Zip (8 page)

W
hen Lyssa woke up the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky. Light zigzagged off the waves, shining into her eyes bright as a flashlight. Her neck was sore and her hair was coming out of its braids.

The boy with the curly hair was asleep in the armchair next to Lyssa’s. He was curled up in a little ball and all his blankets had been kicked to the floor. Every few minutes he let out a hiccup-like snore and started muttering in his sleep. Whoever was in the chair on the other side of him was completely buried under blankets, but Lyssa thought she saw a few spiky tufts of Regina’s hair against the pillow. No one had bothered getting up to go to the cots in the back.

The remote-controlled toys were lined up in front of one of the television towers (which weren’t turned off—only muted), and Demo was nowhere to be seen. Lyssa slid to the edge of her chair, lowering her feet to the cold, rocky floor and nearly tripping on the pink sneakers she kicked off in her sleep. She wiggled her toes, trying to shake the pins and needles out of her legs

Lyssa glanced up at the sun again, shielding her eyes from its glare. Her mom had taught her to tell time by examining the sun’s position in the sky. Lyssa judged it to be at least nine-thirty or ten o’clock. Dread crept into her throat. Uh-oh.

As quietly as possible, Lyssa started looking for the rest of her things. Her polka-dot socks were wedged under the armchair. She pulled them on, then her sneakers, without bothering to untie the laces. She unzipped her backpack, digging around until she found her cell phone so she could find out for sure what time it was

As soon as Lyssa pushed the button to un-silence her phone, the ring tone began blaring: it was a snippet of an Athena song that Lyssa had downloaded

“Twenty-seven times you called me. Twenty-seven times you told me you were sorry…”

Lyssa frantically searched for a way to control the volume. She hadn’t had the phone for very long—her mom had always
hated them. Michael made her carry it around for emergencies, but she’d mostly been using it just to send texts to Penn

The curly-haired boy thrashed around in his patched-up chair

“Just five more minutes, Mom,” he said groggily, the armchair creaking beneath him as he shifted in his sleep

Desperately, Lyssa started pushing buttons at random. She accidentally pulled up her missed calls log—oh, no

There were nineteen missed calls from Michael. Lyssa checked the time of the last missed call: nine o’clock that morning. A hard, hollow feeling formed in Lyssa’s stomach as she pushed another button—this one taking her back to the home page where she could check the time. For a second she could only gape at the numbers on the screen

10:34. It was 10:34. Lyssa was over three-and–a-half hours late getting to the bus depot, and Michael knew she was missing

The phone beeped one more time and Lyssa automatically looked down at the screen: another message from Michael. She opened the message, but before she could read a single letter, the curly-haired boy thrashed in his chair

“I
said
five more minutes!” He grabbed the phone out of Lyssa’s hands and threw it away with a grunt. Lyssa spun around just in time to see the phone splash into the water.

“Much better,” the boy muttered, letting out a snore

“No!” Lyssa shouted, no longer caring whether or not she woke anyone up

She raced to the edge of the water. A few bubbles floated along the surface and Lyssa swallowed. Her phone had probably reached the bottom of the bay by now. Still, she had to try to retrieve it—even if it would be waterlogged and useless.

She kicked off her right shoe and frantically peeled off her sock, peering over the side of the ledge. The water looked cold. Just as she was about to kick off the other shoe too someone put a hand on her shoulder

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Demo said

Lyssa whirled around, nearly knocking her sneaker into the water. Demo looked worn out—like he’d been running. His skin was bright red and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Even his mohawk was sticking out in strange tufts, looking windblown

“My phone,” Lyssa started to explain, pointing to the water. “That boy thought it was an alarm clock and—”

Demo cut her off

“You have bigger problems to worry about,” he said

“What?” Lyssa asked, though she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. She thought of the nineteen missed calls from Michael and the text message she didn’t even get a chance to read. What if he’d already tracked her down?

“I was just downtown,” Demo said. “There are pigs everywhere. They’re passing out your picture.”

“Pigs?”

“You know, cops?
Police.
”

Lyssa swallowed
Police?

