The Gift

Chapter 33

Wisty

I DECIDE against finding Whit and telling him where I'm going, even though he's probably going to kill me when I get back. But I don't really have a choice, because guess what my brother would say? A) Have a great lunch. Could you bring me back some fries? B) It's windy out there. Be sure to zipper your coat. C) Fine, I'm coming with you. No arguments, firebrand!

Yeah. If you picked A or B, I'm going to politely suggest you turn back a few dozen pages and do some rereading.

I need to have my moment alone with Eric. So I sneak around quietly, making myself ready to infiltrate the City of Progress-the New Order's demented model city, the template they mean to apply to the rest of Freeland after they've stamped out anyone who resists their disgusting ideas.

It takes a little bit of disguise to properly blend in (read: skirts and sweaters for girls, no black lipstick or obvious piercings; jackets and ties for boys, and Byron-style hair preferred), but it's doable, and necessary.

And, since my hair hasn't grown back yet, it's a great excuse for me to lift a new hairdo-a cute little brunette bob-from the wig counter inside Garfunkel's.

I tiptoe out the store's front door, and suddenly I feel a vibration under my arm. More precisely, it's coming from the very un-Wistylike white purse tucked there.

Another text message. I click the phone on.

A text message in my mother's handwriting. WTH…? IT'S OK, WISTY. SHE'S AN ALLY. GO WITH HER.

With who? Suddenly I feel very un-alone. I hear someone's voice.

"Well, we meet again, my dear!"

I yank my head to the right, and there, leaning on the hood of a long-dead station wagon, one leg crossed over the other, is the little old ninja lady. The one who gave us the map that saved our lives. And now that I'm able to scrutinize her more closely, I realize she's also the woman who almost got me arrested in a diner on my very first trip to the City of Progress. Mrs. Highsmith!

"It's okay," the strange little woman says in a high nasal drawl. "Go ahead and SMS or whatever it is you people do with your silly little gadgets. Your mother's not particularly close, but you'll at least see that she's safe."

I quickly type back, If she's an ally, y'd she try to get us arrested?

My mother's handwriting replies, SHE PANICKED-SHE THOUGHT YOU MIGHT BE A NEW ORDER SPY. YOU SAW THEM TRY TO ARREST HER. WHY WOULD SHE WANT TO HELP THE NEW ORDER? K, but how do I know this is u?

HOW WOULD ANYBODY ELSE KNOW THAT BEN CAMPBELL USED TO PULL YOUR PONYTAIL?

OMG, Mom!!!

I type as tears well up. GO WITH HER QUICKLY, DEAR. GIVE WHIT A KISS FROM US. DAD AND I ARE THINKING OF BOTH OF YOU. ALL OF THE TIME. WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Mrs. Highsmith comes up to me with an old-fashioned handkerchief that I numbly accept. It smells like witch hazel.

"You see? Your mother's okay," says Mrs. Highsmith. "Now, please come with me to my apartment-so we don't get the New Order looky-loos all excited about capturing two witches on the same day."