Gone (7 page)

“Yes, hiii,” Chris crooned. “This is Chris Rodke….”

“
Yes,
hello, Chris. Oh gosh, I hope you're feeling better.”

“I am feeling a little better, thanks, Ms. Kimball. But I was supposed to get some homework assignments
from Jake Montone. Would you happen to have his number?”

“Of course, Chris, you just hold on one sec, okay?”

“Oh, thank
you
.”

Yes, all things considered, his plan was moving along quite beautifully.

HEATHER WAS COUCHED DEEP IN A chair in the telephone room. Her legs and arms were folded tightly as she stared at the blurry telephone, trying to work up the courage to pick it up and make the call.

It shouldn't have been a scary call to make, but somehow she was still nervous. She'd already been rejected by Ed, and she wasn't in the mood for more. But she ran a much bigger risk of rejection by calling this particular boy. After all, he'd rejected her in the worst possible way a very long time ago. He'd dumped her for another girl . But so much time had passed since then. And now, for some reason, he was the one she really wanted to call.

She'd already considered every other option. She'd considered asking one of her old Village School classmates, but, as she and Ed had discussed, she'd changed
so much since then. When she thought about those boys now, they all seemed like such shallow, materialistic, immature tools. Besides, they had all surely paired off with her friends by now.

She'd thought about asking one of the guys at Carverton to be her escort, but that just didn't seem fair. For one thing, he'd be forced to sit through some prom he couldn't have cared less about, and worse than that, he'd probably end up being a spectacle for all her haughty friends to judge. She could hear the whispered jokes already….
Oh, look, Heather brought a blind date. Get it? Blind date?
Ha ha. Real mature, girls. No, Heather wasn't about to subject a Carverton boy to that kind of hell.

The more she had thought it through, there was really only one other boy she'd wanted to ask besides Ed. She wanted a date who could give her the feeling that she'd come full circle—that she'd truly come back. She wanted a date who would make her feel like her old self again. Well… her old self minus all the shallow, catty tendencies that had turned her into such a raving queen bitch. She wanted to feel like a queen again—just minus the bitch part. Maybe she even wanted to prove to him that she had successfully exorcised her inner bitch—that she had finally grown up. Wasn't that what graduations and proms were all about?

So she'd made a bunch of calls to finally get his
number. She just needed to pick up the damn phone and dial it.

Just do it. Call him. What do you have to lose? The worst he can say is no. He won't be mean about it or anything. He never had a mean bone in his body. Besides, you're still Heather Gannis, for God's sake. This should be a walk in the park.

Finally, after five more minutes of embarrassing hesitation, she breathed in and picked up the phone, dialing the number ever so slowly and then waiting. Her heart began to pound, and her palms began to sweat, and she did seriously consider hanging up at least four times within the three rings. But once she'd heard his sweet, raspy voice, it was too late.

“Hello?”

Heather went silent.

“Hello?” he repeated.

Now's the time when you talk, Heather. TALK.

“Hel-
looo?
” he groaned. Two more seconds and he was going to hang up. It was do-or-die time….

“Sam?”

“Yeah… Who's this?”

Who's this? Doesn't he even remember my voice? Has it been that long?

“It's
Heather,
” she said, trying to mask her embarrassment with a laugh.

“Oh God,
Heather,
I'm so sorry.” Sam laughed, too.

“I didn't even recognize your voice. Wow…” Suddenly he sounded much more serious. “Heather… How
are
you?”

“How am I?” It seemed like a more complicated question than it should have been. “I'm… I'm okay. I am truly okay, Sam. How are you?”

Sam seemed to have to pause and think about it, too. “I'm okay, too,” he said thoughtfully.

“Well,
okay.
” She tried to take in some good breaths. “So I guess we're both okay.”

“I guess we are,” Sam said quietly. “Who would have thought it?”

It was already so much more awkward than she'd expected. Awkward but somehow… nice. Something about hearing Sam's voice made her feel happier and more nervous at the same time. Which, she supposed, was how he'd always made her feel. Giddy but insecure.

“Well, Sam, for both of our sakes, I'm just going to get right to the point.”

“Okay…?” He sounded a wee bit scared.

