I consider sending Theo a text, but decide to resist. I don't want to come across as needy. If he wanted to talk to me, he'd call me himself. It sucks, waiting like this.
I sigh, put my phone down and turn back to my computer screen. The problem in trying to compose a proper response to this Humanity for Humans rally is that I can't dial back my anger. I've started it a half-dozen times now, but no matter how calmly and rationally I begin, within paragraphs I'm reduced to name-calling and typing in all-caps.
Then it's delete delete delete and start over again.
I think it's the unfairness that's making me inarticulate with rage. If any other minority group were the target, the rally's webpage servers would be shut down in minutes from the sheer volume of people protesting the bigotry of it all. Quarantine blacks? Jews? Native Americans? Gays?
Sure, there are whack-jobs out there who'd think any of those options would be perfect, but thankfully, they're in the minority these days. The public outcry would be deafening. But when it comes to kids who—through no fault of their own—turn into animals? Not much outrage about putting us into camps.
It's not that the general public agrees, so much as that they seem to be indifferent. They'd much rather weigh in on some celebrity scandal.
It makes me furious.
Except maybe that's not it—or at least, not entirely. Maybe it's this quick temper I seem to have developed. Because all I want to do is take the people behind this rally and slap some sense into them.
My phone pings again, and again it's Des texting, not Theo. This time he's letting me know that they're trying to set up a meeting between Josh and Auntie Min. He says he'll get back to me as soon as he knows the when and where.
Now, why can't everybody be like Des, I think, as I set my phone aside. Sure, he's a bit gaga over the Wildling coolness factor, but otherwise, he doesn't treat either Josh or me any differently than he ever has.
And that's all anybody wants. Nobody wants to be defined only by things they can't control, like their physical appearance or their race. When someone looks at me, I just want them to see a girl. Not a Mexican. Not a Wildling. An ordinary girl.
Is that too much to ask?
Apparently so, for the Humanity for Humans people.
I decide that's the tack I'll take in my comment. Dial back the outrage and just try to be reasonable.
I clear the comment box for the umpteenth time and start to type again when this time my phone rings. I know who it is. Des is obviously loving being call central on setting up this meet and is dying to talk about it. I press Talk.
"I got the text, Des," I say, "but I don't know if I can sneak out. It all depends on how late the meeting is, and if my mother's asleep."
There's a moment's silence, then the voice I've been waiting to hear all day says, "Hey, sweetcheeks."
A sudden heat comes up the back of my neck and my heart begins to race. But I manage to squeak out an automatic, "Don't call me that."
Theo chuckles.
"I guess you've had a busy day," I hear myself saying. God, why don't I just get over it already?
"Babe, you don't know the half of it."
"Me too. It's been crazy."
"I wish I could see you."
I don't want to read too much into it, but that doesn't sound like "business." An unstoppable grin takes over my face.
"Really?" I say.
There's a moment's hesitation. "Let me know if I'm getting out of line."
"You're not. I—you know what? Meet me at my surfing spot in about half an hour."
"I'll be there."
I put my phone down, jump out of my chair and do a happy dance around my room. Then I sit back down, make myself finish my comment, hit Post and shut down the computer. I get back up, look in the mirror, wipe the silly smile off my face and go looking for my mother. I find her in the kitchen.
"Am I still grounded?" I ask.
We both know I've still got a few days left. But I'm betting our earlier conversation is still going through her head.
"Where did you want to go?" she asks.
"Surfing. I need to do something before I go crazy."
"Will Josh be there?"
I can tell by the way she asks that she's re-evaluating how she feels about him. It was one thing when he was just my friend, but now that she's learned that he was able to shut down the Riverside Kings, she's worried about what else she doesn't know about him.
I don't even want to think about how she'd feel if she learned he's a Wildling.
"I doubt it," is all I tell her.
She nods. "Go. But be careful."
"I'm always careful. Thanks, Mamá."
I see Theo as soon as I turn down the street that leads to the beach. His big Harley is parked along the side of the road and he's standing on the beach with his back to me, looking out at the waves. He turns as I approach. I feel a little self-conscious in my wetsuit, wheeling my board behind me. The suit clings to every contour of my body, and the way Theo's smile gets bigger as I close the distance between us makes me even more self-conscious.
And of course he has to come out with, "Anybody ever tell you how hot you look in that suit?"
I try to laugh it off. "Oh, please. Is that the best opening line you've got?"
"Nope."
Before it entirely registers what he's doing, he steps in close, puts a hand behind my head and draws me in for a long kiss. I don't bother to ask if it's for real or just more of the show we're supposed to be putting on for Vincenzo. I don't really care. I've been wanting to do this ever since the first time we kissed.
I let my board drop and put my arms around him, and it's a long time before we come up for air.
"Wow," I manage when I've got my breath.
"More than wow," he says.
It's so comfortable in his arms. We're a perfect fit. I look up and smile, pull his face back down to mine.
We revel in the deliciousness of the kiss for a long time. When our lips part, I take a step back, but catch hold of his hand so that we're still connected.
