by April Henry
And then, when no one was looking, he slipped through.
CHAPTER 11
ANY STRANGER
CHEYENNE
Several hours after Jaydra thought they were being followed, Cheyenne still felt shaky. Jaydra had said a black SUV had swung in behind them, so close she couldn’t even see the license plate. The driver, a man wearing sunglasses, had followed them around the first hard corner—but then pulled into a driveway.
As soon as they got home, Cheyenne had gone to her room and locked her door. She wasn’t in the mood for Jaydra deciding to spring something on her.
Now she lay stretched out on her bed, listening to music, writing and rewriting a message to Griffin about Monday. What would happen when they were finally together again? That thought made her shaky too, but in a different way. What would they talk about? Should she hug him right away? What should she wear? If she put on more makeup than normal or wore perfume, would Jaydra get suspicious?
When her phone said, “Text from Dad,” she jumped.
“Cheyenne, could you please come out to the patio?”
She froze. She hadn’t even realized her dad was home. She had thought he was still in Tokyo or Amsterdam or someplace. But he was clearly here, and now he wanted to talk to her. Had the school realized they hadn’t badged out for lunch? Or could he have found her Facebook page? Even—her stomach rose—discovered her plan to ditch school Monday to see Griffin?
Telling herself she was being paranoid, Cheyenne texted back. “What’s up?”
“Just come.”
Phantom jumped off the bed when she got up, but she told him to stay. She didn’t work him at home. Even a guide dog needed times to just be a dog. Besides, Cheyenne knew how many steps it was to each room, knew the location of every piece of furniture. The knowledge ran like her own personal GPS in the background of her thoughts, telling her when to swivel her hips past the sculpture in the living room or when to reach for a doorknob. And since the accident three years ago, she had learned the hard way—they all had—how important it was to keep everything tidy. No more clothes scattered on her bedroom floor or boxes set down in the entryway.
Since she was going outside, she grabbed the new cane Jaydra had gotten for her. It was made of the same kind of aluminum they used in planes, and it folded down to nearly nothing. She shook it out, enjoying the sound of all the parts snapping together as the rope inside went taut.
After the air-conditioned chill of the house, the sun felt good on her skin. Cheyenne never used to pay attention to the sun, or whether she was facing east or west. One of the first things the orientation and mobility instructor had taught her was to always orient herself using cardinal directions.
“We’re over here,” her dad called. The sweet scent of roses filled her nostrils. Bees hummed, and in the distance, the neighbor’s sprinkler pattered. Without her eyes, her other senses had come alive. In some ways, sighted people were just as handicapped as she was, although they wouldn’t believe it if she told them.
Her cane found one of the Adirondack chairs. She nudged it with her knee, making sure it was unoccupied. A few times she had sat on someone when she mistakenly thought a seat was empty.
“So what’s up?” She shivered, suddenly chilled. The sun must have gone behind a cloud. When Duke butted her knees, she scratched him behind the ears, grateful for the distraction. He leaned into her with a happy groan.
“We have a surprise for you,” Danielle said. “Actually, two surprises.”
“Let’s focus on this one for now, honey,” Nick said. Some kind of emotion edged his voice. And he never called either of them pet names.
“What kind of surprise?” Maybe it was for her birthday next week.
“There’s going to be some changes this next year,” Danielle said.
“Are you going back to work?” Since Danielle was already volunteering several shifts a week at a clinic for low-income patients, it seemed a likely next step.
“Not exactly.”
Cheyenne wanted to scream. Why couldn’t they just spit it out? “Then what?”
“We’re expecting,” Danielle said. Her laugh was giddy.
But Danielle was old! She was thirty-nine. Too old to have a baby. Only evidently not.
Finally Cheyenne managed to say, “That’s great!” She heard them kiss. Just because she couldn’t see it didn’t mean that hearing it was okay. She held herself very still. Tried to make her face smile. Hoped they couldn’t read her as well as Jaydra could.
