Out of This World (4 page)

“Try me.”

What the hell.

“He went into this kind of other dimension,” I say.

“By himself?”

“
Really
? I say he's gone into some parallel universe and all you ask is whether he went on his own? Dude, who
are
you?”

He studies me for a moment before he says, “That depends on what Josh has told you.”

This is starting to tick me off.

“He said you were the bitch boy for a bunch of hawk uncles,” I tell him.

He laughs. “Close enough.”

He takes my snarkiness so well that I feel a little bad.

“Except he didn't put it quite like that,” I add.

“Well, he wouldn't, would he?”

“So what's the real story here, dude?” I ask. “Are you like some kind of mole inside the FBI?”

Solana smiles, teeth flashing white in the dark.

“I don't mean that literally,” I say. “Well, maybe I do.”

“No, the job's real. My work with
los tíos
is more like … a hobby.”

“What about Agent Matteson? Is he in on this with you?” Solana shakes his head. “Paul just likes Josh and his mother.

We have some history with them, remember? You know, contrary to what some people think, looking out for Wildlings is as much a part of our job as looking out for regular people. There could be trouble at this Householder rally on Saturday, so we want to keep tabs on anyone who might be at risk.”

Sure, I think, but they still get their paycheques from the government. The
human
government. When push comes to shove, I know where their loyalties are going to lie. For all I know, they might even be secretly tight with Congressman Householder, the asshole who just wants to lock up Wildlings and throw away the key, problem solved. But I keep those thoughts to myself.

“You know I've been tracking Josh's phone,” he goes on, “so I assume you were trying to meet with me by bringing it here.”

I nod. “Josh is gone—like I said—but I'm worried about his mother, too, and maybe even Marina and me.”

“How so?”

“Remember the guy taking potshots at Josh and me this afternoon? Well, right now he—or one of his friends—is on the roof of the house across from Josh's place with a rifle. You can't tell me that's a good thing, dude.”

He shakes his head.

“So are you going to send in a SWAT team or something?”

“That'll just scare him off and he'll alert the others. We need to round them all up so we don't have to think about them anymore.”

“Didn't some of those Black Key guys turn themselves in for protective custody?” I ask. “Why don't you just lean on one of them?”

“We don't ‘lean' on people.”

I don't really believe that, but I let it pass.

“So, what?” I ask. “You wait until he shoots Josh's mom, or one of us, and
then
you bust him?”

“I won't let it go anywhere near that far. But let me think about it.”

Donalita nudges the back of my leg with her snout and I remember what she's actually capable of.

“How about if I deliver him to you, dude? All gift-wrapped with a pretty bow and everything?”

“Don't you even
think
about trying to take him on. All the Black Key personnel are military trained and highly dangerous.”

“Dude. I didn't say
I
was going to do it.”

“And I don't want any of your Wildling amigos involved, either. They may be fast and strong, but they're no match for professionals.”

“So, no citizen's arrests.”

He sighs. “That's right. No citizen's arrests. Let me handle it.

The next time you need to get in touch with me, just call.”

“I don't have your number.”

“Didn't Josh use your phone to call me yesterday?”

I feel like slapping my head. Of course he did. The number's
sitting there in my Recents. We didn't have to go through all this spy crap.

“And I'm serious,” Solana says. “Don't go trying to play hero.”

“Dude, I heard you the first time. What are you? My mother?”

He studies me for a long moment, then nods and starts back across the sand to his car. I wait until the interior light goes on and the door closes.

“What do you think, Donalita?” I say. “Can we take this sniper guy without killing him or getting ourselves killed in the process?”

The coatimundi scurries out from behind my legs and jumps up on the bench where she changes into her human form.

“Piece of cake,” she says.

It's farther to the top of the gulch than I thought. Despite my Wildling strength, I'm breathing hard when I finally approach the top. But I'm looking forward to the view and to seeing Tío Goyo way down below.

Except when I get to the top, he's up there sitting cross-legged on a rock and humming something tuneless. The thin spiky branches of an ocotillo fan out behind him.

I stand half bent over, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath enough to ask, “
Huh
—
huh
—how did—
huh
—you—
huh
—do that?”

He just shakes his head, like he's embarrassed for me.

“Maybe I'll tell you down below,” he says. “And be careful.

Descending this terrain can be harder than going up.”

I stand there staring at him, still trying to catch my breath.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

My head is spinning with questions. But then I remember what he said below and it's still true. I'm too much in my own head.

I turn and start back down. He's right about this, too. It is harder. I can't go as quickly as I did coming up without losing my
balance. But I push myself to go as fast as I safely can because I need to get my brain to just shut up.

