Take Me Tomorrow Page 2

  The officer leaned over, peered into the back, and smiled at the toddler boy sleeping. I wondered for a moment if he had a son himself, sleeping at home, but the question dissipated when a wicked smirk crossed his lips. “Well, then. I’m going to go back to the car and check this information out. I’ll be right back.” He left the Jeep, disappeared into the rain, and returned to his vehicle.

  We let out a heavy sigh as if we breathed together.

  “Good job,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on the dash while Lyn applied gloss to her bitten lips.

  “Everything is a scare tactic with these people. They don’t check everything,” she reminded me of how she had spent twenty-four years of her life in Albany. “A coworker told me they upped security recently,” she added. “Hopefully, he’s done asking questions.”

  Before I could question our decision, the officer returned. He handed Lyn her wallet. “Everything checked up,” he stated. “I’m assuming you’re off to work.”

  Lyn’s polite smile was practiced perfection, “I didn’t want to leave the kids at home by themselves. Not on a weekend, anyway.”

  The officer chuckled, and rain droplets bounced off of his jacket. “If only more parents were like you, we wouldn’t have as many problems.” Then, he nodded, wished us safe travel, and returned to his car.

  Lyn gripped the steering wheel as she pulled away from the curb. “You still want to go through with this?” she asked, referring to my visitation of Broden. She knew how much his friendship meant to me. He had been in trouble before. He had just gotten out of military school, and if he was getting sent to Phoenix, I had to see him now or I might not have the chance to again. Even then, my decision was selfish.

  “Will you still let me?” I asked, waiting for Lyn to decide that the risk wasn’t worth the trip, but she kept her gaze on the road.

  “Just tell that boy to behave when you see him,” she grumbled, driving straight toward the hospital.

  …

  Stretching over a series of blocks, the hospital was more of an enormous neighborhood than an array of sterilized buildings. My father continuously joked how it was the largest neighborhood, jail, and employer in town. Under the thunderstorm’s shadows, I didn’t find the comparison humorous.

  Lyn parked the Jeep in the main parking lot, and I snatched her security card off of the mirror. “You stole that card from me,” she reminded me, her brown eyes blazing in the blackness.

  I nodded, got out the passenger door, and met the rain. The cold wetness tempted me to rush to the front door’s covering, but the side entrance was the only one I could get into without questions.

  I darted between cars, and I allowed gravity to guide my feet down a slick hill, grateful that I wasn’t wearing my school uniform. At the bottom of the hill, I pressed against a brick wall, one hand supporting my sudden stop, the other hand scanning Lyn’s security card through the lock.

  With a loud click, the thick door sprang open, and the air-conditioning stung against the rain on my skin. I hugged my favorite sweater as I shivered. I spent enough time following Lyn around the hospital that I already knew I was in the right wing. Finding Broden’s room wouldn’t be much harder. Broden’s mother had a voice that was beyond distinguishable. It was high, whiny, and tight, not to mention, loud. I hardly had to walk down one hallway before I heard her arguing with an unfamiliar doctor.

  “This is his third fight in two years.”

  “His first fight in six months,” his mother retorted as I gripped the wall behind them, waiting. “He’s doing much better outside military school.”

  “Ma’am,” the doctor paused. Someone tapped their foot. “Sir,” the doctor turned his attention to Mr. O’Conner, Broden’s father and fellow doctor. “I know this is hard. I know how hard you’ve both worked to keep your son out of trouble, but—”

  “But what?” Mrs. O’Conner’s voice was threatening. I could only imagine what she must have looked like − her light brown curls frizzing from rain, her dark red lips pressed together in a thin line. Her lipstick was never out of place.

  The doctor sighed. “This fight—”

  “Attack,” she corrected, making my heart jump.

  Another sigh. “There’s no way to prove Broden was attacked.”

  “There’s no way to prove otherwise.”

