“I’d bet on it,” Nico tells her.
“You’ll bet on anything,” she says, smiling. A smile that lights up even this grim place.
She’s right, but gambling pays off sometimes. It was a gamble, after all, that Annie would like him. Nico isn’t a visionary like Arty. Isn’t strong and smart like Ben. Isn’t good at guitar like Donnie.
Isn’t good at anything really, except maybe being a smartass. Maybe that’s why his mom didn’t come back.
He looks around to make sure nobody’s watching. “I, um, got you something.” He hands her the small box. She opens it and removes the necklace that has letters spelling out her name: Annie.
“That’s so sweet. You didn’t need to…”
“I wanted to.”
They sit quietly as the sun goes down.
As they’re about to head to the house, Annie says, “The lady’s back.” She’s staring at the verge of the park.
Arty must’ve seen the woman and gone the long way because he’s on the other side now. Mr.
Brood is standing with the mysterious woman in the fancy clothes who shows up now and then in her fancy car. She’s too stylish to be from the department of children’s services. In Nico’s three years at Savior House, social workers appear only when they’re dropping off a kid.
Nico looks at them. Who is this lady?
“Maybe she’s Derek’s mom,” Annie says as Derek Brood walks up to the lady and his father.
“No way this lady gave birth to that pile of ugly.”
“We should go,” Annie says, eyeing Derek, who’s walking in their direction.
“He won’t do anything with that lady watching,” Nico says.
Annie narrows her eyes, like she knows better.
Nico’s pulse quickens as Derek walks purposefully toward the monkey bars. Be brave. For once in your life, be brave.
Derek glowers at them. “I heard faggots hung out at this park, but I didn’t know sluts did too.”
Nico swallows. Be brave. He feels for his silver dollar in his pocket. He pulls it out, eyes it in his palm. Tails. He should retreat. No, not in front of Annie.
Quietly, in a barely discernable tone, Nico says, “Douchebags say ‘what?’”
Derek scowls. “What?”
This elicits a laugh from Annie.
“What you say, motherfucker?” Derek says.
Nico looks out at the lady and Mr. Brood. Derek won’t do anything with them watching. There’s always later tonight— Comeout come out wherever you are—but not now. And Ben and Donnie and Arty will be home later and there’s safety in numbers.
“You got something to say, come down here and say it.” Derek’s angry they’re laughing at him.
Nico drains the Mountain Dew bottle. “Why don’t you come up here instead?”
Annie laughs again. She stops when Derek runs over, jumps up, and wraps his arms around Nico’s legs. He tugs Nico off the cage of metal, and Nico hits the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him.
“Stop! ” Annie shouts as Derek kicks Nico in the stomach.
Nico feels like he’s suffocating as he flops around on the ground. He looks out at Mr. Brood and the woman, expecting them to run over to break it up. But they just watch.
Derek kicks him again. Nico balls up, caging his head with his hands. After years in group homes, he knows you should always protect your head. As he gasps for air, his eyes snag on the woman. She’s shaking her head but doing nothing. Annie is screaming, but Derek isn’t stopping. He reaches down, grabs Nico’s hair, lifting his head so they’re looking at each other. His eyes are dark and cold. Nico fears he’ll slam his head into the blacktop.
But then Derek goes flying. His feet actually leave the asphalt. Nico turns to see what happened.
It’s the new girl.
Derek rises from the blacktop, rage shadowing his features.
But the new girl has already scurried up the play structure. He’s chasing her, but she crawls like a spider, moves like a gymnast. As he nears her, she swings around, her feet connecting squarely with Derek’s face.
Mr. Brood and the woman finally come over. Nico swears the woman has a faint smile on her face. She points to the new girl.
“You, what’s your name?”
The woman has an accent, Nico isn’t sure from where. French, maybe.
“Jenna.”
The woman nods to Mr. Brood, turns, and disappears.
Nico comes to, still in the mine. His body is radiating heat, he’s disoriented. He manages to turn on his cell phone, click on the flashlight. That’s when he sees them.
Two dead rats.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JENNA
The Uber drops Jenna on Wisconsin, a block from Sidwell Friends School, to avoid the scooter guy tracing her to Willow. She makes it to the front of the building. Two girls wearing the school’s uniform bound out the doors. They’re smiling and nearly vibrating with teen energy.
Jenna studies the area. She sees nothing suspicious. But this makes her more anxious: the Corporation always makes sure nothing looks suspicious. Jenna escaped. The Corporation doesn’t screw up like this.
She straightens herself as she awaits the iris scanner to unlock the school’s front doors. Sidwell Friends is an obnoxiously expensive private school, one filled with the spawn of Washington’s elite.
The parents are generally put together—they have nannies and personal assistants and housekeepers for the hard stuff in life—and the moms are usually dressed to the nines. And they certainly don’t show up looking sweaty and disheveled.
Jenna agreed to send Willow to Sidwell for the simple reason that the president’s daughter and the children of no fewer than five cabinet officials are students here. It ensures that the school is under heavy Secret Service protection. And her former employer would know that. A stranger caught casing the school would be shoved into a government van before they knew what hit them. But Jenna isn’t a stranger. She’s a parent. So, disheveled or not, a second scanner, this one for the main office, buzzes her in.
The woman working the front desk says, “Can I help you?” She peers over her glasses pinched on her nose. No smile. Between the overbearing parents and entitled teenagers, Jenna suspects the woman’s customer-is-always-right instincts were extinguished long ago.
“Hi. I’m Willow Raines’s mom.” If Willow had been present, she would’ve quickly corrected her by saying “step mom.” But no need to complicate things now. “I totally spaced out that she has a dentist appointment this afternoon, and I need to check her out.”
Without saying a word, the receptionist pecks on her computer, probably pulling up Willow’s schedule. The woman picks up the phone.
Jenna smiles, tries to look nonchalant. Her daughter is safe at the school. She wonders if Willow would be safer staying put. Maybe, but only briefly. She can’t stay here forever. And right now Jenna has the advantage of time.
The receptionist’s brow furrows. She murmurs something into the line. Then hangs up.
“Willow has AP Lit sixth period. But her teacher says she didn’t come to class. She also missed
fourth and fifth periods.”
Jenna’s heart races. She needs to remain calm. “Oh,” she manages. “Maybe she remembered and took an Uber to the doctor.”