Free Free to Fall by Lauren Miller Page B

or a line he’d taken from somewhere else.
    “It’s T. S. Eliot,” North said. My head jerked up.
    “I didn’t mean to—”
    “It’s tattooed on my forearm,” North said, handing me my drink. “It’s meant to be read. But not right now, because we have to go.” He snapped a lid onto my cup.
    “It’s about to start raining,” I pointed out.
    “So we should hurry,” he said, giving his apron strings a tug. The girl who’d just been at the window had joined him behind the counter. North handed her his apron.
    “You better hustle,” she told him. “It’s already raining on the mountain.”
    “Just in time.” His eyes were bright with excitement. “Wait here,” he instructed me. “I’ll be right back.” Without pausing for my reply, he ducked into the kitchen.
    “How do you know North?” the girl asked when he was gone.
    “I don’t,” I said. “Uh, do you know where he’s going?”
    “Do you have the key to the bottom cabinet?” North had reemerged with a backpack on one shoulder and a hoodie over his arm. The girl nodded, then slipped a key off her key ring and tossed it to him. He caught it easily. “Hand me your bag,” he told me.
    I shook my head. “I can’t. I have homework to do.”
    “We’ll be gone less than an hour,” North said, lifting my bag off my shoulder. “Your stuff will be fine.” I glanced at my Gemini, peeking out from my bag’s side pocket. “Unless, of course, you can’t go without your leash . . .” He looked at me, eyebrows raised, baiting me. I opened my mouth to tell him that I wasn’t going wherever he wanted to take me and I didn’t care if that made me lame. But he cut me off.
    “I’m meeting the guys from Cardamon’s Couch to record some music,” he explained in a low voice. “And we need someone who can snap. Another friend of ours was supposed to do it, but she got called into work. We were gonna just do it without, but then you came in, and you’re such a stellar snapper. . . .” Outside, there was a loud crack of thunder. He looked past me, out the window. “Look, no big deal if you don’t want to come,” he said, sliding his arm through the other strap of his backpack. “I get that you barely know me. But I’ve got to get going, so . . .” He wasn’t going to try to convince me.
    I looked over my shoulder at the darkening sky, wavering. He was right, I barely knew him. And I had homework to do. But that song I’d heard was really good. And I was curious. About the band. About him.
    I met his gaze. “How much does this snapping gig pay?”
    He grinned. “Free matcha for life.”
    I handed him my bag, then looked at the girl with the shaved head. “I know your loyalty is probably to him, but if I’m not back in ninety minutes, call the police.”

7
    A CEILING OF HEAVY STORM CLOUDS had settled over the valley. With each crack of thunder, I expected them to burst open, but the rain held off.
    “Where are we going?” I called to North as we crossed into the woods, having to shout a little over the rustling trees. My stomach twisted in nervous little knots. I wasn’t good at spontaneity. Or surprises.
    “The cemetery,” he replied, stopping to help me down the hill.
    “The cemetery ?”
    “I’ll explain when we get inside,” he said, lifting my cup from my hands. I went down the hill sideways, careful not to slip, and waited for him at the chain-link fence Hershey and I had climbed over the day before. North stooped down next to me and reached under a raised part at the bottom of the fence, setting my cup on the other side. The way the grass was matted, I knew he’d done this before.
    “Inside?” I asked, looking around. “Inside where?”
    He pointed at the small square building at the center of the cemetery. It was built into the side of a hill, so its roof was covered with grass and its entrance was only partially in view. There was an apple tree directly in front of it, like the one on the pin stuck to my