My sister says, “I’m proud of you.”
She breaks me out of my daydream, but still I smile, feeling like a little girl. Her approval means everything to me. Even though we’re the same age, I’ve always felt like I was the youngest. More naïve thanI should be. Unlike my sister Moody, who wears her body with confidence. She is sweet first, and then before you realize you’ve fallen for her, she is sharp and deadly. I would pity the men she’s left in her wake if their hearts had meant anything to me.
“You did that all on your own.” Her fingers flex and tighten on the steering wheel. “You showed great instincts, Sissy.”
“Sissy” is what she’s called me since we were babies, and it’s as real a name as any I’ve ever been called, but it’s a secret that we don’t share with outsiders. Town after town, I adopt whatever name is on the IDs we are able to make up. Now that we’re in Arizona, I’ll be Jade Johnson. Johnson is one of the three most common names in the state. Google “Jade Johnson” and you’ll get a thousand results. Makes it easy to fake an identity and disappear before things get hairy.
“I justfelthim, Moody,” I say. “It’s like we talked about.” I’m breathless. Butterflies fill up my chest and spread their wings. “He walked into the room and I could see everything that was about to happen.”
Moody laughs. “All right, but you know that’s only half of it.” She nods to the open road. “We’ve been driving for a while. See anything that stands out yet?”
I force myself to be alert. I look at the paper map laid out in my lap. It came with the car and I don’t think it was ever unfolded before I opened it. But we can’t use a smartphone for this part. We left it back at the apartment, so if anything happens, I can say I was home.
“Pull over here at the ten-mile marker,” I say.
“You sure?” Moody raises her eyebrows over her glasses. “It’s really out in the open. You’ll have to drag him a long way.”
“No, I won’t,” I say, proud of how sure I sound.
She veers over. There’s nobody around. We’re miles out fromanything, but I know that this won’t be true for long. I’ve done my research. This land will be cluttered in a year. Modular homes, made to order, on brand-new roads carved like black snakes into the desert. People will be born here. Raise their children here. But right now, for just a little while longer, it’s nothing but me and Moody and the lizards.
I climb out of the car. The door slams as Moody gets out behind me. She stands beside me, and together we look up at the massive white sign.
COMING SOON: RAINWOOD EAST SUBDIVISION
I feel Moody’s smile. “You clever bitch,” she says, and wraps her arms around my shoulders.
This day is wonderful and warm. I feel like I’ve just been kissed. I feel like I’ve just burst through the ribbon at the finish line of a triathlon.
“Walk me through it,” Moody says, letting go of me.
“I drove by yesterday while you were still asleep,” I say. I point to the cranes in the distance. Beams are neatly piled. A cement mixer stands idle. “I’ll have to keep a close eye on the papers and see how the development is coming along. They’ll do the roads first. I could bury him where they pour the asphalt.”
“What are the risks?” Moody asks, challenging me.
“Before they pour the asphalt, they’ll excavate the soil,” I say. “Anything soft, like pebbles or loose dirt, will be packed down. I’ll have to bury him before they do that, but so deep they never reach him when they start to excavate.”
“What if they pave right after?” Moody asks.
“They won’t,” I say. “Once the asphalt is poured, it has to be compacted right away. For something so big as a subdivision, it’ll take all day. They’ll excavate and do the prep the day before.”
I wait for Moody to give me a hypothetical challenge, but she crouches low, hiding herself behind the front tire on the passenger side. A second later, I see the red pickup truck slow to a stop on the opposite side of the road.
The driver rolls down his window. He’s old enough to be my father, with a full head of silver hair, a white wifebeater, and arms like tree trunks. “Afternoon, honey,” he says. “Did you get yourself a flat tire?”
He hands me the explanation so that I don’t have to come up with one myself. I gnaw pensively on my lip. “I think I hit a nail,” I say. “But it’s fine. I called my dad.”
I’m twenty-five, but I look much younger. If I fidget and raise my shoulders shyly, I’m still in high school. I’ve got finals coming up, a boyfriend who kisses me clumsily, but I’m too innocent to sleep with him until we’re married. I know nothing about life, and I see all older men like they’re father figures.
I fall easily into these roles because I have to play them all the time. The man buys it a little too much. He gives me an endearing smile that makes my stomach lurch. He is ruining my perfect day with his sweaty, flushed face. He puts his truck in park, turns off the ignition.
Fuck.
“Get rid of him,” Moody hisses at my ankles. My eyes flit to her for just a second.I’m trying.
“I bet I can get you up and running before he gets here,” the man says. He’s huge. Probably muscular back in his prime, but flabby now, with a round gut that hangs over his faded jeans. “Which tire?”
“The front driver’s side,” I say, sprinting around the car and away from Moody’s furious eyes. I pop the trunk, panic setting in.Stupid, I tell myself. Stopping here was so stupid. I just had to make Moody pull over so I could gloat about my great idea, and now we’ve been seen.
