A Missing Peace (9 page)

“So?”

“So, maybe it's a secret for a while?”

I nodded and moved my hand from her face into her hair. It was like silk between my fingers. It felt as nice as it looked.

“I should go.” She maneuvered around me to head for the door, and I worried for a moment I'd freaked her out. She called over her shoulder, “I cannot have a drop-out for a boyfriend.”

I hadn't freaked her out. She was being Mirriam.

Mirriam

That kiss caught me completely off guard. It changed everything and nothing. In a moment of honesty, I'd have to admit Caleb Miller was gorgeous—beautiful. I had known that since I first laid eyes on him. Even our heated debates brought a rush I wasn't used to. So it wasn't that I didn't see this coming, kind of. But I never thought—he never really seemed like the kind of guy to go for an Iraqi girl, especially an Iraqi girl who hated the U.S. And I did.

Back home, a kiss like that—it was something engaged people did—married people. Not single people. I sat on my bed, hugging my knees and contemplating what it meant. It meant something, or I was a harlot, and I wasn't a harlot, when I got a text from Caleb.

School district will send someone to my house to finish the semester.

I smiled.

C u @ debate.

Really? That long?

What r u expecting? I'm not allowed to date.

Need help with Gov. I'm an infidel.

My whole body hummed. He was right. There was no way
Ommy
or Abrahem would ever tell me I couldn't study. They might not like me going to Caleb's routinely, but after his accident, they wouldn't argue.

I left a note on the table that said I was at a classmate's working on a project. I didn't mention who the classmate was to avoid unwanted questions. Two minutes later, I was at Caleb's. We watched TV on his couch. He had all the channels. Most things on cable here were too racy for me. Lots of things on cable here wouldn't have been allowed to air at home. So I settled on the ABC Family Channel's PG-13 chick flicks.

Caleb didn't complain, only rolled his eyes and laughed. Sitting with Caleb on the couch that night, I was completely comfortable. I wasn't the Arabic girl, a ‘raghead', a ‘camel jockey', or any of the other things I'd been called since we came here. I was Mirriam.

Caleb wasn't a football player or the big man on campus tonight. He was Caleb, and his arm around me put prickles on my skin. The excitement of Caleb's touch threatened to burst my body apart, and at the same time nothing could be more serene. All I wanted was to sink further into his side.

I wasn't supposed to be here. I shouldn't be doing this. I didn't like hiding something. The last time I did, something really bad happened, but I looked at Caleb. He smiled at me, and it was worth the risk.

Caleb wouldn't be out and about for a while. His mom worked a lot, which meant he had the house to himself. A lot.

When I came home from school the next day, I busied myself cooking. I decided on
shawarma
wraps, because Caleb liked them. I waited for
Ommy
and Abrahem to leave and left yesterday's note in case someone came home early. It was true they would allow me to study, but I planned on keeping unnecessary questions at bay for as long as possible.

As soon as I put my hand to Caleb's door, he called, “Come in.” He was sitting up today, and he looked better. Groomed even.

I sat down beside him. “I brought you something.” I pulled the container from my backpack.

He popped the lid off. “Burrito.”

“
Shawarma
, infidel,” I joked, poking him in the side.

He grimaced.

“Oh, sorry.”

“It's okay.”

“You liked it at the library, so I made it again. There's baklava, too.”

“You cooked for me?” The way he looked at me made me want to melt. Blood rushed under my cheeks, and I wondered if he noticed.

I smiled and nodded.

Caleb leaned down and brushed his lips against my hair, then my forehead. Somehow innocent kisses like these felt more intimate than the long passionate ones. I scooted in closer to him and laid my head on his shoulder. “Am I hurting you?” I asked.

“Please don't move,” he whispered.

We watched two episodes of “Modern Family.”

“Wow, the U.S. is a weird place,” I said.

Caleb laughed. “That's California, babe. It's weird for us, too.”

I laughed, and simultaneously there was a knock at the door.

