Chapter 23
twenty-three
We weren’t even out of the parking lot yet and my chest already felt tight.
“You know,” I said, staring straight ahead, “I’ve never actually done this before.”
“Skipped school?” he asked.
“Broken the law,” I said. “Ruined my academic future. Disappointed every adult who has ever loved me.”
He smiled, just a little. “Ah. First-time offender.”
We stopped at the exit. A teacher crossed in front of the car, coffee in hand, oblivious. I sank lower in my seat on instinct.
“Relax,” Cole said. “You look like you’re about to be arrested by the ghost of perfect attendance.”
“I had a streak,” I muttered. “Years.”
He smiled, just a little. “Don’t worry. It gets easier the more you do it.”
My fingers tapped against the coffee cup, nerves building in my chest. “I don’t think I want to do this again. In fact, I should just go in and be late for class.”
Cole slid a look at me, the car coming to a stop. “You can if you want to. I won’t stop you.” To punctuate his point, he hit the unlock button, the car doors clicking. I looked at the school, at the students sprinting in before they’re marked tardy. I could get out and do the same. I should.
Instead, I looked back to Cole with a smile. “Maybe one time won’t hurt.”
He grinned at me, then refocused on the road as he pulled ahead. He waited until we were fully on the road before speaking again. “You can still tell me to turn around.”
I didn’t answer right away. The school shrank in the side mirror, brick and banners blurring into something less important than it had been ten minutes ago. My phone buzzed in my pocket—probably Ainsley wondering why I never caught up with her—and I ignored it.
“Where are we going?” I asked instead.
“Thought we’d drive,” he said. “See what happens.”
The streets shifted from familiar to quiet. Houses spread out. Trees crept closer to the road. I rolled the window down an inch, letting cold air cut through the car, grounding me. I should have been freaking out. About attendance records. About Mum. About Dad.
Instead, I felt… light.
Cole reached into the paper bag and handed it to me at a red light. “Before you spiral.”
I opened it. There was a gingerbread loaf… and a chocolate cake pop.
“You planned this,” I said.
“Planned is generous,” he replied. “Hoped.”
I laughed despite myself, the sound surprising and too loud in the small space. “You realize this is a gateway crime.”
He snorted. “Skipping school leads to what, exactly? Armed robbery?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” I said. “It starts with this, then suddenly I’m dyeing my hair and calling teachers by their first names.”
“I’d pay to see that.”
“I’d get expelled. Immediately. Have to come join you losers at Northern.”
“It’s more fun there anyways.”
My phone buzzed again. I flipped it face-down in my lap without looking. Ainsley and I didn’t have first-period class together, so there was no reason for her to realize I wasn’t there, and I wasn’t worried about anybody else trying to get in contact with me right now. I was off the clock.
“So,” I said. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or is this a mystery-tour situation?”
He shrugged. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you trust me.”
I laughed. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
I watched the road signs tick by, surprised that I wasn’t feeling more stressed the further we got from school.
“You do realize,” I said, “that if I end up stranded somewhere with no signal, my siblings will track you down.”
“I’m not leaving you stranded somewhere, Princess.
I’ll be with you the entire time.” My heart beat a little faster at the realization that it was just the two of us, heading onto whatever secret mission he recruited me for.
I smiled a bit. He turned to me and added, “Much to your dismay, I’m sure. ”
I laughed, causing him to smile slightly before refocusing on the road. The car slowed as he turned off the main road, tires crunching over gravel. I raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, absolutely not,” I said. “This is how horror movies start.”
“Relax,” he said. “No one’s getting murdered. Probably.”
“Probably? Now you sound like Ainsley.”
He laughed, actually laughed, and something in my chest loosened in response.
“So,” I asked, “did something inspire this, or did you just wake up this morning and randomly decide you wanted to kidnap me?”
“I’m not sure it counts as kidnapping if you willingly got in the car,” he said.
“I was bribed with coffee and baked goods. I was lured in.”
“Willingly,” he repeated, his voice amused and teasing. “I’ll be sure to tell the police officers that when you get me arrested for it.”
I laughed softly. “Well, at least you’ll feel nice and at home in the jail cell.”
