“This could have been avoided if we hadn’t stolen a car.” Avner pushed to his knees, joints creaking and head throbbing. Slowly, he pivoted into a seated position and stared at the deep gray water. They’d washed up on the opposite side of the river, and there was no trace of the vehicle beneath the surface. With sudden alarm, Avner realized there was also no trace of the girls. “Where is Zeela?”
“Uh…” Jamad scratched his head and winced as Avner jumped to his feet, one shoe still missing. “Let me get that ice off you—”
“Where is Zeela?” Avner repeated, ignoring the frost numbing his body.
Jamad scrambled to his feet. “She…passed out in the car—hit her head, I think. I pulled you both out, but Z got caught in the current.”
“Why would she not be your priority over me? J—”
“I saved your life, man,” he said softly, his brow wrinkled with hurt. “And of course I care about Z, but…I saw the Wacko grab her.”
“What?”
“Naretha—she…she got out of the car before it crashed, but then she jumped into the water to save Zeela. They were behind me for a while, but…” Jamad’s hopeless gaze raked over the water. “We’ve been here for over five minutes and I haven’t seen them.”
“God,” Avner moaned, gripping his icy hair and pulling at the frozen strands. “This is all my fault. We never should have done this. I’m going back in.”
“Av,” Jamad pleaded, placing a hand on his friend’s arm. As he did, he absorbed some of the ice, slowly thawing Avner’s frozen form. “You…can’t. When you were in the water—when we were in the water—you kept…electrocuting me. Pretty badly, too. I don’t think I would have made it if I wasn’t used to your voltage, or whatever. You know this dirty water’s a conductor, and…I don’t know how far it extended—if it affected the girls…”
Avner’s ears deafened to outside noise as his heartbeat escalated to a roar. He scanned the river, the shoreline, the bridge, but his sight was clouded with panic. Zeela could be dead and it would be his fault. He shouldn’t have sanctioned this mission, he shouldn’t have allowed them to steal the car, he should have been more careful—
“Avner, look!” Jamad gripped his elbow and hauled him along the bank, closer to the bridge. So dazed by worry, Avner almost didn’t notice the two figures approaching as Naretha dragged Zeela by her forearms. His girlfriend’s face had paled to the hue of her hair, and she didn’t even flinch as the Wacko heaved her over roots and rocks.
“What happened?” Jamad demanded once the Wacko stood before them. Her dirt-drenched hair lay unflatteringly flat against her head, and her thin prison garb would have been nearly transparent in daylight. When her pink eyes slid up to the two boys, they did not harbor nearly as much anxiety.
“I hate water,” was Naretha’s acidic response. An involuntary shiver overcame her, forcing her to drop Zeela’s arms. Avner fell to his knees as his girlfriend hit the ground and then brushed frozen hair from her face.
“Is she…alive?” he asked, fingers trembling as he attempted to find her pulse.
“She better be, considering I risked my life to save her,” Naretha grumbled, ruffling her hair. Jamad had removed the frost, drying her, but goosebumps still covered her skin.
“Can’t you revive her, Av? Restart her heart?”
“Her…heart is still beating.”
“Then give her a little jolt to wake her up?” Jamad suggested, earning a brief scowl before Avner brought his attention back to Zeela’s face. Her sunglasses had disappeared in the crash, unveiling her delicately closed eyes, and she looked as peaceful as always, almost as if she were dead.
“Did I… Did you feel any electricity in the water?” Avner asked the Wacko.
“No, it was just cold.” As a bitter afterthought, she added to Jamad, “Of course you’re fine.”
He shrugged, but his grin didn’t remain when his eyes found Zeela again. “Do you want me to carry her?”
“No, I—” Avner began, but his voice died when Zeela sprang upward, instantly regurgitating river water. Hastily, he rolled her onto her side, and Jamad set his hand on her forehead to thaw her flesh. After a few moments, her breathing resumed its normal rhythm as her eyeballs slid around within their sockets.
“I…I’m blind,” she croaked, and the boys exchanged a smirk.
