“I understand.” She gave me a hug and pul ed me toward the door. “Come on, I’l take you home.”
Home. I wished I could go home, but I couldn’t. I would have to enlist Ruth’s unwitting aid once more—to protect myself and my parents. And her, for that matter.
We drove in silence until I asked her about Jamie. Her face lit up as she described how smart he was and how helpful with her homework. I kept her talking until we neared the Til inghast town green. When we pul ed alongside the whitewashed town church, I asked her to stop the car for a minute.
“Ruth, I’m going to ask for an enormous favor. The biggest favor I’ve ever asked of you. And I’m not going to be able to tel you why.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly.
“Can you please take me to the train station? And not tel my parents or Michael. Or anyone else who might ask.”
She paused, weighing very careful y whether or not to utter her next words. “El ie, I know.”
“Know what?”
“I know about you and Michael—and the flying.”
I was stunned into speechlessness.
Ruth looked down at her hands, almost embarrassed by what she’d said and how she knew. “I told you earlier that I just didn’t understand the whole Facebook thing. It seemed total y out of character for you, and you acted so different afterward. So I started eavesdropping here and there. I overheard you saying to Michael that you’d see him later that night—even though you were grounded. It got me wondering whether you two were sneaking out, and whether Michael was the reason you changed so much. So I began to fol ow you—at night. That’s when I saw you fly for the first time.”
“You saw us.” I couldn’t believe my ears.
“Yes.” She smiled despite herself. “It was real y amazing to watch.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
“El ie, does the trip to the train station have something to do with your flying?”
“Yes, in a way.”
She paused again. It was strange for me to watch my best friend of seven years acting so uncomfortable around me. “What are you, El ie?”
I didn’t have an answer, although I wished desperately that I did. “Would you believe me if I told you that I honestly don’t know?”
Reaching out toward me, she clasped my hand. “After seeing you two fly, I’d believe anything.”
I didn’t want to push her along, but I knew I was running out of time. “So you’l take me to the train station?”
“Do you real y need to go? I don’t know what I’l do without you, El ie. Especial y now that you are back. The real you, I mean.”
Tears started wel ing up in my eyes at the idea of leaving my poor parents behind. And Ruth. And Til inghast. But I knew I couldn’t stay. Ezekiel had warned me.
“I have to go. It’s in everyone’s best interest,” I said, knowing that Ruth couldn’t possibly comprehend—or believe—the danger I’d be thrusting upon Til inghast if I didn’t leave.
“Take me with you, El ie,” she said suddenly. Although I could tel she’d been mustering up the courage to make her request.
“You don’t want to be a part of this. I promise you.”
“El ie, I don’t know what you are, but I know you are more than human.” She started to cry too. “I’ve seen up close what it means to be human. With my mom’s death. And I don’t want to end up like that. I’d rather be like you.”
Watching Ruth cry made me cry harder. “Oh, Ruth, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t turn you into whatever I am. And anyway, I don’t think my differences make me immune from dying.”
We hugged each other for a long time. Ruth broke away first, and turned the car back on. “I guess I should take you to the train station.”
Chapter Thirty-four
I walked into the back entrance of the sleepy Til inghast train station feeling more alone than ever before. It wasn’t because the station was empty except for a lone ticket agent or because I was uncertain about my destination. It was because I was truly on my own.
I didn’t know when—or how—my solitude would end. I couldn’t see or even contact my parents until I could be certain I wouldn’t cause them harm.
The same applied to Ruth. As for Michael, wel , he had chosen Ezekiel over me; he was gone. And there was no one else.
As I stared up at the train destination board, a tear ran down my cheek. For a split second, I was glad to be alone. I didn’t want anyone to see my weakness. I needed to be strong to face the coming days.
Wiping the tear away, I concentrated on the board. I scanned the list of trains slated to leave the station in the morning, but immediately rejected those as departing too late. I couldn’t chance staying overnight in the station. I didn’t doubt that Ezekiel could descend upon me if he so chose, but I did not want my parents to find me and suffer Ezekiel’s wrath.
Then I noticed that one last train was due into the station that night, just after eight P.M. Cal ed the