He's waiting down below, but this time I don't talk to him. I just give him a nod and start back up the gulch.

It's weird, tiptoeing through Papá's house in the middle of the night. I feel like I'm in somebody else's house even though I'm usually here a couple of times a week.

But everything familiar looks different in the dark. It
feels
different without the girls underfoot, Elena's cheerful presence, Papá watching the news channel. Everybody's in bed and I can't shake the sensation that Ampora and I are a pair of burglars creeping through a house that belongs to strangers.

What's even weirder is Ampora being nice to me. Okay, maybe saying
nice
is a stretch, but she is making an effort to do more than just tolerate my presence. She's even starting conversations.

“Josh was asking me about these guys called
los tíos
,” she says when we're lying beside each other in her bed.

Her voice is a quiet whisper, right beside my ear. I'm very aware of the closeness of her body to mine and savour the sisterhood that I can't help but feel.

“You mean the hawk uncles,” I say.

“So you know about them?”

“Just what I heard from Josh. I'd actually never heard of them before.”

“Me either. I said I'd see if Papá knew anything about them.”

“Does he?”

“I think so. But he wouldn't talk about them.”

I turn my head to look at her. “That's weird. Usually he can't
stop
talking about the old folk tales and stories, once you get him going.”

“I know. I'm going to ask Elena about them tomorrow.”

She doesn't say anything else, so I figure she's gone to sleep.

I listen to her breathing even out and lie awake awhile, staring up at the dark ceiling, worrying about Josh. I know Theo says I shouldn't. And it makes sense. Josh handled Vincenzo like it was nothing. He took that psycho elder out when Theo couldn't even lay a hand on him. But still. It's Josh. My Josh doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Or at least he never did before.

I flash on Vincenzo's shredded body and suddenly the warm bed feels cold.

“So who is your new boyfriend?” Ampora asks just as I'm finally starting to shake that memory and drift off.

I was afraid this would come up at some point. I just didn't expect it so soon.

“I know he doesn't go to Sunny Hill,” she goes on when I don't answer right away, “because I only ever see you with your usual crew.”

“It's complicated,” I finally say.

“Complicated how?”

“If people knew we were together, they might misunderstand.”

She turns to me, head supported by her forearm. “Now I'm really intrigued.”

I don't know why I tell her. Maybe it's because this is how I always wanted it to be, the two of us hanging out like real sisters, talking late into the night, sharing our secrets.

“His name's Theo,” I say. At her blank look I add, “Theo Washington.”

It's like somebody just threw a switch. She sits up, revulsion twisting her features.

“Are you for real?” she says.

I sit up and hold her forearm. “Before you start—”

But she yanks her arm away and cuts me off. “God, you're such a hypocrite. You're all in my face because you think I'm running with the Kings, but meanwhile you're banging Chaingang Washington.”

“I am
not
—”

She doesn't let me finish. She leaps out of bed and points toward her window.

“Just get out of here. Go back to Mamá—the two of you deserve each other,” she says. “I mean it,” she adds when I don't move.

I take a breath to steady myself because all I really want to do is smack her.

Be calm, I tell myself. Take the high road.

“This is exactly why I didn't want—” I start, but she cuts me off again.

“I'm serious,” she says. “Get out or I'll wake Papá and we'll see how happy he is when he finds out you're in a gang.”

“I'm
not
in a—”

“Get. Out.”

There's no give in her face. Everything's shut down. I don't think she even sees me. From the set of her features, I know that
all she sees is some awful
thing
—like I'm a piece of crud on the bottom of her shoe.

“Okay,” I tell her. “I'm going.”

I'm mad at her, but I'm more mad at myself for getting sucked into thinking it could ever be any different. Tears well up in my eyes but I refuse to cry in front of her.

I get up from the bed and dress as quickly as I can. She doesn't look at me. Not while I'm dressing. Not when I pause by the window. She's probably still staring at the wall after I've gone through the window and I'm walking down the street away from the house.

I make it as far as the park before the full enormity of it all hits me.

Ampora knows about Theo and me. By tomorrow morning everybody's going to know about us. Papá will be so pissed off. Mamá will have a heart attack.

This is almost as bad as being outed as a Wildling. Maybe worse. Becoming a Wildling isn't something I ever chose.

Why did I confide in her? What was I thinking? I can't even threaten her that I'll tell Papá about her getting mixed up with the Kings yesterday because me being a Wildling trumps that by about a million.

I sit on a swing and let my feet drag back and forth in the sand as I try to figure out what to do.

It's while I'm sitting there that I realize I'm not alone.