“Were you completely ignoring me when I told you my life story?”
“Seriously,” I said. “What’s with this running away scheme you planned up?”
“Honestly,” he said, his voice softer now. I found myself leaning in to hear what he said next. “I just thought you needed a day away from everything.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Away from everything?” I repeated.
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “I mean, last night you seemed...” He looked away and kept his eyes focused on the road, but I saw the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel, the way his jaw tensed. “You just take everything too seriously.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I hated how small my voice sounded.
“No, it’s not that. I mean…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he seemed to rethink his next words. Then he finally said, “Everything just hits you harder. You care about life.”
“And you don’t care about yours?”
“I care about living life, I just try not to let the bad stuff get to me too much. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the things that do make me happy.”
“What does make you happy then?” I asked.
He tossed me a teasing smile as he said, “Picking up trash by the side of the road.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway,” he continued, “I think you just need to remember what it was like before all this happened.”
Then, he turned into a parking lot. When I looked up and saw the name, I gaped. “You brought me to Sky Zone?” I asked. “You had me skip school to jump on some trampolines?”
“You mean like a kid having the best day ever? I did.” He turned off the car and hopped out. I was still staring at the Sky Zone logo on the building when my door opened and I jumped. A smile touched his lips and he extended a hand to help me out of the car.
He grinned. “Come on, let’s go remember what life was like before everything happened.”
I only took half a second to consider it, but then I was sliding my hand in his and following him across the parking lot to the front door of Sky Zone. The closer I got to the building, the more excited I was growing.
A dull, constant roar pressed through the glass—music bleeding into shouting, the rhythmic thud thud thud of bodies hitting trampolines, the sharp whistle of air displaced by something moving too fast. As soon as we reached the door, I could feel it vibrating faintly through the soles of my shoes.
Cole pulled the door open and the noise rushed us all at once, bright and overwhelming, like stepping too close to a speaker at a concert. Warm air hit my face, carrying the smell of rubber mats and sweat and something sweet from the snack counter.
The place was a riot of color. Blue padding wrapped every surface—floors, walls, columns—broken up by flashes of neon green and orange.
Walls slanted at impossible angles, curving upward like they’d been bent as an afterthought.
Signs glowed overhead, words like DODGEBALL and FREESTYLE mounted so high I had to tilt my head back to read them.
Kids darted across the floor in every direction, socked feet flashing as they launched themselves into the air. Some screamed with excitement, others with mock terror. A boy sailed past us sideways, laughing so hard he could barely breathe before disappearing into a foam pit.
I stopped just inside the entrance.
My body did that thing where it decided “absolutely not” before my brain caught up. Every instinct I had—the ones built on years of being careful, quiet, and observant—started flashing warning signs.
Too loud. Too fast. Too many things that could go wrong.
Cole kept walking for a few steps before noticing I wasn’t beside him. He turned, scanning the chaos, then spotted me hovering near the door like I was considering escape.
“You good?”
I gestured vaguely at… everything. The noise, the movement, the sheer lawlessness of it all. “I feel like I’ve wandered into an alternate dimension.”
He looked around, took it in, then nodded once. “Yeah. That checks out.” He stepped closer, placing both his hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “Imogen Novak just skipped school to come to Sky Zone with a Northerner. You are most definitely in an alternate dimension.”
My lips quirked up, which caused him to smile back too. Somehow that smile was all I needed for the stress to ease. Then he dropped his hands from my shoulders and backed up a step, eyes still locked on mine. He nodded his head toward the counter behind us.
“Come on then. Time to be a kid again.”
And just like that I followed without a backwards glance at the car, all the worries leaving my body as I walked with him.
The waiver station was crowded. Parents hovered nearby with crossed arms and coffee cups, eyes tracking their kids with the exhausted vigilance of people who’d made a calculated decision to let chaos happen in a controlled environment.
A woman winced every time a kid landed too hard.
A man scrolled on his phone like he’d already emotionally checked out.
I stood at the counter, tablet heavy in my hands, scrolling through paragraphs of small print that might as well have been written in another language. My name looked strange typed out on the screen, like it didn’t belong here.
“This one says they’re not liable if I sprain something,” I said, squinting at the text.