Chapter 25

ROONEY

We’re way past The Dumpling Hours,” Jack says as he wraps red fabric cut into two-foot-wide strips around the base of the first “L” of the Hollywood Sign.

It’s 3:30 a.m., and we’re up in the quiet hills of Griffith Park with Talia, Maria, Nell, Brian, Toby, and Mac.

This past week, Jack and I went to every fabric store around the city and bought red cloth to cut into “string.” The actual string I typically use, the kind that’s thinner than floss, would’ve taken literal months to wrap the sign.

As a team, we went over the camera and motion sensor locations, what to wear, and how to wrap the forty-four-foot letters of the sign. Everyone contributed ideas and thought through ways to work more efficiently. We’re synced on the exit strategies with A and B alternate routes. The FATE mission team pushes boundaries every day, and their willingness to do this is more proof of that. For this, though, we’re Team Hollywood.

Talia and Nell are working on the second “L” while Toby and Mac take care of the “Y.” Brian and Maria are wrapping the two “O”s, and whoever is done first will take the “D.” The Hollywood Sign letters are relatively climbable from the back with metal beams to stand on.

Down below, the sweeping view of LA is showstopping. The moon is a crescent but the city sparkles like the ocean in sunlight, even at this hour. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.

On handheld radios, I check in with the group. “Two hours down. How’s everyone doing? We have three hours until sunrise, but I think we can get out of here sooner. We’re making good time.”

Jack and I pick up our paces and walk the roll of cloth around the “L” as carefully as we can.

“I’m keeping Sprinkles,” he says so casually that it takes me a moment to process it.

The news stops me in my tracks. “Jack, that’s wonderful! What changed your mind?”

“We’re basically best friends at this point. I can’t leave her.” Beneath Jack’s cautious voice is something heartfelt.

“She’s lucky to be on the receiving end of your love,” I say, my eyes darting up to him.

Jack’s eyes find mine, locking in place. We hold our stares for a stretched moment until someone on the team shouts for more cloth. Jack clears his throat and continues wrapping. “You’re going to be leaving a mark. That’s exciting to think about.”

I smile. “But not a mark on these signs. Remember, no damage.”

“Right. No damage,” he says very seriously.

We continue our stringing, passing by each other on opposite sides of the sign.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Jack says when we meet back on the same side. When I agree, he asks, “Have you ever seen the video?”

I twist the cloth in my hands. “I’ve seen it once. When it went up for sale in 2010, I went to the auction. They played it to attract interested buyers.”

Jack’s quietly waiting for more. For the truth. He stops wrapping and looks at me intently.

“He was at the birth,” I finally say after tying off cloth on one of the metal bars. “JR.”

“JR was there. Why?” Jack asks, stalling with me at the base near the tall side of the “L.”

“I wonder the same thing. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen his face. I was born, and he wouldn’t even hold me. Not once.” I close my eyes. “He walks away as soon as I start crying, and the look on my mom’s face, well, I’ll never forget it. That was the last time we were in the same room together.”

There’s compassion behind Jack’s eyes, not pity. “Rooney, I’m so sorry. I can see why you wouldn’t want that to be out there. You don’t want to relive it again. Or for your mom to.”

“She doesn’t regret the video or me, but people don’t need to see that,” I say. “If I can buy it, I can move past it. We can be done with him.”

Jack nods. “I was looking at how much I have saved up, and if you need more money, please let me know how much. I want to help.”

“That’s nice of you, but you’re already helping,” I say, tucking leftover cloth between the folds. “Hopefully after this, money won’t be a problem. I made Hollywood-themed string art pieces that will be available to buy tomorrow morning. They’re priced pretty high. More than I’ve ever asked for.”

“That’s good. Your work is worth it,” Jack says.

“A portion of proceeds from those sales will go toward helping fund art programs for kids,” I ramble. “The budget cuts have been terrible.”

Spikes of nervous energy are starting to poke through, and Jack can probably tell. I clamp my mouth shut. There are so many things not to think about: my feelings of inadequacy, the auction, this big risk not working, kissing Jack. What I do need to focus on instead is wrapping these signs and not falling down the mountain.

