Bailen backed against the wall, and I leaned into him, inching closer and closer until our bodies met. I tensed as his chin rested on my shoulder, his breath tickling behind my ear. I buried my face in his neck. He left a trail of soft kisses starting from my earlobe down my jawline. I wrapped my arms around his waist and didn’t bother to pretend I wasn’t enjoying it.
“Is it clear?” he whispered. His hot breath made me shiver.
I rose on my tiptoes and slowly peeked around the corner, struggling to focus as Bailen pulled back the collar of my sweatshirt and caressed my shoulder with his lips. I shook my head. Bailen pulled me in. His heart pounded in time with mine. If I hadn’t been freaking out about a million things, it might have been hot.
“Now?” Bailen’s voice ripped through my uneasiness. I peeked around the side of the building. The agent rounded the corner toward the front of the building. I let out a long breath in relief.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Bailen grabbed my hand. We tore across the parking lot. Moments later, we were on the bike and in the air.
The whole way to the Hive, I didn’t know whether to be more concerned that the authorities were so close to me or to TROGS. As much as I wanted to believe it was an awkward coincidence, part of me knew it was no accident the agents had been at the fly-in. Not only did many kids from school hang out there, but it was right next to the dump. There were too many places to search for clues. I’d have to be more careful. If I got caught, what would they do to me? What would they do to my parents? My parents.
Flying crotchrockets.
I’d been so worried about Harlow, Bailen, Emily, TROGS, and everyone else, I’d completely forgotten about what Harlow had said—that my parents had left. Or had they? Where would they have gone? And why leave when I was missing? It didn’t add up. And that fact ate away at me. I needed answers before the awful thoughts fogging my mind took over.
I was so distracted, I didn’t realize we’d landed in the barn until Bailen shut off the bike. He opened the trap door but paused. “You coming?”
I wanted to, but I couldn’t let the horrible feeling go. I shook my head. “I need to paint some more.” It was a lame excuse, but hopefully he’d buy it.
“Okay. Don’t stay out here forever. I may need you.”
I stifled the growing smile because I wasn’t sure if he meant my tracker or me. “I’ll come down in an hour or so.”
“I’ll be watching the clock.” He smirked, letting me know it was more than just my tracker, then disappeared through the trap door.
The minute it slammed shut, I bolted to my bike and rolled it silently out of the barn. When I was out of hearing range, I started it and took to the sky. An hour didn’t give me much time, but I had to follow my instinct. As I flew over the river toward the city, I wished the wind swirling around me could blow away all my uncertainty.
Ten minutes later, I landed beside my apartment building. I hid my bike behind a dumpster then jogged up the fire escape. I couldn’t risk entering the building on the main floor or the roof, there were too many cameras and tracking sensors. But if I could peek in the windows, I’d hopefully get my answer. When I reached the thirtieth floor, I paused to catch my breath.
Now came the fun part. With the fire escape ending there, I had to scale the last five floors. Many buildings in midtown had this feature. When they decided to add additional housing on top of the existing buildings, they built extra internal stairwells instead of expanding the external ones. Something about improving the external aesthetic of the building, but they never removed what was already there which was to my benefit.
Although I’d snuck out and climbed from my window to Lydia’s more times than I could count, I’d never attempted to crawl up the side of my building. I jumped on the railing and grabbed on to the window ledge above. Kicking my feet up, I pulled myself onto the concrete lip that was barely wide enough for my feet. From there, I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and searched for hand and footholds between the balconies. Slowly, I moved toward my window. I shifted in and out of the shadows cast by the single bulbs lighting every few floors. Luckily, most people were asleep; otherwise, they might have screamed and alerted the authorities of a creepy figure outside their windows.
As I continued, it was tough to find secure holds. Sweat dripped, blurring my vision, but I didn’t dare move my arm to wipe it. My palms grew clammy. With every reach upward, securing a grip became more difficult. My fingertips began to slide on the bricks. I risked a quick swipe on my shirt before stretching to the next position. Legs wobbling, I paused to balance myself then judged the distance to my window. Just a few more arm lengths and I’d be there.
