Change of Climate

Untitled Part 6

They didn't talk on the way back to Quinlan's house. London was too caught up in her whirlwind of thoughts and she sensed Quinlan didn't want to disturb her.

When they got there Quinlan said, "Do you want some pizza?"

London said, "Don't order anything on my behalf," because she wasn't sure she was ever going to want to eat again, ever. Her stomach was a nauseous, nervous pit.

Quinlan said, "You think I don't already have pizza in this house? It's like you've never met a human being before." Quinlan took some pizza out and threw it in the oven.

London went back to her squishy armchair and curled up, feeling exhausted.

She thought Quinlan was going to ask her about the numbers. Instead he said, "How'd you get here?"

"Bus," she said. "I didn't have enough money for a plane ticket, and anyway I thought they might be watching the airport. Whoever they were."

"Where were you?" asked Quinlan.

"Tampa."

"You took a bus all the way from Tampa?"

"Yup. Luckily you guys are having a hot fall so it doesn't matter that I didn't stop to get a coat."

"An understatement," said Quinlan. "The weather's been all out of whack up here."

"Climate change," said London, wearily. "It's what my dad was studying." And somehow, in studying climate change, he'd stumbled upon something so dangerous people had killed him. A mysterious string of numbers.

"Look," said Quinlan, and sat on the couch opposite her again. "You're exhausted. You're going to have some pizza and get some sleep and we'll deal with all of this in the morning."

"I don't think they followed me," said London, cautiously optimistic.

"You're safe here," Quinlan promised her.

"For now. Until they catch up. They were always catching up. It was why we had to keep moving. I just never understood..." London trailed off. There was so much she hadn't understood, so much resentment she'd had for the father who had clearly just been trying to keep her safe.

"Well," said Quinlan, after a moment of silence, and London understood, because what could you say to that? "I've got an alarm. And a baseball bat. And, tomorrow, if we need it: a car."

London looked at Quinlan and suddenly wanted to cry again. Was she just going to spend the rest of her life wanting to cry all the time? Surely not. Surely it would start to get better at some point.

That seemed really far off.

"Quinlan," she said, and then didn't know what else to say. Finally she settled for, "Thanks for all of this. Seriously. This is so above and beyond the call of duty. I mean, we knew each other when we were kids and—"

"London," Quinlan cut her off. "It's fine. Where else would you have gone?"

And, as pathetic as it was, London knew that was the truth: In seventeen years of life, Cheltenham was the only place that had felt like home.