Secret (Elemental) Page 16

  He was barely out the door before Nick grabbed his phone.

  Not Adam. Quinn.

  Still alive. I’ve got a ride to school.

  Nick sighed and wished he knew how to fix this. He shoved the phone in his pocket and grabbed his backpack.

  He was halfway down the steps when he realized what Chris had said.

  If you see Quinn.

  If. Not when.

  I’ll keep your secret, too.

  His secret. Not Quinn’s.

  It wasn’t enough to be absolutely certain, but Nick could connect the dots. Chris might not know for sure.

  But he’d guessed.

  The homeroom bell hadn’t rung yet, but it was close. Quinn shoved a notebook in her bag and swung her locker shut.

  Only to find Becca standing there.

  Perfect, pretty Becca, with all those special secrets she didn’t think to share.

  Quinn shouldered her backpack and started walking.

  “Come on,” said Becca. “Would you at least tell me what you’re so pissed about?”

  “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend? Maybe he could write a message in steam or something.”

  Well, that shut Becca up.

  But only for a second. “Please—would you stop walking? I wanted to tell you, Quinn.” She hesitated. “You had so much going on, and I—”

  “Don’t you dare make this about me. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Because you won’t say anything! I’ve been trying to talk to you all week!”

  Like Becca would be able to relate to Quinn’s problems. “Forget it. You’re right. I have too much going on.”

  “It wasn’t only my secret to tell,” Becca said quietly. “If Nick told you everything, then you know they’re in danger.”

  Quinn stopped and looked at her. She made her voice equally low. “And so are you. Didn’t feel like sharing that? Didn’t feel like mentioning how some guys came after you with a gun? Maybe if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have spent the night making out with—”

  She cut herself off. What was wrong with her? She’d almost sold Nick out again. And while Tyler didn’t have any reason to tell the Merricks, Becca would definitely tell Chris something was up.

  But all of a sudden, she hated denying the night she’d spent with Tyler. The kissing in the darkness, surrounded by his arms, her ears full of his raspy voice and the strum of his guitar.

  Becca was staring at her.

  “With Nick,” Quinn finished.

  And of course, thinking of kissing Nick felt . . . wrong. She remembered what a fool she’d made of herself that night he’d let her sleep in his bed. She turned away from Becca again. “I need to get to class.”

  Becca didn’t say anything for the longest time, until Quinn didn’t think she was going to bother.

  And that, more than anything, made Quinn’s throat tighten.

  Then Becca called, “I miss you.”

  Quinn hesitated. She wondered what would happen if she turned around, walked back to Becca, and told her everything.

  She thought of the cops coming to her apartment, and wondered if she even had a home to return to. She had no illusions that she could keep sleeping in Tyler’s second bedroom. She didn’t even know if she wanted to.

  But Becca wouldn’t understand this. There were too many variables, too many what-ifs. Too many secrets.

  Quinn looked at her. “I miss you, too.” Then she turned around and kept walking.

  Becca didn’t come after her.

  And the worst part was, Quinn really wished she would.

  CHAPTER 17

  Nick had had no idea babysitting would be so exhausting.

  He and James played hide-and-seek in the woods until dark. Not much of a challenge for Nick, who merely had to ask the air to locate the boy, but he could pretend to seek. Then tag. Then football in the lengthening shadows of twilight. Nick made a good show of falling down when sixty pounds of kindergartner tackled him.

  Just when the edge of the sun dropped below the horizon, something foreign brushed Nick’s senses.

  It didn’t feel malicious, but Nick grabbed James, tossing the boy in the air while he laughed and shrieked.

  Nick ignored that and cast his senses wide.

  Nothing.

  He dragged James inside anyway. The kid promptly dumped a massive plastic tub of Legos in the middle of the living room floor.

  Then he grinned up at Nick. “Can we build a whole city?”

  So they built a whole city.

  His phone buzzed around eight, just when he was telling James that yes, his mother did want him to brush his teeth. Nick slid the phone out of his pocket with his heart in his throat, hoping for a message from Adam.

  He hadn’t heard from him all day.

  Not Adam. Michael.

  Hannah’s folks are going to come pick up James so he can sleep in his own bed.

  And that was it. Typical.

  Nick texted back.

  How was dinner??

  Terrifying.

  A pause, then another message appeared.

  Good call on the haircut.

  Nick smiled.

  “Can I play Angry Birds?” James asked through a mouthful of toothpaste.

  Nick slid his fingers across the keys. “In a minute.”

  Are you coming home?

  Going out for a while. Don’t wait up.

  When Hannah’s parents showed up, they didn’t look like they wanted to kill anyone, so Nick figured the dinner had gone pretty well. Hannah’s mother was a petite blond woman in a sweater set, and she tried to give Nick sixty dollars for babysitting. He turned it down.

  The fire marshal looked at him long and hard, reminding Nick that this guy had interrogated his twin brother a few weeks ago.

  But Hannah’s mother stepped between them to kiss him on the cheek and say thank you. The fire marshal shook his hand. James gave him a hug.

  Then Nick had the house to himself.

  He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

  He grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator and dragged his physics textbook out of his backpack.

