanksgiving. Weird how that separation and reunion seems to have ramped up our bond and the abilities that go with it.