Things We Can't Say

14: what are you gonna do, stab me?

Leave it to Alonso to not tell me he has a flight booked until literally the night before.

"Sorry," he says over the phone. "I received confirmation a day ago, but well, I guess it just slipped my mind."

"Go die in a hole," I tell him, and hang up.

The result is a frantic few hours of getting Jamie to pack his stuff and calling Lucci to let him know and double, triple-checking that we have left absolutely nothing behind in the hotel room. The awful nightmare floating around in my head that we get all the way to Tokyo only to discover Jamie's left all his underwear behind makes me check a fourth and fifth time, too.

Needless to say, the next morning, I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm slumped in the back of a taxi that smells like mildewed weed and coffee, Jamie on one side of me, Lucci on the other. For a second my eyes close and I can tune out the foreign music blaring from the taxi's speakers, but every time we hit a bump in the road I jolt awake again.

"Vy," Jamie says, turning to me, the first time he's directed his attention away from the window since we left the inn.

I open one eye. "Mm?"

"Where are we going?"

I hesitate. "A hangar."

"What's that? Like a clothing hanger?"

Lucci starts to laugh, but stifles it abruptly when I glare at him. "No, Jamie," he says over my head. "It's a place where they store planes, and such. A good friend of ours has a jet, and he's going to fly us out to Japan."

"Oh, so we'll get there like, super fast, then," Jamie says, nodding his head. "That's good. Because I don't like sitting still for all that long."

Both Lucci and I glance at the way he's frantically tapping his foot against the floor, the thudding of it competing with the rhythm on the radio. "Really?" I say, with a smirk. "I had no idea."

"It's still going to be at least a twelve hour flight," Lucci says, and when Jamie gapes at him, his face softens into an apologetic smile. "I know, but you can sleep the whole time. It'll be over before you know it."

Jamie beams. "I do like sleeping."

I settle my head back against the seat, letting my eyes flutter closed again. "Don't we all."

I maybe get about five minutes total of catch-up sleep before the driver pulls the taxi to a stop at the edge of a broad, open airstrip. Jamie softly nudges me awake, and I blink and climb out after him, recovering our suitcases from the trunk. I rummage in my pocket for a wad of bills, but stop in place when I notice Lucci already waving the driver off with a smile.

I raise an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugs. "I had extra cash."

I roll my eyes, turning in the direction of the hangar. The jet is already sitting idle at the runway's start, a careful yet beautiful metal assemblage: sharp geometric wings in luminous silver and two blue stripes down the airplane's side. Standing beside the plane is a small group of people, and I pick out Alonso almost immediately. If not by his scent, he's also in a stupidly bright blue suit that makes him look like a discount bluejay.

The three of us cross the strip, the concrete painted with yellow guiding lines and marked off with vibrant orange flags. Summer wind blows my hair into my face, the strands catching against my lips.

"Violet!" Alonso exclaims, throwing his hands wide. His team, as he calls them, move off towards the jet. "So good to see you. And—Lucci."

Lucci nods his head in Alonso's direction, but otherwise barely acknowledges him.