“We waited to tell you until the first trimester was over,” Danielle finally said, “but it’s getting to the point I can’t hide it anymore.”
Their family wasn’t much on full-body hugs. Thinking back over the last few months, Cheyenne remembered a few times conversations had seemed to switch tracks when she came into the room. But it hurt that they had kept it a secret from her when it sounded like any stranger could just glance over and see the truth. Jaydra certainly had to know.
The silence stretched out. Cheyenne knew she had to say something more. First trimester. “So you’re, like, twelve weeks pregnant?”
“Due right before Christmas. And”—Danielle’s voice rose with excitement—“it’s a girl!”
“After the baby’s born,” Nick said, “I’m not going to be traveling as often. Dani made me promise.” He patted Cheyenne’s knee. “I know I wasn’t around as much as I should have been when you were a kid. Now I want to get it right.”
When Cheyenne was growing up, her dad had been gone so much that her mom was basically a single mom, only with more money. It was her mom who had known her best, who knew everything about her. She was the only person who shared most of Cheyenne’s memories of birthdays and holidays and heartbreaks.
Those first few terrible months after the car accident, her dad had cut back on traveling, hiring nurses to fill in the gaps, including Danielle. She was the one who finally forced Cheyenne to get out of the bed she refused to leave long after her broken bones had healed. It was Danielle who cajoled and goaded Cheyenne to find a way to resume life. And somewhere along the way, her dad had fallen in love with her.
Cheyenne genuinely liked her stepmom, but she would never call her Mom. Never betray her own mom like that. Besides, Danielle hadn’t tried to take over that role. Now it seemed she wouldn’t need to, because she would have her own child. A child who could see.
Jealousy stabbed Cheyenne, followed quickly by shame. Why couldn’t she be happy for them?
“Are you okay?” her dad asked.
“I miss Mom,” she choked out, picking the least complicated emotion she was feeling. Her mother was the last person she had seen, would ever see. Cheyenne had turned to her a split second before the car hit them. The headlights silhouetted her short, dark, curly hair, outlined her mouth opening in surprise. And then everything had gone black.
Cheyenne had been able to tell her mom anything. Of course that was three years ago, when she was thirteen, just a kid. If her mom were alive now, would it be the same?
To hide her tears, she leaned down and nuzzled Duke’s neck, knowing she wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all herself. Even Duke pulled away.
Danielle whispered something to her dad. Then in a louder voice she said, “I’m going to get the hose. Those roses are starting to look droopy.”
Desperate to change the subject, Cheyenne asked, “Where’s Octavio?” He had been their gardener for years, but for the past two days, whenever she had taken Phantom out to do his business, Octavio hadn’t called out a greeting the way he normally did. He was one of the few men besides her dad that Duke tolerated. When she talked to him, Cheyenne could still picture his wide smile, framed by his carefully maintained narrow mustache. When she was little, the thin dark lines of hair that bracketed his mouth and went all the way to his chin had reminded her of a puppet.
“He must be sick.” As Danielle spoke, her voice went farther away. “His phone just goes to voice mail.” Cheyenne heard the
hose being pulled through the grass and then water splashing.
Her dad got up and settled on the arm of her chair. “Are you okay?”
“It was just a surprise, that’s all. I’m really glad for you.” She put a smile on her face, wondering how deep he could see inside her. She didn’t think she could handle being out here for another minute. Abruptly, she stood. “I’ve got a ton of homework I have to do this weekend. I’d better get started.”
“Cheyenne—” Her dad put a hand on her arm, but she shook it off.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine. And I am happy for you.”
She managed to hold off her tears until she was inside.
CHAPTER 12
3-D WORLD
CHEYENNE
Cheyenne closed the door to her room, threw herself on her bed, and buried her face in her cool pillow.
Her dad and Danielle were having a baby. She was going to have a little sister. She should be happy. Right?
