Survival in Style Read online

Chapter 7: Distractions

  I pushed the lock-pick kit into Tony’s hand. “That was so close!”

  “Good recovery,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I thought for sure he saw us through the window.” He selected the two picks again and bent over the lock.

  “I wondered if he would notice the straps on his bag were tied.”

  “Pretty clever, to pretend you were heading for the outhouse.”

  I smiled at the compliment. He was so sweet. Then I caught my breath, quite aware that I was staring at him. I got angry with myself. No boys! I scolded. Mom and Dad dated all through high school, and look at them now. Do you want to end up miserable like them? You promised yourself you wouldn’t date until you finished college. Don’t forget!

  But he had been such a gentleman, so protective of me, that I found myself trusting him. And he was just so darn handsome with those black eyes of his, and those biceps that peeked out under his short sleeves. Still, what did I know about him? He was a magnet for trouble, that’s what. Right then and there, I steeled myself against falling in love with Tony Wexler.

  He pushed the door open. “Let’s not waste time,” he said, snatching up the pouch.

  I cleared my throat. “I wish we had keys to that truck,” I said, jerking my head in the direction of Nelson’s second vehicle. “I don’t suppose you know how to hotwire a car?”

  “Nope.” He looked around. Through the trees, the river glinted in the sunlight. “Is that a dock?”

  I squinted my eyes. “Looks like it. And... a boat!” I remembered what Nelson said earlier. “If we can just get to the trading post, we can call someone for help. We can call for help, can’t we?”

  “There, yes. Nobody should know us there. And I trust my charge officer; it’s just the rest of the police I’m not sure about. We’ve been trying to find the leaks for months.”

  We ran down the path to the river. As we approached the boat, Tony slowed down, knitting his eyebrows together.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Using this boat is the logical thing to do, isn’t it? The trading post is the best place for us to go.”

  “Yes, so what are we waiting for?”

  “That’s the kind of thinking that will get us caught,” he explained. “We have to think abstractly. Do the unexpected.” He started the motor and then gave the boat a gentle shove with his foot. It puttered downriver. “There. Now they’ll think we’re off to the trading post. I hope it doesn’t get caught in a bank or something.”

  My shock faded to understanding. “So where to, then?”

  “You heard Nelson. Nearest town is Otter Paw, four days away if we hike.” He took the map out. “Can’t go north or west; too steep, and we’re not cliff-climbers. Unless you have special skills you haven’t told me about.”

  I shook my head. “I spent a day at a Nature Camp when I was in sixth grade, where they taught us to eat bark and berries. Well, maybe not the bark, but definitely the berries. And roots, and some petals. I was the only kid who actually swallowed them, though; everyone else nibbled or spit them out.”

  “See? That might be handy. Now, we don’t want to go back east. That’s where our plane is. There will probably be a party looking for it.”

  “That leaves south, then. Dead Island Lake, didn’t he say?”

  “Yeah.” He aligned himself with the sun and glanced at his shadow. “That way should be south.”

  “Yes, it is,” I said smugly, checking my gold compass ring.

  He puffed a low whistle. “That thing works? I thought it was just decoration.”

  “My father’s serious about camping. He loves to hunt and fish.”

  “Sorry. Seemed like junk to me. You know, pretty, but kind of useless. Kind of like you.”

  My eyebrows shot into my hairline. “Is that a compliment or an insult?

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Frowning, I let him lead. We nearly jogged in our hurry to get as far away from the ranger station as possible.

  Useless! How dare he call me useless? The good thoughts / bad thoughts game started in my mind again, like the proverbial angel and demon sitting on my shoulder.

  You almost did drown, said the bad thoughts. You refused to give up your cape when you knew it made him harder to save you. And you left the lock picks on the desk for the ranger to see!

  But I got them back and we’re safe now, said the good thoughts. And he called me pretty.

  What do they say about relationships started in times of stress? They never last. And you really are an embarrassment to females everywhere. You really are useless.

  No, I’m not. And he said I was clever...

