A Girl Called Fearless: A Novel (The Girl Called Fearless Series)

by Catherine Linka

  Then I heard Yates yell, “The world will see this!” and my eyes filled with tears. as the camera caught him staggering to his feet. “Students aren’t criminals,” he cried.

  A cop lunged for him, baton raised. I shoved a pillow over my mouth and screamed, “No!!!” as the baton slammed down.

  Yates fell, and the camera lost him. “Students aren’t criminals!” the crowd roared at the police. “Students aren’t criminals!”

  Yates had disappeared in the chaos. “Come on, where are you?” I whispered. I stopped the video and searched the frame. Stopped it again and zoomed in. I kept going while the camera dogged police who were hammering boys with batons and dragging handcuffed protestors to a line of buses.

  Finally, I couldn’t stand it and I tapped Yates’ number, but the phone went to voice mail and I hung up, too afraid to leave a message.

  Yates had to be okay. They wouldn’t just throw him in jail. They’d take him to a doctor, right? He was bleeding! He could have a concussion! I pulled my quilt around me, imagining Yates crumpled on a dirty cell floor, his sweatshirt soaked in blood.

  Even if he was okay, he had to get out of there. But what could he do about bail? His dad wouldn’t give him the money. They’d barely talked in over a year. I pressed my hands to my throbbing head. I don’t know what made me look over my shoulder right then, maybe a psychic flash, but when I did I saw a tiny red light tucked behind the edge of my curtain.

  I threw myself into my closet and shut the door.

  Roik monitored my bedroom!

  Think, think! I held the phone up to my chest. I didn’t know how much Roik saw or heard—or if he was watching me right now. I searched the dark, but didn’t see another red light. Maybe Roik didn’t dare watch me undress.

  Then I realized I was right: Roik was in my closet the other day.

  I flipped on the light and searched for wires. None. But that didn’t mean he didn’t put a wireless mike in here. Roik wouldn’t be the first bodyguard to pull that.

  My closet was packed. Boxes crammed the shelves to the ceiling. Shoes and purses and dirty clothes were piled up on the floor.

  The row of garment bags.

  I zipped the first one open and tore out the outfit. I felt along the hems and in the pocket and seams looking for something small and black and traitorous. Then I moved on to the handbag and shoes and headband Elancio had so carefully selected—feeling the linings, and checking the heels.

  Roik hadn’t done this alone. Ho probably told him to do it.

  I found the first mike. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Roik heard Yates and me on the phone.

  I ran to the bathroom and filled a glass with water. The mike hissed when I dropped it in. But I knew it wasn’t the only one. Roik believed in backup plans.

  My hands shook as I tore into the rest of the garment bags, digging into jacket pockets and burrowing into boots. I’d never said Yates’ name aloud, but Roik wasn’t stupid. He’d heard me talk about running, and he could put the clues together.

  There were three more mikes in my closet, and the glass of water was packed like a lobster tank by the time I was done. I climbed up on my chair, and waved a bottle of Peach Kissed nail polish at the camera. “Screw you, Roik!” I said, and brushed over the lens.

  Then I fell back on my bed, thinking what the hell were we supposed to do now? Yates was probably bleeding in some filthy jail cell, and if Roik told Ho what he heard me say to Yates, Yates could be charged with grand larceny.

  Oh, God, Yates, I love you. You have to be okay.

  My stomach plummeted. No, tell me I did not say that.

  I told myself to calm down, I was just upset because Yates was hurt and in trouble. I was not one of those girls who makes a big drama out of every little thing she feels. Not like Dayla.

  Of course I loved Yates. We’d been friends practically our whole lives.

  I opened the window and leaned out, inhaling the foggy night air, and trying to clear my head. Obviously, the stress of worrying about Yates and Hawkins and my Contract was messing me up. Making me emotional. Irrational.

  That’s it, isn’t it? I lingered for a moment, fighting the urge to take out Yates’ picture as if seeing his face would somehow guarantee he was alive and being cared for. Then I gave in.

  His eyes were powered with excitement and his fist was raised. He was a rebel ready to fight the world.

