We end up back at the Commons and the tree with the giant twisted root. We look at the tree, the sky, the lawn. We listen to rustling in the bushes. Finally there’s nowhere else to look but at each other.
“I need to go,” she finally says.
“Sure.”
“Will you have a hard time sleeping tomorrow night?” she asks.
“I think I might.”
She nods and leaves but when she’s only a few yards away she turns and says, “You answered my question. It’s only fair that I answer yours. Yes. Sometimes my father is stern with me too.”
A Sudden Dip
I sleep through early afternoon. My habit of “sleeplessness” is catching up with me. For the last four nights I’ve met Raine in the park.
Each night our visits grow longer, mostly walking through the Commons and public gardens, and each night I get a piece of information from her, probably small and useless, maybe not. I don’t push. These are small slips in passing. She offers these freely. The A Group has been together for three years. No new additions in that time. She’s surprised I was invited to join. I don’t tell her that I’m surprised as well. When I mentioned meeting LeGru at the Somerset Club, she told me she hates her father’s assistant. She thinks he has soulless eyes. When he comes to their apartment, which is often, she stays in her room or goes to the roof to feed the pigeons.
I noted her spontaneous smile when she told me about feeding the birds even though it’s against the rules of the apartment association. It seems the rooftop is her domain and she does as she pleases there. A fat white pigeon that she’s named Rufus is her favorite. There’s still tension between us, distance that she’s clearly maintaining—and yet she still comes. And every night as we part she asks again if I might have a hard time sleeping the next night. And every night my answer is the same. Yes.
I throw on some clothes and grab my pack. I’ve stayed put in the apartment during the daytime for as long as I can. I need to get out and I head for Quincy Market, walking at a brisk pace like something inside of me is stuck in high gear. I wonder how Raine fills her days? Will I ever see her in the light of day?
I walk through the shops taking samples that are offered, mindful of not using my money card. It’s Miesha’s money and I’d like to give it back to her if I can. Free samples are scarce today so I finally splurge and buy a sandwich, an old-fashioned Italian sub. It tastes almost like the ones my mom used to bring home from the deli at her market, loaded with peperoncini.
With the first bite, a wave of homesickness hits me, even though technically, I am home, and in practically the same moment, I think about the disposable phone tabs I saw at the checkout. Three on a card, each good for twenty minutes. Carver may have said no phone contact, but what harm would a disposable phone tab do? No one would know and I would throw it away right after I used it. I eat my sandwich, thinking about Jenna, Miesha, Allys, and Kayla, the closest people I have to family now, and after my last bite, I walk back to the counter and buy the phone tabs. I walk outside looking for a private place to talk and spot a dark, quiet service entrance for a gelato shop.
“Hello? Jenna?”
“Locke?” In one word, I can tell she’s surprised to hear from me. “Miesha said you wouldn’t be able to contact us.”
Hearing her voice makes the knot in my throat twist tighter. “Yeah, so I need to keep this short, but I had to call.”
“Are you all right?”
I lean against the brick wall staring down at my boots. It’s only been a short time since I saw her, since she kissed my cheek at the train station, but it already seems like a lifetime ago. “I’m fine.”
“Locke, what is it? Something isn’t right. I can hear it in—”
“No. I promise you everything’s okay.”
“But?” She won’t let it go. I should have known I couldn’t hide anything from Jenna.
?
??But the Favor turned out to be a little more complicated than I expected. It’s going to take a lot longer than I thought.”
“Things that matter usually do.”
“I know, I know, you told me, change doesn’t happen overnight,” I parrot back to her, “but … there’s more to it than that.”
She’s silent waiting for me to continue. There’s no video on these cheap phone tabs, but I can imagine her biting her lip, holding her breath.
“You have to promise you won’t tell Miesha.”
“You know I won’t.”
I tell her the rumors about Karden, the Secretary who is possibly holding him, the eighty billion duros, and the Secretary’s daughter who is my in to get me closer to him and his hidden information—if there really is any to be had.
“The Network doesn’t jump on things like this without reason,” she answers. “Karden was a good man, one of the bravest, most determined people I ever knew. If after all this time, he’s alive—”