A sweeping bend in the road coincided with the turn in my thoughts. The donut shop drama had started with one of my friends, some sort of energy or being, shoving me backwards as I was getting out of the truck. A clear sign that I was not supposed to go into the shop. Almost at the same time, Sal had reacted, forcing me down—but what had he reacted to? The robber must’ve been facing the cashier in order to demand money, and now that I thought about it, the yells that marked the beginning of the hold-up had come after Sal had grabbed me.
On autopilot, I turned off River Road and headed toward Eileen’s school. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed a single pretty view, and the increased traffic and multiple stop lights didn’t demand my attention, either, so I continued to drive reflexively, lost in thought. Based on the timing alone, it was clear to me now that he’d known something was wrong before—just like I had. Actually, hadn’t I asked him about that last night? I couldn’t remember. I knew I’d asked him how he’d seen so many details about the robber, because it was ridiculous how much information he was able to give. Even the officer taking notes had looked flabbergasted. I mean, it was one thing to have a photographic memory but how had he even seen that much from the parking lot?
All this thinking was starting to make me tired again, but I struggled to remember the details—as someone who most definitely did not have a photographic memory. We’d been parked in the first spot, directly in front of the glassed entrance, so even though the door was off to the side a bit, Sal would’ve had a clear view of the man in line. But, still, that would have been at least ten, maybe fifteen feet from where he was sitting in the Bronco—and weren’t the building’s windows tinted? And what about the gun? Who in the world could identify a gun when it was in someone’s hand that far away? And who would have even paid that much attention? Hadn’t he been frightened at all? I had been, and I was stashed at his feet! Photographic memory or not, it just seemed . . . odd.
Odd? Jesus, Lila. Think!
I’m trying. I knew I’d been using that same inane word since the ladder debacle . . . and he’d tried to keep me safe then, too, even though he’d mostly just ticked me off . . . and there was something else . . . something he’d said . . .
I was almost to Eileen’s school now, but I didn’t want to lose this train of thought. There was something there, something I was missing. He’d warned me to be careful, and I hadn’t listened—no shocker there—and he’d caught me when the ladder lurched off the track. Which reminded me that I still needed to call someone to come fix that . . .
Focus! What did he say about the ladder?
Just to be careful. And then the track had broken, and he’d caught me, and I’d realized how hot he was—literally—and had given him a half-assed thank you. And he’d said something about the screws. That the screws were different on that part of the track.
Shelves at least a dozen feet high and no direct lighting, and he’d said the screws were different.
How could he possibly see that? How could they even be different? Weren’t screws all the same? They certainly looked the same when all you could see were the heads—and that was presuming you were close enough to even see the heads!
I pulled into the school’s pickup line and automatically scanned the milling kids and piles of sleeping bags, but my brain was struggling. Either Sal had super vision—like, extreme comic-book-style super vision—or he had . . . or maybe he was . . .
I couldn’t even come up with an alternative. So it was either a super power, or something so fantastic that I couldn’t even fathom what it might be. I felt a little woozy. First Cara, and now this. No, that wasn’t right. First there was me, with all my everyday strangeness, then Sal with his, and then Cara with hers. What the hell? It wasn’t even a full moon.
Eileen spotted me first and ran over with a huge grin that made me want to forget the world was more bizarre than I’d ever imagined. I leaned over and opened the back door so she could toss her stuff on the seat, and opened the front door for her, too, eager to wrap her in a hug as soon as possible.
“Hey, Mom! I missed you!” She snuggled in my arms for a few seconds before I realized the car ahead of me had moved. Reluctantly, I pulled away to drive, but took her hand in mine.
“How was it?”
“Fun! I only slept for like an hour, but I’m not tired at all! Just really hungry!” She was hyper from lack of sleep.
“Here. I brought you a banana. I’ll scramble some eggs when we get home.”
“Thanks!” She peeled it and took a huge bite, but that didn’t stop her from talking. “So how was the party? Do you like the guy?”
That’s my girl. Always direct. I skimmed through the parts I could tell her as I maneuvered through traffic.
“It was fun. We played pool a little bit, and Maureen had chocolate fondue. You’d have loved that . . . ” I paused to see if that was enough, but of course it wasn’t. She was even better at the raised eyebrow look than I was. “He seemed nice.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And what did he look like? What’s his name? Do you like him? Come on, Mom. Don’t make me drag it out of you.”
I squirmed at the role reversal. Shouldn’t I be having this conversation with her in a couple of years?
“Well, honey, I mean . . . he seemed nice. He said his name was Sal, and he’s really tall. Blond. He’d actually come into the