Somehow, when she’d first come up with the plan to return to Austin, she hadn’t imagined
police
. That was even worse than Michael looking for her.

“Listen,” Demo continued. “They’ll be here any minute. Someone found this streamer thing that was on your scooter or something…”

“Pom-pom,” Lyssa said automatically. She looked around for Zip, feeling irrationally angry with her scooter, as though it had deliberately betrayed her. Then she realized it wasn’t Zip’s fault. The pom-pom had fallen off in the storm. It was an act of nature. It was the universe throwing one big pie in her face.

“Whatever,” Demo said. “Listen, I went by the bus station, just in case. No police there, yet. If you hurry, you can probably make it.”

Relief flooded Lyssa’s chest. No police at the bus depot. Michael must not have guessed she was headed back home. This was good news. If she caught the next bus to Austin, she still might make it

“Thanks, Demo,” Lyssa said. She grabbed her backpack
and her right tennis shoe and crept around the cots to a beaten-smooth dirt path that led up and around the rocky ledge. Crawling up the path, Lyssa reached the top of the dock and saw her scooter lying in the sun. She patted Zip’s handlebars.

“We’re going to make it,” she whispered

She pulled on her sock and shoved her foot back in her sneaker. She started to reach out for Zip, then immediately ducked her head. There were three men in blue uniforms crowded around the boats near the end of the marina, talking to a shorter man wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. The man gestured to the boats, looking angry. One of the police held up a pom-pom and Lyssa’s heart sank

She’d never been in trouble with the police before. Once, she and her mom slept in a tree overnight to protest a development company that wanted to cut it down. The police had come to get them out of the tree, but they hadn’t gotten in trouble. In fact, Lyssa had actually managed to convince the officers that the development was wrong and, in the end, the cops had climbed up into the tree with them

Lyssa bit down on her lower lip, not wanting to take her eyes off the police officers at the end of the dock. She had a feeling that even she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of trouble this time

Lyssa heard Demo crawl up behind her

“Demo,” Lyssa whispered. “What should I do?”

“Okay,” he whispered back, peering over the side of the dock to where the police were standing. “They know you’re around here somewhere, but they don’t know where—no one knows where the Lotus gang hides.” He gestured to the short man in jeans. “That’s Mr. Haddy,” he explained, keeping his voice low. “He’s the property manager for the marina or something. If he ever finds us, he’ll turn us over to the police.”

“So what’s the plan?” Lyssa asked

Demo bit down on his lip, looking determined. He picked up a large flat stone

“Wait for my signal,” Demo said. He paused to make sure the police were still deep in conversation with Mr. Haddy and then stood up and chucked the stone

It landed in the water just past the police. All three men turned and glanced behind them

As soon as their attention was distracted, Demo darted across the dock, ducking behind a sailboat on the other side.

Lyssa didn’t follow him. She crouched next to Zip, steadying her scooter with one hand. She had a feeling they were going to need to be ready to go—fast

“We just have to watch for the sign,” she whispered to Zip, giving her scooter a reassuring pat

Demo climbed down the other side of the dock, looking a little like a spider monkey as he swung from the wood and darted across the ropes connecting the boats to the marina. Lyssa glanced nervously from Demo to where Mr. Haddy stood with the police. They were heading down the dock now, Mr. Haddy in the lead

“Hurry,” Lyssa whispered

Demo loosened a rope and a large sail dropped with a thud, already billowing in the wind like the boat too was eager to escape. Then Demo hopped out and unknotted the rope that connected the boat to the marina. When it fell free, he leaned against the side of the dock and pushed the boat away with his foot. The sailboat rocked in the water, then started to drift away

One of the policemen gave a muffled shout and pointed to the sailboat. Lyssa ducked farther behind the dock as the cops ran toward it. She could still see Demo—his mohawk was just visible above the dock—and it looked like he was swinging from boat to boat, untying ropes and pushing them into the waves. Soon the water was spotted with boats, all floating away, like massive white swans coasting over the bay