But it was like one of those fairy tales where you got three wishes, and instead of endless riches, you ended up with a sausage stuck to your nose. How many times before the accident had Cheyenne begged her parents for a baby brother or sister? Instead she had gotten a dog. And Spencer had died in the same accident that killed her mom and took Cheyenne’s sight.
Now, ten years too late, she was getting a little sister, only it wasn’t anything like she had imagined. Grief for her mom and envy of the sister she didn’t even have yet crested over Cheyenne like a wave, threatening to drown her. If her mom were here, she could pour out all the knotted, ugly emotions that crowded her thoughts and roiled her belly.
To Cheyenne’s embarrassment, her mom had talked to perfect strangers as if they were friends, and sometimes they really became her friends. While Danielle was always quiet and self-contained, her mom had been loud and funny.
The same things that mortified Cheyenne at thirteen were the traits she now desperately missed. Her mom would have understood how she could be jealous and sad over good news. Still, she felt ashamed. How could she be angry about a baby? Babies were innocent.
If her mom were here now, she would listen without judging or offering solutions. And then she would tell Cheyenne it would all be okay. And somehow, maybe because it was her mom, Cheyenne would believe it.
Whining low in his throat, Phantom stood pressed against the bed. Finally, Cheyenne put out her hand to stroke his head. Phantom’s ears were pinned back. He nosed her hand anxiously. When she patted the space next to her, he scrambled up, crawled forward, and licked her face. Wiping her tears on his rough fur, she took a deep shuddery breath.
It was just that her dad had sounded so happy when he talked about the baby. When was the last time he had sounded like that talking about Cheyenne?
Would he end up loving her sister more? He had to look at Cheyenne and wonder what would happen to her, the same way she wondered herself. She planned to go to a local college, but how would she ever get a job? Would she be able to make enough money to support herself? Would she just have to live at home forever?
Even though babies cried and pooped and needed constant care, everyone still thought they were adorable. Part of it was the way they looked: big eyes, button noses, rosebud mouths. Except Cheyenne would never be able to see those things.
People also loved babies because they knew they would grow and change, that their helpless stage was only temporary. But even though her dad had sent Cheyenne to the best doctors, none of them offered hope that she would regain her sight. And once people realized she was blind, they often treated her like she was still a child. Or, worse, like she was mentally handicapped.
She would love the baby, of course she would. But her sister would see all the things Cheyenne would never see again. Their dad and Danielle, as well as the faces of a thousand other people. Phantom and Duke. The Degas lithograph of a dancer that still hung on her wall, even though she hadn’t seen it for nearly four years. Her sister would be able to look out Cheyenne’s window and see flowers, birds, clouds scudding across the sky. The whole 3-D world.
Cheyenne had stopped crying, but her breath was still coming in hitches.
Her Facebook account chimed with a message. It was from Griffin.
“Haven’t heard from you all day. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” she lied. The news about the baby was still too raw to share. “Sorry. In fact, I have something to tell you.”
“I have something to tell you, too. It’s that I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Heat climbed her face. “Me too.” Her heart was beating so fast. “I mean, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I want to see you so bad.”
If she went to Griffin on Monday, she wouldn’t see him, or at least not more than a blurry slice. But she would hear him, smell him. Touch him. Maybe even taste him.
“I figured out how to see you Monday,” she typed. “I can sneak out of school, and my friend can take me to you.” She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, her throat, her fingertips.
“But Monday’s forever. I want to see you now.”
Cheyenne shook her head as if they were already in the same room together. “I can’t. It’s not possible. Anytime I’m out of the house and not at school, Jaydra’s always with me.”
“But we’re only a few miles apart,” Griffin typed. “If you could just get out to the street, I could pick you up.”
“Where would you get a car?”
“My aunt’s renting one, and I can borrow it.”
Weren’t there rules about who could drive a rental car? Cheyenne had a feeling it didn’t include seventeen-year-olds. “Wouldn’t you get in trouble?”
