by Lori Saltis
“Why were you early?”
“You can thank MUNI. You know how it goes. You leave early, you arrive early. You leave on time, you arrive late. So I chose early.”
“Glad you did.” I take a hesitant breath. “Um, did you learn to fight like that in the Beggar Clan?”
He shakes his head. There’s a long enough pause, I think that’s the end of it. Then he speaks and there’s an edge to his voice, like he’s choosing each word. “Something happened to me. I got jumped, kind of like what happened to you. John Walks Long saved me. Since then, I’ve been thinking about what I should have done different. I blamed myself instead of blaming the assholes that jumped me.”
Totally changing the subject, but that’s okay. He’s right. In the back of my mind, I’m blaming myself instead of Kevin and Dani. I kick a rock in our path. “Victims always blame themselves, or get blamed. It sucks.”
“I’m not gonna be a victim, not ever again.”
“Me, neither.” Our hands squeeze tight. “My dads taught me to fight. Well, Gerry taught me boxing. I sparred with Matthew, but even though he was on the Wayward Way, he couldn’t teach me any Two Dragon Clan skills. He couldn’t even teach them to Kai.”
“Why not?”
“Strowlers are matrilineal. It’s funny since they’re so bloody macho, but that’s how it’s always been. If your mother’s a Strowler, you’re a Strowler. Kai can’t be a member of the Two Dragon Clan. Matthew didn’t want us to get in trouble for learning the–” I use my fingers to make quotation marks and whisper dramatically, “secret skills.”
Lennon snorts. “Rules and secrets are stupid. They don’t help anyone.”
I sigh. “Yeah, but they can make your life pretty miserable if you don’t obey.”
He snorts again.
After leaving the trail, we walk around the California Academy of Sciences building, across a tree-lined music concourse and up the stairs to the de Young Museum. The building looks like a copper-colored shoebox with an inverted chimney. Not at all like the grand museums in London. Not even the Tate Modern, which is located in an old power station. “It’s so ugly.”
Lennon shrugs. “What matters most is what’s inside.”
I suck back a sigh. He has to stop saying things like that before I develop a major crush on him.
We head through the lobby, passing the gift store and exhibits until we reach the café. I pull out my wallet. I don’t have much, but this is no time to be cheap. “My treat. I insist, so don’t say no.”
Lennon ducks his head, making him seem more like the boy from last night. “I guess I’d like a mocha.”
“Me, too. You like whipped cream and cinnamon?”
“Cinnamon?” His nose wrinkles in the most adorable way. “I’ll give it a try.”
“You won’t be disappointed.” As I head for the espresso bar, I glance around at the tables. All the punters look at least fifty. The longer we linger, the more we’ll stand out, so I order our drinks to go.
“Maybe we shouldn’t stick around here,” Lennon says as I hand him his drink.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Let’s go outside. I know a place we can sit.”
We head for the sculpture garden outside the café. Lennon leads the way as we stroll under a gigantic safety pin suspended on its head and past a lawn covered with huge, ceramic fruit. A boy who likes museums. Interesting. Matthew liked museums. He took Kai and me to all the free ones in London.
We go around a grassy knoll and down a slope, into an embedded cement structure. After passing through the arched entryway, we come to a round corridor. I listen, but hear no voices coming from within. We’re alone. My heart starts hammering. Am I crazy to trust him? Even if he did save me from being raped, what if he’s setting me up for another assault? No. That can’t be. John Walks Long would literally murder him. I rub my eyes.
Lennon looks at me with owlish concern. “You okay?”
Fear, anger, lack of sleep, it’s all making me paranoid. What I need right now is a friend and he’s the only one I’ve got. I nod and keep walking, clutching the hot paper coffee cup close to my chest against the cold air trapped between the walls. Despite being under a hill, there’s plenty of light shining off the smooth, adobe-colored walls.
