“You coming?” she asked, placing a foot onto the stairs. And she was lifted up.
Thad would have told him to just wait, what was the big deal, the last thing Ryan needed was to have a police altercation that might make it back to Coach. Ryan ignored his inner-Thad; he stumbled forward the last few steps and hopped onto the escalator behind her.
Shay explained to him why Tagore was so special. It was her nani who had introduced her to the poet when she was ten, after her grandfather had died. Shay had been miserably sad because her grandfather had been her favorite. Nani said Tagore had been his guide.
“His poems are so lyrical and wise,” Shay said. “They speak to my soul.”
The last time Ryan had heard someone discuss his soul was in church. He’d never heard anyone sound this juiced about poetry. And no girl, not even his girlfriend, had ever opened up to him like this. He felt drunk. He wanted to tell her things.
He was way out of his comfort zone.
Aéropostale wasn’t far from the escalators. Ryan waited by the entry, where he was scowled at by the clerk while Shay circled the store. He was beginning to wonder what Toxic demon had possessed him; the Ryan he knew would not engage in criminal wandering with a girl who talked about her lyrical soul.
Shay appeared at his side. “They must have left.” She pulled out an old-school flip-open phone. “Dead, dead, deadski,” she said, flipping it closed. “Can I borrow yours?”
Ryan pulled out his Droid and handed it to her.
“Whoa,” she said, fake-frowning. “Fan-cy.” She turned the phone over. “Where are the buttons?”
Ryan slid his finger across the LOCK button.
Shay watched, eyes wide. “We really live in a magical age.” She took the phone from him and dialed.
Ryan had never spoken to anyone who said things like “magical age.” Or who didn’t know how to use a touchscreen. This girl was from another planet, another galaxy. He wondered what she would say next.
“Nani’s not answering,” Shay said, handing him back the phone. “They might be waiting for me at the car.” She took a step, then turned back and hugged Ryan. “Thank you for being so gentlemanly.”
He didn’t breathe for fear that it might make her let go.
But she did and began power-walking for the exit.
Ryan raced to catch up with her. “What kind of gentleman doesn’t walk a girl to the door?”
Shay held out her arm. “My carriage awaits,” she said in a playful, British accent.
Ryan slid his arm into hers. “Onward.”
What kind of idiot had he become that he was saying things like onward?
The closest mall exit was down a floor, at the end of a short hallway, and consisted of two sets of glass double doors. In the vestibule, two big cops—actual cops with guns in their belts—leaned against a vending machine. Shay didn’t so much as blink: She just pushed the first set of doors open and walked in.
The nearer cop blocked her path. “You were told to wait in your store,” he said.
Shay looked him in the eyes, her jaw set. “I have to find my grandmother.”
Through the glass, Ryan saw that a wall of fencing was being set up around the edge of the mall parking lot. What the hell kind of security situation is this?
“You’ll have to wait like the rest of the people.” The cop crossed his arms. “We going to have a problem?” He looked at Ryan.
“No problem,” Ryan replied quickly.
Shay looked at him, tilting her head and pursing her lips. Ryan shrugged. What was he supposed to do, kick the cop’s butt?
Shay turned back to the cop. “They said the security problem’s in the parking garage,” she said. “I just want to go out to the open air lot.”
The second cop shuffled over. “I’m going to ask you one more time to go back to your store.”
Ryan’s phone rang. He pulled it out—a strange number. He tapped Shay on the shoulder. “Maybe this is your grandmother?”
Shay instantly withdrew from her standoff with the cops and took the phone. “Nani?” she said, then began speaking in Indian.
The first cop got on his walkie-talkie. “Security, we have two civilians in the hall at exit one.”
The second cop jutted his chin at Ryan. “I’ve seen you play ball,” he said.
Ryan froze. What if this guy knows Coach?
“You Jimmy Murphy’s kid?”
He knew Dad—even worse.
“I’m really sorry,” Ryan began. “I mean, she was just really upset and I was trying to help.”
