But it’s blank. Just a solitary white dot in the center.
My cell phone, I realize. It was my cell phone. I carry my phone mostly out of habit; it hardly ever vibrates, unless Sandor wants me to pick him up a bagel on the way home from my run.
The screen blinks with a new text message.
“It’s her,” I announce, almost too nervous to open the message.
“What’s it say?”
“Had fun today,” I read. “For the next date, you’re picking the place.”
Sandor whoops and mimes a high five from across the table. So, she thought it was a date too. And if she had fun that means I didn’t screw up too badly with the hand holding. I don’t have long to savor these facts as a fresh wave of anxiety washes over me.
She wants me to plan a date.
“What’s wrong?” Sandor asks, reading distress in my expression.
“I have no idea where to take a girl on a date.”
Sandor cuts short a laugh. We sit in silence, both of us pondering.
“I could take her back to the Windy City Wall,” I suggest. “I could definitely kill that wall now.”
Sandor makes a face.
“You want to spend a date climbing rocks instead of talking to her?”
He has a point.
“You know,” Sandor muses, “if you really want to impress her, I have an idea.”
Chapter Fourteen
I make plans with Maddy for the following weekend, which makes the weekdays in between a slog through endless anticipation. I’m filled with nervous energy, but not the kind that I can channel into my training sessions with Sandor. The drones score more hits on me than they should, my mind occupied with cycling through wardrobe choices and practicing imaginary conversations. I can tell Sandor is annoyed as he powers down the Lecture Hall.
“Do you think the Mogadorians will care that you’ve got a girl on your mind?” he snaps.
I offer my best contrite headshake, knowing he’s right.
Later, Sandor summons me to his workshop. He’s got his feet up on his desk, crumpling a stack of old blueprints. He has a distant look in his eyes and for a second I think I’m interrupting some pleasant daydream. He looks me over with a wistful smile.
“You know, I wasn’t much older than you are now when I was assigned to be your Cêpan,” he says. “That’s young for a Cêpan to be assigned to a Garde. I was good, though. I’d helped the engineers—much older, more experienced—with some tech projects. I think they wanted to get me in the field as soon as possible.”
I’d been expecting a lecture from Sandor. That’s something I’m used to. Annoyed Sandor was a familiar entity. Nostalgic Sandor, on the other hand, I’ve got no idea how to deal with. It’s so rare for him to talk about Lorien, I’m afraid to interrupt.
“I liked to think I was ready,” he continues. “It was a big honor, that’s for sure. Even if you were an unruly little piece of work.” He winks at me and I can’t help but smile.
“Bonding with a Garde, that’s a full-time responsibility. As ready as I wanted to be, I had other things on my mind too. I had a girlfriend. Things were getting kind of serious, you know? I was trying hard to balance it all.”
“What happened?” I ask, before realizing what a stupid question that is.
A shadow crosses Sandor’s face, although he’s quick to hide it. “You know what happened.”
Sandor sits up and tears a piece of paper out of a legal pad. He hands it to me, the lines filled with his precise writing. A shopping list.
“Since you’re no good to me in the Lecture Hall, you might as well go run some errands,” he says, stern Sandor resurfacing.
I take the list and head for the door, but Sandor stops me.
“I never figured out that balance,” he says. “Maybe you can. Until you do, just remember what your real responsibilities are. All right, man?”
This isn’t the first time I’ve run errands for Sandor. It isn’t groceries he sends me out into the world for; that’d be too easy. I’m after spare parts. It’s not like we couldn’t just order whatever high-tech items Sandor needs for his drones off the internet, but I think he enjoys the challenge of taking broken-down Earth junk and making it work again. He’s tried to get me more involved in his salvage projects, but it’s never really worked. I’m way more interested in smashing his inventions than putting them together.
I spend the afternoon dutifully patrolling downtown’s pawn shops and thrift stores. I find a few things on Sandor’s list—an ancient compact disc player and an automatic vegetable slicer with curving blades that I dread to see flying at me in the Lecture Hall. I also pick up some stuff I know he’s always on the prowl for, a fried circuit board here, an orphaned length of cable there.
It isn’t until the last thrift store on my route that I get the tingly feeling that someone is watching me.
Instinctively I make a discreet check of my iMog. There’s no sign of danger nearby. As I slip the device back into my pocket, I notice her. Standing two aisles over, next to a rack of vintage T-shirts, is Maddy.
At first, I think it must be my eyes playing tricks on me. She’s been on my mind so much that I’m starting to hallucinate. Then Maddy holds up her hand in a shy wave and I practically bound over to her.
“Hey,” I exclaim, trying not to sound too excited and probably failing. “What’re you doing here?”
“Hey,” she replies, glancing around like she’s as surprised to be in a musty thrift store as I am to find her here. “I’m, uh, stalking you.”
I grin like an idiot. “Seriously?”
“No!” She rolls her eyes. “My dad, he’s really into antique telescopes and stuff like that. I’m just looking around.”
“Oh,” I say, playing crestfallen. “I was actually hoping you were stalking me.”
Maddy glances at the bags I’m holding from other stores, each of them bulging with weird shapes. “What’s all that?”