Demo swung onto one final boat, quickly undoing the knot. Then he waved at Lyssa and dropped into the water below

“Demo!” she called, as loud as she dared. He didn’t resurface. She poked her head above the dock and saw the police scattered across the marina, all pointing in different directions

“She’s on one of the boats,” an officer called out, and dove into the water. The remaining officers followed until they were all bobbing up and down in the water, trying to swim after the boats. Mr. Haddy stayed on the dock, but his back was to Lyssa now

“This is it,” she whispered. She stood up and climbed onto Zip, wrapping her fingers tightly around the familiar grooves of the handlebars. She kicked off, shooting down the marina, sneaking past Mr. Haddy and over to the road. She chanced a glance behind her when she reached the end of the marina. Mr. Haddy was still gazing across the water at the police officers bobbing up and down in the waves. He had one hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun

“I think I saw someone moving in that boat,” he called out, pointing to a sailboat several yards away. Lyssa threw a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. No one had seen her escape. Maybe she had inherited a little of her mom’s magic after all

She pushed off again, rolling down to the end of the block. Zip’s wheels squeaked excitedly, as though it too
was pleased with their bold escape. Demo was leaning against a stop sign, soaking wet. The water had messed up his mohawk and his hair hung down in clumps around his face, making his head look smaller

“How was the diversion?” he asked, grinning

“Amazing,” Lyssa admitted. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her yet. The road was all clear. She turned back to Demo. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Demo said

Lyssa’s mom used to tell her that it was good manners to give gifts to show appreciation for someone who had helped you. Making a quick decision, she yanked open her backpack, digging through the worn-down nubs of pencils and her favorite pair of sunglasses for something she could give to him. Her fingers brushed the bound-together demo CDs at the bottom of the bag. Hadn’t she made them with the intention of giving them away? Well, now was her chance. Knowing she’d chicken out if she hesitated, she pulled out one of the CDs and thrust it into Demo’s hands

“This is for you,” she said. “You let me watch your singing and so…so here.”

Demo turned the case over in his hands, then glanced up at her questioningly

“It’s a recording of my songs,” Lyssa explained. Now she felt embarrassed. She looked down at her feet, resisting the urge to stick her hair into her mouth. “I mean, it’s nothing special, and you have to imagine a band would be—”

“I’m sure it’s killer,” Demo interrupted, and she could tell he meant it. “Thanks a lot, Lyssa.” He paused for a second, and the smile stretched across his face started to wilt, like day-old lettuce. “Are you sure you want to leave?”

Lyssa’s heart pulsed in her throat, and, once again, she imagined what it would be like to stay. Talking late into the night with the Lotus Crew. Going on adventures with Demo. Singing on street corners during the day—if she could work up the courage

But then a gust of wind blew past, ruffling the hair on the back of Lyssa’s neck and blowing her braids out behind her. If she stayed here, what would happen to her home? She thought again of standing by her mom’s side in the garden, their toes wriggling deep into the earth. If Lyssa didn’t protect their roots, who would?

“I’m sure,” she said with a small smile. “If you’re ever in Austin, head to the Texas Talent Show. That’s where I’ll be.”

“You can count on it,” Demo said. Lyssa waved to him and headed down the street to the bus depot. Demo called out after her

“Good luck!”

T
he bus depot was crowded with people. Men and women wearing suits and carrying briefcases rushed by Lyssa; teenagers jostled her with their large, lumpy backpacks. Twice, she would have ended up sprawled in a heap on the floor if she hadn’t had Zip to hold on to. An old man was swaying in front of the entrance, singing under his breath. As Lyssa walked past him, she wrinkled her nose. He smelled like the clowns at the fair did after drinking their “special” cider.

Some of Lyssa’s confidence began to slip away. Everything about the bus station seemed big and strange. She caught sight of a huge, electronic billboard hanging over a row of
desks, flashing city names, times, and rows of other numbers that Lyssa didn’t understand. The numbers changed quickly—Lyssa had to watch the city names flash by three times before she finally saw
Austin, TX
. There were only two times listed next to the name: 11:35 and 6:35.