It’s getting harder and harder to play normal.
—Page 62 of Tessa Waye’s diary
“Who was that?” I don’t even have my shoes off, and Bren has already materialized on my right. “Was that the Griffin boy?”
The Griffin boy? I was going to squeeze past, but her question brings me up short. “How do you know Griff?”
“I met his mother at a PTA meeting. She was late and looked really lost. We talked a little and she said she’d be back, but I haven’t seen her since.” Bren nudges the curtains to one side, studying Griff with the same wrinkled-eye look she saves for reviewing work contracts. “The woman’s name is . . . Karen? Kelly?”
“Kim.”
I didn’t realize Lauren was even there until she spoke. I twist and our eyes meet. Great. There’s no way I’m getting out of explaining. Lauren looks seconds away from choking on a belly laugh.
“That’s it!” Bren throws Lauren a relieved look. “Kim. Kim Griffin. Her son is a very nice boy. Very polite. And those eyes—they’re so striking.”
Nice boy. Very polite. With striking eyes. I stare at Bren and try to reconcile the words coming out of her mouth. This is so not what I was expecting. She should be busting me six ways from Sunday. I mean, it’s a boy, for God’s sake. We’ve never talked about boys, but I’m sure she has rules about them. Plus, I rode up on a motorcycle. We’ve never talked about that, either, but I know she’d have to have rules for motorcycles. This doesn’t make any sense. Bren’s not mad and I’m not in trouble.
“So we’ll just go upstairs.” Lauren slings her arm through mine, drags me up the first few steps. Up this close, I can see how her bruised eye has gone eggplant purple. She isn’t even bothering to hide it with concealer. Knowing her mom’s commitment to perfection, it must be driving the poor woman nuts. “I have a history project I want to show Wick.”
“Okay. Have fun.” Bren continues to stare at me. Her mouth is a little open and her eyes are wide, and now I really don’t know what to do. My foster mom looks astonished and also . . . a little happy.
“What’s going on?” I mutter. “Why’s Bren watching me like she’s waiting for an alien to crawl out of my chest?”
“You brought home a boy.” Lauren is almost vibrating with excitement. She tightens her arm so I’m caught against her side. “A very cute boy. Bren’s probably tearing up with joy. You’re finally doing normal teenage stuff.”
“That’s what it takes to make her happy?”
Lauren shuts my bedroom door behind us and grins, the bruised skin around her eye wrinkling into purple folds. “If you really want to make Bren happy, ask her to braid your hair.”
“Oh, nice, and everyone thinks I’m the smart-ass.”
“I get away with it because I’m adorable. I can’t help it. It’s my burden. So. Since when did you and Griff start talking?”
Since I discovered he’s as awful as I am. And is that really the reason? Can I talk to him now because we’re alike? I can’t really reconcile the new Griff with the guy I liked. He’s horrible now. He’s like me. He cheats his way into people’s lives.
And yet he’s also the nicest guy I know.
My fingers drift to where Griff held my hand. It’s still warm, and touching where he touched, I get warmer. “We’ve always talked. We’re computer lab partners.”
Lauren nods but doesn’t look like she believes me. “Well, whatever. We need to talk, but . . . are you okay? You kind of look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I’m fine.” We stare at each other and I cave, slumping into my desk chair and rubbing my temples. “Actually, no, I’m not. My dad’s back.”
Lauren gasps like I’ve just confirmed the bogeyman’s for real.
Which I guess, in my case, is about right.
“Is that where you were?”
“Sort of. I was meeting with his partner. He has this new scam.”
“So how does Griff figure into this? I mean, I’m guessing you two didn’t just run into each other.”
“He was there too.” For a second, I don’t want to say anything further. I’m cramming down my feelings pretty well—even though they’re threatening to erupt. It isn’t my secret to tell. Then again, Lauren’s already made the connection. “Joe recruited him for some of the security work.”
“Who’s Joe, and why does he want either of you?”
“Joe is my dad’s best friend.” If you could call it that. Joe doesn’t really have friends. Joe has contacts, sources. . . . My dad is protection. Even though Joe is afraid of him.
“He needs my help. He needs our help,” I correct, suddenly remembering Griff’s role in all this. “There’s this credit card scam. Joe’s spearheading it for my dad.”
I offer Lauren a wobbly smile. “I think this is the part where you run screaming from the house.”
“Don’t push it, Wick. I’m actually thinking about doing just that.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
“Because . . . I don’t think you’d do this without a really good reason.” Lauren turns away, retreats to my bed, and starts unpacking more new clothes Bren bought me. “So what do you have to do?”
“Some hacking. They have a way to scam people into making donations by appearing to be a charity for tornado victims.” I plug in my computer, and while I’m stuck waiting for it, I swivel my chair side to side. Power-ups take longer with my computer than they would with most. I have a mess of firewall hardware, an entire platform of anti-spyware protection, and I still unplug the computer to prevent anyone from powering it up remotely. It’s the only way to fully sever my line to the outside. I can’t get out, but no one else can get in either. “Joe and my dad need me for the credit cards.”
“I just . . . I just don’t like you doing this. I mean, when are you going to quit?”
“Do you have any idea what will happen if I do?” She doesn’t have an answer, and because I don’t either, I look away. I turn to my computer and pull up my email. Wire transfer. Wire confirmation. A follow-up email from a past customer. This is what my life used to be.
“Your dad can’t touch you, Wick. You’re not part of that world anymore.”
“I’m not?” The argument is so familiar it pisses me off. These are the same lies I told Lily. I might not be part of my old world anymore, but I’m sure as hell not part of this new one. “Joe knows where we are. He knows how to reach us. I can’t risk pissing him off. Think about what he could do to us.”
“You mean what he’d do to Lily.”
“I mean us. Bren and Todd and you,” I add. “If Joe knows about you, my dad knows.”
Lauren nods like she gets it, but I can see in her clouded eyes and pressed-thinned mouth that she doesn’t. She’s worried about the hacking, not what the hacking protects. I could try to explain it, but the words won’t come. They’re lodged in my gut.
I click my link to Facebook and plug in Tessa’s log-in. The page takes only a heartbeat to load, and when it does, there must be twenty messages under mine, but only one makes me cringe:
When I find you, you’ll bleed for that.