Meg Cabot - When Lightning Strikes

I let the helmet drop back over my face. "Oh, God," I said.

"You got that right. He thinks you are one dope girl, Mastriani."

"He said that? He sure doesn't act like he thinks that. He really said I was dope?"

"Well." Rob swung onto his seat and gave the accelerator a kick. "I might be allowing my own feelings to cloud the matter a little."

Suddenly, all the birds and squirrels were singing again.

"You think I'm dope?" I asked dreamily.

He reached out and flicked my helmet. It made a hollow echoing sound inside my head, and brought me right out of my reverie.

"Get on the bike, Mastriani," he said.

When we got back to Rob's, Sean and Mrs. Wilkins were shelling peas and watching Ricki Lake.

"Jess," he said when I walked in. "Where have you been? You totally missed this guy. He weighed four hundred pounds and got stuck in a bathtub for over forty-eight hours! If you'd been here sooner, you could have seen it."

It was love. I could totally tell.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

C H A P T E R

21

The marching band was playing "Louie, Louie."

And not very well, I might add.

Still, Sean and I stayed where we were, sitting on the same metal bleachers that a week or so before I'd been electrocuted under. Before us stretched the football field, a sea of luscious green, upon which marched a herd of musicians playing for all they were worth, even though it was only an after-school rehearsal, and not the real thing. Football season was long over, but graduation was coming up, and the band would play at commencement.

Just not "Louie, Louie," hopefully.

"I don't get it," Sean said. "What are we doing here?"

"Wait," I said. "You'll see."

We weren't the only spectators in the stands. There was one other guy, way, way up at the top behind us.

But that was it. I wasn't sure if Rosemary had failed to get my message to Special Agent Johnson, or if he'd chosen merely to ignore it. If he was ignoring it, he was making a grave mistake. The guy up in the stands would make sure of that.

"Why won't you tell me what we're doing here?" Sean demanded. "I think I have a right to know."

"Drink your Big Gulp," I said. It was hot out. The late afternoon sun was beating down on us. I didn't have any sunglasses or a hat, and I was dying. I was worried Sean might be getting dehydrated.

"I don't want my stupid Big Gulp," Sean said. "I want to know what we're doing here."

"Watch the band," I said.

"The band sucks." Sean glared at me. Most of the brown had washed out of his hair when he'd showered at Rob's. It was a good thing he'd let Mrs. Wilkins give him a trim, or the bits of red sticking out of the back of his baseball cap would have been a dead giveaway.

"What are we doing here?" he wanted to know. "And why is Jed waiting down there?"

Jed turned out to be the name of Rob's friend from Chick's, the one who'd been in Vietnam. He was sitting in a pickup not far from us, parked over behind the bleachers … almost exactly, in fact, in the place where I'd been struck by lightning. It was shady where he was. He probably didn't feel sweat prickling all along his hairline, the way I did.

"Just cool it, will you?" I said to Sean.

"No, I will not cool it, Jess. I think I deserve an explanation. Are you going to give me one or not?"

Something caught the sunlight and winked at me. I shaded my eyes and looked toward the parking lot. A black, nondescript sedan had pulled up.

"Louie, Louie" ended. The band started a spirited rendition of Robert Palmer's "Simply Irresistible."

"How come you aren't in Band?" Sean wanted to know. "I mean, you play the flute and all. How come you're not in Band?"

The car pulled up to a halt. The two front doors opened, and a man and a woman got out. Then a back door opened, and another woman got out.

"Because I'm in Orchestra," I said.

"What's the difference?"

"In Orchestra, you play sitting down."

"That's it?"

The man and woman from the front seats moved until they stood on either side of the woman who'd gotten out of the backseat. Then they started walking across the football field, toward Sean and me.

"The Orchestra doesn't play at school events," I said. "Like games and stuff."

Sean digested this. "Where do you play, then?"

"Nowhere. We just have concerts every once in a while."

"What's the fun in that?" Sean wanted to know.

"I don't know," I said. "I couldn't be in Band, anyway. I'm always in detention when they practice."

"Why are you always in detention?"

"Because I do a lot of bad stuff."

The trio moving across the football field had gotten close enough for me to see that they were who I was expecting. Rosemary had gotten my message across, all right.

"What kind of bad stuff?" Sean wanted to know.

"I hit people." I reached into the back pocket of my jeans.

"So?" Sean looked indignant. "They probably deserve it."

"I like to think so," I said. "Look, Sean, I want you to take this. It's for you and your mom. Jed's going to drive you to the airport. I want you guys to get on a plane—any plane—and take off. Don't make any calls. Don't stop for anything. You can buy whatever you need when you get to where you're going. Understand?"

Sean looked down at the envelope I was holding out to him. Then he looked up at me.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Your mom," I said. "You two are going to have to start over, somewhere else. Somewhere far away, I hope, where your dad won't be able to find you. This will help you get started." I tucked the envelope into the front pocket of his jean jacket.

Sean shook his head. His face was tight with emotion. Conflicting emotions, from the looks of it. "Jess. My mom's in jail. Remember?"

"Not anymore," I said. And then I pointed.

The three people approaching us were close enough now that I could make out their features. Special Agent Johnson, Special Agent Smith, and between them, a slim woman in blue jeans. Sean's mother.

He looked. I heard him inhale sharply.

Then he turned to stare at me. The conflicting emotions on his face weren't so hard to make out now. There was joy, mingled with concern.

"What did you do?" he whispered. "Jess. What did you do?"

"I cut a little deal," I said. "Don't worry about it. Just go get her, and then go and get into the pickup with Jed. He'll take you to the airport."

Even as I sat there, looking down at him, his blue eyes filled with tears.

He said, "You did it. You said you'd do it. And you did it."

"Of course," I said, as if I was shocked he could ever have thought otherwise.

And then his mother saw him and broke away from her escorts. She called Sean's name as she ran toward him.

Sean leapt up and began hurtling down the bleachers. I stayed where I was. Sean had left his Big Gulp behind. I reached over and took a sip. My throat really hurt, for some reason.

They met at the bottom of the bleachers. Sean flung himself into Mrs. O'Hanahan's arms. She swung him around. Special Agents Johnson and Smith stopped where they were, and looked up at me. I waved. They didn't wave back.

Then Sean said something to his mother, and she nodded. The next thing I knew, he was running back toward me.

This had not been part of the plan. I stood up, alarmed.

"Jess," Sean cried, panting, as he hurried to my side.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, more sharply than I should have. "Go back to her. I told you to take her to the pickup. Hurry up, you don't have much time—"

"I just …" He was breathing so hard, he had to fight to get the words out. "I wanted … to say … thank you."

And then he threw his arms around my neck.