Matt’s RV shook as we screamed down Sundale at Mach one, passing cars at an intersection four abreast. The strip malls here were mostly smoke shops and laundromats, the occasional nail salon full of hunched-over women. I had one hand braced against a vent, the other loose in my hoodie where Dad’s watch should’ve been.
Fuck. It must’ve fallen out when we ran. I was a hot mess. First my lab notes, and now this. Getting chased by a dude with a glowing gun was some through-the-looking-glass shit, like I was caught in the haze of a bad dream dissolving at daybreak. But the sirens wailing somewhere behind us were real enough. As was the scrap of shrapnel, still smoking, embedded in the heel of my boot.
We were lucky to be alive, and now I was glad for Matt’s lead foot. He stared through the windshield with a fixed frown, suddenly slamming the wheel with his good hand. Take-out receipts fluttered from the dash. “Who does that?”
The thump jolted me out of my head. “Does what?”
He waved his wrist cast. “Kills someone and leaves their body in a dumpster. This is Las Yerbas. We’re not some big metropolis. We didn’t even get a Whole Foods till last year.”
My skin crawled at the thought of the man still out there, danger dripping from his smile. I just wanted to be sprawled in bed at home, blasting Blackpink and cranking through lab notes—not replaying every second of that chase. But when your life could so easily be cut short, it put homework in a new light.
After a heavy pause, Matt asked a question I never thought I’d hear outside one of Mom’s crime dramas: “So what’re we doing about the body?”
I ran my palms along my thighs, slumping into the sheepskin seat. “We can’t talk to the cops if that’s what you’re suggesting.” Jesus. We’d kind of detonated a makeshift explosive in someone’s face. Even if it was self-defense, Mom had drilled into me never to talk to law enforcement. Something about trouble she’d gotten into when she was young.
“I’m not suggesting anything.” Matt’s long lashes fluttered. “But those people in the restaurant saw us. What happens when they go to the police?”
“They don’t have our names. And it’s not like Hot Dishie ratted us out when he had the chance.”
“So we’re just gonna leave the body? You know the police have anonymous tip lines, right? LYPD even has a web page.” He reached for his cracked phone. “Look, I can show—”
“Not on your own phone!” My voice was louder than I intended. Matt meant well, but he could be a little too eager and trusting. Like when he worked summers in the office at his dad’s construction company—until he tried to “improve their workflow” based on a wikiHow tutorial and fucked up their computers so bad, his own dad fired him. Which somehow made Matt more eager to help people.
His frown deepened. “Jeez. I’ll use public WiFi somewhere. Totally subpoena-proof. What do you think Oakleys Dude wanted with your backpack?”
I kept seeing the man in the alley looming over us, the glow of that gun against his joggers. “The game system logo matching the dead girl’s jacket is a top contender.” She must’ve been associated with the console’s manufacturer. Or just a big gamer.
I unzipped my backpack. The device’s stony surface was featureless, once again cool to the touch. Why would it be worth killing for—or in the trash to begin with? Maybe it wasn’t a game system at all. But the controller wedged under my sketchbook certainly looked legit. Wired, with buttons and those joystick thingies like on Matt’s PlayStation, only with that weird hexagon logo.
Matt’s throat bobbed. “You really think she looked like you?”
Seeing her lying there felt like staring into a mirror. My stomach heaved at the image of her face—my face—all carved up. I was right there with her again, struggling to get away. “I’m … I dunno. I need to talk to my mom.” She’d know what to do. But what if she locked me in my bedroom forever in the name of safety? It just didn’t make sense she’d never said anything about me having a sister.
Outside, the strip malls gave way to squat ranch houses, all stucco and undulating roof tile. Shit, my watch was gone. And those lectures I’d painstakingly recorded on its outdated audio chip? Gone with it. But more importantly, that watch was all I had of Dad. I used to imagine it ticking through the walls, a constant presence in the apartment. As if he was just in another room, ready to squeeze my shoulder and answer homework questions Mom was too tired for. Not that I’d seen him since I was in diapers. It was silly putting all this importance on a man I barely remembered, but I guess Mom’s few stories about him had a powerful hold on me.
We drifted to a stop beside my low-slung apartment building, a dated stone facade with raised walkways overlooking a courtyard.
“Text me after you report the body,” I said. “We’ll figure out what’s next. And maybe … stay inside?”
Matt nodded grimly and I slid out, shutting the door. The RV rumbled off as I pulled my hoodie close and strode across the lawn to our first-floor unit under the overhanging walkway. Behind me, the shadows had grown long, golden hues tracing the cars lining the street. If anyone had followed us, they were keeping their distance.