  My heart fluttered. Ugh. I dropped my face into my hands and wished Dayla was here.

  Or Mom.

  The box of letters she’d left me was right by my hand, full of all the advice and love she could leave behind. I pulled out a handful of her letters. Mom, help me. I’m a mess.

  Somehow she knew what I needed to hear. “Love is confusing. Your heart may race when you’re together, and ache when you’re apart. You will share secrets, and reveal your inner selves. You may feel he’s the only one who truly understands you.”

  The things I’d shared with Yates this week, I’d never shared with Dayla. And Yates had never told anyone what he’d told me about Becca’s death.

  But maybe that was because Yates and I were such old friends. I kept reading.

  “If you want to know how a young man feels about you, watch how he acts. Observe how he treats you.”

  Yates was risking his life, hooking me up with Father G, smuggling me the phone, urging me to follow my dreams. He knew Hawkins would hurt him, if we got caught.

  But Yates probably did this with all the girls he met in Exodus, trying to make up for not rescuing Becca from the man who abused her.

  I put Mom’s letters back in their box. I still wasn’t sure how I felt or Yates felt, and I wasn’t even sure it mattered, because in the end, I was leaving and Yates wasn’t going with me.

  But I needed to know Yates was safe, and I needed to say good-bye.

  29

  I shoved the little lobster tank of mikes in Roik’s hand before I got in the car for school on Friday. “Lose these?”

  He didn’t even try to deny it. “Can you blame me? What with everything?”

  “Yeah, I can. But I’m guessing Ho made you.”

  And bad little liar that Roik was, he gulped.

  The photographers who’d camped out at the Flintridge community gates were gone when we went through. Ho got to them, I thought. For once, I appreciated how Ho vaporized people.

  Roik and I didn’t talk the rest of the trip which was fine, because all I could think about was Yates and whether he was okay.

  The second we hit Masterson, I flew out of the car.

  Sparrow was squeezed into the blind spot in the hall where the monitors didn’t reach, tapping away on her phone. I hadn’t seen her for a few days, since her dad took her to New York to prep for her debutante auction.

  “Hey,” I said.

  Sparrow looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot, and I swore she hadn’t even brushed her hair. “What you do want?” she snapped.

  I almost walked away, but then I saw her hands were trembling. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay. Sotheby’s sold me to a speculator last night. Eighteen million. Impressed?”

  I was horrified. The guy bought her so he could turn right around and sell her to someone else for more. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I thought you were just going for an interview.”

  “Yeah, well, surprise. Dad couldn’t wait to auction me off.” Her eyes kept flitting to her phone. “So, you obviously want something.”

  If it wasn’t about Yates, I’d have left her alone. “Yates is missing. He was at the protest in Sacramento yesterday, but he’s not answering his phone.”

  She stared at me and I felt her deciding if she should help me. “Yeah, the cops took him in. I saw it last night on a video.”

  A lump formed in my chest. “How can I find out if Yates is okay? A cop beat him over the head with a baton.”

  “The police won’t tell us if he’s hurt, but we can check his release date.”

  “You know how
to do that?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Sparrow tapped away at her screen. “Here’s the inmate locator.”

  I watched her type in “Yates Sandell.” He was in Sacramento County Jail charged with disorderly conduct and resisting arrest. No bail. No release date.

  “That’s not good,” Sparrow said. “He’s stuck in there until a judge feels like letting him go.”

  “No, you’re kidding!”

  “Afraid not.” The bell rang for class. Sparrow checked her messages once more, and swore a streak before shoving her phone into her pocket.

  We walked into class with the last bell, and Sparrow slammed into her seat. Ms. A studied her for a moment. “All rise for the Pledge of Allegiance.”

  We stood up, all of us except Sparrow who stared at the floor, shaking her head.

  “I pledge allegiance—”

  “No, I’m not doing it,” Sparrow said.

  The rest of us looked at each other. “To the flag—”

  “Sparrow, get up,” I whispered. The monitors could see her.