“I wonder who that is,” Caleb said. “You're here.”

“Maybe, it's your friends.” I wondered how this would play out. Caleb's friends all clearly had a problem with me.

Caleb clenched his jaw and stared at the floor. “Doubt that. They haven't been around much.”

Then something occurred to me. I didn't know how, but somehow my big brother had always known what I was doing before my parents did. The knock had picked up into more of a bang.

“If that's Abrahem get rid of him, and I'll go out the back door.”

“Why would it be Abrahem?” Caleb shook his head as I leaped over the couch and crouched behind it. “It's open,” he said.

“Hey, man,” a guy, clearly not Abrahem, said.

“Hey,” Caleb said.

I was still behind the couch, and I wasn't sure I should come out. It might make it easier for Caleb if I stayed out of sight since his friends didn't like me.

“What's up?” the guy asked.

“Not much.”

“How are you doin'?”

“The doc says it'll be better after physical therapy.”

“I'm sorry, man.”

“It is what it is. Hey, have you remembered anything else? Anything new?”

This peaked my curiosity.

“Remembered anything new? Oh, about your dad? Caleb, you've got to leave this alone. I've told you all I can remember. Do you ask anyone else this every time you see them?”

“Yeah, I guess that's why Collins quit coming around. I can't believe he doesn't know anything, though. He was Dad's commanding officer. He should have gotten a full report.”

“If I remembered anything, I would tell you.” The guy's voice shook as he said it. I didn't know him, but I knew he was lying. “But if Collins isn't telling you, it's probably for the best that you not know.”

This guy did not want to talk about Caleb's dad. He said he needed to get home. He dropped by because it was on his way, and he left.

I stood up and walked around the couch to retake my place next to Caleb.

“Sorry, I should have told you to come out. I figured you knew it wasn't your brother, though.”

“Who was that?”

“Gade. We've been friends forever.”

I nodded. “He was with your dad—in Iraq?” Instantly, I regretted asking. This was fuel for a fight. We were both too emotional about this. We'd both lost too much.

“Yeah. The army never told us much about how he died, so I've been asking the guys that were there, hoping to get answers.”

“That guy is lying to you,” I said.

“I know. What I don't know is why.”

For an instant, I wondered if it was worse to watch your dad die and not be able to do anything about it, or lose your father and not know what happened. I never came to a conclusion.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“Me too.”

I leaned into him, and he slipped an arm around me. We stayed like that, neither of us saying anything, until his mom came home and still we sat in silence. She seemed shocked to see me for about two seconds, but she didn't say anything other than hello. In fact, she left us alone. This was new for me.
Ommy
would kill Abrahem if he had a girl over while she was out, and he was grown.

I stayed with Caleb past midnight, then slipped home, because I couldn't stay all night. That
would
be noticed.

Caleb

Gade lied to me, and it was so obvious that Mirriam, who didn't know him, knew. The way my dad had taken him under his wing Gade could at least be honest with me about his death, but I guessed not. I wanted to kick his ass. No, I didn't. What I really wanted was to grab him by the neck, push him against the wall, and say, “Tell me what happened to my dad, or your head's going through the wall.”

A few weeks ago, that would have been possible. But someone only just confirmed, what I already believed, that he was lying to me, and by now, I wasn't much of a threat to anyone anymore.

My phone rang.

“Miller?”

“Yes.” To my surprise, it was the recruiter. No idea why. He'd made it clear boot camp was out, and I couldn't enlist without it.

“If you agree to go logistics, I got permission to use your ROTC training in place of boot camp.”

“Really? How?”

“I had to pull a lot of strings, but I made it work.”

Logistics was never exactly what I had in mind. I wanted revenge for my dad, but football scholarships were only good as long as you could play football. That was out, and I had no other way to pay for college. If I was going to have any kind of future at all, this was it. “I'll do it.” At least, I had a plan for after graduation.

For the first time since it happened, I was in a good mood, and I hadn't been out of the house other than going to the doctor since I left the hospital. I figured it was time to take my girl on a real date.

