Read Return to Paradise for Free Online
Authors: Pittacus Lore
know.” She cuts me off in a huff. “Trust me, I know. I’m well aware of how messed up this situation is. All of it. And if there was some way I could fix everything, I would. I half wish John would get arrested because at least that way I’d know where he is, and that he’s safe.”
The wind whistles a little as we stand, not talking to one another. I want to hug her—to touch her in any way—and it takes a good amount of my willpower to remind myself that if I freak Sarah out, I lose the only person I care about, and the only person I can talk to about everything that’s happening. Other than a bunch of random people online who are probably old dudes living in their moms’ basements and surviving on caffeine and corn chips.
Besides, I’ve already pushed her as much as I can today.
“Sam doesn’t believe in Sasquatches,” Sarah finally says with a faint smile. “We talked about it before. No Bigfoot hunting for him.”
“At this point I’m not sure that I don’t believe in Bigfoot,” I say.
This gets a little laugh out of her, which makes me smile.
“I don’t know. I think I’d trust Sam on this one. He was way ahead of us on all this alien stuff. He probably knows more about John’s history than John does.”
This is true. It’s something I file away for the future. What did Sam know? How did he find stuff out? And did he leave any records?
“I’ve got to get out of here,” Sarah continues.
“Okay, where do you want to go?”
She shakes her head.
“I just need to be alone for a little while,” she says, digging for her keys in her purse.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask. “I can come over if you want. Or we can stay out in public where no one can get to you.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Besides, my brothers are home this weekend, and there’s nothing they love more than trying to act tough and protect their little sister. We’ll talk later, all right?”
“Yeah,” I say.
I watch her walk away and make sure she gets to her car okay. She’s just a speck down the road when my senses come to and I start putting things together about our weird encounter at the pizza place. Agent Noto wassitting behind me.
Does that mean I’m being followed too?
I walk around our tiny downtown for a little while, half to clear my head and half to keep an eye over my shoulder and see if I’ve got some kind of tail watching me while pretending to read a magazine or something. But there’s no one. At least not anybody I can see.
The card Agent Walker gave me gives me absolutely no info—it’s blank other than a phone number, which goes straight to voice mail when I call it from the only pay phone I know of in Paradise. I don’t leave a message. Instead, I pull up the “Aliens Anonymous” blog on my phone and message GUARD, telling him that I’ve had a really weird run-in with the FBI and that this is the contact number they gave me. GUARD is good with computers and stuff, so maybe he can use it to find some new information or something.
When I’m walking back to my truck, I run into Kevin, an offensive lineman from school. He’s a giant of a guy, with patches of red hair all over his face that almost make it look like he’s capable of growing an actual beard. Almost. A few of the younger members on the team are with him, but they hang back, letting him lead. I briefly wonder if that’s what I looked like when I was always running around town with my own posse.
“Duuuude,” he says when he sees me. We do anelaborate series of handshakes and fist bumps. “We were grabbing burgers and saw you talking with Sarah on the corner. Looked pretty intense. What’s going on with you two—you hitting that now that Bomberman is gone?”
Fire rages in me, and I can feel my face turning red with anger.
“Look, man,” one of the younger guys says. “He’s blushing.”
“Don’t talk about Sarah like that,” I say. My jaw is clenched.
The whole pack “ Oooooooo ”s
The wind whistles a little as we stand, not talking to one another. I want to hug her—to touch her in any way—and it takes a good amount of my willpower to remind myself that if I freak Sarah out, I lose the only person I care about, and the only person I can talk to about everything that’s happening. Other than a bunch of random people online who are probably old dudes living in their moms’ basements and surviving on caffeine and corn chips.
Besides, I’ve already pushed her as much as I can today.
“Sam doesn’t believe in Sasquatches,” Sarah finally says with a faint smile. “We talked about it before. No Bigfoot hunting for him.”
“At this point I’m not sure that I don’t believe in Bigfoot,” I say.
This gets a little laugh out of her, which makes me smile.
“I don’t know. I think I’d trust Sam on this one. He was way ahead of us on all this alien stuff. He probably knows more about John’s history than John does.”
This is true. It’s something I file away for the future. What did Sam know? How did he find stuff out? And did he leave any records?
“I’ve got to get out of here,” Sarah continues.
“Okay, where do you want to go?”
She shakes her head.
“I just need to be alone for a little while,” she says, digging for her keys in her purse.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask. “I can come over if you want. Or we can stay out in public where no one can get to you.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Besides, my brothers are home this weekend, and there’s nothing they love more than trying to act tough and protect their little sister. We’ll talk later, all right?”
“Yeah,” I say.
I watch her walk away and make sure she gets to her car okay. She’s just a speck down the road when my senses come to and I start putting things together about our weird encounter at the pizza place. Agent Noto wassitting behind me.
Does that mean I’m being followed too?
I walk around our tiny downtown for a little while, half to clear my head and half to keep an eye over my shoulder and see if I’ve got some kind of tail watching me while pretending to read a magazine or something. But there’s no one. At least not anybody I can see.
The card Agent Walker gave me gives me absolutely no info—it’s blank other than a phone number, which goes straight to voice mail when I call it from the only pay phone I know of in Paradise. I don’t leave a message. Instead, I pull up the “Aliens Anonymous” blog on my phone and message GUARD, telling him that I’ve had a really weird run-in with the FBI and that this is the contact number they gave me. GUARD is good with computers and stuff, so maybe he can use it to find some new information or something.
When I’m walking back to my truck, I run into Kevin, an offensive lineman from school. He’s a giant of a guy, with patches of red hair all over his face that almost make it look like he’s capable of growing an actual beard. Almost. A few of the younger members on the team are with him, but they hang back, letting him lead. I briefly wonder if that’s what I looked like when I was always running around town with my own posse.
“Duuuude,” he says when he sees me. We do anelaborate series of handshakes and fist bumps. “We were grabbing burgers and saw you talking with Sarah on the corner. Looked pretty intense. What’s going on with you two—you hitting that now that Bomberman is gone?”
Fire rages in me, and I can feel my face turning red with anger.
“Look, man,” one of the younger guys says. “He’s blushing.”
“Don’t talk about Sarah like that,” I say. My jaw is clenched.
The whole pack “ Oooooooo ”s