  I’ve always debated with myself like that. I know it sounds awful, but sometimes I’m the only cheerleader I’ve got. I started doing it when I was ten, right before Dad’s sponsorship. I hit a growth spurt that left me awkward and clumsy. You know the saying, “She tripped over her own feet?” That was me, and it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. I was on a softball team and I kept ruining our plays. The coach finally benched me for the safety of the other girls! That filtered into school, and I got chosen last for teams during gym. And it earned some really rude nicknames which followed me to my regular classes. That was middle school, but in a small town, that sort of thing follows a person into high school. Anyway, the gym teacher kept telling me Chin up, shoulders back. Posture makes you powerful. To her, slumping was a crime. During my eight grade summer, I practiced posture - and walking with a book on my head and sitting like a lady. But I still got chosen last for gym.

  I lifted my chin and straightened up - and tripped over a low vine.

  Tony shot out an arm to steady me. “You okay?”

  I pushed him away. Stupid clumsy cow, I told myself. Then I groaned. “I broke a fingernail.”

  “Big deal,” he said.

  It really was! But not because I’m a prissy girl. Because I’m a confirmed nail-biter, and I’d been trying to kick the habit for two months. The only way I could do it was to keep a nail file with me at all times so that when the urge to chew overpowered me, I could file away the offending nail instead. It had worked so far - but now, with no nail file and no purse, the ragged nail begged for attention. I ignored it as long as I could. Finally, in frustration, I chewed it off.

  Great, there goes an entire eight weeks of work. May as well get rid of the rest of them, too.

  Just one nail! Don’t throw away the rest of them for just one nail!

  Too late - just looking at them made me crave another one. Then I bit the top off a third. It took all my willpower to make myself stop.

  “It’s just that my nails reflect my new personality,” I said aloud.

  “What?”

  “My nails...”

  He scoffed. “That was ten minutes ago. Get over it.”

  “I know,” I stammered, “but I wanted to explain.” My words came out in a tumble. “See, I’m not the rich kid everyone thinks I am. My mom just likes to act that way - the way she wants to be, not the way she really is. And she dresses me up because she loves to sew. And she makes me do my hair and makeup and nails...” He wasn’t making eye contact. I kept rambling. “But it’s all a mask. I only do it to fit in with everyone else, so they don’t make fun of me. I’m lucky I don’t end up looking like a complete mess, the way everyone tugs at me!”

  Tony was silent. Too silent. Then he asked, “Do you like how you look now?”

  “Yes and no. Yes, because Mom picks great fabrics and everything always fits right. But no, because it’s not the real me. I guess that’s the real problem - I don’t know me anymore. It’s like life changed too quickly, too much. I used to talk to my parents when I had a problem. Now I have to call on the phone. I mean, I didn’t like who I was a few years ago, but I don’t like who I’m becoming, either...” I closed my mouth, aware that I’d been chatting so freely with a complete stranger.

  He looked down at me with those handsome black eyes
of his. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Was that pity in his gaze? I was ashamed of myself for laying my soul so bare. “Don’t say anything,” I snapped, and brushed past him. Humiliation gave me energy, so our pace quickened. I glanced at my gold compass often to make sure I was leading us in the right direction. The last thing I needed was the embarrassment of getting us lost!

  How dumb can you be, Alana? He’s not looking for a girlfriend.

  How about just trying to make a friend? Does it have to be a boyfriend?

  Just admit it - you want him to like you.

  “Argh!” I grunted, trying to drown the thoughts in my head.

  “You okay?” Tony asked again. “Need a rest?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied through clenched teeth. I turned my thoughts to the terrain ahead of me. Hiking itself was not so difficult; it was putting one foot in front of the other. The weather was really pretty, too; not too hot or cold. Plus, the soft breezes brought the spicy scents of flower petals and fresh soil. What made it so miserable were the mosquitoes, the thirst, and the scratchy branches.

  “If you need a break, say so,” he said. “Just remember that the farther we walk now, the broader their search area will be, and the greater our chances of getting away.”

  He thinks you’re weak.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated. “I could go all day.”

  “Good. Because it looks like we just might have to do that.”