“I could explain it to her later.”
She bit her lip. She was so tempted. If she said yes, she might be with him in an hour or two. But then reality prevailed.
“There’s no way I could leave without getting in a lot of trouble.” Not with just her dad and Danielle, but maybe with the prosecutor as well. “But on Monday, I should be able to leave school without anyone knowing.”
Griffin kept asking, and she kept saying no.
But still part of Cheyenne said, what did it matter if she took off now?
CHAPTER 13
JUST DO IT
CHEYENNE
It was nearly ten when Cheyenne woke up. She and Griffin had messaged back and forth until well after midnight. When she finally slept, her dreams had been filled with a confusing jumble of Griffin, the baby, her mom, and memories of what had happened six months earlier. Even after taking a shower, she wasn’t fully awake.
As she walked down the hall toward the kitchen, she heard a stranger’s voice speaking to her dad and Danielle.
She slowed her steps. But her dad must have heard her, because he called out, “Hey, Cheyenne, could you come to the living room?”
Combing her fingers through her still-wet hair, she complied, wondering who it was.
When she felt her feet step on the soft oriental rug, she stopped.
“Cheyenne,” her dad said, “I’d like you to meet Ronald Winston.”
“Hello.” She wondered who he was. Hopefully not some new layer of security.
“Remember when we said yesterday that there were two surprises?” Danielle said brightly. “This is the second.”
“What is?” Cheyenne felt itchy waiting for whatever was to come.
“I know you haven’t been looking forward to the trial next week,” her dad said, “and I’m sorry you’ve been having to go through all this, especially right before your birthday.”
“It’s nobody’s fault.”
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, we have a little surprise for you. That’s where Ronald comes in. He’s one of the lead engineers for the project.”
Cheyenne still wasn’t following. “What project?”
“A self-driving car,” Ronald answered.
“I’ve already put an order in for you,” her dad added, “but the car won’
t be in production for a while yet. So we worked out a deal for you to have a prototype on loan for the weekend.”
“Self-driving?” Cheyenne echoed. “Wait—you mean it’s a car I could drive by myself?”
“Well, it’s actually the car that drives itself,” Ronald said. “And since it’s a prototype, I’ll be in the passenger seat at all times.”
Danielle added, “And your dad or Jaydra or I will be in the backseat.”
It was almost too much to take in. First the baby and now this. “Is it really safe to have me in the driver’s seat?” It had taken her a long time to trust that Phantom wouldn’t walk under a branch or a sign that would hit her head. It had been days before she stopped flinching, imagining she could feel something looming a few inches ahead, ready to slam into her face. How much harder would it be to trust a car?
Ronald cleared his throat. “Our cars are actually much better drivers than people with twenty-twenty vision. This car looks everyplace at once and never gets distracted. It can track other vehicles, bicyclists, and pedestrians as far away as two football fields.”
“How can it do all that stuff?” Cheyenne still felt skeptical.
“Let’s go outside and take a look at it,” Ronald said, and then stammered, “I mean, um, examine it.”
“It’s okay.” Cheyenne was used to people tying themselves into verbal knots around her. “You can say words like see or look around me. I say them all the time. It doesn’t bother me.”
As they walked outside, Cheyenne lightly rested her hand on her dad’s arm. “This doesn’t feel real. Maybe I’m still dreaming.”
“Well, it’s two big things in two days,” he said. “And they’ve both been in the works for a while.” He came to a stop in the driveway.
“This car has features that a lot of other cars already have, but it uses them in smarter ways,” Ronald said. His tone reminded her of Jaydra, of how she loved to explain things. “It’s got GPS, but that’s too static to use by itself. A lot of cars have backup cameras, but this car has cameras on all sides. And it’s got radar so it can see in rain or snow or when it’s dark. Even that’s not new. Most higher-end cars now have radar as part of adaptive cruise control. The only part that’s really new is the lasers on top of the car.”
