Page 7 of Slick Trip

He stared at me, biting his lip, glancing at the pavement before looking back at me.

“Don’t—don’t mention the incident,” he said, losing some of his swagger.

“Why?”

“I kind of didn’t have permission to be at the mall,” he admitted in a rush. “Mom told me not to go.”

I gave him a look. “Somehow, I’m not surprised you went anyway.”

He grinned. “So you’re not going to say anything?”

Something about his grin made me want to ruffle his feathers. “Depends. Do you promise to start listening to your mom?”

The grin turned into an indignant frown. “I’m fifteen. Mom thinks there’s a monster around every corner. Nothing’s going to happen to me—”

“You might want to rethink that,” I said, the roughness in my tone surprising even myself. He shrank back, looking almost thrown. Then he stuck out his tongue.

“I had it under control!” he insisted, gesturing wildly. “I know karate.”

I laughed out loud. It was the first time I’d laughed in days. “You’re lying through your teeth, aren’t you?”

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I would’ve improvised.”

Then he stepped closer, buzzing with tension, and gave me a pleading look that made my composure slip.

“Please don’t tell,” he whispered. “I don’t want to be grounded again.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” I promised. For some reason, it was suddenly important to me too. He beamed. There was something about his smile that made me think of that particular moment in a video game when you realize, one second too late, that your opponent is about to finish you.

Game over.

I was still recovering from that when he delivered the final blow and wrapped his slight arms around me. I went completely still. I’d spent most of my life expecting hits—giving them, taking them, learning how to survive them. Nobody had warned me that the thing that would finally knock the air out of me would be a hug from a mouthy kid.

How could something that soft feel so dangerous?

3

The Betrayal

COOPER

I stared at Mom, trying to make sense of what she’d just said. “What do you mean I won’t be traveling alone?”

Mom sighed, a weary sound I was well used to.

“It means exactly that. You won’t be traveling alone. I’m sorry, Cooper, but it’s not safe right now.” She nodded toward the newspaper.

I blew air in frustration.

“Yeah, that’s sad, but it’s not like I’m a twenty-three-year-old Omega spokesperson. I’m nineteen-year-old Cooper, secondary gender unconfirmed.”

“The monsters who target innocent people don’t stop to ask if you’ve presented,” Mom said.

I knew she was right, and I tried to act my age so I wouldn’t have to hear it again—that I was childish, immature, or, as my brother’s evil friend Jon Beckett liked to say, a brat.

Don’t think about Jon.

“Jack can’t take time off,” I said, the final word cracking humiliatingly. “So who’s coming with me?”