Chapter 11: Earth

“You know,” Jesse says. “I could look into it. I can poke around until I find out what charges were ever brought against you.”

“So you’re suddenly a skilled computer criminal?” My heart flips. “That's not a good idea. Hacking into government websites sounds significantly worse than stealing petty cash.”

Jesse snorts. “Most of what I’d be looking for could be located in public records.”

“Not the DMV,” I whisper.

“Why are you whispering?” Jesse leans closer to me, his voice the barest of whispers. “No one’s tapping the conversation of a gardener and a recently laid off dishwasher.” He chuckles.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Look, I’m not an idiot, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

Maybe it would be good to know what exactly is out there on me—and something Jesse said sticks with me. Why would a social worker continue to search for us? They aren’t bounty hunters. But why else would someone come after me and Jesse?

Unless.

I think about the car accident that killed Mom and Dad. “Something happened that got me thinking.”

“Uh-oh.” Jesse sighs heavily. “And you’ve strained your brain again. Is it bad this time?”

I shove him. “I was running to the bus stop, and I almost stepped into the road. . .right in front of a car. I almost became roadkill.”

No quip this time. “Whoa, and?”

“My buddy Henry yanked me backward, which saved my life. There was this wreck, right in front of me, that I would have walked right into. One car ran a light and there was a head-on collision, just like—”

“Like Mom and Dad.” The corners of his mouth turn down.

“Except for a few differences. First, it was two cars that collided, not a semi truck and a car. But most importantly, no one flew through the windshield.”

“Okay,” Jesse says.

“Do you ever wonder why Mom and Dad did?”

He shakes his head. “Did what?”

“Why didn't their seat belts stop them? Or the air bags? I'm sure they had them, even back then, right?” I shrug. “I don't know. But I have this clear memory of the accident and you and I were fine, because our seatbelts held us in place.” When I close my eyes, I can still feel the wham from the seatbelt where it blocked my movement. “Mom and Dad went shooting through the front windshield. Were they not wearing seatbelts?”

Jesse frowns. “They were. They always clicked them in place. Always.”

“Maybe we should look into that, while we’re nosing around. It just feels, I don't know, strange.”

“What exactly did you want me to look into?” Jesse’s brow furrows. “Seat belt malfunction?”

I don’t know. My brain’s spinning. Maybe I did pull a muscle in my gray matter. “Maybe hack the Washington police server, and if there's a file on their death, that means it wasn't just an accident, right?”

“Hack the Washington police server?” He rolls his eyes. “Weren't you just flipping out about me changing a date of birth on a driver’s license? Now you want me to hack a police network?”

“I don't know what you can do. If you can't, then whatever, but I was just thinking about them dying. That's what set everything else off, and it feels weird, that's all.”

“Our life has sucked,” Jesse says.

“I know.”

He sighs. “It's not your fault we had to run. Not the first time, and not the next two times. We're in this together. We always have been.” He leans against the side of the bus, and I lean my head against his shoulder. We sit like that until we reach our stop. My life sucks, but at least I've got Jesse.

I insist on stopping on the way home to grab a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread. And when we reach the register, I toss a bag of peanut butter M&Ms on the counter. Jesse shakes his head but doesn't argue.

Once we're outside, I hand him the bag. No one loves M&Ms as much as Jesse does, and peanut butter more than any other. He tosses each and every one up in the air while we walk, catching one at a time in his open mouth. We don't have a ton of money, but we don’t need a lot. Life’s greatest joys aren’t that pricey.

Once we reach our apartment, I sigh in relief. I'm glad to be done walking in the heat, and it's good to be home, even if home is simple. A wooden spool someone around the corner was throwing away that we repurposed as a table, spray painted red, white, and blue. Metal stools from Wal-Mart, and two huge beanbag chairs for the family room. Our only big-ticket items are Jesse’s laptop, which rests on an old desk we found by the dumpster, and a used television we bought from some guy down the hall in a moving sale. Thirty-six inches might not be an impressive size anymore, but it's bigger than anything we had growing up.

