CHIPPED

Chapter 8

My parents talked about buying a private jet one day, but they were too obsessed with fancy cars to save up for a one. Looking up at Willder's jet makes me wish that they would have found a cheaper obsession other than cars.

"You like it?" Willder walks up to me. We're standing on a privately purchased track for planes.

"Willder, this is awesome." I breathe. I look to Neva, who just stares at the jet in dismay. She's been a little more quiet since Willder showed up, and I'm not entirely sure why.

"I thought you might like it. Your friend over there doesn't seem to, though." Neva looks at us when we mention her. She's not glaring at us, but she's most definitely unhappy.

"Is she always like this?" Willder asks, as he begins to board the jet. He places my bags beside his own, and I follow behind him. Neva has yet to get on the plane.

I roll my eyes, "Neva, what's wrong?" I hop off of the jet to look at what she's looking at. Yet, I still can't figure out what's upsetting her.

She huffs in frustration. "You're both the most highly educated people I've ever met, and you're idiots."

Willder appears at the entrance door, propping himself against the frame with a smug look. "My wife used to say the same thing. Tell me why I'm an idiot this time."

Neva doesn't make eye contact with either of us as she stares into the night sky. The stars are scattered across the dark canvas, a sight I've never really took in before now.

"If you don't want to come with us, you don't have to. I understand that this is your home-" I try to comfort her, but she pushes past me. Without a word, she boards the jet. Willder still stands in the doorframe, just as baffled as I am. I shrug and board the jet as well. He pats my back, "This should be an interesting flight."

***

For all I know, Willder could be the one flying the jet. He's been gone for more than thirty minutes of our flight, and this jet is only so big. Neva sits beside me in the cream colored, leather seats. She still hasn't said a word to me.

"Are we going to talk about your little tantrum?" I finally break the silence. She continues to look out the window, biting her thumb nail.

"Oh. I get it now. You were nervous to fly. Don't be, we're perfectly safe-"

She suddenly turns towards me. I'm surprised she didn't get whiplash. "No, Orlon. I wouldn't have called you idiots just because I had a fear of flying."

I squint at her in confusion, "Then why did you call us idiots?"

Neva runs her hand through her hair, making it all flip to one side of her head. She sighs while shaking her head. When she looks me in the eyes, I find it hard to look away.

"His theory about election night... seemed off. I know it was just speculation, but you both believed it was the only answer."

I purse my lips, "What are you trying to say?"

"I have my own theory, based on what I've gathered. I'm just not sure you would like it." She turns away from me again. I scratch my forehead, trying to understand what she was implying.

"Look, I've uncovered thousands of mysteries when I was in the CIA. If I'm missing some huge clue, please, tell me."

I didn't really expect her to answer so quickly, but she fully spins around in her seat, turning her whole body to face me. She tucks her feet underneath her and begins to spill her theory.

"If you were the only one who wasn't told to close their door while counting ballots, that leads me to believe someone set you up. The scream from your fiance was planned so you would run away from your office, and someone else could steal the desired amount of ballots."