“Don't worry,” she assured him. “It's nothing bad.”

“Oh, good,” he said. “I've lost all capacity for bad news. I kind of reached my quota, you know?”

“Tell me about it. No, it's not bad. I mean, I
hope
it's not bad to you. I mean, I guess you could see it as bad, but I'd hoped you wouldn't because… Ugh. Listen to me. I feel like I'm twelve.”

“Heather,” he said in a calming tone. “What's up?”

“Right. Sorry. I'll get back to the point. The
point
is that, you know… I'm graduating.”

“I know. You guys have made it through. Congratulations.”

“Yes, thanks. I must say, it wasn't as easy as it was supposed to be. But that's still not the point.”

“I didn't think so.”

“No… Nope. No, the point is…”
Breathe, Heather. If this is your “grown-up” behavior, you've got a hell of a ways to go.
“Sorry. Okay. The point is, when we graduate, we also have this one last high school ritual known as The Prom.”

“Yes. I am familiar with this ritual.”

“Right.” Heather laughed. “And I'm kind of coming into this whole prom thing a little late. And the point is… well… I need a date.”

“Aha. I see….” Sam went silent. Heather's mouth went so dry, she couldn't unglue her lips from her teeth. “Well,” Sam said, “I mean… I'm sure I know a few guys.”

There was a long silence on the line.

“Oh…” The air seeped out of Heather's lungs. Rejection number two. Her chest began to hurt. Her eyes stung from trying to fight off unexpected tears. “Well… yeah,” she uttered, trying to keep her voice from quavering with disappointment. “If, uh… If you know someone who'd be willing to take me—”

“Heather.”

“What?”

“I'm kidding.”

“You are?”

“Are you asking me to the prom?”

“I was, yes,” she replied meekly.

“Well, I would be honored,” he said. Now she could hear his devastating smile over the phone.

She literally fell back in her chair, slapping her hand over her head with relief. The smile spread so wide over her face, it almost hurt. One of those tears she'd been fighting off managed to escape from the corner of her eye.

“Heather, why didn't you just ask me in the first place?”

“I don't
know,
” she said, laughing out all her pent-up nerves. “I mean, after everything we'd been through, I didn't even know if you'd want to talk to me. I was afraid you'd say no.”

“Well, you were wrong. I think we've both been through enough rejection, don't you?”

“Amen, Sam.” Heather sighed. “A-freaking-men to that.”

“One thing, though,” Sam said. “Um… is Gaia going to be there?”

The emotional roller coaster continued. Here they were at the very end of the school year, and they were still talking about Gaia
Moore. Boy, did that bring back a ton of ugly flashbacks. “To be honest, I don't know,” she said. “Why?” She clenched her teeth. “Is that going to be a problem for you? If she's there?”

Sam took far too long to answer this. But he did finally answer. “No,” he said. “No, that won't be a problem for me.” It sounded like he was discovering this fact for the very first time. But it also sounded like he was pretty happy with his discovery. And that made Heather happy.

“Well, good.” She smiled.

“You know, Gaia wasn't the only major relationship in my life. I seem to remember you and I having a good thing. You know… before.”

“Yeah,” Heather breathed. “I remember.” She felt herself fading back into fond memories of her and Sam Moon: at restaurants… in Sheep Meadow in the park… in bed…

She quickly thrust herself back into the present. “But I'm not—I mean, this prom deal is a purely platonic request.”

“Oh,
hell,
yes.” Sam laughed. “I'm not crazy enough to try that again. I mean… no offense.”

“None taken,” she assured him. “But I'm not that girl anymore, Sam. I swear I'm not.”

“You know what?” he said. “I can tell.”

That might very well be the sweetest thing he'd ever said to her. No, maybe not the sweetest. But it was the
thing she had most wanted to hear from him. She knew she had made the right call. There truly was only one Sam Moon.

NOW JAKE WAS THE ONE PACING THE floor. Oliver was just sitting there on the couch, brooding.

That agonizing coded phone call had pushed his blood pressure to its absolute maximum. Why did she even call if she wasn't going to let him help? Was she
trying
to get herself killed? Was that what was happening here? Because that was the only possible explanation for her denying his help and staying put in that apartment with Skyler Rodke. The girl had to be suicidal.