When we reach the middle, there’s an archway that leads to a cement chamber. The walls curved upward into a dome with a hole in the center. We stand beneath it and gaze up at the sky. Then Lennon points to a circle of light on one of the walls. “See, sunlight shines through the hole to form a circle that moves with the Earth as it rotates around the sun.” He looks up again and I follow his gaze. Blue sky peeks through gusting gray and white clouds. “Doesn’t it look sort of like the moon?’
“Yeah, it kind of does.” So beautiful. For a moment, I feel at peace. Then I lower my head. There is no peace. My life is nothing but turmoil.
Lennon lowers his head, too. Our eyes meet. If all that horrible crap hadn’t happened in the woods, I might have wanted a kiss. Now, I wrap my arm around myself.
“Want to sit?” Lennon nods toward the circle of cement benches built into the wall.
I perch on the center bench and take a sip of mocha. The sweet, familiar flavor makes me feel a little calmer.
“You’re right. The cinnamon is good.” Lennon leans back, drawing his knees to his chest. He stares at the hole again.
I sigh. “On a scale of zero to suck, this might be the suckiest day of my life. At least I don’t have to go back to that shithole.”
“Won’t your mom make you?”
I twist so I sit with one leg tucked beneath me. Lennon is close enough that I can feel his body warmth. My reflection stares back at me in his lens. “Can’t you take those things off? Please?”
He hesitates a moment before pulling his glasses off and sticking them in the pocket of his hoodie. What gorgeous, warm brown eyes. If that’s what he’s trying to hide, the glasses work.
I hold my cup under my nose, breathing in the soothing, cinnamon-chocolate smell. “No, my mother won’t make me. Last night, after the banquet, everything went to shit.”
“What happened?” Those brown eyes immediately go from concerned to wary. He bites his lip. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”
“No, it’s okay. If you don’t mind listening.”
“I don’t mind.”
It all comes pouring out, starting with arriving home from the Beggars’ Banquet and finding the mess in the garage, and ending with spending the night in the motel. Lennon doesn’t show much emotion until I tell him about Bill jabbing and shoving Bridie.
“What a tool.” Those warm brown eyes go cold and narrow with anger. “I hate that the most, people with power picking on people without any. I was thinking it was too bad your mom didn’t get Jeremiah’s message so she could do damage control, but now I think you’re better off without him.”
“We’re homeless without him, but that’s still better. He never hit Bridie before. I think.” Could he have hit her when Kai and I weren’t around? She wouldn’t have told us and, let’s face it, she didn’t look surprised when he shoved her. My breath starts coming in spurts. If Lennon weren’t there, I’d punch the wall.
“You okay?”
I nod.
“You know what I don’t get? All those pictures showed were your mom and the Chief dancing. Why would the detective tell Bill they were sleeping together?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe Bill just decided Bridie was cheating on him.” Maybe, with the Charm fading, Bill decided he didn’t want a family and this was the best way to get rid of us. A gust of wind blows through the hole in the dome. I rub my arms.
“Are you cold?”
I nod.
Lennon scoots a little closer and puts his arm around my shoulder. I lick my suddenly dry lips and scoot closer, too. Our heads touch as we lean back against the wall. It’s funny how it doesn’t feel awkward or sexual. It feels nice. I don’t want to leave. I
wish we could make this our place. Nick some blankets from gift shop and food from the café, and stay here all night.
He speaks and his breath stirs the hair covering my ear. “Hey, isn’t there a movie where a couple of kids sneak into a museum and stay there all night?”
I grin. See? We even think alike. “Yeah. Probably.”
“We could go all over the museum. I could show you the best paintings. And we could spend the night in the observation tower, looking at the stars.”
Such a dreamy boy, wanting to show me paintings instead of seducing me. No wonder I feel safe with him.
His arm tightens around me. “I – I wish I could keep seeing you.”
My heart starts pounding. A tingling sensation spreads through me. A night alone in the museum would be a really bad idea. Or a really good one with bad consequences.
“Can your mom could ask John Walks Long for help? Maybe you can stay at the Abode for a while.”
“No. There’s a Strowler Nest here. We have to go them for help before we can go to anyone else.” Not that we will, but Lennon doesn’t need to know that.