A spent cat scratcher was askew outside 1C and something reeked of cabbage. Oh, that was me. I unlocked the door, steeling myself for Mom going all overprotective mama bear when I told her about the alley. But there were no keys on our entryway’s “side table,” the nightstand Mom had scored on Craigslist. My gaze scrubbed our compact kitchen on one side, carpeted living room and futon on the other. No sign of her. Just sunlight slicing through the blinds, ladling amber stripes onto the kitchen counter.
I steadied myself on the nightstand, my eyes squeezed shut. Nobody lurked behind any doors, so I grabbed a quick shower, listening for Mom and flinching at every thump from next door. I was usually pretty even-keeled in the face of everything life threw at me—surprise breakups, back-to-back finals, half the school deciding to shun me. But a dead twin and a scary gun guy were … new.
My adrenaline reserves finally ran dry, exhaustion seeping into their place. I kind of wanted to curl into a ball on the bathroom floor. Instead, I threw on cleanish clothes and shuffled into the hallway.
Mom was bent over a pot on the far side of the kitchen, humming a rock ballad from her CD collection. The fluorescent panel above hummed right along with her.
Relief flooded through me, but I resisted the urge to run to her embrace.
“I was gonna start some laundry,” she said, her back to me. “You want me to throw in anything? Your room’s smelling pretty ripe.”
“Mom….” I really needed to tell her what I saw in that alley.
She stirred the pot. “I wasn’t snooping. I swear. Okay, maybe a little. But only to see if you forgot about a Biology experiment. I know how busy you are whiling away your youth jumping through academic hoops.” There was a smile in her voice.
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“Mom.”
She turned to open a pack of hot dogs laid out on the good cutting board, crammed between the sink and the Mr. Coffee. “Speaking of, Trish asked why she never sees you around the store anymore. I told her you won’t become a captain of industry by hanging out with middle-aged ladies working retail. Not that I’m particularly …” Mom glanced up, her cheeks pinker than usual, ducking to eye me under the cabinets over the kitchen bar.
I always thought she looked like a cheer squad girl who’d settled down, filled out, and had real life to worry about. Arcing jaw, slender neck, the hips I’d never really gotten. Even the worry lines showing now only added to her charm. Too bad I got Dad’s looks.
I must’ve sighed, because she planted her hands on the bar, graying hair straying from a bun fastened with a precision screwdriver she’d lifted from work. A mug of Merlot and a stack of unopened bills had appeared on the counter. She looked me over, her forehead lined with concern. “What is it, Ko?”
I gulped, plunking onto a stool opposite her. Starting the conversation was honestly the hardest part. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” There. Now I just needed to not chicken out.
“Oh?” She searched my face, her lips quirking up. “Is it boy troubles? Tell me his name. I’ll give his parents a call right now.”
I met her gaze, my hands in my lap. “It’s not boy troubles.”
“Thank the Lord above and all her nephews.” She tilted her head. “So does that mean you’re not pregn—”
“Mom, we found a body.” My throat went dry.
Her smile vanished. Steam rose from the pot on the stove behind her, the electric coil a scarlet underscore. “What?” She rounded the counter and thumped onto the stool beside me. A ripped seam gaped in her band tee.
Deep breath. I could do this. “Matt and I went … dumpster diving on the way back from study—” My voice cracked, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. “In the alley behind Mission Pizza. That’s where we found her.”
Blood drained from her face. “Oh my God! That must have been so scary. Are you okay?”
“I’m kinda freaking out.”
“Totally understandable.” She swooped in for a tight hug and rubbed my back. “I’m so glad you’re alright. Have you … talked to the police?”
I shook my head, fidgeting on my stool. “There’s something else.”
A hush crept into her voice. “What is it?”
“The girl in the dumpster. She … looked like me.” At least, I thought she did. The more I brought up that image, the less sure I was. Still, I had to get Mom’s take.
She went bug-eyed and grew still.
I dropped to a whisper. “Mom, do I have a sister?”
She tapped a gnawed fingernail to the bass from 2B. “You most certainly do not. I’m not sure what you saw, but I’d have noticed birthing two of you. Maybe this poor girl just looked similar. The mind can play all kinds of tricks…. I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”
I should’ve snapped a photo. Even if I didn’t exactly believe me, Mom doubting me made my stomach ball up further. “Also … some guy chased us and we hid and Matt blew up a battery and we got away….” Tears stood in my eyes.
Mom paled further. “He chased you?” She massaged my shoulder, the pot bubbling behind her.