“We know, Z—”
“No, I’m blind! Everything—it’s all mixed up—I can’t see anything clearly,” she stammered, squinting and shaking her head. All smiles faded, and when the boys looked at each other this time, their eyes were full of unease.
“Well, help her up,” Naretha said impatiently. “We need to get moving before we’re spotted. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but sirens have been blasting since I surfaced. I’m sure the cops are searching this town for us.”
“Beverly,” Jamad sighed wistfully, peeking through the trees that lined the river to the residential area beyond. “Never thought I’d see it again.”
“I guess I won’t see it again,” Zeela muttered, rubbing her forehead as she leaned on Avner for support.
“This is just temporary,” he assured her, but it felt more like reassurance for himself. “You’re just dazed. Your sight will come back.”
Zeela grunted but made no reply as they climbed up the slight incline and through the trees. They soon found themselves at the end of a cul-de-sac lined with old houses that fit the country landscape. Avner recognized none of it, but Jamad’s scanning eyes stopped on the remodeled colonial with white siding and burgundy shutters to their right.
“Z, I see your parents’ house.”
She scrunched her face, straining to see, but her head wasn’t even aimed toward her former home. “Do you see them?”
Jamad shook his head but then, upon realizing her vision was useless, added, “No. They’re not home.”
“Good. They’d report us if they saw us out here.”
“We need to keep moving,” Naretha said with a wary glance at the Mensens’ house. “Even if they’re not home now, they could come—”
“Where are we planning on going?” Avner interrupted. “We don’t have a car, and if the Wacko hideout is in Cleveland, that’s at least a two-hour drive from here. We can’t walk. Zeela can’t see.”
“And Avner’s bleeding,” Jamad put in, deepening the Wacko’s frown. “We need to stop somewhere—and we need to eat. You’ve never been a teenage boy, so you don’t understand, but the hunger is real.”
Naretha hummed as she surveyed the Mensens’ house. “Does she know how to break in?”
Zeela expelled a humorless laugh. “We are not breaking into my parents’ house. They would never stop until they found us. And it doesn’t look like much, but they’ve got it secured like it’s holding treasure—alarms, cameras… How close are we to it? Last time I was here, they had outdoor cameras.”
“Shit, I forgot about that,” Jamad muttered as he retreated a few steps. “And I forgot your parents are psychos. If we’re not gonna raid a store, my parents’ house would be ideal. If they’re home, they’ll be happy to see me, and if they’re not home, I’ll leave them a note and they’ll understand.”
Naretha’s jaw shifted in skepticism, but after another shiver, she crossed her arms and nodded. “Lead the way.”
Flashing his teeth, Jamad motioned past the Mensens’ house to a dark, grassy field. The distant lights of the town weren’t very bright, allowing visibility of the stars shining around the crescent moon as they trekked through the empty meadow.
“Do you remember walking this way when you used to sneak over to my house?” Jamad asked Zeela, who used her boyfriend’s arm as a guide.
“Yeah, I remember,” she said, her eyes shut. “Your street is straight ahead.”
“She’s lying about being blind,” Jamad whispered loudly. “Doubt she’s ever really been blind enough to know what it’s like.”
Her lips slid upward. “I just remember the feel of Beverly, J. How coul
d I forget our hometown?”
“Yeah, how could you forget such a God-awful place like this?” Naretha chimed in.
“All right, so Beverly’s small,” Jamad agreed, “but it’s got character. It’s a quaint, stress-free place—the kind of place you probably want to blow up with your terrorist buddies.”
“I don’t hate it because I want to kill people; I hate it because we got stranded here and it happens to be a town in which you two know people. That makes us easily recognizable, easily traceable. This is an undesirable location for us.”
“It’s a great town—”
“If I ever have an unwanted child, I’m naming it Beverly.”
“An unwanted child with the Wacko leader?” Jamad suggested with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Let’s hope not,” she mumbled as she squinted up at the stars. She hugged her torso with her thin arms, attempting to ward off the cold, but Jamad didn’t offer her warmth as Avner did with Zeela. Instead, he badgered her with more questions.
“How did you end up with the Wacko leader, anyway? What’s he like, huh? Is he old enough to be your dad?”
