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My neck is starting to cramp. I’m so desperate to twist the other way for some relief, but I can’t risk drawing attention to my hiding spot.
“Now that that’s settled,” Savannah says, “let’s talk strategy. I still have Neil’s name.” She waves the paper for everyone else to see. “But he knows I have it.” This last part, she lets hang in the air, as though waiting for her followers to grasp the hidden meaning.
“I think I get what you’re saying,” Trang says. “Have one of us kill you, then take Neil’s name, so he doesn’t see it coming?”
A wicked smile from Savannah. “Exactly.”
“Artoo? What are you doing?”
The voice startles me so much that I let out a gasp, then immediately clap a hand over my mouth.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I hiss, whirling around to find McNair staring down at me with a very confused expression on his face.
Heart hammering, I grab his shirtsleeve and drag him into a crouch behind the unoccupied shoe-rental booth. He stumbles but quickly rights himself, following my lead and ducking his head. Our knees meet the greige carpet a little more harshly than I hoped. Bowling shoes are stacked in neat rows in front of our faces. I’m positive we’re out of sight, but I can’t hear anything Savannah’s saying.
“You can let go of me now,” McNair whispers.
Oh. It’s only then that I realize how close we are, and I’m still holding on to his sleeve. While I feel like I haven’t taken a normal breath in hours, his chest rises and falls in the steadiest way, that mysterious Latin phrase moving up and down.
I release my grip on him, trying as best I can to avoid contact with his skin as I sit back on my heels and busy myself with readjusting my sweater. I started sweating when I was spying, and being this physically close to someone else—even if it is McNair—isn’t exactly helping.
My mind is reeling. Savannah wants her army to go after McNair and me. As what, some kind of twisted revenge for being good at school?
McNair opens his mouth to say something, but I hold a finger to my lips. Slowly, slowly I creep to the left until I can just barely see the food court. The group looks like they’re wrapping up, heading back to their lanes. Whatever else they decided to do, I completely missed it.
I crawl back to Neil, who, much to his credit, is being both very still and very quiet.
“I’m lost,” he says. “Is this part of the game?”
“I’ll tell you what’s going on. I promise.” I check my phone. Our safe-zone time is almost up. “But not here.”
He claps his hands together and grins in this over-the-top way. “Does this mean I get to ride in your car again? Oh, Artoo, say it isn’t so!”
I roll my eyes. “Meet me back at my car as soon as they let us out. And make sure no one follows you.” I don’t want anyone to see us together.
A flicker of amusement crosses his face, but he nods. He has to be able to tell how serious I am about this. I can trust him.
I think.
* * *
“I would make a really excellent spy,” McNair says as I approach my car. He’s already leaning against it, one foot propped against the back tire. If he were anyone else, he might look cool. “In case you were wondering.”
I ignore him and inspect our surroundings to make sure no one followed us. After I left the arcade, Mara said I could still join her and Kirby, but I shook my head and told them I’d see them later. A heavy silence passed between the three of us, as though we were unsure how to navigate this new stage of our friendship where all our problems—my problems—were out in the open.
All I know is that McNair and I aren’t safe.
Now that he’s seeing another angle of my car, he notices my front bumper and draws in a sharp breath.
“Oh,” I say, wincing. “Yeah. I, um. Hit someone. This morning.”
“That’s why you were late?” He bends down to examine it.
“I was too embarrassed to say anything.”
Something unexpected happens then: his voice turns soft, his eyes full of something that, if I didn’t know any better, might be concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I pull my sweater tighter around myself. “I wasn’t going very fast. My dress is the one that really suffered.”