“Nest?”
“That’s what we call our campsites, because, you know, we all have bird names. There’s a main caravan, the home of the Mother Bird, and the smaller caravans come and go.”
He gives an owl blink. “I didn’t know that.”
“Anyway, you know how it goes on the Crossroads. If you ask someone from another clan for help, you’re beholden to them, more than someone from your own clan.”
“I hope you don’t think you’re beholden to me.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. I do, but I’m not sure how to say it or what to do about it.
He lifts his cup. “Even if you do, this is payment enough.”
Not hardly, but I can’t help laugh. “Can I at least get you a refill?”
“Next time?”
Two words with so much promise that will never happen. This really is the suckiest day ever. As if to rub salt in my wounds, my phone rings. It’s Bridie.
I gnaw my lip, so tempted not to answer, but she never calls in the middle of the school day. It has to be important. Maybe Kevin and his crew have peached on us.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Where are you? I’m at your school and no one has seen you since third period.”
“What are you doing at my school?”
“I came to pick you up. I’ve already collected your brother.”
“Pick me up? Why?”
“Never mind that. Where are you?”
“Um, I cut class.”
My mother huffs out an impatient sigh. “Obviously.”
“Did they say anything about it?”
“They? You mean, the school? Well, aside from giving me grief about you cutting, no. Why?”
“Nothing.”
She snorts. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Penny.”
“I can’t talk about it on the phone. I’m in Golden Gate Park, at the de Young Museum.”
“How nice you’re getting culture while running truant. I’ll be out front in five minutes. Be there.”
As I hang up, Lennon’s arm slides away. I already feel colder without it. “I’ve got to go. My mother’s coming to get me.” I hold out my phone. “Give me your number and…” My voice trails off as he ducks his head.
“I can’t. I don’t have a phone and I can’t use my email.” He leans back and stares up at the hole in the dome. The gray clouds have grown thicker, blocking out the patches of blue sky. “There are people looking for me. I can’t let them find me. If they hack my email account, it could lead them to you, and I don’t want you hurt by my crap.”
So many questions and no time to ask. Lennon won’t answer anyway. I take a sip of mocha to ease the ache in my throat. He tugs up his hood and his warm brown eyes disappear behind his round lenses.
I slip off the bench. “Walk me to the front?”
Lennon stands and holds out his hand. My fingers wind in his. I don’t want to think about letting go. Instead, I imagine we’re going to sneak into the museum and find a place to hide until everyone is gone. I manage to hold onto that thought all the way through the sculpture garden, until we come to a stop under the safety pin. He squeezes my hand. I squeeze back.
“I should have kissed you back in there.” I try to sound like I’m joking.
He doesn’t smile either. “Yeah,” he breathes out. Then squeezes again and lets go. I cross my arms. He shoves his hands into his pockets.
Bridie is already parked outside the museum. She jumps out of the driver’s seat as we approach.
Kai unrolls the back window and smirks. “See? I told you she had a boyfriend.”
Bridie’s hands go to her hips as her eyes shift from me to Lennon. “What is going on here?”
“I’ll tell you in the car. Don’t get mad at Lennon. It’s not what you think. Kevin Anderson and his crew jumped me. Lennon saved me.”
Bridie’s face drains of expression. “What-what are you talking about? Who jumped you?”
“I’ll tell you in the car,” I repeat firmly. “Um, can we give Lennon a ride back to the Beggars’ Abode?”
She blinks. “Well, yes, of course. I want to hear what you both have to say.”
Lennon shakes his head. “I can’t come with you. There’s stuff I gotta do before heading back.”
Disappointment squeezes my chest. I don’t blame him for not wanting to be in the middle of a family brawl, but doesn’t he want to spend a few more minutes with me? “Are you sure?”
“I can’t. Thanks anyway.” The way he says it, there has to be something else going on.
“I can’t stay parked here,” Bridie says as she gets back into the car. “Let’s go.”
“I hope I see you again,” he whispers.
