Escape by Francine Pascal Page A

with her. “Don’t go yet. Let me—”
    â€œNo, I have to go. I’m sorry. I’m. . . I’m so sorry, Ed. I’m sorry for ruining the date and for lying, and for—”
    â€œLying? When were you lying?”
    She cast her glassy-eyed gaze on him one last time. “I’m sorry for everything,” she said. “I’ll explain it all to you soon, Ed. So soon, I swear. When it’s safe. Just don’t give up on me, okay?” She leaned in closer and pressed her lips firmly against his.
    She was three feet behind him before he could even kiss her back. She was on the stairs before he could say another word. And she’d disappeared from sight before he could form any understanding of what the hell had just happened.
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    cc: [email protected]
    Time: 9:58 P.M.
    Re: the party
    Love it! Love love love it.
    Parchment book sounds beautiful. (I love Kate’s. I go there all the time for cards and calendars.) And I’m lovin’ the black and white balloons.
    Can’t wait to see your other decoration ideas. Are you a pro or something? We should totally start a party-planning business. My mom and her partner started when they were sixteen. Can you believe that?
    But enough of my yakkin’. Love white roses, too. We are going to make Heather so proud. And party so hard!
    Tammie and I printed out awesome invitations on her printer. Card stock, silver on black. (Does that go with the balloons? Oh, hell, yes—we totally think alike.) We’ll give you a bunch tomorrow to hand out. I’m pretty sure you’ll approve. See you at the caf?
    â€“Meegs
    Stinking Laundry
    SHE’D ALREADY GIVEN UP ON THE shoes. Gaia ran barefoot along Seventy-second Street, scraping along the rocky granite, ignoring shards of glass and wads of chewing gum as she increased her speed. She could still see the ghosts from earlier in the evening as she approached her building. The sweet ghosts of Ed in his suit, and a majestic white horse, and a black iron carriage. She swallowed down another glob of guilt and regret and burst into her lobby. She jabbed the elevator button with rapid-fire precision, sliding through the door before it had even opened fully and pummeling the button for her floor. As the elevator lurched upward, she tried to sort it all out, piece by piece, like a daunting heap of stinking laundry.
    Her guilt about Ed went into the “tomorrow” pile. It had to. She had no other choice for now. It was just as she had said—she would explain it all to him as soon as it was safe. But Sam was the immediate matter at hand. Sam and her father. They were the massive pile that towered over her higher than the eye could see and wider than the Great Wall of China. They both needed finding now. No more distractions. No more doubts or delays. Starting right now, and ending with both of them sitting with her at a dinner table or on a park bench. Something normal and banal.
    She prayed that the Sam search would end in thenext thirty seconds. He needed to be in her apartment, waiting just behind that closed door of his. He had to be there. And once she found him safe and sound in his room, they would lock every door in the house and make whatever plans they needed to make for tomorrow, and then they would sleep.
    One thing at a time, Gaia. You’ve got to find him first . She burst into her apartment and made her way toward his room as quietly as she could, even though she wanted to jump the two couches in the living room and kick his door down on the fly. She held up at his room and brought her hand to the door to tap out the secret knock. But as her hand grasped the knob, she felt it give way. . . .
    Oh God . The lock was broken. Gaia’s hands went numb. Someone had broken the lock on the door. Someone had broken in and done God knew what to Sam. She shoved the door open and bounded into