  “Of the United States of America—”

  Ms. A frowned at the monitor and then at Sparrow.

  “And to the Republic for which it stands—”

  “Sparrow!” I said.

  “One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

  Sparrow raised her head and sat with her chin held high, meeting Ms. A’s gaze.

  Ms. A took a last glance at the monitor, then she marched up the aisle, and wrenched Sparrow to her feet.

  My heart thudded as I saw Sparrow’s eyes narrow. “It’s a joke,” she said. “Liberty and justice for who?”

  Ms. A slapped Sparrow so hard, her head snapped back, and she would have fallen if Ms. A hadn’t grabbed her arm. “How dare you defile the Pledge of Allegiance!”

  Sparrow touched her cheek, the slap a brilliant pink.

  “You will proceed directly to the track,” Ms A told her, “where you will run until I tell you to stop.” Then she shoved Sparrow out the door.

  Ms. A folded her arms as if she was trying to hold herself together. “The rest of you will take your seats and write an essay about the meaning and significance of the Pledge of Allegiance.”

  I knew Ms. A was doing this, slapping Sparrow and disciplining us, for the camera in the back of the room, but for some reason, today I couldn’t go along. I remained on my feet as each of my classmates sat down and started to write.

  “Avie?” Ms. A said.

  “I can’t,” I answered. “Sparrow’s right. Liberty and justice for who?”

  I felt everyone’s eyes on me.

  “Aveline, in the hall. Now!” Ms. A pointed to the door.

  Holy—why did I do that? I thought as Ms. A marched me down the hall to the spot the monitors missed.

  “What has gotten into you, speaking out like that?” she demanded. “You know that could get us both in trouble.”

  I covered my face with both hands. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, but—”

  “Avie, look at me. This is about Jessop Hawkins, isn’t it?” she said, glancing between my face and the sparkly bracelet on my wrist.

  “He’s horrible. He’s taking over my life, and he locked this bracelet on me before I could say no.”

  “So you don’t want to go through with your Signing?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Do you know someone who can help you?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  We both turned as we heard footsteps down the hall. “Promise me you will ask if you need help,” she said.

  “I promise.”

  “Now go change into your running clothes, and when you get to the track let Sparrow know I’ll be down soon.”

  Out on the track, Sparrow was running in ballet flats. Her uniform skirt was flapping around her thighs and her shirt was so wet with sweat, you could see her bra right through it.

  I trotted to the fence and stretched out my quads. No way was I going to involve Ms. A if I made a run for Canada. My classmates needed her. Father Gabriel was the one who had to get me out.

  30

  No release date. No matter how many times I checked on Friday and then on Saturday morning, Yates’ status didn’t change. He was locked up like a criminal and all I could do was wait.

  By lunchtime I was banging off the walls, so I threw on my running gear. Roik was parked in front of the Sportswall. “I’m going for a run,” I said.

  Roik paused the TV. “That’s what the treadmill’s for.”

  “I need some fresh air. Come on. You can follow me in the car. We’ll be back in half an hour.”

  He rolled onto his feet. “Twenty minutes and you wear a hat, shades, and long sleeves. I don’t want you flashing that bracelet around. Oh, and no earphones.”

  “Sure.” Anything to get outside and get out of my head.

  I followed the street as it climbed the hill, and ran through the lacy shade. The neighborhood was so quiet, you could almost believe it was the same as it was when I was little.

  The hill got steeper, and the road twistier. Roik slowed Big Black to a crawl about a hundred feet behind me. I smiled, thinking that if I jumped into one of these yards. I could take off down the canyon, and Roik couldn’t guess which way I was headed.

  My feet soared. I imagined leaping like a deer over fences and Roik trying to chase me in Big Black. He’d never catch me on foot.

  I’d gone about a mile when Roik pulled alongside and shoved his phone through the window. “It’s for you.”

  The screen said, “Restricted Number,” so it had to be Hawkins calling from Singapore, checking up on me like one of his investments. “No, thanks.”

  Roik sighed. “Take the damned phone.”

  I slapped it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Avie!!!!” Dayla’s squeal sent me running to a neighbor’s driveway.

