Take Me Tomorrow

Chapter Two: You Took Tomo

"If we get caught − if you get caught − I had nothing to do with this," Lyn said, her gaze shifting from the rearview mirror to her steering wheel. Her cropped, black hair, sleek dark skin, and a pair of deep brown eyes made her look bold and unafraid.

The first time I had ever seen her was the day she moved in with us. She arrived unexpectedly in the middle of an unusually cold October wearing a purple sweater over her protruding baby belly. When she rolled the sleeves up, she revealed an array of tattoos. Birds, buildings, and vines circled her arms, but the top of a bridge poked out from under her collar. The artwork reminded me of Albany, the region my father and I had transferred from when I was seven, leaving my mother behind. I only had fleeting memories of my mother, but Lyn gifted me with her silver necklace the day we met.

"I know your mother," she spoke like the school counselor did, too soft, too delicate. As a motherless thirteen-year-old, I didn't appreciate it. I was too angry. But the jewelry changed everything.

I grasped the necklace like it held the answers to all the questions a motherless daughter wanted to ask her mother. It was everything. But I wasn't about to admit that to a stranger.

"I like your sweater," I said instead.

I thought Lyn would continue chatting, but she ended it after she told me that her favorite color was purple. Now, three years later, her purple scrubs replaced her sweater, and her three-year-old son, Falo, slept in the backseat, completely oblivious to the crime his mother was committing for me.

"We won't get caught," I promised as rain splattered against the windshield, the wipers furiously trying to keep up.

My father's black Jeep may have been government issued, but the night-pass sticker had yet to be applied. Without one, the police had the right to pull us over, even though Lyn was a legal adult and could be out after ten o'clock. If she were by herself, it'd be fine. But Lyn didn't have the government's permission to transport a minor around at this time. We were already breaking the law and we hadn't even arrived at the hospital. Miles didn't come with us for that very reason. He worked under my father as an intern for the Traveler's Bureau and he couldn't risk his job. He returned home after delivering the news.

Apparently, Broden had gotten into another fight, but this time, he lost. Badly, too. But that was all Miles knew. After finding Broden, Miles left him at the hospital's entrance where a nurse would find him, too afraid to take Broden inside and risk being questioned about his involvement. Why Miles thought he would be interrogated was beyond me, but he didn't like the police. No one did, not truly. And yet here I was, convincing Lyn to face them in order to get to Broden's side. He was my best friend, after all. My only friend for a while. And he would do the same for me—if he survived this.

I told myself I wouldn't dwell on Broden's state, not until I saw him myself. Even so, I couldn't let go of his silver watch for a second. It matched the black one I'd seen on the stranger in the woods—I recognized that much now—but so what? Plenty of boys owned similar pieces. Utilizing your time was of the utmost importance for a great society, according to the State anyway, so watches were popular. But this watch? What were the chances?

I pressed the metal against my palm, where my racing pulse thundered against my skin. I couldn't tell Lyn what I was thinking. If I said anything, Lyn could tell my father any or all of it, and I didn't know if I wanted him to know anything. He might take my responsibility of scouring the acres away from me, and that was the only freedom I had.

I clutched the passenger door handle for support as Lyn sped down the road. Topeka's clock tower loomed over us, the sharp hands pointing past curfew, but we continued to drive in silence. When we rounded the last corner before the hospital, Lyn cursed at the sight of a police car. It immediately turned on its red and blue lights, and the wet street filled with reflected warning glares. I drowned in a sea of red and blue.