While Jesse showers and changes clothes—he gets really dirty at work—I start to make raven noodles. While I wait for the water to boil, I turn on the TV, sit down on a stool, and pull out my phone. No messages, which is no surprise. We both use burner phones and change them monthly. It's an extra $20 a month, and the phones aren't smart, but it seemed like the best move. I never give out my phone number, so really they just keep us connected with each other.

Something stiff in my pocket pokes my leg, and I pull out the scrap of paper with Henry's phone number on it. Since we’re due to change phones in a week and a half, I could call him. It’s not like he’d be able to find me forever, or track me. Or send that heavy gentleman my way.

Jesse sits down next to me and plonks a salad bowl full of raven in front of me. He's eating a single package, but I eat about five times as much as he does. We think it's somehow part of the Lifting I do on Terra, like I have to fuel the telekinetic somehow, whether I'm here or there, but I’m always famished, and I never gain any weight.

“Thanks for finishing up dinner.” I was distracted enough thinking about Henry that I forgot about it entirely. Good thing Jesse showers fast.

“What's that?” He eyes the paper in my hands.

“Nothing.” I fold the paper in half again and stuff it back in my pocket.

“It looked like a phone number. Do you have a boyfriend you're hiding from me?” He arches one eyebrow.

Heat rises in my cheeks.

“Whoa-ho-ho! Why are you hiding him?” He pauses, but not for long. “There’s something wrong with him, isn’t there?” He rubs his hands together in front of his beaming face. “Is he hairy? Does he smell? Oh, wait, I know.” He slaps his thighs. “He's got a lazy eye.”

“You shouldn’t make fun of people for having a lazy eye.”

He frowns. “Wait, does he have one? Because I was kidding—I don’t care.”

I shake my head. “No, of course not.”

“So he smells.”

“No, he doesn't smell. Geez.”

Jesse's eyebrows climb.

“And he’s not my boyfriend! It's the phone number of my only friend from work.”

“You have been holding out on me.” Jesse beams.

“What about you?” I deflect. “It’s not like you’ve told me about anyone from work.”

“I work with eleven other guys.” His voice is flat.

“You could be gay.”

“I could be,” he says. “But I’m not.”

“Fine. Look, it’s Henry, the other dishwasher at work who yanked me back from that wreck. He had followed me out to give me his number, because he offered to help me. Henry, the flaky, always-late dishwasher, is going to help me.” I snort. “It was a kind offer, but not one I’ll be taking.”

“Umm, let's review. He saved your life today. He makes you blush and sputter defensively. And he sprinted out to make sure he’d hear from you again. On top of all that, he’s always late, but he didn’t get fired. Maybe he does have connections he could use to find you a new job. Or am I missing anything?”

“He might be a little bit cute.”

“Oh my goodness.” Jesse bats his eyes and smirks. “Well, if you don't call him I'm, like, totally going to do it for you.”

“Whatever.”

Jesse snatches my phone and flips it open. When he speaks, it's in falsetto. “Why hello, Henry! Yes, of course I called.” He pauses. “Well, only because I love you, and I can't live without you. Why yes, I did notice your huge muscles when you rescued me from certain death today.” He giggles. “Oh, I do think I owe you something for that.” He shimmies at me.

I lunge forward and grab my phone. “Knock it off. I need to think about it before I call him.”

“Why? What is there to think about? Are you worried he's an undercover agent for Washington Social Services? He's probably not the first agent they've sent undercover across state lines to haul you home.”

I frown. “Stop making fun of me.”

“I'm sorry, but what started out as a healthy amount of caution has turned into an excuse to hide from the world. You may not like like this guy Henry, but it's time we each found some friends. Maybe even someone who knows, I don't know, our real name. Or, if we’re feeling über crazy, our actual age.”

“Friends?” I can barely process the word. People to whom we don’t owe anything and with whom we spend time. . . for fun.

“Call Henry, and if the most you get out of it is a work referral you can use and your last chunk of cash, you're still better off than if you don't call.”

“You haven't called that John guy yet.” I cross my arms. “I guess we're both chicken.”

He raises one eyebrow at me. “Maybe we are.”

I think about what he said while I finish my ramen, and then I hold up my phone. “I’ll call Henry in my room, and you stay here and call John. Deal?”

There’s no hint of laughter in Jesse’s eyes when he says, “Deal.”