10. Clara

CHAPTER 10

Clara

I've decided it's not worth it to get out of bed. Not if it means I'm going to be forced into another intimidation tactic or vicious mind game. I don't even want to draw. Instead, I burrow under the plush comforter, hide my face in my pillow, and try desperately to shut out the world.

I get to enjoy about ten minutes of that before I hear a quiet rattle at my door.

For a few seconds I just listen, wondering if it's Thomas coming back to threaten me some more. But no, whoever's outside is messing with the door knob. I sit up just as it viciously turns and Raleigh bursts into the room.

I jump out of bed. "What are you-"

"No time," she snaps. "Thomas just left and Iris went with him. I'm driving you to the nearest bus stop and you're getting the hell out of here."

I'm so relieved I don't even think about it. I run to her and fling my arms around her shoulders. She stiffens against me, but before I can pull away, she hugs me fiercely right back. Too soon, she releases me and steps away.

"Come on, we need to hurry. "

She leads me into the now-familiar hallway and toward the garage. At every corner we slow and listen, but we don't see anyone in our way. Raleigh ducks into the garage first, then when she's sure it's clear, waves me inside. She leads me to a candy apple red Bentley in the corner and opens the trunk. The license plate, surrounded by rhinestones, says "STOLEN".

"Just until we get out the gates," she clarifies when I hesitate.

Swallowing, I duck inside and fold my legs into my chest. Raleigh slams the hood over me, and I'm entombed in darkness and silence. The car shifts when Raleigh opens her door and gets inside, and then the engine roars to life all around me. I close my eyes, pretending as hard as I can that I'm not trapped in a space that's far too small and smells like gasoline. It's too much like waking up last night, lost and drowning in smoke.

The car rolls over gravel, and I wonder if it's my own imagination that Raleigh is driving a little too fast. When we were friends, the two of us were too young to have driver's licenses, and I still don't have one. Thinking of Raleigh behind the wheel of a luxury car is like imagining a cat on a pogo stick.

I have to brace myself to keep from rolling into the wall of the trunk when the car stops abruptly. Raleigh calls to whoever is on watch at the gate, her tone sweet as sugar. "Let me out for an hour? I have to buy new panties, can you believe it? Lost all mine in the fire!"

A man's voice stammers an affirmative, and Raleigh honks the horn in thanks. "Don't tell my brother, yeah? It's soooo embarrassing."

Then she peels out of the gates, and I have to fight not to squeal in terror.

Every turn of the road is a violent roll. Never mind feeling trapped in the small darkness, I'm starting to feel seasick. Luckily, Raleigh slows after a few minutes. I count the seconds as the car parks and the engine turns off. When she opens the hood above me, the light blinds me.

"Sorry," Raleigh says, helping me stumble out. "You okay?"

Once I blink my eyes back to normalcy and take a breath of fresh air, I nod. We're parked along the street at the base of the hill, the front gates of the neighborhood a little ways down the road. I can't see the estate above us through the carefully manicured trees lining the road, but we're still too close for me to relax. Raleigh climbs back into the driver's seat, and I slide into the passenger side, still feeling a little nauseous.

"Here, I've got this for you," Raleigh says, reaching behind the seat and pulling out a denim daypack. "I couldn't find any of your things in the house, but it's better than nothing."

I hug the pack to my chest, too choked for a second to speak. My sketchbook is gone, and so is the money I took, and my clothes. I don't have anything now, except for this bag and whatever's in it. A bag Raleigh put together for me.

"I couldn't convince Thomas," Raleigh says as she starts the engine, her voice tight. "I guess that's obvious, though. My brother's such a fucking guy ."

I cringe, thinking of the way he held the empty gun out to me, how he put on a show for me to show me his strength. "Yeah," I say weakly, flipping open the pack. In plastic bags, I find simple toiletries- deodorant, a toothbrush, tampons. In another bag, I'm stunned to find a thick stash of bills. I whip my head to look at Raleigh.

"I can't take this!"

"It's my pocket money," Raleigh says carelessly. I splutter, but she glares at me, too long, until I frantically motion for her to watch the road. "Money makes the world go ‘round, right? Take it ."

I press my lips together. She's right, but it's a part of the world that I'd rather close my eyes to. I just want to live and paint. Speaking of which-

At the very bottom of the pack, I find a sketchbook. Its edges are feathered, like it's been handled a lot over the years, and when I flip it open I'm shocked to find a hideous pencil sketch of a person. It's my work, but it's so old that I almost don't recognize it at first.

"Oh my god-" It's the sketchbook I was using right before the schism. I'd lost it when we had to leave, and cried to my mother for hours about it- and about everything else I'd lost that day. My eyes prick with tears now as I flip through page after page of old work. The book is only a third full. There's plenty of good paper left in it, waiting to be filled. "You kept this?"

Raleigh shrugs. "I found it in a box of old things not that long ago."

She's trying to play this off like it isn't a big deal, like I'm not fighting as hard as I can to hold in ugly tears. So much has changed, but that hasn't, and we haven't, not really.

"Hopefully you're better now than you were ten years ago," Raleigh blusters, and I laugh out loud.

Raleigh steers us toward one of the main roads cutting through the city and out. She's a terrible driver, going way too fast and stopping even faster, but I'm too wound up to care. I'm on my way out. I'm about to be free.

When we finally stop, there are no buildings in sight, only empty dirt lots on either side of the street leading out of town. The solitary structure is the bus stop on the sidewalk. Raleigh turns to face me. "Don't thank me, okay? I hate thank you's. And goodbyes."

Probably because we never got to say goodbye before. I nod, trying to put on a brave face, but I can't stop the tears now. Raleigh groans and pulls me into a crushing hug.

"I'm glad I got to see you again," she mumbles into my hair.

"I'm sorry I got your house burned down," I sob, and she shakes me a little.

"No ‘sorries' either," she chides. "Just go. The bus'll be here in fifteen minutes."

I pull back and wipe my face the best I can, then climb out of the car and onto the sidewalk. The street around us is quiet, and for a moment, Raleigh watches me out her window.

"I really am," she says. "Glad, I mean."

I open my mouth to respond, but she hits the gas. Her candy-red car does a u-turn and speeds away.

Letting out a shaky breath, I turn to the bus stop bench and collapse into it, clutching the daypack to my chest again. Every minute seems like an eternity to wait, and by my count, fifteen minutes and more pass. The bus is late, but that's okay. It'll get here eventually, and all I have to do is wait. Once I'm on the bus, I won't stop moving until I find a place I like. Maybe on the coast. Maybe in the mountains. With the money Raleigh gave me, I could even hop on a plane and go to a whole new country.

I tilt my head back, baring my face to the sun and tasting the wind.

I'm free. Finally.

The scuff of a shoe catches my attention. I open my eyes right as three huge men bear down on me and snatch me off the bench.