Naretha snorted. “Danny is younger than me, actually.”
One of Jamad’s light blue eyebrows shot up. “How much younger?”
“Not as young as you, little one.”
“How does a guy younger than twenty-five find himself in charge of an entire terrorist organization?” Avner asked, peeking over Zeela’s head at the Wacko.
She ran a hand through her lusterless hair. “It’s a long story.”
“Classic excuse. We have approximately two minutes until we arrive at my house,” Jamad said, consulting his invisible watch. “Tell away.”
“It’s too complicated for you little teenagers to understand.”
“Fine, then explain why you saved me,” Zeela demanded. “We all saw you escape the car before it went under. Why come back in to save me, rather than cross the bridge and return to your Wacko hideout alone?”
With a lick of her lips, Naretha rather gruffly repeated, “It’s complicated.”
Zeela emitted another spiteful laugh, but she didn’t pry any further, since they’d reached what Avner assumed to be Jamad’s street. Based on the way he gawked at the small, red-bricked ranch across the pavement, this was his childhood home.
“It’s… It looks the same, Z—just like when we left it three years ago. Dad got a new car, though, which is surprising.”
“Mm, he did love that old Volvo.”
“Lights are on, unfortunately,” Naretha observed. “How long do you think it’ll take them to notice if Sparky starts the car and leaves with it?”
“Probably less than a second, considering this town is so quiet—and considering they’re looking at us right now.” Avner tilted his head toward the house, where two silhouettes watched from the front window. Jamad balked at the sight of his parents, so Naretha shoved him forward.
“Fine, let’s go meet our doom,” she grumbled and stalked across the street.
“Jamad’s parents are nice,” Zeela defended, since he was too overwhelmed to speak. “Although I wouldn’t blame anyone for being mean to you, since you’re a mass-murdering terrorist.”
“Don’t get testy with me, Blindie. I saved your—”
“Just be quiet,” Avner hissed as the four stepped up to the front porch. The white railing was old but sturdy enough for Zeela to use as a crutch, allowing Avner to release her. “And whatever you do, Wacko, they can’t know who you are.”
“I’m not an idiot—”
The wood door beyond the screen flew open before the bickering could intensify. On the other side stood a Caucasian couple wearing pajamas and baffled expressions. Avner and Naretha blinked in mutual surprise.
After a long minute of silence, the Wacko finally said, “I think your parents moved, Snowman.”
“Snowman?” Jamad repeated from behind her. “That makes me sound rotund. What about Ice Beast?”
“Jamad,” the woman in the doorway breathed, her accent distinctly French. With golden eyes that rivaled Orla Belven’s, she peered over their heads at Jamad, who pushed through Avner and Naretha to face the adults beyond the screen. The man’s lips cracked into a grin, and he flung the door open before throwing his arms around him.
“Gutten min!” he cried, squeezing Jamad like a child, even though the teen was a few inches taller. He pulled away to reveal a curly blond ponytail and eyes nearly as blue as Jamad’s, though it was the only trait they shared. From their pale skin to their calm vibe to their Regularness, these adults didn’t resemble Avner’s best friend at all.
“Are these…” the man began again in a Norwegian accent, gesturing to the other three.
Jamad glanced back, pausing for a second on Naretha. “My friends? Yeah, Dad. You guys remember Zeela, right?”
The woman gasped even before Jamad shifted to reveal her. Zeela’s eyes were still sealed, but she stood straight and took a step toward the sound of their voices.
“Hi.” She stumbled into Jamad. “Um, I’m blind.”
“As if that’s a surprise to anyone,” he joked, but neither of his parents laughed. They were still shocked by the sight of the girl they had known for so many years, standing on their porch so altered.
“Your hair,” the woman whispered, reaching for Zeela’s white locks. “And your hair.” With a step closer to Jamad, she stroked her thin fingers along his fuzzy blue hair and smiled sadly. “You grow so tall. I remember when you were here.” She motioned to below her chin, and Jamad let out an emotion-filled laugh before he wrapped his arms around her. The embrace lasted for a few tear-filled moments before the woman pulled away and took his hand, leading him into their home.