  “Day! Are you home?”

  “No, still here in Fetal Fed. But I’m getting out in a few days.”

  The video was blocked so I couldn’t see her face. Maybe the Feds didn’t want anybody to see what a Fetal Protection unit looked like.

  “You are? That’s amazing.” Then I remembered what Dad said. “Does that mean you’re— Someone’s taken possession?”

  “No, not exactly.”

  Dayla sounded like she was playing for the camera. “I mean Dad’s considering offers. One guy’s even throwing in a condo in Jackson Hole. My brothers are pumped. You know how they love to ski.”

  “Riley especially.”

  “He called me this morning. ‘Black diamond, Dayla. This guy’s the best.’”

  I was dying to ask about Seth, but I held off. “I can’t wait to see you.”

  “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Oh, Day, it’s been awful without you. So much has happened. I have so much to tell you.”

  “I can’t believe you’re getting Signed!!”

  “You heard about that?”

  “Jessop Hawkins! Did you meet him? Is he cute?”

  Day was totally playing for the camera. She knew I didn’t want to get Signed.

  “No, he’s not cute exactly, he’s—” Evil, villainous, perverted. “I don’t know, you have to meet him.”

  “Well, I love him already for getting me out of here.”

  Icy fingers raced up my back. “Hawkins helped you?”

  “Yeah, his assistant, Mr. Ho, arranged everything. They wanted to surprise you.”

  “This is the best surprise ever.” I tried to think like Ho. His strategy: bring Avie’s best friend back to spy on her.

  Sadness swept through me. Dayla wasn’t stupid. She had to know what she was doing. “So when do you come home?” I said.

  “Not sure. Next week sometime. Ooops, my three minutes are up.”

  “Call me as soon as you get out.”

  “I will! Love you, Avie!”

  “Love you, Day.”

  I crushed the phone in
my hand. Dayla could be back as soon as Monday. So who told Hawkins about her?

  I bet the answer was sitting behind Big Black’s steering wheel. Roik would be out of a job once I belonged to Jes Hawkins. Unless Roik proved he was invaluable. Loyal.

  To Jes.

  That did it. Tomorrow I was telling Father Gabe that I was joining Exodus.

  31

  After mass on Sunday, Father Gabe and I tucked into a corner of the rectory away from the windows. He didn’t look directly at me and anyone would think he was watching the church grannies teach us girls to dance the Macarena.

  “Have you decided?” he asked.

  My mouth went dry. Tell him. This is what you want. “Yes, I want to join the Exodus.”

  “You have no doubts? You are sure?”

  “Yes.” I wasn’t, but how could anyone be absolutely sure?

  Father G bit into his doughnut and a comet trail of powdered sugar hit his black shirt. “We will plan for you to leave Thursday afternoon. Your friend suggested a location.”

  Sweet Fantasies. I nodded, wishing Thursday wasn’t so far away. Dayla could be back any minute.

  “Your bodyguard will wait outside?”

  “Yes, that’s the last place he’d want to be.”

  “Bueno,” Father Gabe murmured.

  My heart pounded in my ears. I did it. This was real. I was going.

  Even though I was scared, I felt a surge of power. Screw Hawkins and Roik. I was taking charge of my life.

  “I will contact your father, and tell him you must receive premarital counseling on Wednesday. Then we can discuss the final plan.”

  “Okay, but what if my dad says no?”

  “Your father was married in this church. I will remind him that God does not believe in Signings. Marriage is holy, a sacrament, and Signings defile His gift.”

  As Father Gabriel watched the grannies and girls dance, I had to ask why he was risking so much to help girls get to Canada. The Catholic Church didn’t exactly have a rep for championing women’s rights.

  “Father, I don’t understand why you help girls like me, why not the poor or the homeless?”

  He brushed the sugar off his shirt and didn’t answer right away. “The chess players do not care about the pawns. They sacrifice the least powerful so they can hold on to their power. Your leaders play chess with your lives, but what the world does not yet know is that someone else whispers the moves as they play.”