  As soon as he looked at the page, he realized he didn’t want to be doing this.

  His cell phone rang.

  Nick looked at the display and smiled. He pushed the button to answer. “You are my hero.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Adam’s voice was rich and warm in his ear, and Nick realized this was the first time they’d talked on the phone.

  He wanted him to keep talking.

  “How was dance?”

  “Could’ve been better.” Adam sighed, and his voice was tired. “Quinn didn’t show up.”

  Nick ran a hand down his face, feeling his emotions vacillate between worry and exasperation. “Man, I’m sorry.”

  “She texted me that she couldn’t make it. It’s all right . . . man.”

  Nick could hear the smile in his voice. “What are you going to do?”

  “Would you think less of me if I said I had a backup routine?”

  “I wouldn’t think less of you if you had a backup partner.”

  “Good. I’ve got one of those, too.”

  Nick blinked. “Really?”

  “Nothing official, but I could get one of the girls from the studio to dance with me. I liked Quinn for this piece because it’s raw and edgy and passionate, and she fit the part.” He sighed. “Enough about dance. How’s your night?”

  “The height of awesome. I’m sitting in an empty house with my physics textbook.”

  “Want to come over?”

  Nick’s heart bounced around in his chest. “Can’t. I don’t have the car.”

  “How long are you alone?”

  “I don’t know. Three hours, maybe?”

  Adam hesitated. “Want some company?”

  Just the words sent a curl of desire winding through Nick’s thoughts. He told his thoughts to get real. “God, I wish.”

>   “How far do you live from a bus stop?”

  Nick straightened. Adam could not come here. Could not. “I have no idea.”

  “How far do you live from Ritchie Highway?”

  Nick wet his lips and hesitated. He should be telling Adam that there was no way this could work. But when he opened his mouth, he found himself saying, “Three blocks. We’re on Chautauga. Just south of the community college.”

  “Near the firehouse, right?”

  Of course Adam would know the area. “Ah . . . yeah.”

  “I can be there in fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops.” Adam’s voice dropped. “So let me ask you again. Want some company?”

  Quinn sat in Tyler’s truck and stared at her apartment building. Her mom’s car was in the lot. So was Jake’s. That didn’t mean much other than that their cars hadn’t been towed. If her brother had been arrested, his car could still be here, right? What about her mom?

  She’d been waiting for a call to the guidance office all day, expecting to find a social worker sitting in the waiting room or something. She was prepared for hushed voices to say things like, “We didn’t realize how bad things had gotten. We have a few options, but we’re going to take care of you . . .”

  But that call never came. Quinn slogged through her classes, making her way toward the end of the day, hating the thought of going home.

  She’d been ready to ride the bus all night, but Tyler texted to ask if she wanted to be his rooftop companion for the evening.

  Without Nick, she didn’t have a ride to the dance studio.

  Without Tyler, she didn’t have a place to sleep for the night.

  Rooftop taquitos it was.

  It had been nice to sit in the nighttime quiet, to eat and drink and not worry that someone was going to hassle her. She’d told Tyler about school, about waiting for the call that never came. She’d confided her fears that her brother might have done something to her mother. That maybe Jordan had come home and Jake had hurt him. That maybe the cops hadn’t come at all. That maybe Quinn had walked out of one mess, only to leave a bigger disaster in her wake.

  “You don’t have to go up there,” said Tyler. “I can check on them if you want.”

  Quinn shook her head. Sit down here and wonder if her brother was going to answer the door with a gun in his hand? “I’ll go. Wait here.”

  “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you go up there alone.”

  “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you—”

  “Jesus, do you need to be balls-to-the-wall about everything? If you want to go up, go up. I won’t get in your way.”

  She thought that meant he was going to wait in the truck after all, but when she climbed the stairs, he was right behind her.

  Halfway up, she stopped short at the tiny landing. “Am I being an idiot?”

  “Of everyone I’ve met in your family, you seem like the least idiotic.”

  Well, that wasn’t really saying all that much. “My mom and I—we’ve never gotten along.”

  “I kind of assumed that when you told me she was knocking you around.”

  “She’s not—she’s under a lot of stress—”

  “So are you. So am I. I don’t give a shit, Quinn. Your mom is messed up. So is your brother. And what the fuck is your dad—”

  “Okay, okay. Forget it.” She spun away from him.

  “No. Stop.” Tyler caught her shoulders, gently, securely. “She’s your mother. I understand.”

  Quinn hated tears. Hated them. Especially hated that they were flocking to her eyes right this very second.

  “We don’t have to go inside,” said Tyler. “Knock on the door, make sure she’s okay, and we’ll leave.”

  “And then what?”

  Tyler sighed. “We’ll go back to my place. You can figure out what to do.”

  She shrugged his hands off. “Try not to sound so enthusiastic—”

  He spun her around and seized her arms. “Stop it. Do you just need someone to call your bluff? Fine. Called. Get your ass up there so we can get out of here. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m right here.”

  Quinn stared up at him and gritted her teeth. She wanted to jerk away from him.

  Sort of.

  Okay, not at all.

