“I’ll be here,” I say. “Tonight I should probably hang with my parents. You might trust me in a battle zone, but I think they might still have some concerns.”
“Fair enough. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll see you in like twelve hours.”
He leans forward and whispers again, “I’ll miss you.”
I melt in his arms.
Before I head home, I need to speak with Omar and let him know the plans. I hope he’ll stick with us and join the fight.
Panting, I trek up the stairs to Aisha’s apartment, where she’s graciously letting Omar stay while he’s still in town. The door swings open with a creak and Aisha waves me in.
“How’d it go at the war council?” she asks, a little coolly.
I know she and Jasper have made up, but I can also tell things aren’t as copacetic when it comes to her feelings about the pack and violence.
“There’s a plan,” I say, and Omar, who is sitting on the couch playing some video game with Troy, looks up.
There’s the sound of an explosion from the TV and Troy jumps out of his seat.
“Yes! Eat my dirt rogue boy!”
Aisha and I stare at Troy, wondering where this reaction came from.
But Omar seems unfazed, and says, “Ay, I was distracted. I’ll kick your ass in a rematch.”
“You’re on,” Troy says, clicking through the menu screens of whatever car-racing game they’re playing.
“In a bit, in a bit,” Omar says, leaving the couch. “I got to hear what this plan is first.”
Aisha heads to the kitchen, so I follow her, and Omar does the same, we sit up at the counter while she goes about making tea.
“It’s actually better if I don’t say too much,” I tell Omar. “Part of it is me using my powers to trick Walter.”
“Is that safe?” Aisha asks, hitting the switch on her kettle.
“No,” I say. “But right now none of us are safe, so ... I’ve got to do something.”
“You sure you’re up to getting all up in Walter’s headspace after what happened at the Pixies’?” Omar asks.
Aisha turns, looking both confused and furious. “Wait, what happened at the Pixies’? And who the fuck are the Pixies?”
“That’s who Olivia and Mia were staying with, they’re like an activist commune.”
“And Walter got in your head?” Aisha asks.
“Yes, but only because I wasn’t prepared.” At this I turn back to Omar. “Which is why I need your help.”
He looks skeptical. “You can’t tell me the plan, but you need my help?”
“I—yes.”
I stare at him with big, hopeful, pleading eyes and to my relief, he nods.
“Anything you need, Cuz, I’m there.”
Aisha has turned back to the line of mugs where she’s now pouring boiling water over tea bags, but still, we hear her scoff.
