"And now it's your turn to hide something."

She shakes her head.

"Jenna."

"Her wounds are only superficial, Locke."

"So? That's good, isn't it? She'll recover quickly, right?"

"Yes," she whispers. "Probably by morning."

"But?"

"The gashes on her legs didn't come from dogs."

I don't like the doubt in her voice. "How can you know? A gash is a gash--"

"I know. I've sewn up enough Runners. Her wounds were too clean."

"So she got them some other way. She's confused. After all she's been through, that's possible, isn't it?"

She pauses before she answers. A very long pause. "Yes. It's possible."

I don't dig deeper. I don't want to know what she's thinking. I don't want her to know what I'm thinking. How did Kara get any of those wounds--from the gashes on her legs to the blisters on her feet--in one day? Is it possible that I only imagined her coming to me last night? Was it like all the times I imagined Jenna coming to me when I was stuffed in that six-inch cube?

I grab a towel to dry the dishes, feeling like I'm doing something as old and ancient as what my sister and I used to do. I listen to the clinks, the slosh, the clatter, the sounds of an ordinary familiar kitchen, and I try to focus only on that. But then a plate slips from my hands, glass shattering across the kitchen floor, and just as quickly my thoughts slip from one shattered moment to another.

Chapter 66

I had told Kara about the party first. She was excited about the idea of crashing a party in a different part of town. Then we went to Jenna's house to tell her. I knew Jenna had a new car sitting in her garage just waiting for her parents to hand over the keys.

"But the party's out past Quincy," I said. "The only way we can get there is if you drive."

Her response was immediate. I knew what it would be. Even Jenna had her limits on the kinds of rules she would break. I think that's why I told Kara first, so the two of us could work on her. "No. I can't drive, Locke," Jenna said, like the matter was settled.

I remember rolling my eyes, thinking it would shame her into changing her mind. "You're the only one with a car, Jenna. Besides, your parents are gone for the night. They'll never know."

"If you don't drive, then we don't go," Kara said. "We need you!"

"I'm not driving without a license. Besides, my voice commands aren't even programmed into the car yet. I couldn't start it anyway."

"Kara could drive," I said. I was feeling like I was in charge for once, like I wasn't the loser my brother said I was, and it was a good feeling. I didn't let up. "And starting it isn't a problem. There's an override. You must have a code or keys around here somewhere."

Jenna hesitated, but I never took my eyes off her and it finally paid off. She opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out some keys.

"Yes!" I said, and I grabbed the keys from her hand and threw them to Kara. I don't even know if Kara wanted to drive, but she had no choice now. It was all in motion.

We didn't know anyone at the party. It was an older crowd, and I knew within two minutes I had made the wrong choice. This was not a party that would impress Kara and Jenna. We were just about to leave when a fight broke out. That's when we ran to the car. I jumped into the back seat, and Kara and Jenna were in the front, fumbling with the keys. I yelled at Kara to hurry. People were pouring out of the house. She revved the engine, and we squealed down the street. We were scared, but once we made it to the highway, we started laughing, nervous, relieved laughter.

It was only seconds later that we came to a curve, still going too fast. I heard the screech of brakes, but the car was already fishtailing on the shoulder. Jenna and I both yelled at Kara to stop, but there was no stopping. Kara was screaming and crying. And then we were falling, tumbling, and glass was everywhere. I felt my body crashing through a window, glass slicing through my arms, felt the crush of metal on my chest, felt the crunch of my limbs hitting the ground, and then almost instantly, the roar of metal and screams stopped, and I heard the whisper-quiet crackle of flames. I remember turning my head to the side. For a few seconds, I could see them both. Jenna's clothes--or maybe it was her skin--were smoldering. Kara had nearly no face at all. It was slashed and so full of blood I wasn't even sure it was her. Then the world went black, but I could still hear their moans and the gurgling sounds of breath and blood strangled in their throats, and those were the sounds that filled my dark world for 260 years.

Chapter 67

I lie awake but force my eyes shut. The others are all asleep, and I need to sleep too, but instead I listen to the sounds of the night. A creak. A sigh. An old wooden house is never silent. It moans like it's alive.

Locke. I told you. Soon.

I lean up on one elbow. I stare into the dark corners of my room, but there's nothing there. Can I trust anything in my own head?

A creak.

Creak.

Creak.

Like footsteps. I throw back my sheet and sit on the edge of my bed. She'll sleep through till morning. But is she already awake? I walk to my door and ease it open slowly so it makes no noise, then step into the dark hallway, looking in both directions. Where is she? Could she be going to Jenna's room?

The knife. Is it still in my pack? Or did she creep into my room and get it? I stand and take a cautious step, and then another, and move quickly to Kara's room, forgetting caution altogether. The door is ajar. I push it open and stare at her bed. She is there. Her eyes shut. Her hair tousled across the pillow. Her chest rising in soft breaths. A thin beam of light from the window falling across her neck, her pulsing throat as delicate as a bird's.