Betrayed

'You have no clue what you're doing, Zoey Redbird,' I said aloud to myself as the gray sky opened and poured cold rain over everything.

It was 2:35 when I tiptoed back into our room. The fact that I was short on time was actually good. It didn't give me a chance to overthink what I had to do. Stevie Rae and Nala were still sound asleep. Actually, Nala had abandoned my empty bed and was curled up beside Stevie Rae's head on her pillow, which made me smile. (The cat was a notorious pillow hog.) Quietly I opened the top drawer on my computer desk and grabbed Damien's dispos­able phone, along with the slip of paper I'd scribbled the FBI's number on, and then went into the bathroom.

I took a couple deep, calming breaths, remembering Damien's advice: Keep it short. Sound a little angry, and kinda semi-crazy, but don't sound like a teenager. I dialed the number. When an official-sounding man answered, 'Federal Bureau of Investigation. How may I help you?' I pitched my voice low and sharp, cutting off my words like I had to be careful to hold myself back because of the dam of hatred that was built up behind them (which is how Erin, with her suddenly and bizarrely unexpected political knowl­edge, described how I should pretend to feel). 'I want to report a bomb.' I kept talking, not giving him time to interrupt me, but speaking slowly and clearly because I knew I was being recorded. 'My group, Nature's Jihad (Shawnee came up with our name), planted it just below the waterline on one of the pylons (a word Damien had come up with) of the bridge that crosses the Arkansas River on I-40 near Webber's Falls. It's set to go off at 1515 (using military time was another brilliant idea of Damien's). We're tak­ing full responsibility for this act of civil disobedience (more Erin input, although she said terrorism is not actually civil disobedience, it's ... well … terrorism, which is definitely different) protesting the U.S. government's interference in our lives and pollution in America's rivers. Be warned that this is only our first strike!' I hung up. Then I quickly flipped the scrap of paper over and punched in the phone number on the other side of it.

'Fox News Tulsa!' said the perky woman.

This part was actually my idea. I figured if I called a local news station we would have a better chance of having the threat re­ported quickly on the local news, and then we could keep an eye on the news and maybe even know when (or if) our attempt to get the bridge closed had been successful. I took another deep breath and then launched into the rest of the plan.

'A terrorist group known as Nature's Jihad has called the FBI with information that they've planted a bomb on the I-40 bridge over the Arkansas River by Webber's Falls. It's set to explode at three fifteen today.' I made the mistake of pausing for a fraction of a second, and the woman, who was suddenly not so perky-sounding, said, 'Who are you, ma'am, and where did you get this information?'

'Down with government intervention and pollution and up with the power of the people!' I yelled and then hung up. Imme­diately I pressed the power off button. Then my knees wouldn't hold me up any longer and I collapsed onto the closed toilet lid. I'd done it. I'd really done it.

Two soft knocks sounded against the bathroom door, followed by Stevie Rae's soft Oklahoma twang.

'Zoey? Are you okay?'

'Yeah,' I said faintly. I forced myself to stand up and go to the door. I opened it to see Stevie Rae's rumpled face peering up at me like a sleepy, countrified rabbit.

'Did ya call 'em?' she whispered.

'Yeah, and you don't have to whisper. It's just you and me.' Nala yawned and made a grumpy mee-uf-ow at me from the middle of Stevie Rae's pillow. 'And Nala.'

'What happened? Did they say anything?'

'Not after the 'hello FBI' part. Damien said I shouldn't give them a chance to talk, remember?'

'Did you tell them that we're Nature's Jihad?'

'Stevie Rae. We're not Nature's Jihad. We're just pretending to be.'

'Well, I heard you yelling the down with the government and pollution thing, so I thought … maybe … actually I dunno what I thought. I guess I just got caught up in the moment.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Stevie Rae, I was just acting. The news lady asked me who I was and I guess I kinda freaked. And, yes, I told them everything we said I should. I just hope it works.' I pulled off my hoodie and hung it on the back of a chair to dry.

Stevie Rae suddenly registered that my hair was wet and my Mark was covered, something I'd totally forgotten about in my hurry to make the phone calls. Hell.

'Did you go somewhere?'

'Yeah,' I said reluctantly. 'I couldn't sleep, so I went to the American Eagle at Utica and bought a new sweater.' I pointed at the soggy American Eagle bag I'd tossed in the corner.

'You should have woken me up. I would have gone with you.'

If she hadn't sounded so hurt I would have had more time to think about just exactly how much I was going to tell her about Heath before I blurted, 'I ran into my ex-boyfriend.'

'Ohmygoodness! Tell me everything.' She plopped down on her bed, eyes shining. Nala grumbled and jumped from her pil­low to mine. I got a towel and started to dry my hair.

'I was at Starbucks. He was taping up flyers with Brad's pic­ture on them.'

'And? What happened when he saw you?'

'We talked.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Come on—what else?'

'He's quit drinking and getting high.'

'Wow, that's major. Isn't his drinking and smoking why you quit seeing him to begin with?'

'Yeah.'

'Hey, what about Stank Kayla and him?'

'Heath says he's not seeing her because of the crap she's talk­ing about vampyres.'

'See! We were right about her being the reason those cops were here asking stuff about you,' Stevie Rae said.

'Seems like it.'

Stevie Rae was watching me way too closely. 'You still like him, don't you?'

'It's not that simple.'

'Well, actually, part of it is that simple. I mean, if you don't like him, that's pretty much it. You won't see him again. Simple,' Stevie Rae said logically.

'I still like him,' I admitted.

'I knew it!' She did a little bed bounce. 'Man, you have like a zillion guys, Z. What are you gonna do?'

'I have not got one clue,' I said miserably.

'Erik comes back from the Shakespeare competition tomorrow.

'I know. Neferet said that Loren went to support Erik and the rest of the kids from here, so that means he'll be back with them tomorrow, too. And I told Heath I'd go out with him Friday after the game.'

'Are you going to tell Erik about him?'

'I dunno.'

'Do you like Heath more than Erik?'

'I dunno.'

'What about Loren?'

'Stevie Rae, I do not know.' I rubbed at the headache that seemed to have firmly attached itself to me. 'Can we just not talk about it for a while—at least until I get a little of this figured out.'

'Okay. Let's go.' She grabbed my arm.

'Where?' I blinked at her, totally confused. She'd gone from Heath to Erik to Loren and then to let's go way too fast.

'You need your Count Chocula fix, and I need my Lucky Charms. And we both need to watch CNN and the local news.'

I started to shuffle to the door. Nala stretched, meowed grumpily, and then reluctantly followed me. Stevie Rae shook her head at both of us.

'Come on you two. Everything will seem better after you've had your Count Chocula.'

'And brown pop,' I said.

Stevie Rae screwed up her face like she just sucked a lemon. 'For breakfast?'

'I have a feeling it's a brown-pop-for-breakfast kind of day.'