The cop clapped him on the shoulder. “Girls, kid,” he said. “Don’t let them get in the way of what’s important.” He pushed Ryan through the glass door and let it close between them. He stared hard into Ryan’s eyes.
Ryan stepped back and stumbled into Shay.
“They’re still here!” she said. “Preeti got hungry, so they went to the food court.” She pushed the phone into his chest and began to jog back down the hall.
The cop pointed vigorously at the entrance to the nearest store: PaperClips.
Ryan jammed his hands into his pockets and shuffled into PaperClips.
Shay didn’t follow.
S
H
A
Y
Shaila Dixit drove a French fry through the puddle of ketchup on the crumpled wrapper in front of her. It’d been hours since she’d left Ryan in the corridor, but she couldn’t stop replaying every second of their half hour together in her mind. The whole day had felt blessed—and then he’d abandoned her.
She’d come to the mall to get out of the house. The place was still a cluttered mess from the move. Shay couldn’t sit for five minutes anywhere without being asked to unpack something or get out of the way, I’m vacuuming! She was losing her mind.
As if moving itself weren’t enough of a nightmare. All her friends had been like, Edison’s only an hour away, we’ll come visit all the time, but none had come in the four months she’d lived here. More than that, though, instead of Shay the Actress or Shay the Poet—in Stonecliff, she was Shay the Indian Chick.
Shay tried to put on a brave face about it all. During lunch at school, she joked about Mom overdoing it with the cumin. She fashioned outfits out of her Indian garb to better look the part. But her weekends were still an endless expanse of time with no one but Preeti and Nani to fill it. So when she needed to escape, she came to the mall like every other teenager in America. Here, she was normal. Anyone who saw her would think friends were coming to meet her later, maybe they were waiting in another store and she only had to finish this purchase before joining them. When she could no longer pretend, she excused herself and went somewhere to hide in music and poetry. Toxic had seemed as good a place as any.
But then this gorgeous guy had pulled her out of her loneliness. For thirty whole minutes, she’d had a friend. She’d felt ready to explode out of her skin with happiness. But she’d pushed it too far. How could she have expected him to keep following her? Especially when she was basically asking him to disobey the cops. She couldn’t have expected it. But she’d hoped.
“Shaila-bhen, when can we go home?” Preeti whined, slumping into the seat next to Shay. They’d been stuck in the food court for hours, staring out the wall of windows at the parking lot as the sun set.
“When they tell us,” Shay answered, shoving a fry into her mouth.
Why had she given him her book? He who turned out to be less knight in shining armor than coward with good hair. He’d seemed so enthralled by her—yet another instance of her radar being way off. Ever since the move, Shay felt like she’d been stumbling in the dark. Maybe if her friends had visited like they’d promised, it would be easier to fake the smiles. Maybe if the theater program at her new school didn’t suck. Maybe, what if, whatever.
Nani flipped open her phone, then slapped it shut again and shook her head. Their parents had called Nani’s phone every fifteen minutes. It was funny to watch her grand
mother’s surprise and confusion each time the phone rang, like she hadn’t noticed the thing existed, even though it was clenched in her fist.
“Perhaps it is for the best,” said Nani in Gujarati. “Perhaps by the time we leave, that henna will have worn off and your father won’t kill us both.” She smiled and shifted on the metal chair.
Shay touched her cheek. She’d snuck into Nani’s room the night before and taken the henna, then worked for hours with a flashlight and a hand mirror to create the design. Shay had been in charge of the makeup for all the shows at her old school, meaning the tattoo was awesome, if forbidden. Nani had gasped at seeing her in the morning, then been more than happy when Shay suggested they go to the mall to keep Ba and Bapuji from seeing what Shay had done. Nani could always be counted on to act as a coconspirator.
“We should find you somewhere more comfortable to sit, Nani,” Shay said.
Nani patted Shay’s hand. “I’m fine.”
How would she explain the missing book to Nani? Oh, I met a cute guy and wanted him to hang around and thought he got that, but then he ditched me and now it’s lost, your gift, gone. Shay felt like a moron.