  “He has a history,” the doctor cut her off. “And, quite frankly, Mrs. O’Conner, your son needs structure. Military structure. And without it, he’s going to continue this erratic behavior. Next thing you know, he’ll be taking tomo—”

  “Our son,” his mother’s voice dropped to a low tone she saved for when she was furious, “does not do drugs.”

  “We tested him.”

  “And it came out negative,” she snarled.

  “It may have been negative, but his x-rays proved that he didn’t come in here immediately after his injuries,” the doctor’s voice rose, “and one of the nurses swears on her job that she saw his eyes reflect when he was brought in. Whoever dropped him off fled.”

  Broden’s mother didn’t argue this time, but Mr. O’Connor begged her to calm down. Muffled whispering echoed off the sterile walls before the two men began to speak, discussing paperwork. Broden was returning to military school, an institute he had earned his release from two years ago. He had worked earnestly to prove he didn’t belong with the troubled, angered, and violent kids of the Topeka Region, but now he was going back. With his record, he would be lucky if they only sent him there. He could easily be forced to work in the lumberyards, or worse, he could be deported to Phoenix for jail time.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “You can get everything at the check-out desk,” the doctor explained. “I have other patients to attend to, but I will check on Broden in twenty minutes and sign his leave.”

  The doctors thanked one another while Broden’s mother remained silent. Footsteps rushed down separate halls, and I counted out my few breaths to slow down my pounding heart. When my heart slowed, I peered around the corner.

  The hall was empty.

  I rushed forward and pushed my way through the heavy cloth of the room they had been guarding.

  There he was, lying on the table. When he saw me, he sprung up as if he weren’t injured, “Sophia—”

  “What happened to you?” I spat out, yanking the blinds closed behind me. It was only then that I took a chance to look at him.

  His brown hair matted to the left side of his face, dirt and sweat settled into his exposed scalp. Red scraps ran down the right side of his face, and he had a black eye. Two jagged cuts split across his eyebrow – now, stitched closed with a thin, black wire. His blue jacket had spots of dried blood, and his left arm rested in a white sling, wrapped up. Broden’s good behavior was ruined.

  I gawked. “Your arm is broken,” I managed. Miles was right. Whatever fight Broden had been in, he had lost, and Broden never lost. The word “attacked” echoed the way “tomo” had.

  “It’s only a fracture,” he corrected, opening his palm. This was his way of telling me to calm down.

  “Only a fracture?” My question was my way of refusing to calm down.

  “Sophia.” His legs kicked over the side of the bed, so he could face me. “I’m okay—”

  “Okay and returning to military school?” I retorted.

  Broden’s copper-colored eyes darkened to shadows. He already knew. He may have been angry about it, but he already knew. He was going back.

  “How’d you know I was here?” he asked.

  “Miles.” I didn’t have to explain how I had gotten in the hospital. I had done it for him before.

  “Did he give it to you, then?” Broden asked. “My watch?”

  I threw the silver jewelry at him, and the metal smacked against his lap. Broden picked it up like I had handed it over softly.

  He sat up and read the time like he always did. It was the number one pet peeve I had against him. He did this constantly, even though the crown of his watch
was broken. The time was off, but he refused to fix it.

  “Thank you,” he said, shoving it into his jacket.

  “They’re saying you took tomo.”

  Broden hung his head as he cursed. “I’m in trouble.”

  This was not the response I was expecting.

  My back pressed against the wall as I whispered, “Tell me you didn’t take it.”

  Broden didn’t speak. Not even a word. He didn’t say he did it, but I knew him well enough to know what he meant by his silence. He had taken tomo − the clairvoyant drug that had already killed so many, the same drug he almost died from two years ago.

  In our silence, Broden scooted to the end of the bed, and his long legs stretched to the ground. Even sitting, Broden was taller than me, but I barely hit five feet. His height didn’t bother me, but for once, I wished I was looking down at him instead.

  “I need your help, Sophia.”

  My gaze locked on the tile floor as I fought the images of his previous escapades out of my memory. He may have only had a broken arm this time, but last time, his entire body had been a bloody mess.

