nuns didn’t actually own this part of the block. Those guys did,” she said,
pointing at the building that sat behind the bank. “St. Sophia’s agreed to put in the stone wall,
and the building agreed to keep this place as- is, provided that the St. Sophia’s folks promised not to raise a stink about losing it.”
“Huh,” I said, skimming my fingers across the top of one nubby pillar.
“It’s a great place to get lost,” she said, and as if on cue, disappeared between the columns.
It took a minute to find her in the forest of them. And when I reached her in the middle, she wasn’t alone.
Scout stood stiffly, lips apart, eyes wide, staring at the two boys who stood across from her.
They were both in slacks and sweaters, a button-down shirt and tie beneath, an ensemble I assumed was the guy version of the private school uniform. The one on the right had big brown eyes, honey skin, and wavy dark hair curling over his forehead.
The one on the left had dark blond hair and blue eyes. No—not blue exactly, but a shade somewhere between blue and indigo and turquoise, like the color of a ridiculously bright spring sky. They glowed beneath his short hair, dark slashes of eyebrows, and the long lashes that fanned across those crazy eyes.
His eyebrows lifted with interest, but Scout’s voice pulled his gaze to her. I, on the other hand,
had a little more trouble, and had to drag my gaze away from this boy in the garden.
“What are you doing here?” she asked them, suspicion in her gaze.
The boy with brown eyes shrugged innocently. “Just seeing a little of Chicago.”
“I guess that means I didn’t miss a meeting,” Scout said, her voice dry. “Don’t you have class?”
“There wasn’t a meeting,” he confirmed. “We’re on our lunch break, just like you are. We’re out for a casual stroll, enjoying this beautiful fall day.” He glanced at me and offered a grin. “I’m guessing you’re St. Sophia’s latest fashion victim? I’m Michael Garcia.”
“Lily Parker,” I said with a grin. Sothis was the boy Veronica talked about. Or more important,
the boy Scout had avoided talking about. Given the warmth in his eyes as he stole glances at Scout, I made a prediction that Veronica wasn’t going to win that battle.
“Hello, Lily Parker,” Michael said, then bobbed his head toward blue eyes. “This is Jason Shepherd.”
“Live and in person,” Jason said with a smile, dimples arcing at each corner of his mouth. My heart beat a little bit faster; those dimples were killers. “It’s nice to meet you, Lily.”
“Ditto,” I said, offering back a smile. But not too much of a smile. No sense in playing my entire hand at once.
Jason hitched a thumb behind him. “We go to Montclare. It’s down the road. Kind of.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said, then looked at Scout, who’d crossed her arms over her chest, the universal sign of skepticism.
“Out for a casual stroll,” she repeated, apparently unwilling to let the point go. “A casual stroll that takes you to the garden next door to St. Sophia’s? Somehow, I’m just not buying that’s a coincidence.”
Michael arched an eyebrow and grinned back at her. “That’s because you’re much too suspicious.”
Scout snorted. “I have good reason to be suspicious, Garcia.”
Michael’s chocolate gaze intensified, and all that intensity was directed at the girl standing next to me.
This was getting pretty entertaining.
“Youimagine you had a good reason,” he told her. “That’s not the same thing.”
I glanced at Jason, who seemed to be enjoying the mock debate as much as I was. “Should we leave them alone, do you think?”
“It’s not a bad idea,” he said, brows furrowed in mock concentration. “We could give them a little privacy, let them see where things can go.”
“That’s a very respectful idea,” I said, nodding gravely. “We should give them their space.”
Jason winked at me, as Scout—oblivious to our jokes at her expense—pushed forward. “I don’t understand why you’re arguing with me. You know you have no chance.”
Michael clutched at his chest dramatically. “You’re killing me, Scout. Really. There’s chest pain —a tightness.” He faked a groan.
Scout rolled her eyes, but you could see the twitch in her smile. “Call a doctor.”
“Come on, Green. Can’t a guy just get out and enjoy the weather? It’s a beautiful fall day in Chicago. My amigo Jason and I were thinking we should get out and enjoy it before the snow gets here.”
“Again, I seriously doubt, Garcia, if you’re all that concerned about the weather.”
“Okay,” Michael said, holding up his hands, “let’s pretend you’re right. Let’s say,
hypothetically, that it’s no coincidence that our walk brought us next door to St. Sophia’s. Let’s say we had a personal interest in skipping lunch and showing up on your side of the river.”
Scout rolled her eyes and held up a finger. “Oh, bottle it up. I don’t have the time.”
“You should make time.”
“Guys, eleven o’clock,” Jason whispered.
Scout snorted at Michael. “I’m amused you think you’re important enough to—”
“Eleven o’clock,” Jason whispered again, this time fiercely. Scout and Michael suddenly quieted, and both glanced to where Jason had indicated. I resisted the urge to look, which would have made us all completely obvious, but couldn’t help it.
I gave it a couple of seconds, then stole a glance over my shoulder. There was a gap in the pillars through which we could see the street behind us, the one that ran parallel to Erie, but behind St. Sophia’s. A slim girl in jeans and a snug hoodie, the hood pulled over her head, stood on the sidewalk, her hands tucked into her pockets.
“Who is that?” I whispered.
“No—why is she here?” Jason asked, dimples fading, his gaze on the girl. While her face wasn’t visible, her hair was blond—the curly length of it spilling from her hood and across her shoulders. Veronica was the only Chicago blonde I knew, but that couldn’t be her. I didn’t think she’d be caught dead in jeans and a hoodie, especially not on a uniform day.
Besides, there was something different about this girl. Something unsettling. Somethingoff . She was too still, as if frozen while the city moved around her.
“Is she looking for trouble?” Michael asked. His voice was quiet, just above a whisper, and it carried a hint of concern. Like whether she was looking for trouble or not, he expected it.
“In the middle of the day?” Scout whispered. “And here? She’s blocks away from the nearest enclave. Fromher enclave.”
“What’s an enclave?” I quietly asked. Not so quietly that they couldn’t hear me, but they ignored me, anyway.
Jason nodded. “Blocks from hers, and much too close to ours.”
In the time it took me to glance at Jason and back at the girl again, she was gone. The sidewalk was as empty as if she’d never been there at all.
I looked back and forth from Scout to Michael to Jason. “Someone want to fill me in?” I was beginning to guess it was pointless for me to ask questions—as pointless as my trying to goad Scout into telling me where she’d gone last night—but I couldn’t stop asking them.
Scout sighed. “This was supposed to be a tour. Not a briefing. I’m exhausted.”
“We’re all tired,” Michael said. “It was a long summer.”
“Long summer for what?”
“You could say we’re part of a community improvement group,” Michael said.
It took me a minute to realize that I’d been added back into the conversation. But the answer wasn’t very satisfying—or informative. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Community improvement? Like, you clean up litter?”
“That’s actually not a bad analogy,” Jason said, his gaze still on the spot where the girl had been.