Preeti, who in all her ten years of life had never been more annoying, kicked Shay’s chair. “I want to go home.”
Shay pulled some money from her pocket. “Here,” she said. “Go ride the Ferris wheel again.”
Preeti snatched up the money and raced for the Ferris wheel. Shay guessed that if they had to be trapped in the mall, they were in the best location. Not only was the food court a huge space with trees and plants, glass walls and ceiling (mostly open, as the third floor slimmed down to a narrow bridge of corridor above them), but opposite the food vendors was a Ferris wheel and merry-go-round. Not much entertainment for Shay, but perfect for keeping Preeti and every other child occupied. The Ferris wheel and merry-go-round were in constant operation.
Those guys must be raking it in, Shay thought. They should cause a security situation on a regular basis.
The phone rang: Her parents. Nani spoke with them, her voice rising to match the ascending tones on the other end of the line. Suddenly, Nani shoved the phone at Shay. “They want to talk to you.”
Shay took the phone. Her parents immediately started asking the same questions they’d been asking all afternoon. Shay gave them the same answers: “No, they haven’t said anything more. No, we can’t leave. I already tried. We can’t leave the food court. No, I haven’t seen any terrorists. Yes, Preeti is fine. I’m sure they’ll let us go soon.”
Her mother interrupted her father—they were on two different phones, talking over each other. “Nani’s medicine. Has she taken her medicine?”
“I don’t know,” Shay said. She put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Nani? Have you taken your medicine?” That’s right. Nani had diabetes and needed insulin shots.
Her grandmother looked into her bag. “Yes, tell my daughter. No need to worry.”
Shay didn’t like the way Nani sounded: She was no longer annoyed. But why make her mother worry? There was nothing her parents could do for Nani on the outside.
Shay took her hand from the phone. “Nani’s fine, Ba. We’ll call when we hear anything.”
She hung up and turned to Nani. “You haven’t taken your medication, have you?”
Nani smiled. “No, my dear. I only take it before breakfast and dinner. Who could have known we would be here so late?”
“Do you need insulin?” Shay could not trust Nani’s smile. Her grandmother would rather starve than trouble anyone to pass her food at the dinner table.
Upon closer examination, Nani’s skin seemed slack and her breathing shallow.
“I’m going to go to the PhreshPharm,” Shay said. “It’s just down the hall.”
“The man told us to wait here,” Nani said, but there was no force to her words.
“You need your insulin.” Shay squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “Watch for Preeti and don’t tell her where I went. She’ll only try to follow.”
Shay didn’t run; she walked calmly toward one of the food vendors, as if coming to make a purchase, then banked around the narrow wall of the FrankenHut and into the hallway.
There weren’t as many people down at this far end of the mall, or maybe they’d snuck across the hall to the department store—Harry’s had a home section full of pillows and beds. Shay considered sneaking Nani down the hall to Harry’s but gave up the plan when two mall guards stepped off the escalator. No way Nani could move fast enough to avoid getting caught. Shay ducked behind a plant as the guards passed, then booked it for the pharmacy.
Shay shuffled past the few people splayed on the floor between the rows of toothpaste and deodorant to the back, where the pharmacist was asleep on the counter.
“Excuse me,” Shay said, tapping the woman’s arm.
The woman woke with a snort. “What, kid?” She stretched and scratched her hair.
“My grandmother needs insulin.” Shay laid a twenty onto the counter. “Will this cover it?”
The woman smirked. “You got a prescription?”
“Please,” Shay said. “Can you just give me a little? We’ve been stuck here forever and my grandmother didn’t bring any.”
The woman sighed. “Look, truth is you’re not the first to come here looking for drugs. But we don’t stock that much. We ran out of insulin earlier this evening.”
Shay was stunned. “Can’t you call someone?”
The woman’s face loosened into a kind expression. “Honey, if I could call someone, I would be on the phone.”