  “Trust me,” he spoke, resting his unbroken hand on his leg.

  I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t stare at the bruises on his knuckles. The injuries on his body were more prominent than the Albany tattoos on Lyn’s arms.

  “On Monday,” he continued, “I need you to bring me a bag of food, water, and one of your dad’s knives to school.”

  My eyes popped open. “What?” I squeaked. I had only shown Broden the forgery once, and he hadn’t mentioned it since. He wouldn’t mention it unless he had to. Unless it was an emergency.

  Broden was pale. “I would do it myself, but they’re watching me.” His brown eyes moved to the doorway, and I remembered the doctor saying he would be back. “I can’t do this without you.”

  I stared at my best friend, wondering who my closest friend was, asking myself if I ever knew him at all. I questioned what Broden’s life was like before I knew him − the fights and the tomo − and how he was returning to that previous lifestyle. The panic in Miles’ eyes flashed in my memory, and my stomach twisted with the realization that he must have been involved, too. I had met Broden through him, after all.

  “Did you see me helping you on Monday?” I asked, referring to the visions that tomo revealed when consumed. Feeling as if I had lost all my morality in a moment, Broden dropped eye contact, stared at the wall, and nodded.

  That Sounds Dangerous

  A soft rapping caused my bedroom door to creak open. A hulky man carried in my white hamper with one hand while eating with the other. Argos, the fierce, black dog that normally kept at my side, was at the man’s feet. His eyes focused on my father’s peanut butter sandwich.

  I laughed. “Explains where he was,” I said as my dad dropped my laundry basket.

  He glanced at the dog and shrugged as if he hadn’t noticed Argos’ begging. My bedroom was painted a soft brown, but the golden light from my single lampshade caused my dad’s fair skin to look tan and worn. His pepper-gray hair was lighter, and his wrinkles appeared like a badge of stress.

  I sat up from the pile of pillows I was using as the perfect reading spot. Tonight, I was obsessing over The Iliad, but it could wait. Chilly night air rushed over my once-warm back, and I shivered, glancing at my open window. “You’re home early,” I said.

  My dad wiped breadcrumbs onto his dark pants. “Just got home,” he commented, fiddling with a pair of glasses that hung from his front pocket. His eyesight was perfect, but he carried glasses like the students that wore Phelps’ achievement badges − for demanded respect.

  “You weren’t supposed to be back yet.”

  I hadn’t expected to see him for two more weeks. He was assigned to direct new military trainers to Boise. If anything, his job should’ve taken more time, not less.

  He glanced around my bedroom as if he expected it to change while he was out of town. “Are you ready for school tomorrow?” he reminded me of how my summer freedom was coming to an abrupt end. I cringed, and he laughed. “At least you can look forward to that one party.”

  That one party was Topeka’s Homecoming. It happened during the last weekend of August, and it was thrown by the students. Considering it was the one evening curfew was lifted, the event was highly anticipated. It also allowed students from different schools to meet.

  This year, Miles’ twin sister, Lily, was coordinating the party. It was an honor since she was being recognized for all of her achievements. She couldn’t stop talking about it, yet I had barely paid attention to it. Now that Broden couldn’t come, I was even less inclined to think about it.

  “Lyn told me about Broden,” my dad spoke up.

  I frowned. “Is that why you’re home?”

  He shook his head. “Phelps had an emergency.”

  I whistled low. “That sounds dangerous.”

  “Probably is,” my father agreed. “Border patrol detected someone entering Topeka illegally.”

  The blond-haired boy from earlier that day flashed through me as if I had consumed tomo and watched him appear before my eyes. My vision disappeared as I curled my fist. “What?”

  “Nothing to worry about, kid,” he said. “It happens more often than you think,” he explained his job openly even though he wasn’t supposed to. My family was never the type to follow the rules. But his comforting didn’t work this time.

  Crossing the region borders illegally and successfully demanded skill. Whoever had done it knew what they were doing, and they would know how to protect themselves afterward.