"What are we doing?" I ask him.
"I know it doesn't make sense," he says, "but I can't stop thinking about you. Maybe we come from different worlds, but it feels too right to just let it go. We're smart. We can figure this out if you want to." He pauses to study me for a moment. "I'm not saying it'll be easy, but we could do it. If you want to."
"I do."
There's a bench beyond the tumble of rocks that marks the end of the public beach. I discovered it by accident one day when I was looking for shells with my little stepsisters. It's the only secluded place around, so I reach down for my board and pull it and Theo over there. When we sit down, I lean my head against his shoulder. He puts his arm around me and I snuggle closer.
"It's going to be complicated," I say.
"I know. The whole gang thing for starters."
I nod. "But I don't want to be the girl who makes a guy change who he is just so he can be with her."
"But you don't want to be the girl going out with a guy in a gang, either."
I nod again. "Complicated."
"Well, I don't want to be the guy in a gang," he says.
I pull away so that I can look at him.
"Really?"
"I always had a plan," he says. "I've been putting money away for years. I'm only with them for the short term because they're not my style. I've never been into the gang life. I don't do the parties or the dope and crap."
"Then why are you even in one?"
"Two reasons. To get myself a stake—the only way a guy like me can—and to keep an eye on my brother, so that he doesn't do something monumentally stupid."
"Is that why you went to jail for him?"
Theo nods. "J-Dog's got a juvie record and a file on him that's probably a mile thick. Next time he goes down, it's to adult jail, and when that happens, we'll have lost him for good."
"No offence," I say, "but by all accounts, your brother's nev
er been a good guy."
"I know. But he's still family, and it'll kill my grandma if either of us ends up in federal prison."
I think of Ampora. She's not in J-Dog's league, but she's not particularly endearing, either. But if anyone ever tried to hurt her, I'd do everything in my power to protect her.
"I understand," I tell Theo. "And it's sweet that you love your grandmother so much."
He puts his arm around me again and pulls me in closer.
"Yeah, I know you get it," he says into my hair. "You're a smart little chica."
I like this. I could get so used to just hanging here on the beach with him, watching the waves and the sun as it makes its steady descent toward the horizon. But there's a world of crap out there that we still have to deal with.
"Catch me up on your day," I say. "Des said something about Josh dying and then coming back from the dead, but his typing is so bad I'm not sure I got it all straight."
"Oh, that happened all right," Theo tells me. "We've got a whole new Josh on our hands. Assertive, and he's got the chops to back it up."
"No kidding," I say. "You should have seen him take out the guys who were waiting for Ampora and me after school."
"What?"
He turns to look at me, fury written all over his face.
"Obviously, I came out of it okay. You go first and then I'll fill you in on my day."
Josh
I can "see" Des coming while he's still around a corner and a couple of blocks away. There's no actual image of him, not even a pulsing dot like the GPS on my phone. It's just that I know it's him—his essence, I guess I have to call it, setting him apart from all the others I can sense around me. Human and animal. Birds in the sky, ground squirrels in an empty lot, a lizard sunning itself on a stone. People in their homes, driving their cars, walking side streets, sitting in deck chairs in their backyards.
If I were to let it, my awareness could probably spread out to include not only my immediate vicinity, but for blocks and blocks further. Maybe all of Santa Feliz. Maybe the whole world.
That freaks me out, and so I dial it way back down.
When Des actually comes into sight, I raise a hand and he waves back. Moments later, we're walking side by side, back the way he came.
"Everything okay, dude?" he asks.
"Sure."
"Because you're looking awfully pale—and that's a new look for you."
When we were still little kids, Des had the hardest time accepting that black people tan and blush or even go pale from shock or blood loss, just like anybody else. I'm already fairly light because of having a white father, and I guess I'm even lighter than usual right now.
"It's just been one of those days," I tell him.
"No kidding. Still," he adds. "I don't know why you took off like you did. Sandy was really into you."
"Yeah, but for the wrong reasons."
Des's eyebrows go up. "There's a wrong reason for a cute girl to be into you?"
"She's only interested because I stood up to the Kings."
"So what?"
"So it's not what I'm looking for in a girl."
"Oh, come on, dude. She doesn't want to have your babies—or at least I don't think she does."
I aim a punch at his shoulder but he dances out of range.
"Dude. She only wants to hang out and have some fun. Where's the harm in that?"
"It's not only her."
So then I have to tell him about the weird conversation I had with Ampora.
Des shakes his head. "Okay, first off, dude—what the hell were you thinking? Are you nuts?"
"Hey, I didn't kiss her back or anything."
"Except you actually sound kind of interested, which is not cool. Yeah, she's hot, but you know how she treats Marina."
"You think I don't know that?"
He shakes his head. "Dude, I don't know what's what anymore. I still can't believe you went and took on a whole gang of the Kings on their own turf."
"Yeah, probably not my brightest idea."
"But seriously?" he says. "I'd rather face them than have to tell Marina I was going out with her sister."
"I'm not going out with her."