“Velkommen, friends of my son. Come in, come in,” the man beckoned, stepping out of the way so they could enter.
Avner aided Zeela over the shallow step but didn’t bother holding the door open for Naretha. Likely wary of accepting the hospitality of Reggs, she remained on the porch for a few extra moments while the rest submerged into the warmth. Though Avner didn’t particularly care for her, if she escaped them now, they’d have no bargaining chip with which to retrieve Maddy—or any means of finding the Wackos’ hideout. That was why, when Naretha prowled in, scrutinizing the house with distaste, Avner was mildly relieved.
“This is my dad, Elias, and my mom, Colette. And this is Avner, my best bro,” Jamad introduced, prompting him to shake hands with both Solberg parents. “And that’s Naretha.”
The Wacko didn’t smile when everyone glanced in her direction. She did frown, though, when Colette whispered, “Girlfriend?”
Jamad laughed heartily. “No, no, Mom, but she would be if I wanted her to be.” The wink he shot Naretha elicited a growl, but he ignored her as he bragged to his mother, “I get all the girls in Periculand. Well, except for Z. She’s strictly Avner’s.”
“Are you all hungry?” Elias asked, provoking the immediate response of “Starving!” from Zeela. As he retreated from the room for the kitchen and Jamad exchanged a few words in French with his mother, Avner watched Naretha stalk the perimeter of the living room. An ancient television sat in the front corner, surrounded by plaid couches and a tacky rug. Paintings of mountains adorned the wood paneled walls, and from afar, he spotted a photograph of Elias and Colette’s wedding. Jamad stood between them, so young and different with his dark hair and eyes.
Ten minutes after entering the house, the four Affinities were seated at the old wooden dining table, and Zeela had somehow acquired two eye patches to help with the headache that seeing induced. One had the Superman logo while the other was simply SpongeBob’s face.
“You look like a prophetic pirate,” Jamad observed.
“I can still kick you, even though I’m actually blind now.” Her pursed lips indicated that her eyes were narrowed, even if the childish fabric obscured them. Avner couldn’t stop snickering about it.
“I had glasses as a kid,” Jamad explai
ned to Naretha, who surveyed the eye patches with disgust. “Had to wear those patches sometimes. It should have been embarrassing, but I thought it was pretty dope.”
“Clearly,” the Wacko droned, arms crossed over her filthy prison shirt. Neither of the Solberg parents had mentioned it, so Avner assumed Jamad had told them it was a strange clothing trend. “Explain to me how you have a Norwegian dad and a French mom but your lineage is clearly African.”
Jamad leaned back in his chair with a skeptically furrowed brow. “We don’t know that my lineage is African. I could be…Jamaican, or—”
“You know what I mean,” she interrupted through gritted teeth.
“Well, they didn’t birth me, if that’s what you somehow assumed.” He stretched his arms behind his head tauntingly. “I was abandoned by my biological parents. Apparently, I was an unwanted child.” His eyebrows perked at that, and she stiffened. “Elias found me alone in an alley in Chicago when I was about a year old. He was only twenty-six and a recent immigrant from Norway, and he tried to find my real parents, but when no one claimed me, he kept me as his own. He got a job near Beverly not long after that and bought this house when I was about five, which was also when he adopted me formally. He was always Dad to me, though.”
“Since I don’t see skin colors—or any colors—the way you guys do, I thought J was Norwegian when I first met him,” Zeela said with a reminiscent smile. “It was our first day of kindergarten, and he started talking to me in Norwegian and I had no idea what the hell he was saying.”
“Yeah, so she started speaking to me in Japanese,” Jamad added, as if it were ridiculous. “That was when we realized our only common language was English.”
“Mm, what a strange concept in America.”
“We always spoke Norwegian at home—”
“Anyway,” Zeela cut in dramatically, “I didn’t put it together that Elias wasn’t Jamad’s father for a few years. My Affinity didn’t kick in too much until I was about eight, and then I started to recognize that their facial features were different. I had no idea about their skin, though, until Jamad told me. I still don’t really know the difference.”
Nerve Page 7
