Escape

by Francine Pascal

  Sam grabbed the Walkman Gaia had given him and shoved the headphones into his ears, blasting Radiohead deep into his skull at top volume. He tried desperately to drive Gaia out of his head and focus on the images in the songs, but it didn’t work. By the middle of the second track every song was about Sam and Gaia. Or, to be more specific, every song was about the fact that there was no Sam and Gaia.

  Potential Horrors

  GAIA SLAMMED THE DOOR OF THE bathroom stall behind her and dropped down on the closed toilet. Her brain felt like mud as all the Ed-dumping-her scenarios mixed with all the Sam-and-her-father-in-danger scenarios. Being fearless didn’t mean she couldn’t recognize a slew of potential horrors. But as she’d learned long ago, she could only live her life one horror at a time. She had no choice in the matter. Step one: Call Sam and hear some kind of dreadful news. Step two: Go back and face Ed’s cold and hateful stare. Step three: Surely something worse.

  She tugged the despicable cell phone back out of her purse. First things first, she finally turned that goddamn ringer off. Once that was done, she punched the send button to call back her last missed call.

  She waited through three long rings. No answer. She checked the number Sam had programmed again and tried dialing the full number.

  Three rings. And then four. And then five. . . “Come on. . .” Muttered curses were falling from her mouth with each additional ring. “What the hell are you doing, Sam?” she whispered through nearly closed lips. “You just called me. . . .”

  On the seventh and eighth rings Gaia’s frustration began to skyrocket. This didn’t make any sense. He was supposed to be sitting alone in his room. How could he possibly not hear his phone ringing?

  Unless the worst-case scenario was true. Someone had gotten in there, 457 or a whole goddamn army for all she knew. Someone had gotten to him, and all he’d had time to do was dial her number. . . .

  Oh God, Sam, please pick up the phone. Please.

  But the phone just kept ringing. And ringing.

  melodramatic feline scowl

  Now the only sounds were their short, rapid breaths echoing off the pale, white walls.

  Unbelievably Gorgeous

  TATIANA’S EYES DARTED TOWARD THE bedroom phone. She’d fallen into a half-sleep state in bed, sketching ideas for Heather’s party. Her sketch pad had fallen onto the floor, and her pencil was still dangling in her hand. She nearly stabbed herself with it when the phone woke her.

  She glimpsed the clock and saw that it was only about nine-thirty, though her lagging body and mind made it feel closer to four in the morning. She dropped the pencil to the floor and reached over to the bedside table to grab the phone.

  “Hello. . .?”

  She cleared the nap-induced frog from her throat to speak more clearly. . . but there was no one on the other end of the line. Just a dial tone buzzing rudely in her ear. She hung the phone back up and shook off the remains of her sleepy daze.

  But the phone was still ringing.

  As she finally came to her senses, she realized that the ring wasn’t actually coming from her phone. It was, in fact, a very faint ring floating in from the hallway. She slipped off her bed and stepped out of her room, following the alien ring as she walked slowly down the hall.

  She could hear the ring getting stronger and stronger, and as she neared the living room, it finally reached its maximum volume. A shrill electronic ring buzzing in her left ear. It sounded like one of those offensively loud cell phone rings, but where on earth was it coming from?

  She turned to her left and realized that the ring was coming from the obsolete maid’s quarters. They barely used the room except for storage and some of their bulk supplies—toilet paper, paper towels, and whatnot. At this point the door had pretty much melded into the wall as far as Tatiana was concerned. But now. . . the forgotten room was ringing.

  Was Gaia using the room for privacy or something? Tatiana thought she’d earned more of Gaia’s trust than that, though she could certainly understand the need for a private space. Tatiana sure as hell wouldn’t have minded having her own room. But if it was Gaia’s private hiding place, since when had she gotten a cell phone? That was so unlike Gaia.

  Tatiana turned down the hall toward her mother’s bedroom, wondering if she knew anything about Gaia using the room. But her mother wouldn’t even be back for hours. She turned back to the door.

  The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Whoever was calling seemed to refuse to give up. And Gaia seemed to refuse to answer. Unless Gaia wasn’t currently in her private hiding place? Or. . . there were a couple of far more disturbing scenarios—a couple of people Tatiana would most certainly not want to see on the other side of that door. But unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.

  She tapped lightly on the door.

  “Gaia?” she whispered.

  No reply. And the phone kept ringing.

  She brought her hand down to the knob and turned it gently. Locked? Since when did they lock a barely used storage room? It was a flimsy excuse for a lock, anyway. Just the usual indoor variety, easily jimmied open by the simplest of tools. Tatiana stepped over to the coat closet and grabbed a wire hanger, untwisting it quickly and slipping the straight end right into the keyhole. A few careful twists and the lock didn’t just click open; it pretty much cracked open. Just one more busted old lock to go with the rest of the useless locks in the apartment.

  She let the door fall open naturally, wielding the hanger before her as her sole weapon.

  The ringing suddenly ended, filling the room with a loud, overwhelming silence. But Tatiana had already forgotten all about the ringing. The inexplicable sound had given way to a much more inexplicable vision.

  There was an absolute stranger hunched over on the bed.

  A reddish-brown-haired stranger in a gray T-shirt and boxer shorts was sitting comfortably in Tatiana’s apartment, listening to a pair of blaring headphones as if he just. . . lived there. As if he were just the older brother Tatiana had never noticed she had.

  She was at a complete loss. Her body and mind stalled. Should she be frightened? Should she run from the strange dusty room and call the police or one of her mother’s contacts? It didn’t feel that way. The stranger looked so. . . casual, so completely nonthreatening. So unbelievably gorgeous.

  But looks could be deceiving.

  He still hadn’t noticed her standing there. His eyes were so tightly shut. He seemed so deeply ensconced in the music, she was almost afraid to wake him out of his trance. She crouched slightly, readied her hands and feet for trouble, and reached forward slowly with the hanger. She gave the stranger’s shoulder one cautious prod. . . .

  “JEE-sus!” he bellowed, leaping back against the wall like the hanger was a high-powered stun gun. Tatiana let out a sudden scream of her own and slammed her back up against the door, thrusting her hanger forward defensively.

  Their eyes locked as they faced each other across the tiny room. Now the only sounds were their short, rapid breaths echoing off the pale, white walls.

  His shoulders settled down slightly once he’d gotten a look at her, though his breaths were still coming in short spurts. His eyes drifted down the length of her body before jumping back up to eye level. Tatiana suddenly became very aware of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a stretchy white cotton nightie. She brought her left arm slowly across her chest and thrust the hanger forward again.

  “Who are you?” she spat, trying to sound as threatening as anyone with a hanger and a white cotton nightie could. What exactly did she plan to do? Tickle him to death?

  He stared at her blankly for a long beat. And then he finally ripped the headphones from his ears, throwing the Walkman down on the floor. “Sorry, what?”

  “Who are you?” she repeated more harshly. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

  “Right,” he said, staying glued to the wall. “Right. . . I’m. . . I’m a friend of Gaia’s.”

  “Friend? What friend? I
’ve never met you before.”

  “Well, I’ve been—” He cut himself off and narrowed his eyes. “Wait, how did you get in here?”

  She couldn’t believe his gall. “How did I get in here? How did I get in here? This is my apartment!”

  “I know, but I locked the—”

  “Do you want me to call the police now? Or do you want to tell me what friend of Gaia’s would be. . . be. . . stoving away in this little secret room?”

  He raised his right eyebrow slightly as he stared at her. “I’m. . . I’m sorry, ‘stoving’?”

  “Stoving!” she snapped, shaking her hanger. “A stove-away. Like on a boat. Hiding where you know you don’t belong—”

  “Oh, stowing. A stowaway. . .”

  “Yes, this—whatever, you still have explained nothing. Talk.”?

  “Okay.” He raised his hands in truce. “Just calm down, okay?” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m Sam,” he said. “Sam Moon. I am a friend of Gaia’s. And I’m guessing you’re Tatiana. . . ?” He smiled cautiously.

  God, homeless thief or not, he was still so ridiculously gorgeous. His face looked like some kind of ancient Greek sculpture depicting the ideal male. The more he spoke, the more she found herself giving way before his slim, perfect features and his curly brownish hair and his slightly gravelly voice. This simply wasn’t the face of a killer, or even a stowaway. She began to relax in spite of herself. Without her even noticing, her hand dropped down and let go of the hanger.

  “I am,” she said, confirming Sam’s guess about her identity.

  He stepped gingerly from the opposite wall and held out his hand. She took one last suspicious glimpse at his kind hazel eyes and then decided to shake.

  “Sam,” he said as he shook her hand.

  “That’s what you said,” she replied, pulling her hand away quickly.

  “Right.” He stepped back against the wall.

  There was a brief, awkward silence.

  “Sam. . . ,” she began.

  “Yeah?”

  “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

  “Yes.” He let out a slight laugh. “Right. . . well. . . I, uh. . . told Gaia that I needed a place to stay—”

  “Why don’t you have a place to stay?” He might not be a murderer or a rapist, but that didn’t mean she was done interrogating him.

  Sam paused again. “Right. Well, that’s a really long story. You know how it can get. . . with the parents. . . .”

  She still couldn’t tell if he was a horrible liar or just spoke in strange cadences. “You live with your parents?” she tested. “You look like you go to college. Don’t you go to college?”

  “I do,” he replied, throwing her off again with his smile. “But I’m. . . taking this semester off.”

  “Hm.”

  “Yeah, so. . . as I was saying, Gaia gave me this room here, and I think she was just a little worried about. . . you know, freaking out your mother, so. . .”

  “Gaia was worried about freaking out my mother?” That wasn’t the Gaia Tatiana knew.

  “I guess so.” Sam shrugged, dropping down on the bed. “So, that’s what I’m doing here, but. . .” He tilted his head slightly. “How did you find me?”

  Tatiana glanced over at the chair in the corner and saw the small blue cell phone lying on the cushion. “I heard your phone ringing.”

  Sam slapped his hand over his head, scolding himself. “I left the ringer on? How could I be so stupid? I left the ringer on and I had the music blasting and—wait—” His head suddenly snapped over to the chair. “The phone was ringing?”

  He leapt off the bed and grabbed the phone, slapping his finger down on a few buttons as he stared intensely at the display. He pressed a button and held the phone tightly to his ear, clearly waiting with anticipation for an answer. But he got no answer. A few more long seconds and he threw the phone back at the chair, not even hiding his extreme frustration.

  “Gaia,” he muttered angrily, staring at the phone. He looked back up and saw that Tatiana had been observing his behavior almost scientifically for the past minute. He dropped the anxious frown from his face and quickly composed himself. “I guess she turned off her phone,” he said with a forced smile. But there was no point in the smile. Tatiana had already seen everything she needed to see.

  Sam was no threat to her. Sam was just a man in love.

  And slowly Tatiana began to remember bits and pieces of a conversation she and Gaia had shared late one night in their bedroom. A conversation about a boy named Sam.

  She stepped over to the bed and sat down, making herself comfortable as Sam stood awkwardly by the chair.

  “You know,” she said with a slight smile, “now that I think about it, I remember Gaia telling me about a boyfriend she once had named Sam. Are you Sam, the ex-boyfriend?”

  Sam straightened up slightly as he forced another slight laugh. “Not exactly,” he said. “That’s. . . that’s another long story.”

  “Oh, you have to tell me.” Tatiana laughed. “Gaia never tells me anything. Especially about boys.”

  “No,” Sam smiled. “There’s really nothing to tell.”

  “Oh, please. I have so many questions.”

  “No, like I said. It’s just a long—”

  “I like long stories. Besides, who knows how long Gaia’s going to be out on her date with Ed? It could be hours.” She leaned forward, almost as if she were sharing a secret with Sam. “Sometimes. . . she doesn’t even come home at all.”

  The smile instantly dropped off Sam’s face. For a moment he looked like he’d just been shot in the back. He collapsed into the chair with a thud and locked his cheerless eyes with Tatiana’s. “Okay,” he uttered in a near monotone. “What do you want to know?”

  Hateful Glare

  “THIS ISN’T GOING TO WORK.”

  Gaia was standing at the table, looking down at Ed. She’d called on her least-favorite skill in the world—the unique talent that she was most ashamed of—her near superhuman ability to turn her heart to stone.

  She’d been left with no other choice but this—to watch Ed’s face turn as stone-cold as her own. To rip down the pathetic remains of the night and eat the consequences later. Because after fifteen rings of a phone flying out into blank space, Sam had disappeared again. He’d vanished into that same phantom zone where her father now resided, and that had finally gotten the better of her. All that potential death had to take precedent over Ed’s increasingly unforgiving eyes.

  “What’s not going to work?” Ed asked coldly.

  “This date, Ed. There are just too many things going on right now, and I can’t—”

  “Right. Good night.” Ed turned down to his plate of paella and began to eat it robotically. Gaia’s chest began to sting.

  “Ed, please don’t—”

  “Don’t what?” he asked matter-of-factly. “Don’t eat? I’m at a restaurant.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that, okay? I tried to make this work. You have no idea how hard I tried.”

  “Oh God, thank you,” Ed snapped with a wide, disturbing grin. He stood up out of his chair to face Gaia head-on. It seemed they were doomed to be the spectacle of the evening. “Thank you so much for trying to go out on a date with me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Her teeth were clenched so hard, she was sure she could feel them crumbling away. Candlelight kept flickering under Ed’s eyes, revealing a more and more hateful glare with each indiscernible flash.

  “No? What did you mean?” He tilted his head with sarcastic interest.

  “Don’t do this, Ed.” She couldn’t even tell if she was begging him or threatening him. What would she even be threatening him with? “Look, there are things going on with my father—”

  “Well, thank you so much for trusting me with that highly sensitive information. Thank you for everything. I had a lovely evening. Don’t forget your cheese on the way out.” Ed dropped back into his chair and began to e
at again.

  Gaia searched herself for some way to put Ed in his place, but the more she thought about it, the less righteous anger she could muster. And the guilt took over. Of all the emotions she’d felt this evening, the guilt was the only one she’d be taking home.

  She dropped back down into her chair and grabbed his hand. “I’m so sorry, Ed. I am so sorry. I know how important this date is, I know. I would do anything not to ruin it. But. . . it’s ruined. It was ruined before we got here. Just please don’t. . . You look so. . . It’s just one night, Ed. Just one night is ruined, okay?” Silence came from the other side of the table. “Okay?” she repeated.

  He wouldn’t respond.

  Pulling Teeth

  ED DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY. HE wanted to squeeze out another obnoxious retort, another vengeful little jab just to stake out another inch of personal territory. But he couldn’t. Not with her eyes so wide with guilt.

  He couldn’t have done it, anyway. He didn’t have endless piles of emotional ammunition stockpiled and ready to fire. He’d already shot his wad with a few cold stares and some sarcasm.

  Now he was just Ed again. Ed Fargo, complete sucker in love. Now he was stuck in her eyes again. And glued to the candlelight that glowed on her cheeks. And tangled up in the tousled waves of her hair. And so it would always be. . . .

  “If you have to go, then you have to go,” he said. “Don’t make me feel like any more of a loser than I already do.”

  “No, I’m the loser,” Gaia insisted.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Loser.” He sighed.

  “Oh, you’re proposing now?”

  “Would you say yes?”

  Gaia’s entire face froze. Now Ed knew for sure that they were drifting apart. She couldn’t even tell when he was kidding anymore. Which, of course, he was. Mostly. No, of course he was kidding. Mostly. . .

  “Kidding, Gaia,” he groaned. “Just kidding.”