"That's what you say now."
"That's what I'll say whenever you ask me."
"Still, she's pretty hot," he says. "A dead ringer for Marina, too, but Ampora's the bad-girl version."
"Marina would kill you if she heard you say that."
"Yeah, but you know it's true. They're both hot. I just never knew you liked the bad girls," he says with a smirk.
I roll my eyes.
"Keep it in your pants," I tell him.
"Dude. Like you're the one to talk."
"I'm not doing anything," I say. "Do I look like I'm doing anything? How come all these girls are suddenly into me? I mean—Ampora? Really?"
"It's got to be pheromones."
I give him a blank look.
"You know," he says. "Like a smell or something that animals give off when they're mating or whatever."
"I know what pheromones are. Why would you think I'm doing that?"
He shrugs. "Maybe it's a new Wildling thing."
I think of all the weird new sensory stuff that's now in my head and wonder what else is going to happen to me.
"No-o-body can resis-s-st you now," Des says in a bad spooky voice while he wiggles his fingers in my face.
I push him away. For a moment we're both laughing like old times, then his face goes serious.
"Dude," he says, "I forgot to tell you. You have to talk to Auntie Min."
I shake my head. "I will. But only when I've figured things out first. I don't trust her or any of the older cousins."
"Not even Cory? Because he thinks you should talk to her and you promised him you would."
"Why are you so keen on me doing this?"
"You don't want to talk to her, dude, I'll back you up. But like I told you before, she's pretty cool."
I raise my eyebrows.
"Seriously, dude. She's a big deal."
"You mean versus you lowly humans?" I ask with a grin.
He whacks my arm, then dances back, jabbing at the air, pretending to be a boxer.
"Come on," he says. Jab. Jab. "Think you can take me?"
I laugh. "I could take you before I changed. Now I …"
My words trail off as the GPS in my head registers an anomaly. Something around us isn't right.
Des takes a couple more air jabs in my direction.
"Hold on," I tell him.
"Yeah, dude. Now I've got you scared."
"Seriously. Hold on."
He rolls his eyes, but falls silent.
I let my Wildling gaze focus on the spot where something's out of place. It's an old adobe building. There's a yard with some brush and scraggly trees. I don't see anybody. As I let my gaze go up the side of the building, I catch a glimpse of the top of some guy's head. Metal winks.
My body seems to know what to do before my brain can react.
I tackle Des and we both go down behind a parked car. Something pings sharply off the pavement, right where we were just standing. If we hadn't moved, one of us would have been hit.
"Dude!" Des says. "Did somebody just shoot at us?"
He starts to sit up, but I push his head down.
"Seems like it," I tell him.
"I didn't even hear the shot."
"Me, either."
Which means two things: that the sniper has a silencer, and that Solana was right when he warned me that the guys from Black Key Securities might be coming after me. Danny said they were in protective custody, but that was obviously a lie or they wouldn't be out here shooting at me.
Another bullet pings off the hood of the car behind us before ricocheting away into the distance.
"Dude, how did you even know that guy was there?"
I tap my head. "New tracking device," I say. "Somehow I've got, like, a GPS in my head. I'm still getting used to it."
"As if your other superpowers weren't enough. Dude, I am so jealous."
"Can I borrow your phone?" I ask.
"Who're you going to call?" he asks as he hands it over. Before I can answer, he goes right on with, "Man, does this have to do with the Kings?"
"I doubt it."
I close my eyes so that I can recall the business card Solana gave me the first time we met at the end of the pier. I never could have done this before I became a Wildling. Imagine if I could put this souped-up memory bank to use in school. I'd ace every course.
Once I have the digits, I thumb them into Des's phone. Solana answers on the first ring.
"Yes, Mr. Wilson?" he says, which throws me for a loop until I realize he's got call display and thinks it's Des.
"It's me," I say. "You need to get here right away. Some guy's shooting at us and he's got a silencer on his rifle."
"Where are you?"
"Are you really telling me that you don't have a tracker on this phone as well?"
I hear a siren start up in the background.
"We'll be right there," he says.
I close Des's phone and hand it back to him.
He looks incredulous. "Somebody's got a tracker on my phone?" he says.
"Don't look so surprised. Every phone's got GPS now. The police can trace any one of them, so long as they're turned on."
"You called the police?"
"No, the FBI."
Des nods like it's an everyday occurrence.
"I wonder if the guy's still there," he says as he starts to have a look.
I pull him down and a bullet cuts the air where his head just was. It bounces off the grill of the car behind and whizzes between us. We both wince at the ugly sound.
"Remember my GPS?" I say, putting a finger to my temple.
Des just nods and stays down.
My senses tell me the guy's still in place. I can pinpoint precisely where he is.
"Give me your phone again," I say.
When Solana picks up, I describe exactly where they'll find the shooter.
"Stay on the line," I say when I hear the approach of a siren. "Okay," I add. "He hears you coming and he's on the move."
"Jesus!" Solana says. "Just stay put and let us deal with this. Don't start following him."