Free The Invitation by Carla Jablonski

I don’t believe I’m in America. I definitely don’t believe that people are trying to kill me. I don’t believe…”
    â€œIn magic?” Constantine stopped and turned to face Tim, his arms crossed over his chest.
    They stood gazing at each other on the quiet street. Tim didn’t know what to say, because he truly didn’t know his own answer. He couldn’t tell if John was angry or challenging or disappointed. He wanted his respect, and if John believed in this magic thing, then maybe he should too. But not even John is perfect , he thought as he coughed from some lingering cigarette smoke.
    John broke the silence. “Look, we’ve got to get you someplace safe.” He strode to a car parked at the curb and opened the door to the passenger side. “Get in,” he instructed, then walked around the front of the car.
    Tim’s eyes widened. “Oh, bloody hell,” he exclaimed. “Now you’re stealing a car?” Tim was incredulous.
    As if in answer, John opened the driver’s side door.
    â€œAre you sure you’re one of the good guys?” Tim asked.
    â€œI guess it all depends on who you ask. Are you getting in or aren’t you?”
    What choice did he have? He ducked into the front seat, and John slid in behind the wheel.
    â€œCan you drive?” Constantine asked.
    Tim laughed. “I’m only thirteen,” he said.
    â€œOh well, I suppose it will have to be me, then.” John turned the key in the ignition. He backed up and hit the car behind them, lurched forward and banged into the car in front. Then he jerked the car out into street. “Don’t worry, it’s not far.”
    Tim was stunned. How could a smooth guy like Constantine be this bad a driver!
    â€œWhere are we going?” He asked, quickly buckling his seat belt. He cringed as John drove too closely to the parked cars, smashing a side mirror as he went.
    â€œSan Francisco.”
    Tim’s mouth dropped open. He swiveled inside his seat belt and stared at John. “But—that’s on the other side of the country!” His eyes flicked out the windshield. “Watch out for that car!” he shouted.
    John made a sharp turn, barely avoiding an oncoming BMW. He pulled onto a main street. One with lots of cars. And trucks. And innocent pedestrians.
    â€œSan Francisco is thousands of miles away!” Tim exclaimed. “That trip would take ages, and I’ve got a chemistry test coming up! Plus I promised I’d ring Molly.” He was about to explain that he couldn’t possibly be away so long when Constantine’s terrible driving distracted him. “On the right, John!” Tim yelled. “You’re meant to drive on the right side of the road here in the States!”
    â€œTim, go to sleep.” Constantine sounded annoyed.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œGo to sleep.”
    Tim felt himself sink into darkness. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but it was as if there were weights attached to his eyelashes. It was a relief to let them fall.
    All at once, Tim jolted awake, his heart pounding. He must have been dreaming—he had a terrible sense of danger, of a chase—a carchase, like in the movies. He blinked, shook his head trying to clear it, and blinked again. As the scene came into focus before him, sweat beaded on his forehead.
    What am I doing here? He was standing on the edge of a cliff, and two cars were burning in the chasm far below him. Constantine was staring down too, and Yo-yo circled overhead. Isn’t that car the one …His head whipped around. No car.
    â€œWh-What happened?” he asked John.
    â€œA small disagreement over the placement of our cars on the road.” Constantine sighed. His voice got serious. “They’re still after us.”
    â€œAre you sure it wasn’t your driving?” Tim asked.
    Constantine grimaced at him. “I wish it had been. The sooner we get to