“Don’t believe I said anything nice. Not really my style. I just pointed out you were right that Riley should be released. Now I’m saying Riley doesn’t need you to defend her. She’s heard it in therapy. Over and over. It hasn’t helped then. It won’t help now.”
And that just might be the nicest thing he’s ever said, even if he doesn’t mean to be kind.
“If you want to pass the time,” he continues, “may I suggest a game of cards to take our minds off this?”
“Do we have cards?” Maria asks.
“Are you joking?” Gideon says.
“No,” Maria says. “We have to pass the time, and we’re just getting on each other’s nerves otherwise.”
I look at the counselors. “She’s right. Do we have cards? Board games?”
“Uh …” Lorenzo says. “There’s a deck in the desk over there, but I don’t think anyone’s really in the mood …”
“I am,” Brienne says.
“Sure, I’ll play,” Aaron says, and Maria goes to get the cards, and with that, we have our distraction while the waiting continues.
CHAPTER 6
Over the next hour, X-Files takes two more phone calls outside the room. We’re all trying to gauge his reaction when he comes back. We whisper and compare observations. It’s Maria, Brienne, Aaron and me playing cards. Max is watching. He occasionally offers advice, which has a fifty percent chance of being useful and a fifty percent chance of totally messing us up. In other words, he’s amusing himself by screwing with us. No one seems to care—it’s not like we’re taking the game seriously, and there are even a few chuckles when someone follows his advice and loses the hand … or fails to follow it and loses.
Gideon is pacing. I’ve got my back to him, because that pacing certainly doesn’t settle my nerves. Aimee and Lorenzo are playing counselor. By that, I mean they’re sitting between us and the men, alternately looking at one group and then the other, as if they’re keeping the peace and ready to run interference. If anything happens, though, they’ll be the last ones I turn to for help.
There’s a weird feeling in that. I’ve never thought of myself as someone who pays undue attention to authority figures. I even helped organize a couple of protests at school, which is how I ended up on the student council—the vice-principals were trying to redirect my efforts away from reforming student policy, which only gave me a better platform for it. But I guess I still look to the adults in a room when things go wrong, and now here are two who are supposed to be keeping us safe this weekend, and at this point I’d rather rely on Max, which is saying something.
X-Files comes back in. “Miss Riley, you’re up. Negotiator Will has Mr. Highgate on the line, and he’s being remarkably compliant. Time to reward that by releasing the hero.”
“She’s not a damned hero,” Gideon says. “She hid under the bed.”
Aaron and Brienne both open their mouths to come to my rescue, but I shake my head and whisper, “Please.”
“Riley’s right,” Max whispers. “Don’t goad him or this only gets worse.”
“Says the guy who specializes in making things worse,” Brienne mutters.
Max only smiles. “Exactly. I don’t like Gid stealing my thunder. You must admit, he’s not nearly as entertaining as me.”
Brienne rolls her eyes, then says, “Go on, Riley.” When I hesitate, she reaches over to squeeze my hand. “Really. Go. Sure, we’d all like it to be us, but no one’s going to begrudge you an early exit. We’ll get ours soon enough. Aaron’s dad is cooperating.”
“He will,” Aaron says. “He’s a lousy father, but he’s rich for a reason. He knows when to cut his losses and when he can turn a loss into a corporate advantage, and this is money well spent. It’ll earn him good press—the poor guy who almost lost his son.”
“All right,” I say. “Take care, then. I know you might not want to make contact when we get out, but I’d like to know you’re all okay. Aimee has my phone number and e-mail.”
“We’ll call,” Brienne says. “Get together and celebrate with ice cream.”
“I hate ice cream,” Max says.
“Good, then we won’t have to invite you.”
I get to my feet.
“Seriously,” Gideon says. “You’re going to let her go? That’s sexist.”
Brienne sighs.
“No, really,” Gideon says. “You set two girls free first. We’re told we aren’t supposed to do that anymore—women and children first—so I object.”
“This isn’t a democracy, boy,” X-Files says.
“I still object. It’s racist too.”
“Racist?” X-Files snorts. “Releasing the Latino girl instead of the white boy?”
“Exactly. You’ve freed two minorities in a row.”
“Um, Sandy was Italian,” Maria says.
“Is there a reason we’re listening to this moron?” Aaron says. “Go, Riley.”
I take another step, and Gideon lunges at me. I see him out of the corner of my eye, and I react. I spin and hit him. It’s not a punch. Not even a boxing jab. The only martial art I know is fencing, so my response is to swing my arm and wallop him.
Gideon stumbles. Then, with a roar, he charges me. Aaron grabs him. He yanks Gideon away and throws him aside, and when the smaller boy recovers, he’s face to face with Max. Gideon swings. Max staggers back fast, his hands up, saying, “No, no, no,” this look on his face … Max who had a gun on him earlier and never flinched, and now this boy—six inches shorter than him—is taking an awkward swing and Max reacts as if Gideon is throwing a hand grenade.