While You Were Gone (15 page)

After days on end of gray clouds, sunshine filters through the trees, dappling the grass with patches of light. An ant crawls onto the blanket and I brush it away. Rabbits and birds skitter in the bushes on the other side of the school fence. It's a perfect day for a picnic. I smooth my skirt over my legs and check the time again. Maybe he changed his mind.

I touch the tip of my brush to the water and the blue tint spreads like liquid smoke. Then I wash the color across the paper, creating a cerulean sky before blending it down to a phthalo sea. With emerald I add grass, dabbing in layers of viridian and ocher for shadows and light. I'm just about to paint the sunset when a voice behind me says, “Hi.”

I look up. The sun winks through the trees, fracturing my view of Danny with flares of light. The effect is dazzling. My eyes etch the image onto my brain so I can sketch it later.

“Did you make that?” He crouches down. “It's awesome.”

It takes me too long to respond. I can't stop looking at his face. “What? Oh. Yes. Do you want it?”

He looks good. Really good. Ratty jeans. Rolled-up sleeves.

“That belongs in a museum or something.”

“No. This is just me goofing around. It still needs to dry, but when it's done, you can have it.”

“Thanks.” He joins me on the blanket. “Sorry I'm late. Took the wrong train and got lost.”

“I thought maybe you'd changed your mind.”

“No way. I'd have been here early if I wasn't such a noob about the light-rail.”

I blow on the watercolor and set it aside to dry. “Want to hear a secret? I've never ridden it. It scares me.”

“Scares
you
? You don't seem like the kind of girl who scares easy.”

“Oh yeah? And just what kind of girl
do
I seem like?”

He studies my face. “Not sure yet.”

The way he's looking at me makes my hands fidget. “Hungry?” I open the basket to give them something to do. “I nabbed some muffins from the breakfast line. Is blueberry okay?”

“Perfect. Oh, hang on. I forgot.” He reaches into his back pocket, then takes my hand. “This is for you.”

In my palm is a smooth black stone. “What's this?”

“Just something I picked up from that castle place the other night. I wanted something to remember it by. Thought you might, too.”

“Thank you.”

He clears his throat. “So, what have you been up to?”

I reach into the basket and present a muffin to him with a silly flourish, then grab a second for me. Inside, I'm trying to figure out how to answer his question. Finally, I settle on, “Painting. You?”

He takes a bite and thinks, too, before answering. “Same.”

Totally not what I expected. “You paint? Like, what, watercolors? Oils?”

“Um…spray?”

I stop midbite. “As in, graffiti?”

He pops the rest of the muffin into his mouth and rests back on his elbows, smiling as he chews.

“That's kind of illegal, you know.”

He shrugs. Just like he did at the museum.

“I could totally turn you in.”

“Yeah, but you won't.” He picks up the watercolor.

“How do you know?”

“You don't seem like the kind of girl who'd do that.” He looks at the painting. “Tell me about this.”

I finish the last bite and brush off my hands. “What's to tell? It's the ocean.”

“Why the ocean?”

I think about it for a second. “Because it makes me feel free.”

“Have you been out on it?” He sets the painting down and leans back again on his elbows.

I scoot the picnic items over and lean back beside him. “Lots of times. Mostly for boring political stuff. Have you?”

“Nah. Boring political stuff's not really my thing.”

I bump him with my shoulder. “The ocean, silly.”

He smirks. “No. I was supposed to go last weekend but the harbor was closed.”

“Last weekend everything was closed.”

“Except the grocery store.” He looks over at me. “Good thing, huh?” He lies back on the blanket and puts his hands under his head.

It's been gray for so long. The sun shimmering through the trees is gorgeous. Reminds me of the leaves in
Confidante.
I sigh. “Do you ever wish you could go somewhere else?”

He brushes my hair away from my shoulder. When I look over at him, his face is intense. “Where would you go?”

I lie back next to him and fold my hands across my stomach. “Anywhere not here.”

His hand reaches over and finds mine. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. “I used to feel that way.”

I want to tell her so bad.

That I'm from somewhere else—and now that I'm here, I never want to leave.

Her hand is soft in mine. I listen as she talks about her life, and answer as much as I can when she asks about mine. The sun shines on us through the trees and everything feels perfect.

But short. The seconds tick down. Pretty soon I'll have to go meet with Warren and Germ.

She turns over so she's lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. “Do you dance?”

The question throws me. “I try not to.”

“Let me rephrase that. What I
actually
mean is…would you like to go to a dance with me?”

“Like a school dance?” I make a face.

She makes a face, too. “Worse. Governor's Gala. I have to go and it's kind of expected I'll bring a date. My parents want me to go with this intern guy, but…” She rolls her eyes. “Please say yes.”

What in the world is a governor's gala? Ladies in pouffy dresses and powdered wigs? I can't imagine myself in the middle of that crowd, but the way she's looking at me, I give in. “Okay.”

“Really?” First she looks surprised. Then relieved. “Thank you.”