I stretched for the next good crevice in the side of the building, but my sweaty fingers slipped off the edge. I grabbed for my previous hold then waited for my pounding heart to slow. After wiping my palms on my shirt, I attempted to pull up again and successfully secured the hold. Two more moves. I struggled up another arm length. One more move and I could reach the windowsill.
When I grabbed on to the ledge and hauled myself up, I was sweating through my clothes and gulping in air. Despite that, the climb was exhilarating. From the height, the cars and sidewalks below seemed so trivial.
“Damn,” I muttered. Why had I left my curtains closed?
Pressing my ear against the cool glass of the window, I listened for signs of my parents. Silence. Maybe they were on some kind of temporary assignment or were sleeping. A pang of regret passed over me. I’d give all my art supplies to see them just for a second.
I paused again to listen for movement. Still nothing. I scaled across the building toward the living room balcony. I reached for secure hand and footholds. It wasn’t much different than climbing to Lydia’s window, except I was moving in the opposite direction. Ten reaches later, I jumped over the railing to our balcony.
I squatted by the edge of the window and peered inside. The whole apartment was dark. Not a single item in the living room was out of place, as if no one lived there. How strange. My parents were never neat.
I crept along the balcony to catch a glimpse down the hall toward my parents’ bedroom. The digital displays of family photos hung on the wall. Darkness loomed on glossy screens holding my family’s smiling faces.
I couldn’t see the images from outside the window, but I knew them well. Family dinners and birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Chanukah. Snapshots of all the best traditions, things I’d never thought I’d miss. But now having lost everything, I clung to the memories.
Everything I’d grown up with and believed in carried so much more weight. I’d lost all the best parts of myself, the happy moments, and my most favorite of all—us by the lake.
We’d go for Tashlich to cast our sins away. Jake had never missed it until a couple of months ago, the first time he’d missed it. At the time I had assumed he went to the campus Hillel to celebrate. Now I knew the real reason why. It wasn’t the same without him secretly throwing the bread at the ducks, even though he was supposed to cast it into the water. He’d chuck it right in the middle of the ducks and laugh as they scrambled to be the first to get it. Not even Dad’s stern insistence that we take it seriously scared us.
Jake and I would struggle to control our snickers. And even after getting a few quiet moments to reflect, Jake would side-eye me, and we’d lose it all over again. My gut twisted knowing I’d never hear his laugh again.
I couldn’t even remember what it sounded like anymore. If it weren’t for my bum tracker, I’d pull up a vid to remind myself, but all I had was the memory. And the next time I cast off my sins, I’d have a lot more to be sorry for.
My insides ripped apart.
I needed to find my parents. But what then? Would I rush inside, hug them, and tell them everything, including what had happened to Jake?
I didn’t know.
The shadows in the hall threatened to envelop the happiness oozing out of the photos and squash it forever.
I climbed on the opposite railing and reached for a hold on the side of the building. My fingers cramped, and I released my hold. I kneeled down and leaned against the building for support. Flexing my fingers a few times, I waited for the cramping to stop. I just needed to check my parents’ bedroom then I could head back. No one would know I’d been here.
When the ache in my hands dulled, I grabbed the handhold again. I shoved my foot into a gap on the wall and pulled myself onto the building. My whole body shook as I slowly made my way toward the windowsill outside my parents’ room. My fingers tingled and I paused to steady myself before proceeding through the last few maneuvers.
Balancing on the window ledge, I peered inside. Their bed was made perfectly, as if no one had ever slept in it, but there were suitcases lying open on the chairs next to the bed. Clothes and shoes spilled out of the cases and some items had fallen to the floor. Dread coursed through my veins like an IV full of acid. Why would they leave in the middle of packing?
I rested my forehead on the cool glass. It seemed like they’d been trying to pack in a hurry, but if they weren’t here and their clothes were, where had they gone? Or maybe the better question was: Who or what had made them leave without their stuff?
My heart pounded. The hour I’d promised Bailen was nearly up. I’d have to find those answers later. I climbed back to the living room balcony and bolted across it. I sat on the railing and reached for hand and footholds leading me back to my bedroom window. As I stepped onto my windowsill, a red light with a blinking TW chat bubble appeared in the corner of my eye.