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“Right,” I said, trying to mirror his grin as I took my seat beside the window. “You’re welcome.”
It came out sounding more like a question, and I couldn’t help kicking myself in the brain for my awkwardness. Still, I had a right to be a little confused. Sure, Elliot had the connections and talked this guy into letting me on his plane, but Elliot was broke, and it was pretty obvious I wasn’t paying for this—so who was?
“We’ll depart in about fifteen minutes,” the pilot said through the intercom, which was a little unnecessary. “So, buckle up!”
As soon as the intercom crackled off, I whipped out my phone to see if there were any other messages from Elliot. No. Nothing.
King of enigma.
Instead, there was something from an unfamiliar number.
Durham Library, 4th floor study room, 10 PM.
I blinked down at the message, hoping it was just a figment of my imagination, that I really was high on LSD or weed or something and that I was just seeing things.
But I wasn’t.
Settling my head back against the seat, I closed my eyes, rifling through my memory for any clue as to who was doing this. I mean, maybe it was just a joke—Pierre trying to be spontaneous for once in his life. Taking in a deep breath, I looked down at the message again to decode it a little more thoroughly.
Obviously, whoever wrote this wanted me to meet them at this location. But when? Tonight? Saturday? Sunday?
Rolling my eyes, I put my phone back in my lap and shifted my attention out the window. The jet had started moving, but I hadn’t noticed. It was like the wheels were cushioned by clouds, even on the ground, rolling at an even smoother pace than a regular commercial flight already mid-air.
It was crazy, the difference that money could make.
“Please keep your seat belt on, because we’re about to take off!” the pilot announced through the intercom, sounding more enthusiastic than he should’ve, as if he were going to drive the plane in a few loops and dives before we actually flew in the direction of our destination.
The plane turned onto the runway, and just as it began to gear up at full-throttle, my phone pinged. Quickly, I moved to turn it on to airplane mode when I saw that it was a text from Elliot.
Have fun, he’d written. I’ll miss you.
He was trying. We were both trying.
I switched my phone off, and tucked it in between my thighs, turning my gaze back toward the window. Outside, the ground began rushing by even though it felt like we were standing still, and the plane lifted off at a slight angle. Everything fell away, and it felt like a real, fresh start. I was leaving and would come back a better person. For a few days, I’d leave everything behind me—Vivian, the boys, my mom, school. I’d make amends with Pierre and return ready to face whatever I had coming for me.
And whoever I had coming for me.