“Yeah, some tall white dude, beard and sunglasses, dressed like he was out for a jog. He was on a phone call when we were hiding, said he was looking for someone who looks like the dead girl. That means me, Mom. I think he also wanted some electronics we found in the trash. And he, uh, had this weird glowing gun….”
Mom sprung to her feet, swearing under her breath. She pried back the mini blinds to frown at the fading sunlight.
A chill spread through me. “You know who he is.”
She paced to the far side of the window to peer out. “Let’s just say I have a hunch—trouble from the place I worked before we moved to Las Yerbas, maybe from their corporate security. But if he’s looking for anything, it’s not you, and it’s not dumpster electronics. It’s me.”
Mom? Trouble from an old job like a decade and a half ago when I was little? Trouble that brandishes weapons at seventeen-year-olds? “What?”
She strode back, clamping her hands on my shoulders. “Listen, we need to take this to the police. I’ll talk to someone I know in LYPD. Tonight. I don’t want you going out, okay?”
“Since when do you hang out with cops?”
“Sometimes, Ko, I wonder if the healthy distrust of authority I’ve labored to instill in you is perhaps a little too healthy. He’s from book club. I’m only trying to keep us safe.”
Mom’s friends were all from book club, underemployed outcasts just like her. It was the highlight of her week. She’d come back all smiles, teeth red with wine. Only I couldn’t imagine anyone she’d met over brie and literary fiction helping us. “Shouldn’t we be leaving town?”
“First I need to find out whether this man is looking for me or is here for … something else.” She shifted her weight. “If I don’t open at the hardware store tomorrow, I’m out of a job.”
“Some dude with a glowing gun chases me, and you want to investigate instead of going somewhere safe? What is it? You don’t believe me about him either?”
She squatted so we were eye-to-eye. “I believe you. But if they really found us, running isn’t necessarily safer. I know people here who can help, including in LYPD. Please, give me a chance to look into this before we uproot our lives again. I—Shit!”
Foaming ramen crested the pot, hissing to the stove top.
Mom pounced across the kitchen and yanked the pot clear of the burner, steam billowing. It clattered to the stove and she let out a long, guttural shout, shaking her hands at the mess.
I jerked at her reaction. Mom usually wasn’t one to scream. Even the time she smashed her thumb with a hammer while fixing my desk, she dropped one crisp f-bomb before shaking out her hand and going back for more nails. “Do you want a hand cleaning—”
“I’ve got it.” She steadied herself on the counter before unspooling a fistful of paper towels. “I still have the peas and hot dogs I was going to put in, so not a total loss. Even if these are a pale shadow of gator dogs.”
“Why would your former employer be looking for you after all these years?”
A shadow passed over Mom’s face. She wiped off her fingers, leaned over the counter, and took my hands in hers. They were calloused and warm. She had that far-off look like whenever I asked about Dad. “Whatever happens, I won’t let them hurt us. But I need to talk to the police.” She strode back to the stove to resume scrubbing. “It’ll be okay, Ko.”
Won’t let them hurt us? Mom was mixed up in something real bad. I studied the loosening heel of my boot, a Dad-shaped hole aching in my chest. He’d have known what to do. I had this dim image of him tucking me into unicorn sheets, singing me to sleep. Whenever I had a rotten day and Mom was at work, I’d imagine him coming in with some wise words, making me laugh as I wiped away the tears. If I ever asked about him though, Mom would say it was ancient history and change the subject. But sometimes when the Riesling was down past the label and an old rock song came on, I’d catch her misty-eyed at the window.
My tooth throbbed. Probably a bad time to tell Mom I needed to see a dentist we couldn’t afford. She seemed certain Alley Dude was coming for her, but it sure sounded like he’d been looking for me before taking that flaming shrapnel to the face. He’d also been pretty interested in my backpack with the game system—maybe the key to finding out what he wanted with me.
I’d always played the long game, focusing on grades as the fix for us barely scraping by. But if I was going to have a future at all, first I needed to get control of the present.
“Ko?” She turned back with a frown and a fistful of sopping paper towels.
“Yeah Mom?”
“Talk to me.”
“Just processing all this.”
She flung the soaked paper towels into the trash and gave me a long look.
“I’m fine, Mom.” I reached across the counter for my phone.
“Promise me you won’t go out.”
I wasn’t stupid, but I also wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing while Alley Dude was potentially looking for me. Mom could go to the police. Fine, whatever. But if that didn’t pan out, then it was on me to bring her proof this guy was after us—so she’d agree to leave town before he came knocking. And this game system was my best lead.
I flashed her a syrupy smile.
“Cross my heart, hope to die.”