Isa stopped cleaning. “No.” She glared at me. “You didnotjust saywe.”
I nodded. “You and me, like always. My parents think I have a stomach bug—”
“Do you?”
“Do I look like I do?”
She chucked the paper towels at me. “Well, my parents think I’m at school,” she said, standing up and straightening her cardigan. “And I want to keep it that way.”
“Butwhy?” I said when she turned to leave. “You justgot into Brown! What could possibly be left on their list ofexpectations?”
Isa’s parents were relentless when it came to academics.Ivy League, Ivy League, Ivy League,had been an incantation for the Cruz family over the years, but even though Isa now had her hard-earned acceptance letter, we both knew her work wasn’t done. Mr. and Mrs.Cruz still expected their only child to make honor roll, deliver our class’s valedictory address, and easily achieve perfect attendance…
Isa sighed. “I have a test today, Grace.”
“Yeah, on the rise of ochlocracy,” I said. (I’d needed to google “ochlocracy” when Isa had signed up for the class). “You mentioned it’s open book, too. Everyone’s going to get an A!” I dramatically threw up my hands. “Why give the test at all?”
The corners of Isa’s mouth curved into a small smirk. She was warming to the idea, I could tell. “I tried telling my mom that last night, but shestillmade me study for two hours.”
I laughed, and she did too before the kitchen went quiet again. “C’mon,” I said after a few seconds. “Let’s do it, Isa. Let’s forget about ochlocracy and just live it up today.”
Isa’s smirk shifted into a straight line of skepticism. “Grace…”
“We deserve this,” I told her, summoning my Tom Hanks voice. Confident, comforting, capable, inspiring. “You and I have worked so hard over the past four years—we’ve busted our asses! Schoolwork, student council, sports, homework, exams, community service, college applications, andthe constant pressure buzzing in our heads. Don’t you want a break from everything? One day to recharge?”
Isa responded by hiding her face behind her hands.
“For old times’ sake,” I added, because once upon a time, Isa didn’t second-guess fun. “Before everything ramps up and we go off in different directions…”
My stomach sank when Isa turned to walk out of the kitchen toward the front door.
“Please, Isa,” I urged. “Please just consider it for five seconds.”
She stopped in the kitchen doorway.
“You aren’t going to be remembered for missing one day of high school,” I continued with caution. “Honestly, you aren’t. You’re going to make your mark on the world by doing something extraordinary.” I took a deep breath. “Allow yourself a day of spontaneity.”
I swallowed hard when she pivoted back to look at me. “Okay,” she agreed, starting to nod. “For old times’ sake.”
My heart leapt into my throat. “Thank you” was all I could manage to say.
She smiled—nervously, but she smiled. “All right, what’s next?” she asked twenty minutes later, after a replacement plate of warm, buttery, syrupy, powdered sugar–kissed pancakes. “I’m assuming you have an agenda?”
I put down my fork and clapped my hands together. “Yes.” I beamed. “For our first act, Isa Cruz, we are going to kidnapsomeone.”
Chapter 2
James
You’d think that once my sister had been elected student body president, she would want to be chauffeured to school as if she were theactualpresident. Able to zone out instead of paying attention to the road, able to think those important thoughts or make last-minute notes, and maybe even sometimes DJ.
No, wrong.
Grace insisted on driving all the time, everywhere, and kept hold of those keys in case I got any wild ideas. Never were they hung on the mudroom hook or tossed on the kitchen island. So fine, sure, I might’ve gunned it up our street after narrowly missing the mailbox while leaving the driveway this morning. A few early-morning runners, bikers, and dog walkers shouted at me, some even gave me the finger, but it felt good. I wasdrivingafter ages ofnotdriving.
But then I remembered the stop sign at the end of the street. “Shit!” I said, and slammed on the brakes at the last second. Even with a seat belt, I pitched forward before my head banged back against the headrest. If I wasn’t awake yet, I definitely was now.
Payback’s a bitch,I imagined the runners saying.
