Ignite Me

by Tahereh Mafi

  There it is.

  A flash of anger. In and out. Warner’s eyes spark and fade. He looks to the wall, silent a moment. “I see.” His voice is quiet, controlled.

  “He knew it was the only way to get Adam back here.”

  Warner says nothing.

  “But I’m not, you know. In love with him.” I’m surprised at how easily the words leave my lips, and even more surprised that I feel the need to say them out loud. That I’d need to reassure Warner, of all people. “I care about Adam,” I say to him, “in the way that I’ll always care about the few people who’ve shown me kindness in my life, but everything else is just . . . gone.”

  “I understand,” he says.

  I don’t believe him.

  “So what do you want to do?” I ask. “About tomorrow? And Adam?”

  “What do you think should be done?”

  I sigh. “I’m going to have to talk to him. I’ll have to break up with him for the third time,” I say, groaning again. “This is so stupid. So stupid.”

  I finally drop the pillow. Drop my arms to my sides.

  But when I look up again, Warner is gone.

  I sit up, alert. Glance around.

  He’s standing in the corner, putting on a pair of pants.

  I try not to look at him as I climb back onto the bed.

  I kick off my shoes and sink under the blankets, burrowing into the pillows until my head is buried beneath them. I feel the weight shift on the bed, and realize Warner must be sitting beside me. He plucks one of the pillows off my head. Leans in. Our noses are only inches apart.

  “You don’t love him at all?” Warner asks me.

  My voice is being stupid. “Romantically?”

  He nods.

  “No.”

  “You’re not attracted to him?”

  “I’m attracted to you.”

  “I’m serious,” he says.

  “So am I.”

  Warner’s still staring at me. He blinks, once.

  “Don’t you believe me?” I ask.

  He looks away.

  “Can’t you tell?” I ask him. “Can’t you feel it?”

  And I am either losing my mind or Warner just blushed.

  “You give me too much credit, love.” His eyes are focused on the blanket, his words soft. “I will disappoint you. I am every bit the defective human being you don’t think I am.”

  I sit up. Look at him closely. “You’re so different,” I whisper. “So different and exactly the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re so gentle now. You’re very . . . calm,” I tell him. “Much more than you were before.”

  He says nothing for a long time. And then he stands up. His tone is curt when he says, “Yes, well, I’m sure you and Kishimoto will find a way to sort this situation out. Excuse me.”

  And then he leaves. Again.

  I have no idea what to make of him anymore.

  FORTY-ONE

  Adam is already here.

  Warner was completely uninterested in dealing with Adam. So he’s gone about his day and his duties, having skipped his morning workout.

  And now I’m here.

  I’ve just stepped out of the elevator, and the pinging sound that signals the opening of the doors has alerted everyone to my presence. Adam was standing in the corner, talking to James. He’s now staring at me.

  It’s weird, how I feel when I look at him now. There is no extreme emotion in me. No excess of happiness or sadness. Not upset. Not overjoyed. His face is familiar to me; his body, familiar to me. His unsteady smile, as he looks at me, is familiar to me.

  How strange that we can go from friends to inseparable to hateful then casual all in one lifetime.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Hey.” He looks away.

  “Hi, James.” I smile.

  “Hi!” He waves, buoyant. He’s standing just next to Adam, eyes lit up, clearly thrilled to be back among us. “This place is so cool.”

  “It is,” I agree. “Have you had a chance to take a shower yet? The water is warm here.”

  “Oh, right,” he says, shyly now. “Kenji told me about that.”

  “Why don’t you get washed up? Delalieu will be bringing lunch down soon. I’m sure Brendan can show you around the locker room—and where to put all your stuff. You can have your own locker,” I tell him, glancing at Brendan as I do. He nods, taking the hint and jumping to his feet right away.

  “Really?” James is saying. “That’s so cool. So they just bring the food to you? And you get to shower whenever you want? Is there a curfew?”

  “Yes, yes, and no,” Brendan answers him. He takes James’s hand. Grabs his little bag. “We can stay up as late as we like,” he tells him. “Maybe after dinner I’ll show you how to use the bicycles in here,” he says, his voice fading to an echo as he and James disappear into the locker room.

  Once James is gone, everyone seems to exhale.

  I steel myself. Step forward.

  “I’m really sorry,” Adam says first, crossing the room to meet me. “You have no idea—”

  “Adam.” I cut him off, anxious. Nervous. I have to say this and I have to say it now. “Kenji lied to you.”

  Adam stops. Stills.

  “I haven’t been crying over you,” I say, wondering if it’s even possible to deliver this kind of information without both humiliating him and breaking his heart. I feel like such a monster. “And I’m really, really happy you’re here, but I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

  “Oh,” he says. Rocks back on his heels. Drops his eyes. Runs both hands through his hair. “Right.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kenji looking at me. He’s waving his hand, trying to get my attention, but I’m still too mad at him right now. I don’t want to talk to him until I’ve fixed this.

  “Adam,” I say. “I’m sorry—”

  “No,” he says, holding up a hand to stop me. He looks dazed, sort of. Strange. “It’s okay. Really. I already knew you were going to say that to me.” He laughs a little, but awkwardly. “I guess I thought knowing in advance would make it feel a lot less like I was being punched in the gut.” He cringes. “But nope. Still hurts like hell.” He backs up against the wall. Slides down to the floor.

  He’s not looking at me.

  “How did you know?” I ask. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

  “I told him before you got here,” Kenji says, stepping forward. He shoots me a sharp look. “I came clean. I told him what we talked about yesterday. All the things you said.”

  “Then why is he still here?” I ask, stunned. I turn to face Adam. “I thought you said you never wanted to see me again.”

  “I never should’ve said that.” Adam is still looking at the floor.

  “So . . . you’re okay?” I ask him. “With Warner?”

  Adam looks up in disgust, so different in an instant. “Are you out of your mind? I want to put his head through a goddamn wall.”

  “Then why are you still here?” I ask again. “I don’t understand—”

  “Because I don’t want to die,” he says to me. “Because I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how to feed my little brother and I’ve come up with exactly jack and shit in the way of solutions. Because it’s cold as hell outside, and he’s hungry, and because our electricity is going to get shut off soon.” Adam is breathing hard. “I didn’t know what else to do. So now I’m here, my pride in the toilet, hoping I can stay in my ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend’s bachelor pad, and I want to kill myself.” He swallows. “And I can suffer through that,” he says, “if it means James will be safe. But right now I’m still waiting for your shithead of a boyfriend to show up and try to kill me.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I say quietly. “And he’s not going to kill you. He doesn’t even care that you’re here.”

  Adam laughs out loud. “Bullshit,” he says.

  “I’m serious.”
r />   Adam gets to his feet. