29

Allie Jo

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I almost have a heart attack when I spot two people huddled down the hall of the third floor. “Hey!” I yell. Clenching my fists, I march toward them, ready to give them H-E-you-know-what for being up here, so it feels like a punch in the gut when I get closer and see it’s Tara—with Chase.

My mouth drops. I look from Chase to Tara and back to Chase. “Hey, what are you doing?” I try to act casual; I thought she was just my secret.

He gestures toward Tara. “She just—” He looks at her. “What’s your name?”

There’s a moment, just a fraction of a second, in which she seems to measure him up. Then she says, “Tara.”

I breathe in shallow puffs. She told me not to tell anyone and now here she is telling Chase everything.

“Don’t be mad, Allie Jo,” Tara says, her voice smoothing me over the way I smooth Jinx’s fur. “You are both my friends.”

“You guys know each other?” Chase asks, his head tilting. He looks at Tara. “Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since I broke my arm.”

My eyebrows flash up. “You guys know each other?”

Tara’s laughter sprinkles over us. “You guys know each other too?”

Chase laughs, watching Tara with wide-open admiration. He’s barely looked away from her since I got here.

I’m about to sit down when Tara shakes her head.

Standing, she says, “I must go. Too long in one place.”

It’s been days since I’ve seen her. “I’m going with you,” I say.

“Me too,” says Chase, getting up on his feet. As we follow behind Tara, Chase looks at me. “Tara and I are both Irish,” he says, as if it’s some exclusive club that only they are the members of.

“Tara and I go swimming at night,” I counter, even though, officially, I didn’t swim.

Chase grins. “Cool! Next time, get me.”

I look sideways at Chase. “You can’t,” I say, pointing to his cast.

He frowns, which makes me feel bad.

“His bones are healing quickly,” Tara turns around to say. “He will soon swim.”

“Tell that to my dad,” Chase says.

I know he’s kidding, but Tara takes him seriously. She stops and draws us into one of the boarded-up rooms. The plywood over the window has split, so a shaft of light cuts in, dividing her from us in the shadows.

“I cannot speak with your father. You must not tell him about me.”

He seems thrown off by her words and by the way she watches him intently. “What … ?” He cocks his head.

“Your father knows many things,” she says. “He cannot know about me.”

Even I think it’s odd that’s she’s so insistent about his dad. Then I remember his dad is a writer. A thought hits me. “Does it have something to do with running away?”

“You’re running away?” Chase shouts.

“Shh!” I hiss.

“You’re running away?” he repeats, this time more quietly.

His eyes are as big as pancakes as he waits for her answer. I stare at her too. I want to hear more.

She nods.

“Why?” He’s asking the questions I’d like to ask but am afraid to. I don’t want to scare her off.

She shakes her head. “Something happened.” A terrible, sad look takes over her face.

Fear strikes through my heart. My forehead wrinkles with concern and I lean toward her. “What happened?”

For a second, her whole face crumples, and she presses her eyes hard with both hands. “Ah,” she says, looking at her palms. “Tears.” She shakes her head again, takes a huge breath, and lets it out slowly while closing her eyes.

“Tara—”

“Trust me,” she says. “I’m trusting you.” Then she looks at Chase. “I’m trusting you too.”

He nods as if he knows exactly what she’s talking about. She turns back to me and puts her hand on my arm.

That shiver again. Her touch. Questions crowd my mind: What happened? Did someone get hurt?

As if she could read my mind, she says, “No one was hurt. Things just … changed. I can never go home now.”

I wait, but she doesn’t say anything else.