  She took a long breath. “I’m worried he’s still here,” she said, her voice small.

  “Tony?”

  The dark-haired creeper. She shook her head, then nodded. “Or my brother.”

  His expression softened. “Do you want to call your mom again?”

  Quinn had been trying all day. Her mom’s mobile phone had been ringing straight to voice mail every time. She routinely let the battery die, so it wasn’t really a sign of anything.

  But it bought her another thirty seconds, so Quinn tried again.

  Voice mail. Quinn checked her texts to see if her little brother had written back yet, but he hadn’t. A phone call to him had gone unanswered, too.

  Wind swirled through the open staircase and Quinn shivered and thought of Nick. She should have been dancing tonight, stretching her muscles in a warm studio, leaping and twirling through Adam’s routine.

  Not trembling on her apartment building’s staircase, wondering if her mom was lying dead in her apartment.

  She steeled her nerve and turned for the steps again. “Come on.”

  Quinn pulled her key ring out of her pocket, but when she slid the key into the deadbolt and turned, she discovered that the lock was already thrown. Feeling her heart in her throat, she reached out and twisted the knob.

  As always, the foyer was a well of quiet stillness. Quinn stepped lightly anyway, moving slowly along the carpeting. Tyler was a shadow at her back, mirroring her movements, creeping into the apartment as if they didn’t have a right to be here.

  Everything felt wrong. The air carried tension. She expected to step on a dead body.

  Stop thinking of dead people, she told herself.

  Her cell phone blared into the silence. Quinn almost broke an ankle from jumping so hard.

  She fought for the correct button to stop the call, but then she realized the display was lit up with Jordan.

  She pressed the button to answer. “Hey,” she said quickly, her voice a whispered rush. He was fourteen and jaded, but he wasn’t an addict or an alcoholic. If she could help anyone in her family, it was Jordan. “Where are you? You okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  He didn’t sound fine.

  “Have you heard from Mom?” Quinn said.

  “Yeah.”

  That was all he said. Quinn could hear him breathing, heavy and rough on the other end of the phone.

  “Where are you?” she said.

  “At Kurt Culpeper’s. Mom said—she said—” His voice broke. She heard snuffling.

  “Jordan,” she said. “Jordan, what happened? Where’s Mom?”

  “Hold on.” His breaths were jagged now, and she heard a door close. “She said I can’t come back there.” Another shaky breath. “She said she couldn’t—she couldn’t—”

  And then he was crying.

  Quinn sank onto the couch, distantly aware of Tyler sitting beside her, probably close enough to hear half of what Jordan was saying.

  Her younger brother barely talked to her except to ask when she’d be done with the television so he could play with his PlayStation. It was unthinkable he would be crying to her on the phone, and Quinn didn’t know how to deal with this.

  And where the hell was her mother?

  “Are you okay?” she said. “Jordan, are you safe where you are?”

  “Yeah.” He sniffled loudly and got it together. “Kurt’s mom said I could stay through the weekend. I told her Mom and Dad were going out of town. I was going to stay at Jeremy’s, but his mom always wants to call.”

  “What happened with Mom?”

  “I came home for clothes and she—she—” Crying again.

  Tyler leaned into her and caught her eye. “Tell him we’
ll come get him,” he said. “See if he can get you an address.”

  “Do you want us to come get you?” said Quinn. “I’m with a friend.”

  Jordan’s voice tightened right up. “Gross. I don’t want to hang out with you and your boyfriend.”

  Fear and tension caught up with Quinn. “Damn it, Jordan, I’m trying to—”

  “Stop screaming at me, Quinn! I’m sick of people screaming at me!”

  She so didn’t need this. Quinn inhaled to lay into him, but Tyler plucked the phone out of her hand. “Hey, man, this is Quinn’s friend Tyler. Are you all right where you are, or do you want us to come get you?”

  His voice was level, easy, very we’re-all-bros-in-this-together. And Jordan was responding, from the bits she could hear. Quinn stared at Tyler, wondering if she should grab the phone or kiss him.

  Then Tyler said, “No, you’re right. It sucks, kid. It does. Look, see if you can get a pen. I’ll give you my number. If you change your mind, call me. We’ll come get you. All right?”

  Then he gave his number, got her brother to promise to use it, and pushed the button to end the call.

  Quinn couldn’t stop staring at him. She’d never met anyone like him, so self-assured and confident yet not completely into himself.

  “What?” said Tyler.

  She shook herself. “Nothing. Let’s get out—”

  She froze. Her mother stood by the corner leading to the galley kitchen. A threadbare bathrobe clung to her frame, and Quinn was glad the belt seemed securely knotted, because the drooping shoulder showed that her mom wasn’t wearing anything beneath the terry cloth. She’d showered at some point, because her hair had dried into unbrushed clumps, but from the waves of alcohol emanating from her, she’d been hitting the bottle since then.

  The expression in her eyes was terrifying. A trophy was clutched in one hand. A basketball trophy. One of Jake’s.

  Quinn wasn’t sure whether to be relieved her mom was still alive, or disgusted that she was obviously still obsessed with Jake’s success.