I nod, my throat too tight for goodbyes. I climb into the front seat and keep my eyes straight ahead as Mum drives away. Then, unable to help myself, I look back. Lennon is already gone.
“All right, we’re in the car,” she says. “Tell me what happened.”
I was so wound up about Lennon, I didn’t notice the plastic bags piled up in the back seat until now.
“Penny?”
“We’re not going back to the hotel?”
She keeps her eyes on the road. “No. We have someplace else to stay.”
“Where?”
“The local Nest.”
“What?” I gasp out the word. “But isn’t that run by–”
“Yes. And I don’t want to hear anything about it. We don’t have a choice. We’re going to go stay with Kingfisher.”
Chapter 22
Lennon
One of the biggest regrets of my life will be that I didn’t spend the night in the museum with Penny Sparrow. I mean that in a non-sexual way. Sort of. I’m way into her, but hanging out would be enough. She’s so cool. If things were normal…
Normal. Now, that’s a laugh. Maybe what I mean to say is if she and I were normal, but we’re not. If my life hadn’t been so rudely interrupted by murder, I never would have met her. My parents would be alive and I’d be chugging along on the Glory Road. As much as I like Penny, I’d give up ever meeting her to have my parents back. Will I ever see her again? Pain spreads across my chest. Maybe it would have been better if I never met her. I’m tired of losing people I care about.
I cram my hands in my pockets and head down Irving Street. There are lots of restaurants in this neighborhood. My favorite is Dolsot House, conveniently located right across the street from Auntie Cat’s place. There’s always a line out the door at lunchtime, so it’s easy enough to tag onto the end. Between my beanie, the hoodie and my glasses, I’m pretty sure I look nothing like Paul Lau. Some older kids, maybe college age, queue up behind me. I shift toward them and even nod a few times while one talks, hoping they don’t notice. The aroma of barbeque beef and crunchy burnt rice makes my mouth water. Man, I love their kimchi pancakes. Sometimes, Auntie Cat and I would come over af
ter her noon class and split one because they’re so huge.
I try looking casual as I peer across the street. The front window of her Tai Chi studio looks dark, but that’s not unusual. Sometimes she turns off the lights to make things more tranquil. I wish I could see some kind of movement. Shit. I didn’t risk coming here to walk away with nothing. I take a sideways step so I’m behind the college kids. Then I take off my glasses. That’s when I spot the closed sign on the door.
Noon classes are her bread and butter. Something is definitely wrong. Did the clan punish her because I ran away under her watch? That can’t be it. I ran away from the funeral home, not her house. What if she’s sick or injured? My heart starts slamming in my chest. If she is, it’s my fault. She’d sheltered and comforted me and I’d paid her back by running away without a word. I’ve tried thinking of a way to contact her and let her know I’m all right, but anything – a phone call, email, a postcard – can be traced by the clan.
A familiar presence brushed my mind. I suck in my breath. It’s Auntie Cat. She knows I’m here. After a moment’s hesitation, I let her in.
Paul. I feel the urgency behind my name.
Auntie Cat, I’m sorry. I…
He’s here. He’s coming for you. Run.
The studio door swings open. Tony steps out.
Our eyes meet. I freeze.
Tony doesn’t move, either. He looks exactly the same, wearing the usual jeans and black T-shirt. He doesn’t like patterns or designs, or anything with logos. Last Christmas, as a joke, I had gotten him one of those cheap, cheesy Bruce Lee T-shirts sold in Chinatown souvenir shops. Tony had actually laughed.
His mind brushes mine. Little Brother.
Tony is my brother. I had promised Dad to obey my brother.
Brotherly ties hadn’t keep Uncle George from murdering Dad.
He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he steps off the curb. An oncoming car blasts its horn and he halts.
I push past the line and bolt into Dolsot House, jostling through the tightly packed tables, knocking into people who are trying to eat, and duck past a waiter gingerly balancing a hot stone bowl. People holler after me, but that’s okay. The more confusion, the better. Tony will have to wade through all that.