“Thank
you.
Last time a girl asked me to a dance was…let me think…never.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She has no idea.

We're both quiet, looking at each other. Wish we could stay like this all day. All day? Wish we could stay like this forever.

She leans in and whispers, “Why haven't you kissed me yet?”

A smile plays at her lips. I give her a daring look in return. “Why haven't you kissed
me
yet?”

We're so close, eye to eye, both waiting to see who'll make the first move.

And then there's harp music.

She startles and reaches for her phone. “I'm sorry. I have to go. There's this thing…”

“It's okay.” I sit up, fix the back of my hair. “I actually have to get going, too.”

She gathers up the picnic items. “When do I get to see you again?”

As I help her, an idea pops into my head. “Monday?”

“Not tomorrow?”

I consider it, but not knowing what Warren has planned, it's best to leave the day open. “Sorry.”

She looks disappointed. I stop her hands and look her in the eye, trying to somehow make her understand all the things that are too difficult to say. Then I lean in and kiss her quickly because the clock is ticking and I'm bad at goodbyes.

It kills me that our picnic ended so quickly—why is our timing always so off?—but the sun is shining and his kisses are amazing and somehow it feels like everything is going to be okay.

At two o'clock, I knock on Warren's door. There's a series of
beeps
followed by a
click.
The handle turns and a begoggled face peers at me through the opening.

“Ha!” I grin. “Figured it out easy this time.”

He looks past me. “Were you followed?”

“What?” I look down the hall. “No.”

He opens the door and looks, too. Then stands back and lets me in. He's sporting his ankle pants again, and a serious case of bedhead.

His room is so clean it makes mine look like a hoarder's den. And I'm the only one here. Not sure what I expected, but it wasn't this. “I, uh…What exactly did you invite me here for?”

He lifts the blinds to peer out the window. “Just a little get-together with friends.”

So there will be others. “Like, a study session? Or another dance party?”

He makes a slicing motion across his throat, holds a finger to his lips and points at the ceiling.

I look up. The ceiling is listening? “You're kind of starting to freak—”

Two knocks sound at the door, followed by a pause, followed by a single knock. Warren holds his hands out:
See?

He opens the door and there's Danny. When he sees me, his jaw drops. So does mine.

“Funny meeting you here.” He hugs me. Over his shoulder I see his friend Germ. Warren locks the door and punches buttons on a keypad on the wall. A ladder of lasers shoots from one side of the door to the other. Whoa.

So this isn't a study session. And it definitely isn't a dance party either.

Warren reaches under a cabinet and slides out what looks like a control panel. He presses buttons and there's a humming sound. It's so low, though, I don't hear it so much as feel it raising the hair on my arms.

“That's better,” he says. He pushes his goggles up onto his forehead. “Dampening field.” He says it like it's obvious and not at all weird. “Interferes with recording devices, scrambles imaging. You know.” He pulls a chair out from the desk and holds on to the back with both hands. “Before we can get started, Eevee needs to decide if she's on board.”

“For what?” I look at Danny. He gives me a small nod.

“The team,” Warren says.

“You guys are a team now? Are we talking baseball or…” My nervous laughter is swallowed up in the dampening field. “You guys are serious.”

Warren's eyes stay intent on mine.

“She's fine,” Danny says. “Give her a break.”

“Not until she agrees.”

Agrees to what? The way the three of them are looking at me, I feel like bolting for the door, but this is Warren we're talking about. He's cool, right? And Danny is Danny. Still…“What if I say yes and later change my mind?”

“You won't,” Danny says.

“How do you know?”

He shrugs. “I just do.”

My stomach churns with the same helpless feeling I had in the bunker. This is another Moment. Once again I'm standing on the edge and it's time to decide whether or not I'm going to—

“Yes.” I inhale sharply. “I'm in.”

“Excellent!” Warren walks back over to the control panel and presses a button. The lights under the cabinets dim. Flat-screen monitors descend from the shelves. A projected keyboard appears on the desk. The fishbowl glows blue.

“Wha—?” My hands hang limp at my sides. “What's all this? Who
are
you?”

Warren doesn't answer, but Germ leans over and whispers, “Mastermind.”

“Master…?”

Warren moves across the room with precision. His fingers type on the keyboard, and the monitors flash to life. One shows a map; another runs a display of coordinates. A third has only a blinking cursor, waiting for a command.

“What does the fishbowl do?” Germ asks.

“Oh, that's just because it looks cool.”

“Hang on,” I say, walking over to look at the monitors. “Isn't that Skylar?”

“Ding ding ding,” Warren says, his fingers on the projected keys. “We have a winner.”

I watch yellow dots roam the grid. “Is it live?”

“Not yet. They've run two successful tests, last Friday and again on Wednesday. A third is scheduled for Monday. Maybe it'll be dead by then.”

“Dead? But you helped build it.”

“Yep.” He taps the desk where the
ENTER
button shines. “And now I'm going to take it down.”