  “What’s the big deal, then?” I asked.

  He shrugged, but his wrinkles deepened around his frown. “I wanted to take it on,” he dismissed. “I’m only back for the rest of the week.”

  “You’re leaving again,” I reworded his sentence.

  “Early Friday morning.” His rough hands pet Argos. “You’ll still be asleep.”

  Unable to respond, I gazed out my bedroom window. The stars burned against the darkness, but the sky was clear from yesterday’s storm. The delightful calmness relaxed my nerves for only a moment.

  Argos barked, and I jumped. When my dad raised his brow at me, my cheeks burned with an unspoken apology. He may not have been around often, but he was still my father, and Dwayne Gray seemed to know everything, even when he wasn’t supposed to.

  “Everything’s fine,” I promised. “I’m just stressed about the first day of school.”

  He smirked, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he reached into his pocket and threw a small bag full of miscellaneous objects at me. I caught it, but the weight of the coins flung it over my outstretched fingers until it wrapped the plastic around my hand.

  “Your pockets,” he lectured. “Clean them out before putting your clothes in the washing machine.”

  I grinned. “Next time.” We had this conversation every time I attempted laundry.

  “I’m sure,” he laughed as he backed out of my room, shutting the door behind him with Argos at his side. I listened to them walk down the hallway, my father murmuring to my pet as if Argos was his other child.

  I laid back to stare at the ceiling before I leapt up.

  My heart pounded against my ribs as if the organ was trying to break free. I clawed myself across my covers to the plastic bag, and I ripped it with one desperate tug. Coins splattered across the floor, pieces of thread and old receipts littering the blanket in front of me. My breath stopped.

  With shaking hands, I dug through the trash, an image of the blond-haired boy consuming me − his ripped shirt, his black watch, his calm exterior, and then, the panic in his eyes when I snatched up his paper. I had shoved it in my pocket, but now it was among my trash, crumbled around the edges.

  I straightened the paper out. The writing scrawled across it was smudged from water, but it remained legible. The note revealed the stranger’s intentions. He wasn’t a lost boy, trespassing onto my land to find a park. In fa
ct, he wasn’t lost at all. He knew exactly where he was, and he was confident on where he was headed.

  Scribbled down in permanent ink wasn’t a phone number or a name, or even a clue about who he was. It was my address.

  You’re Telling Me Everything

  My gray heels tapped against the pavement as the relentless sunlight beamed off of Lily’s white hair. Only two years ago, Lily – Miles’ twin sister − had decided not to look like her brother anymore, and she bleached her hair, chemically straightening it. Today, it twisted into a long braid that swung as she walked.

  She was alive with excitement, unable to calm down about the Homecoming party, and I was trying to listen to every bit. So far, all I comprehended was the amount of hours she had devoted into what would be the best Homecoming party Topeka students would ever see.

  “Hey, Lils, Sophia,” Miles shouted, raising a hand to wave from the end of the courtyard. The school uniform for boys consisted of a long-sleeved, blue jacket, white-collared shirt, and tan slacks. He had to be suffocating in the August heat, but he grinned as he leaned on the front gate.

  It was a ritual that happened every day after school. Lily ran up to her brother, and I walked after her. Standing next to Miles, Lily’s white hair did little to differ the siblings. Their tan skin and dark eyes were undeniably related, and they both teetered a few inches above me.

  “How was your first day?” Lily asked, appearing younger than her calm brother. Miles nodded in response, and Lily began recounting her day in extravagant detail.

  Before her monologue deepened, she turned me around to face her, “I have news,” she chirped, her shoulders bouncing. I tried to force a smile back, but Lily took one glance at me before she sighed, “You’ll like it.”

  “Okay,” I said while she squeezed my hands. “What is it?”

  “There’s a boy,” she sang her news and shifted her weight from her heels to her toes. “He just transferred from an internship at Phoenix. He’s working under Phelps himself as he finishes his senior year.”