One thing about Allys, she saves all her patience for Kayla.
"Five minutes," I call. I sit on the bed to put my shoes and socks on--heavy old-fashioned shoes of laces and leather. Jenna gave them to me. My old ones reeked, she said, and when she washed them, they fell apart. They were never meant for cross-country chases, mud puddles, or washing machines--only for plush estates and genteel games of lawn bowling.
Jenna left this morning with Kayla to run an errand. She didn't tell me what it was. Before she left, she suggested I go out with Allys to where they have some workers laying irrigation pipe. "I could use the help, and some sunshine and physical labor will do you good," she said. With still no sign of Kara, or even Miesha or Dot, she saw how tightly I was strung. All I can think is that Gatsbro got them all. Maybe I should go back. Maybe that's what he's waiting for. He knows how close I am to Kara. Maybe he will just sit tight and wait for me to come to him. The not knowing stretches me thinner. Something isn't right.
I was staring out the window, turning these thoughts over and over again in my mind, when Jenna came over and squeezed my hand just before she left. We had a wordless moment, and it filled an empty part inside me. I felt the calmness of Jenna just like I did all those times when I sought her out in that endless black hellhole. She is not the enemy, I know that, but there are still too many secrets, and I can't shake the feeling that no matter where I go I will have to watch my back for the rest of my life.
"Okay, city boy, your pants better be on because I'm opening this door!" Allys bursts through the door. "What the hell are you doing? It's practically midday. This isn't a hotel. You're going to earn your keep. Now, put some giddy in your up, and let's go. I'll be out in the truck."
She is already out the door. I smile as I tighten my last lace. She reminds me of a neighbor we had when I was growing up. Miss Simpson. My dad used to say she was all bark and no bite. I haven't seen Allys bite yet, but I suspect she can. I step it up, smoothing out the top blanket on my bed, making sure it is neat so Allys won't think I'm expecting hotel service. I think of Miesha calling Kara and me spoiled children. I never made my bed at the estate and rarely thought about how my clothes were washed or reappeared in my closet, neat and ready to wear. At home, I had to do all those things. My mom used to make a joke out of it if I assumed too much. She would talk about our imaginary maid--Rosie has the day off, so if you want clean underwear, you better get cracking. I notice my coat, freshly washed and hanging on the back of the door. It is not cold or rainy, but I slip it on anyway. I like the idea of being prepared for anything, especially since I don't know exactly where Allys is taking me. Just before I walk out the door, I pull open the top dresser drawer to grab the pack that Miesha gave me. It's gone.
I look around the room to make sure I didn't already take it out. A quick survey tells me I didn't. I pull out the next drawer and then the next.
There.
In the bottom drawer.
I try to think back. I'm certain I put it in the top drawer. I lift it out, wondering if Kayla might have wandered in here. She sometimes comes in to sift through the basket of shells and other treasures that she and Jenna have collected at the shore.
I hear the truck horn honking, and I run out the door. I've never done a single day of hard physical labor in my life. My parents always kept me busy with my books and studies, and the chores I had were never any harder than vacuuming or washing the windows. I guess today will break my standing record.
Allys rolls her eyes when I slide into the cab of the truck.
"I know," I say. "City boy."
"What's the purse for?"
I shrug. "It's a pack. Water. Protein cake. Getaway car."
She snorts. "Thinking ahead. That's good."
"For a city boy."
She smiles. "You do know I like to tease, right?"
"Really? I wouldn't have guessed."
"Smart city boy."
From the street she turns onto a narrow dirt road just past the house that could easily be missed because of the overgrowth surrounding it. The truck bounces along the deeply rutted road, and Allys seems oblivious to the numerous times the fenders scrape bottom. It's an old truck with none of the bells and whistles of Dot's cab. It even uses a key in the ignition. I assume it's mostly utilitarian, which is maybe why Allys is not worried about dents and scratches.
I don't know much about Allys's history, except that she is as old as Jenna. As old as me. And yet she's as clear skinned and young as a seventeen-year-old girl. Still. After all this time. How much time do I have? My stomach churns, and I wonder how Gatsbro got it all so right. How did he know that when I was nervous or surprised or simply hit with something too big for me to handle, my stomach was the first to betray me and tell me, Locke, your world isn't right? Or maybe I give Gatsbro too much credit, and he had nothing to do with it. He never knew me, after all. Maybe my stomach clenching is just all saved memory. I take a deep breath to calm my stomach, even though the message is correct. My world isn't right.
"Like the view?"
I look away. I thought I was being discreet in looking at her. She must be able to see out through her ears. "Sorry," I say. "I'm still--" It's too hard to explain.
"Still trying to take it all in?"
"Something like that."
"Give yourself time. It took me a while. Ha! I guess that's an understatement. I'm still trying to figure it all out." She breaks loose with all the things I was wondering about, telling me about the illness that shut down her organs, how she betrayed Jenna and told her own parents to report Jenna and her family, and how Allys's parents instead sought out Jenna's parents to help Allys in the same way.
"That must have been some U-turn for you. How did you feel when you woke and discovered what they had done?"
"Spitting mad. Confused. Sometimes grateful. There probably wasn't an emotion I didn't go through. Mostly I was a pain in the ass."
I feign surprise. "You?"