Not a problem, as I’m sort of at a loss for words at the moment. All I can do is look at him. Up close, I get a better view; there’s no denying the fact he is really, really good-looking, in this rakish, edgy, badass, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-screw-you-I-don’t-need-a-mirror kind of way. He has these piercing, unbelievably green eyes that are as gorgeous and sharp as the rest of him; it’s like they can see straight through me. But I don’t want to be seen. I just want answers.
Realizing his hand is still on my arm, I shake it off. He shoves his hands in his jean pockets and waits.
“How much do you know?” I ask cautiously.
“You, her. June—the urn.” He pauses. “California.”
“How did you—”
“You’re not as discreet as you think,” he says. His grin is so smug I want to punch him in the face.
“You spied on us, didn’t you?” I don’t even try to hide the amount of disgust in my tone. The thought of him listening in on our conversation by the door the whole time like some kind of creepster leaves me feeling horrified and violated and pissed off, all at the same time. I cross my arms over my chest. “Okay, so you know. Congratulations. Would you like a cookie?”
Jake looks me in the eyes intently. “I’m going with you.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he insists. He steps forward, once again violating my personal-space bubble, and lowers his voice. “You take me with you, or I swear I’ll tell your mother. I bet she’d love to hear what you’re planning to do with her dearly departed daughter’s remains. Or I could talk to your lovely aunt, who I had the pleasure of meeting the other day. She seems like the kind of person who’d be really on board with that plan.”
My heart starts racing a little faster. If Mom found out … if Aunt Helen found out … it’d be over, no question. I’d be under permanent house arrest and twenty-four-hour surveillance. And they’d probably call Dad and tell him to speed up the urn selection process, and if they split the ashes before I can figure out how the hell to get to California, that’s it. I’ll have failed before I even started.
Jake has to be bluffing.
But what if he’s not?
“Like she’d believe you,” I say sarcastically, but I’m less sure now, and he can tell.
“Like she’s not paranoid enough right now to listen to me?” He snorts. “I don’t think so.”
Damn. He has me on that one. “So now I’m being blackmailed by a tattletale?”
“Put it however you want,” he says. He heaves a long-suffering sigh, like even having this conversation is a total pain. “Look, I’ve got a van—”
“That—” I wave a hand toward the contraption parked on the curb “—is not a van. That is a death trap.”
“Leave Joplin out of this,” he retorts, and I blink in surprise. His van has a name? Before I can whip up a snarky comment, he plows on. “And I have some money, and no one who’ll even notice I’m gone. You’re talking about two minors traveling across the country. If you take a car, or a bus, you’ll never make it. The cops’ll track you down in a second.”
That—that is actually all really convincing. But I’m not ready to concede to his common sense, not yet. Everything about this is too weird. Too … wrong.
“Why do you even care?” I ask. “So my sister tutored you a few times for padding on her college apps. Big deal. You hardly knew her. Right?”
Jake doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that one. At least five different emotions flicker over his face, none of which I can pinpoint. There’s more to it—to him and June—than he’s letting on. I know it.
“That’s what I thought.” I start heading back to the door.
Good. Now I have the upper hand. Now he’s the one who’ll have to beg.
“‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down,’” he calls out to my receding back. I stop, but I don’t turn around until he breaks into a half jog to catch up to me. “Where did you hear that?”
I ignore him. “You’re hiding something. I want to know why you’re doing this.”
“I have my reasons.”
I shake my head. “That’s not good enough.” I need to know why he’d volunteer for this, why he cares about my sister at all.
“Yeah, well, too bad!” he shouts. “I told you the deal!”
Maybe my strategy isn’t working as well as I thought. I called his bluff, but he doesn’t look ready to budge. He looks me up and down and then abruptly turns away.
As he walks toward his van, he looks over his shoulder and says, “Your move, Scott.”
chapter four
Laney thinks Jake’s offer is fantastic. “It’s fate,” she gushes.
“There is no fate,” I say. “There’s what you do and what you don’t do.”
I don’t want to have this argument again. Though it would make sense, in a twisted way, for Jake’s proposition to be a sign from God. Just more proof that if He indeed exists, He hates my guts.
Laney isn’t having it. “Don’t even,” she chides. “This is nothing short of divine intervention and you know it.”
“Whatever.” I pull the phone away from my ear and double-check that my door is shut all of the way. The last thing I need is Aunt Helen eavesdropping on this particular conversation. “There has to be another way.”
That’s what I said last time, I know. But the idea of driving cross-country in a van with a boy I don’t know is too crazy. Even for me.
“Hang on a second …” Laney pauses, working it out in her head. “You didn’t tell him we’d do it?”
“Of course not. We can’t drive to California with him. We don’t even know him.”
“Are you kidding? This is perfect! This is exactly what we’ve been hoping for! He has everything we need.”
Okay, I’ll admit. Turning it down does feel a little like kicking God in the balls.
I sigh. “It’s too easy.”
“You know I love you, Harper, but seriously? That’s a really lame excuse.”
The worst is that Laney’s right; this is potentially kind of completely perfect. Minus the fact that Jake refused to answer any of my questions, no matter how hard I pushed, and he apparently holds a grudge against me for no reason I can figure out. But what other choice do I have? No good one. And I totally believed him when he threatened to blab to Aunt Helen.
Rock, meet hard place.
“All right, all right. I’ll talk to Jake.” I sigh in defeat. “I guess we need to start planning. Figure out when we should leave.”
“Do you have a target date?”
“As soon as possible. Preferably.”
She laughs. “I hear you. Exams are over, thank God, and Mom and Dad are going on a weekend trip to visit some friends in Pittsburgh—so maybe we should leave then? If it’s okay with Jake.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure it’s okay with him.”
“What are you going to do? Threaten bodily harm?”
“I’ll think of something.” I pause. Outside the door, I can hear the sound of someone coming up the stairs. “Hey, Laney, let me call you back.”
There’s