Shay dragged her feet out of the store. They ran out of insulin? What were people supposed to do? She needed to talk to the person in charge. And where would this person be? The parking garage.
Someone had turned the escalators and elevators off at this point, so Shay skipped quickly down the stalled steps to the first floor and then ran toward the central courtyard and fountain. It was eerie being the only person in the hallway, seeing the other people trapped behind the glass storefronts like fish in a tank. Some looked up at her as she passed; most did not.
Shay reached the escalators to the garage and steeled herself for a confrontation. She took the steps two at a time, psyching herself up to battle her way to the head honcho. But there was no one to confront. The garage was empty. Shay pushed her way out of the glass-enclosed escalator lobby. She heard voices off to her left.
Two police cruisers were parked in front of a cinderblock room near the Dumpsters, their lights beating red and blue pulses across the dark walls. A kid who looked about her age sat in the backseat of one of the cruisers, his head against the glass. A tired-looking woman sat on the back bumper of the car. A tubby guy in a beige suit stood in front of her waving a piece of paper.
“I’ve got tenant complaints piling up,” he snapped.
“Yours is the least of my problems,” the woman said.
Shay had expected a mob of police, tons of lights, cages filled with criminals. This looked like a vandalism case at best.
The woman held up a hand and the tubby man controlled his hysteria. The woman began speaking to no one—then Shay noticed the cell phone earpiece. “How was I supposed to know that regulations required evacuation, not quarantine? With the anthrax scare, the danger was not treating people in time, so I figured you’d want to keep everyone together.”
Did she just say quarantine?
“Tell them I knew we should evacuate,” the tubby man said. “Make sure they know—”
The woman glared at the guy, who shut up, and continued. “They won’t let me evacuate everyone now? Well, it’s not like I wanted to increase exposure rates. My goddamned family is trapped here! Fine, tell the Feds that I’m sorry for screwing with their procedure.” She dug the ear piece from her ear and slammed it down on the trunk.
This was obviously more than a vandalism case.
“Excuse me?” said Shay, her voice echoing throughout the garage.
The woma
n looked up. “Oh, god,” she said.
The tubby guy stepped forward. “Miss, please return to your store.”
“Did you just say we’re being quarantined?” Shay stood straighter, preparing herself for that confrontation she’d been waiting for.
A policeman appeared behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Shay wrenched her head around. It was the same guy who’d been in the exit doorway.
“This one’s been a problem all day, Senator.” The cop pushed Shay toward the squad car. “Tried to bust out the exit.”
The woman—the senator—looked at her watch, then buttoned her blazer. “I’d better make the announcement.”
“What announcement?” Shay shouted, struggling in the policeman’s grasp. “Can we go home?”
The senator straightened her collar. “We’re not going home for a while.”
“But my grandmother needs her medicine!” Shay could not believe how calm this woman was. “You have to take care of her!”
The senator looked at the policeman. “Put her in with the other kid until I get back.” The tubby man followed the senator into the shadows.
“I have to get back to my grandmother!” Shay shouted as the cop dragged her to the car.
The policeman shoved her into the cruiser without another word and slammed the door.
The boy looked at Shay. “What’d they get you for?” he asked, smiling like this was all some big joke.
“I have to get out of this car,” Shay said, jimmying the door handle.
“You’re not getting out that way,” he said.
“What did you do to lock down the mall? Call in a bomb threat?”
“No threat,” he said calmly. “I found a bomb. They’re not sure yet whether to believe me when I said I didn’t put it there. I’ve been stuck here since this morning.”
Shay stopped jiggling the door handle. “Are you serious?”
The speakers squealed to life. The senator’s voice boomed around the garage. “Excuse me, I have an announcement. The security situation is ongoing, and as such you are asked to remain in your stores for the time being. You have been extremely patient, and in appreciation for your patience, you will each be given a twenty-five-dollar gift certificate for use anywhere in the mall. We’ll be coming around to take your names and make sure you get your certificate. In addition, pizza will be served in all the stores.