The Ward by Jordana Frankel

Author:Jordana Frankel [Frankel, Jordana]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

23

“It’s fine, Ren. We’ll go with you to Ward Hope and you can drop us off there,” Benny says, nodding to Terrence.

I force a smile, except that’s the last thing I want them doing—I’m being followed, I know I am, and if we all boat together, they’re going to know it too.

Derek leans forward in his seat, touches my knee. I pull my eyes from the water to look at him. He’s so close. . . . My heart watches him harder than my eyes do—his curls, they dangle over his forehead. Fire let loose in the daylight.

“I’d like to come with, if that’s all right,” he says, seeming sincere. “To visit Aven. I never should have left the hospital, Ren. I’m sorry. I just . . .” He’s pleading, head bent so close to my thigh. “I had to go.”

Maybe it was an emergency. Maybe he didn’t abandon me to spend time with his Not-Girlfriend. The next words are out of my mouth before I realize it—

“Sure. Of course you can come,” I say, not letting on how thankful I am. I don’t want to be back in that place alone.

Ter huffs, lowering himself onto the floor of the mobile. He’s sullen, and understandably so. His shiny carrot didn’t even make it two full days. He clenches his fist, and under his breath I hear him curse himself for trusting Kent.

“I’d offer to come too,” he says, “but I don’t want to give my dad more to ream me out about, especially not once he sees I’m home without the mobile.”

I pat his shoulder. Can’t say I understand, ’cause I don’t. Instead I go with, “No worries.”

In the curling white trail of waves, I scan for an agent.

Though nothing seems unusual, he must be there. An Omni fell off a rooftop, for crying out loud. If the guy somehow lost me with a bread-crumb trail that size, he shouldn’t be working for the DI.

I start to fidget, tapping my fingers on the mobile’s siding. The sun is so bright it actually feels heavy. Benny’s Cloud is a smooth ride, with floats on either side cushioning each wake—but it makes no difference. Being without the cover of buildings or bridges stirs my anxiety. We’ve left the racing quadrants, heading north over open waters, so these next two miles are a dead zone: no canals, no gutters. Not even important enough to get a quadrant number. The Wash Out pretty much dunked all these buildings off the horizon.

Every ten seconds, I do a sweep of the area. To distract the others, I call up to Benny, “Hey, you ever figure out what happened to my Rimbo? Why’d she bunk on me?”

He turns to me and his face goes all wrinkly. “Ahh . . . that.” He pats the steering wheel.

Derek, Ter, and I all exchange looks, waiting for more.

“You wouldn’t believe it—or, perhaps you would.” He stops to face the water again. “Evidence suggests that your mobile was, quite possibly, tampered with.

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