Jake finally stopped his pacing and turned to Oliver. “So what do we do now?”

Oliver didn't answer. He just sat there burning a hole into the opposite wall with his eyes.

“Oliver? What do we do now?”

Oliver didn't even turn to look at him. “We find Chris Rodke.”

“How? You said it yourself. The asshole is hiding. Even your crack staff can't find the kid—”

“Shut up,” Oliver snapped. He flashed Jake a venomous glance. “Just keep your mouth shut and let me think.”

“Okay. I'm sorry. I just don't see how we're going to find him. And I think we're running out of time. I think whatever they're going to do to her, it's going to—”

“I do
not
need your speculation, Jake. I do not need anything from you except
silence,
do you understand?”

Jake stomped his foot on the floor. “Look, what is
wrong
with you? What is with the way you've been talking to me? What is with the psychotic looks? I mean, I'm just as pissed as you are, but I thought we were in this together. I've never seen you like this. It's like you dropped some freaking ‘evil pills' this morning or something. The
Rodkes
are the bad guys, remember? Not me, not you. Them.”

“I am becoming impatient.” Oliver's jaw was practically sealed shut. It was a wonder he could form any words. “That is what is wrong with me. I am losing patience.” He stood up from the couch and began to walk toward Jake with a near-menacing glare. “And you're right, Jake. You are not my son. You could not possibly be my son, because no son of mine would ever allow himself to be spotted by his
mark.
No son of mine would be talking to me with such
disrespect.
”

Jake was beginning to feel a little nervous. Despite
everything he knew about Oliver, he was honestly getting a little scared. And Jake wasn't generally one to get scared. But the closer Oliver got, the more Jake was compelled to move away.

“Okay,” Jake uttered, holding out his hands. “All right, I'm sorry. Just calm down, okay?”

But Oliver didn't stop advancing. “No, it is not okay. Nothing about this situation is okay. You have obviously lost Gaia's trust. And you have lost us Chris Rodke. You have lost us everything, Jake. Every card we had to play. And I am beginning to think that you are not necessary to this op—”

Jake's cell phone suddenly rang. It froze them both in place as the shrill ring echoed off the high ceilings and the oversized windows. Whoever it was—Gaia, or his dad, or even a wrong number—Jake was relieved. He honestly didn't know what Oliver would have done if he'd come any closer.

Jake pulled his phone from his pocket. He didn't recognize the number, but he flipped open the phone immediately. Anything to defuse the mounting tension in the room. “Hello?”

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“It's Chris.”

Jake nearly dropped the phone. His spine went stiff as he widened his eyes to Oliver. “Chris…,” he breathed.

Even Oliver's cold eyes widened with surprise. He frantically began mouthing a word that Jake couldn't understand until the third try.

“
Number,
” he was whispering.

Jake grabbed a pen from the kitchen counter and scrawled down the cell number that had shown up on his phone. Oliver ripped the piece of paper from the pad and rushed to his laptop. He was obviously going to try and trace the call. But Jake was nowhere near that kind of clearheaded action. He could still hardly move. He could still hardly believe that the guy he'd been so desperate to find had called
him.

“Surprised?” Chris asked. Even a one-word sentence from this kid's mouth was smarmy as hell.

“Surprised,” Jake repeated. “Yeah.”

“Surprised by the call or by seeing me in the park?”

“Both” Jake replied.

Jesus.
That answered that question. Zan was right. Chris had seen him there. That drug-addled mess of a girl was right. Jake felt sick to his stomach.

He could feel his anger welling up in his chest. The shock of the call began to wear off. He had Chris Rodke on the phone—‘
God,
'—the guy who'd been dealing Invince to the scum of the earth, the reason for Jake's near-death experiences in the park, the reason for Gaia's near-death experiences past, present, and quite possibly future. The cocky son of a bitch sounded positively pleasant. Jake wished there was
some way to reach right through that phone and wrap his hands around the asshole's neck. But all Jake could use were his words—his least favorite weapon by far. He pressed the phone hard to his face. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Where's Gaia? She's somewhere with your scumbag brother. Where? What is your sick-ass family planning? How is she involved…?”