“You’ll already be using your voice for good,” Jack says as excess cloth spills out of his arms. He’s quiet for a moment, and when I don’t respond, he says, “Did you know, on the morning after a clear night, the temperature continues to drop even after sunrise?”

I frown and shake my head no.

“At night, the earth cools down, releasing energy it received from the sun that day,” Jack explains, raising his hands in the air, the cloth dangling below them. “You’d think everything would warm up when the sun shines. But because the sun is still so low, the solar radiation isn’t strong enough yet, and the temperature continues to drop. Maybe Entangled was your sunrise. Barely peeking over the horizon. And now the sun is higher. Things are starting to warm up.”

A real smile takes over my face. “Thank you.”

I fill my lungs with cool air and slowly begin to feel hopeful. This just might work.

“Pull that a little tighter and move this corner up,” I instruct.

Jack does as I tell him. “Like this?” he asks, rotating his hands and pulling gently.

“Here,” I say, tucking my strand of cloth in between secured ones. I sidestep back in front of him, our bodies touching, and reach around his hands with my own to guide them into the places I want the string. Even out here on this breezy night, Jack’s hands are warm and steady. I love seeing them intertwined with my string, making loops with his fingers to tie knots, like he’s now a part of my work.

“Are you okay? Where’d you go just now?” Jack asks when I’ve gone quiet and don’t respond to whatever it is he’s asked.

I redirect my stare up to his face and look into his darkened eyes. “I was definitely not thinking about you tied up in string.”

Jack coughs out a laugh and looks around to see if anyone heard. He pulls the cloth tightly. “I don’t think this would be strong enough.”

I gasp.

“Looking good,” Talia says over the radio. Jack steps back from me as I let go of his hands and collect my cloth. “On our letter, I mean.” She clears her throat, and Jack and I laugh quietly together.

We stand behind the sign, out of sight from the team, and tie off the cloth to complete our “L.” The entire time we’ve been here, I’ve been oddly calm. Now, though, being this close to Jack, with everyone around the corner, my heart races. The riskiest thing about this night is us right here, right now, not keeping our distance.

Jack’s foot slips and sends a rock tumbling down the mountain and into the darkness. Our faces are inches away, and if his foot slipped again, we’d be kissing. Which is all I can think about as everything else fades away. The city lights, the fabric in our hands, the rest of the team wrapping the letters, any sounds from the hand-held radio. They’re nothing but blurs. What is clear to me is the person standing less than a foot away, his face illuminated by my headlamp.

Jack has been right here with me through all of it, from the moments that were hard, uninspired, and precarious. I’ve gotten through them with him. Because of him. And then because of me. He helped me find myself again.

I was always hiding in plain sight. While that won’t be true after today, my feelings will be in hiding if I don’t share with Jack what he means to me. And what I feel is love, pure and true, like the feeling was always meant to happen. I think he might be my stringmate. After everything, how could he not be?

“Jack,” I start. “I—”

And that’s when the floodlights from a helicopter pour down on us. Everyone springs into executing the exit strategy when I notice that the lower half of the “D” sign is halfway done.

“You all go!” I shout. “Exit Route A, like we planned.”

Team Hollywood gathers up the supplies, encouraging me to come with them.

“We’re not leaving you, Rooney!” Talia screams. “Let’s go!”

“I’m staying. I got this,” I shout back. “Let me do this.”

Talia holds her gaze for another second before nodding knowingly.

Jack grabs my arm. “Rooney, come with us.”

I’m breathless. “Jack, we’re so close. This is my responsibility, my risk. It was only a matter of time before they got here. You can’t get caught. Please. Go,” I urge, pushing him to follow the others. “Don’t let them see your faces.”

Before he and the team can try to stop me, I jog to the “D” to finish the work. The police won’t come up here yet. When I’m done, I’ll go down to them.

The exit plan works, and Team Hollywood leaves no trace behind. I savor the last moments of anonymity, bracing myself for whatever comes next. It’s time to be me.