Gated (18 page)

“Lyla, what are you doing? We have tons to do, let’s go.” My mom pulls on my arm and I give Cody one last look before I turn toward the maze of aisles and start putting things into one of our two carts. My hands are trembly and I can’t stop looking over my shoulder. I’m praying not to see Cody again, but then hoping to see him at the same time.

Shopping always takes a long time for us. Since we only do it once or twice each year, we aren’t very familiar with the layout of the store. of stiWe can’t always find the items that are on our list and spend lots of time walking up and down the aisles. Canned goods and cereals are easiest, but things like aspirin and duct tape are hard. Usually I don’t mind, but today I’m willing Mom to move even faster than she already is.

“We’ll be done soon, don’t worry.” Mom pats my shoulder. She must think that I’m nervous for the same reasons she is. Guilt consumes me. I’ve let this boy infect my brain. I’m weak and susceptible to temptation, especially when it comes wrapped in the body of a boy like Cody. I’m the reason for Pioneer’s prayers last night. He must suspect my weakness. Maybe the Brethren—far away but watching me—told him.

I keep searching for Cody as we fill the cart with toilet paper and paper towels, but after at least a half hour, there’s still no sign of him. I start to relax a little. We’ve filled one cart and are halfway through another now. Maybe he had to leave. I try not to let this thought disappoint me too much. It’s a good thing he hasn’t shown up.

I pat my pocket, the one with Marie’s money in it. After we’re done here, I might have a chance to get her magazines. Maybe I’ll try when we fill up the truck with gas. Even though there are books and magazines here, I won’t get an opportunity to buy any. My mom never lets me out of her sight in this store. She says it’s too big and that there are too many opportunities for trouble to find me, but at the gas station maybe I can convince her to let me pay like Marie does and get the magazines there. I’m not excited about the idea. I’m more sick than anything else, but it’s as good a distraction as any to keep me from obsessing about Cody. Plus, part of me wants to be able to do what Marie did, to do something no one expects of me.

“Grab me that big jar of olives over there.” Mom squints at the list in her hand as she nudges me. I scan the shelves, my mind still on the money and my supposed mission and Cody. I turn to hand her the gallon-sized jar, but I let go too soon. The jar slips from between both of our outstretched hands and smashes by my mom’s feet. Olives and light brown liquid spread out across the aisle. My mother lets out a little yelp as some of the liquid splashes
onto her pants. They are soaked all along the bottom and middle with juice.

“Sorry!” I squeak.

“It was an accident, no one’s fault,” Mom says as we stoop together to start picking up the broken glass.

A man with a name tag enters the aisle and hurries over to us. “No, no, no, ladies, please don’t go pickin’ that stuff up on your own. You’ll cut yourselves. I’ve got this.” The man waves us away as he pulls out a small walkie-talkie-type thing and starts speaking into it. “Suz, we got a mess on aisle seven.”

My mom’s pants are stuck to her calves. The air around us reeks of olives. “I need to go and try to get this stuff out of my pants,” she says. “I can’t smell this all the way home. I’ll be sick.”

“The bathroom’s up front, right?” I ask as I turn the cart in that direction.

“Yes, but it’s past the checkout lines. We’ll have to check out and then go in, but even then we can’t really leave the cart alone, can we?” My mom chews on her lip. “I’ll just deal with it for now until we find your father.” She shakes her leg out a bit, but her pants are a second skin whereond? the hem meets her ankles. She has to be uncomfortable.

“Why don’t we just find a cheap pair of pants and then you can change really quick while I wait with the carts out here?”

My mom looks like she’s ready to say no out of habit,
but then she hesitates. The pants must really be bothering her for her to even consider leaving me alone. I know that the smell is definitely getting to me. I hate olives. We both do.

“Fine, but you have to stay right up front. No wandering around and no talking to strangers.”

I nod my head. “I think I can handle myself for two whole minutes, Mom.” Although at this point, I’m not completely sure.

We pick out a pair of seven-dollar navy pants from the clearance rack and head to the front of the store. I stop just before the checkout, directly across from the bathrooms. My mom pulls her cart up next to mine and heads to the closest checkout line. She glances at me repeatedly while she waits for the person in front of her to pay. I swear she’s convinced that a swarm of psycho killers will come running out of nowhere and snatch me up. I shake my head and look around for my dad. It’s then that I notice where I’m standing—right in front of the magazine and book section. I swallow hard and look up at my mom. If I hurry, maybe I can grab a few magazines and make it through the checkout line before she comes back out.

I wait while she gathers up her bag and her receipt and heads toward the bathroom. She hesitates by the door. I try to smile at her, but my mouth’s gotten very dry all of a sudden and my lips seem to be stuck to my teeth. So instead I wave and hope that I don’t look as nervous and guilty as I feel. She waves back and goes into the bathroom.

I look around one more time for my dad, but he’s nowhere in sight. I inch toward the display shelves full of books and magazines, sure that at any moment one or both of my parents will come rushing up behind me yelling “Aha!” I wipe my palms on my shorts and walk the seven remaining steps to the magazines. I give them one quick scan before I pick the two with the prettiest people on them. I turn toward our shopping carts and try to decide which checkout line looks quickest when I notice a cardboard book display of more than a dozen books with the kind of covers Marie mentioned.

I stop and pick up one with a cover I know Marie will love. It makes me want to grimace or gag or both. There’s a bare-chested man on it and his muscles are so well defined that they look cartoonish, all hairless and tan. His hair is dark and tousled like someone’s just run their fingers through it. Next to him is an extremely busty woman with long dark hair and parted lips. Her hand is draped over one of his shoulders and she’s swooning into him. I wonder if this is how Marie sees herself and Brian when they’re together. I imagine their heads on top of the bodies on the book cover and I laugh out loud. I turn the book over and start looking for the price.

“You’re into romance books?” a male voice says.

I startle and almost drop the book. Cody is across the display from me. His eyebrow is quirked up and he’s grinning at me.

“Um, no, I mean, sort of … it’s for a friend,” I mumble,
and my face fills with heat. A tornado of emotions—panic, joy, and horror—swirls through me.

He holds up his hands. “Hey, no judgment here. My mom loves those things. She’s got about a dozen beside her bed right now. Trurig.

I follow my parents back to the truck. We eat a little lunch in the cab while we’re still in the Walmart parking lot. Usually we try to go to the park and eat outside, but my parents are anxious to get back on the road, so our last intown meal overlooks shopping carts and cars.

I’m not all that hungry, so I sketch instead. I start off sketching a bird that’s wandering around the parking lot, but before long I flip to a new page and start drawing Cody. I work on getting the shape of his chin right, the angle of his jaw. Maybe if I can get him on paper, I can flush him out of my system. I promise myself that I’llg t throw this sketch out once I’m done with it. Then I’ll forget all about this morning and concentrate on the mornings that’ll come after this one, on all of the things big and small we still have to do before we go into the Silo.

By the time I’m done sketching, my parents have finished eating and are busy tidying up the truck. I feel a
little better, more centered. I push Cody toward the back of my thoughts and nibble on a cheese sandwich as we stuff all our garbage into a plastic bag. Only a few more stops and this day, this town, will be a thing of the past as far as I’m concerned, no more than a dream.