I sent a text to Mirriam.

Let's go to Austin.

How?

My jeep.

It's broken.

The guys fixed it while I was in the hospital.

At school.

Skip.

I don't get in trouble. Not worth it.

Get sick.

Good idea.

Twenty minutes later, someone banged on my back door. By the time I got up and headed to the door, Mirriam was in my kitchen. “Hope your mom's not one of those ‘shoot first and ask questions later' kind of people,” she said.

“She's at work. The back door?”

“Uh, do my mom and Abrahem both work nights, meaning they're at home during the day?”

I laughed. “How did you get back there?”

“I took the dirt road and jumped your fence.”

“I should get a dog. You never know when a psycho might jump the fence and let themself in.”

She laughed. “Shut up. How are we going to get to Austin without being seen?”

I shrugged. “Once we're off this road, we'll be fine.”

“You can't walk.”

“That's why we're driving.”

“It's going to be hard to get in the car.”

“I'll be okay.”

But she was right. Getting in the jeep was no easy feat. I grabbed the handle over the seat and held my breath as I crawled in the passenger side.

“Are you okay?” Mirriam asked.

“Yeah, I'll be all right.”

She crossed her arms. “But you're on the wrong side.”

I grinned at her. “It's going to be a long time before I'm driving, sweetheart.” She looked like she was ready to kick my ass, and it was awesome. She was so cute when she was mad.

“I don't even have a license.”

“Don't speed.”

She growled, but she got in the driver side.

“The one on the left is the clutch. You—”

“I know what the clutch is,” she snapped. “I just need a minute to adjust. The steering wheel is supposed to be on the other side.”

I laughed. “Dorothy, you're not in Kansas anymore.”

“Who's Dorothy?”

Right. We're from two different worlds.
“Okay, we're watching the Wizard of Oz.”

She shook her head. “Whatever.” She sighed.

“The steering wheel is where it belongs. The problem is you're used to driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“Uh, the steering wheel goes on the other side everywhere else in the world.”

I laughed.

She flipped the ignition, opened the garage door, and adjusted the rear-view mirror, which currently displayed her house.

She blew out a heavy sigh and reclined her seat, while my jeep jumped around and died.

“Can you drive a standard?” I asked as she cranked the truck again.

“No, this is the only place on Earth where standards are driven.” We rolled out of my driveway with Mirriam's seat horizontal. There was no way she could see. “Do you know how much automatics cost in the rest of the world? Or the price of gas?” “Calm down, girl. It was just a question. You should probably sit up.”

“Do you want to drive?”

Point taken.

By some miracle, she was able to come to a halt at the stop sign.

“Can you see?”

“Not really, so if you think a train is coming at us, it's probably a good idea to say so.”

“Why do you want to drive with your seat laying down?”

“So no one sees me.

“Great. Well, you're clear.” We turned the corner and Mirriam coasted into the curb. “These tires are new.”

“This was your idea, genius.”

The car died again, and Mirriam sat her seat up, scooted closer to the pedals, put the car in first, and took off—smoothly. “You'll have to tell me where to go.”

“We should probably take Phantom Soldier. It's less busy than 35.”

“Where is this Phantom Soldier? And do you not find it slightly disturbing that even the highway is named after a soldier here? Phantom. Seriously? What's up with that? It sounds creepy.”

“It's called Phantom Soldier, because the soldiers take it to Austin to drink and come home. Lots of deaths on this highway at night because there are lots of drunks.”

“This is better than the other road?”

I shrugged. “It's daytime. They're all at work. They say more soldiers have died on this highway than in Iraq and Afghanistan combined.”

Mirriam nodded. I shouldn't have said that. Sometimes, I forgot we were so different, and in those moments I didn't filter when I talked to her. But after I realized I should be filtering, I was stupid enough to continue. “But I don't really know anyone who died on the highway, and I know people who died in Iraq.”