I take a step forward. She tenses a little. ‘Relax, I won’t bite.’
I can tell that she’s nervous when I take her in. She looks the same as she did back in high school, mostly, though without those glasses she used to wear. Her hair is definitely pink. She seems to have discovered makeup too. The curve of her mouth looks… familiar.
‘What’s this I’m hearing about my brother?’ I ask.
She swallows. ‘He’s in my apartment.’
‘Is it Noah?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is he hurt?’
‘Not badly. He’ll live.’
‘Shit,’ I snap, and look past her. ‘Can you give me a ride?’
Her eyes go wide. ‘You want me to drive you to my apartment?’
I’m already looking back at Reyes, who has removed his helmet. ‘Pick me up later?’
‘Sure, man, just holler,’ Reyes says with a wave of his hand.
‘All right.’ I walk over to the passenger side door of Hollie’s car, still holding onto my own helmet, and yank it open. ‘Are you coming, English?’
This time she doesn’t correct me, just gets into the driver’s seat. I get in and close the door behind me. Hollie Palmer closes her own door, and, in the shadows, I watch her buckle up, avoiding all eye contact with me.
I’ll be the first to admit that I wasn’t all that nice to her in high school. Just another teenage dumbass doing dumbass shit without thinking about the consequences. From day one, we gave her a hard time, for the sole reason she wasn’t from around here. Where I come from, we don’t often tolerate outsiders.
‘Nice ride,’ I comment.
‘Uh. Thank you.’
‘It was a joke,’ I deadpan. Her car is a total heap o’ junk.
‘Oh,’ she says.
On the other side of the windshield, Reyes revs his engine before speeding past my window, back toward Rapture. I’m left in silence and darkness in a car with none other than the mayor of Canyon’s stepdaughter.
We crawl along the uneven road, the rear suspension taking the biggest hit as we head toward the highway. ‘Thanks for driving me,’ I say, thinking I might be here a while. ‘I’d had some beers back there. Couldn’t get on my ride.’
‘Right,’ she says, and we lapse back into silence.
About another minute passes by before I say, ‘Didn’t you wear glasses in high school?’
She takes one hand off the wheel. Twirls one finger in front of her face. ‘I had laser eye surgery.’
‘That sounds painful.’
‘It was at first,’ she says. ‘I mean…’ Her voice trails off. She replaces her hand, and I note how tightly she’s still holding onto the wheel.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me about Noah?’ she says.
I glance out the window. The black outside is all-consuming. About all a person can see out here is the stars and the distant lights of the highway. It’s a reminder of how isolated Rapture has become. ‘Lemme guess,’ I say. ‘He tried to rob you, or he begged you for money or some shit.’
‘The police are looking for him,’ she says.
My head snaps around. ‘Wait, what?’