Page 23 of The Girl in the Wind

Theo nodded, already moving, one hand taking Auggie’s arm again as he hurried them toward the Ford. Auggie dragged the keys out of his pocket.

No one came after them. No one shouted. No one fired shots into the air like this wasThe Dukes of Hazzard(which Auggie had been forced to watch, more than once, on a visit to Ma and Pa Stratford).

But when Auggie checked the rearview mirror on their way out of the lot, that silhouette was still there: a curve of red, a slash of yellow, three dimensions given shape by the bar’s weak light. Someone stood there and watched them leave.

6

When the bell rang at the end of the day, the only way to stay alive—the only guaranteed way—was to stand near the wall. If you survived Pamplona, if bulls weren’t enough, try Wahredua High, Theo thought. Kids flooded the hall, and Theo clutched the stack of copies to his chest and braced himself against a locker. Lacrosse boys stretched across the hall to whack each other with their sticks. A girl with braces held her backpack like a shield. A big kid with floppy hair in aSimpsonst-shirt pumped his arms in finest power-walking fashion. And then, ten seconds later, the halls were empty again.

“Mother of Christ.” Auggie’s voice floated down the hall a moment before he came around the corner. Some of his hair was sticking up in back. “A little pixie cheerleader got her shoulder under my ribcage.”

Theo grinned as he smoothed down Auggie’s hair.

“Swear to God.” Auggie looked back the way he’d come. “She did it on purpose.”

“Kids these days.”

“Fucking savages.”

Theo arched an eyebrow.

“Oops,” Auggie said. “Are teachers still allowed to spank naughty students?”

“It’s called corporal punishment, and yes, actually, they are in Missouri. As long as the parents allow it.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Do you think we could get Fer to sign off on it?”

“Can you wait until next time we see him in person? I kind of like the idea of watching him have a stroke when you ask him for permission to discipline me.”

Theo decided that was a good time to return to the classroom. He also decided (with what Auggie probably would have called the wisdom of age) to ignore Auggie’s laughter.

It had been a long day after another sleepless night; Auggie had been sure that no one had followed them, and he had insisted that, with the license plates removed, no one would be able to identify the Focus. And Theo had agreed—at least, the rational part of his brain had agreed. He had seen no sign they were being followed. He had questioned Auggie, at length, about his conversation with the man who called himself Gid. The names Auggie reported meant nothing to Theo, but he recognized the descriptions of the men and woman from the club. Nothing pointed to immediate danger. Nothing suggested a clear threat. Even Theo and Auggie’s quick exit from the club had been based on nothing more than intuition—Auggie’s sense that Gid had realized his mistake in letting too much slip, and the fact that Gid had spoken to another man who had followed them out of the club.

By daylight, it didn’t seem like much. They had tried to get some information. They had learned—well, maybe something. Maybe nothing. The fact that a place called the Cottonmouth Club had a back room wasn’t really a surprise. The most interesting thing was that Gid had panicked after his comment about the previous weekend, but even that might not have meant anything.

But.

Theo had spent the night jerking awake at every sound. In the small hours, he had removed Ian’s old service weapon from the safe, taking care not to wake Auggie, and he had waited for dawn with the gun on the nightstand next to him. In the early morning shadows, Theo kept seeing the man with the scar, the one who had followed them out of the club. Now, with the afternoon dragging on him, he could believe it might have been nothing—maybe the guy had picked that time for a smoke.

Sure, said a voice inside Theo’s head. Right after Gid pointed out Auggie.

He leaned away from that thought; he didn’t trust his judgment. You’re tired, he told himself. You’re worked up. You’re spiraling, and when you spiral, you blow things out of proportion. He tried to do what he’d worked on in therapy: wait, hold on, breathe through the discomfort—which felt less like discomfort and more like the first fever of panic.

It didn’t help that the first week of school was hell, relatively speaking—a combination of students adjusting to new routines, new sleep schedules, and new people (specifically, Theo), while Theo was also trying to learn names, reconfigure seating charts on the fly (after today, Brock and Johnny, who had spent all of third period trying to outdo each other with fidget spinners, would no longer be sitting next to each other), and remember why he had thought it would be a good idea to start the semester withMuch Ado about Nothing.

“Oh my God,” Auggie said, picking up one of the packets from Theo’s desk. “Don’t tell me you’re going to show them that movie with the butts.”

“It’s twenty seconds at the beginning, Auggie.”

“It’s a lot of butts.”

“Thirty seconds, tops.”

“White butts.”

An important part of a relationship—maybe the most important part of a relationship, Theo considered—was the selective ability to ignore your partner.

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