Tarah shrieked, forcing me to reach out and clamp a hand over her mouth. With my free hand I pulled her back down low in the seat so we wouldn’t be spotted.
“Tarah, listen to me! We can’t save him, and you’ll only make it harder on him if they catch you too.”
A pointy little elbow jabbed me hard in the ribs. “I don’t care!”
“Your dad does. Do you think he’d want you to be arrested too?”
Tears began to pour down her face, every single drop of them killing me a little more.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “But we can’t just go running out there to try and save him.”
She stared at me with big, pleading eyes...the same look she used to give me when we were kids. She knew how hard it was for me to say no when she used that look on me.
I swore again under my breath. “Stop looking at me like that. You know I’m right.”
She pushed backwards until she flopped down low in the front passenger seat again and stared out the windshield as more tears slid down her cheeks.
Unable to stand seeing her cry anymore, I turned away, watching the soldiers wrapping up their arrests as they hauled their prisoners up onto their feet then pushed them into the back end of the military truck. I noticed a soldier up in the truck bed was slapping every prisoner’s neck as they were loaded in.
Ten minutes later, the truck started up and slowly pulled down the street, passing us in the process.
“Start the engine,” Tarah hissed.
“What?”
“Hurry up, before they get too far ahead of us!”
I stared at her. She’d stopped crying. But now her eyes were dark and narrowed into determined slits, another look I knew far too well. I think I preferred her crying.
“We are not following them,” I said.
“Yes we are.”
I shook my head and started the truck’s engine, planning to take her home instead.
“Hayden, either you follow that truck right now or I will find a way to make them arrest me! I have to at least know where they’re taking him.”
Her eyes widened, turning wild in that way they always used to when we were kids just before she went berserker crazy on her enemy, regardless of whether that enemy at the time happened to be me, my brother, or an imaginary dragon. Once her temper was up and she’d made up her mind, there was absolutely no stopping her.
Seconds ticked by as the military truck got caught by a light one block ahead of us, giving me a little more time to decide but not much.
If I didn’t help her follow that truck full of prisoners and her dad, she would do something crazy to purposely get arrested. And then I’d have no hope of helping her. At least this way I would be the one behind the wheel and able to keep her safe.
“Fine,” I growled. “Put on your seatbelt.”
Dad was really going to kill me if we got caught doing this.
We stayed several car lengths away from the truck while it was in town, the frequent stoplights and the truck's height making it easy to keep the truck in sight despite the distance and other cars between us. Then it turned onto the highway and headed west. It looked like we might have a long drive ahead of us.
I let the distance grow between us and the bigger truck.
“What are you doing? We’re going to lose it,” Tarah muttered.
“No we won’t.”
“What if it turns off—”
“Then we’ll see it turn and follow,” I said. “But we’ve got to stay back far enough so they don’t notice us. If your dad is at the nearest camp, we won't be any use to him if we get caught following them and they throw us in with him.”
“Oh please, like you’re really worried about that. You’re Senator Shepherd’s son. You’re not going to do time in any internment camp or prison no matter what you get caught doing.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” I grumbled.
She glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “What are you talking about? Your dad would bail you out in a heartbeat.”
But she didn't know my dad or his idea of tough love. Dad had called in a ton of favors to get my last mess cleared up after all those deaths. If I wound up in trouble over this Clann business too, it might push him too far.
Knowing my dad, he might decide to let me spend a few weeks in an internment camp just to teach me a lesson, especially since the media would never find out about it. He could always explain away my absence, say I went on a trip abroad or was studying at some secluded private school for final college preparations. Mom would be ticked off at him, of course, and she'd probably work hard to convince him to reduce my sentence. But if a short stay in an internment camp seemed the way to finally ensure I got the message to fit in or else, he just might allow it.
Feeling Tarah's waiting stare, I glanced at her. She was frowning, confused, trying to understand. But she'd never get it. How could she? Before they'd moved away across town, I'd spent enough time as a kid at Tarah's house eating homemade cookies and snacks to know she came from a tight knit family who actually loved each other, in spite of how much they used to yell at each other. Tarah would never have to fight to earn her parents' approval, never have to doubt their love.
Growing up as one of the many generations of Shepherds destined for political greatness, and all the endless pressure of expectations and responsibilities that came with it, was an experience no outsider would ever understand. So why try to explain?
Tarah
Silence filled the cab as I waited for an explanation Hayden didn't seem to want to give.
I drummed my fingers on my thighs. He had to be joking. How could his parents really be that horrible? Sure, his parents had never been around when we were kids, leaving their boys in the care of a housekeeper while they went to charity and political events. But even busy parents still loved their kids. And no parent would ever knowingly let their kid stay in an internment camp. Right?
As the silence stretched on and on, I started to wonder. Maybe I knew even less about Hayden than I'd thought.
My parents would do anything—absolutely anything—to get me out of an internment camp as fast as they could. Even my mother, who never agreed with me on anything, would still fight tooth and nail to free me.
When the silence lasted longer than I could stand, I sighed and gave in to at least part of the source of my nagging guilt. “Thanks for getting me out of there back at the bookstore.”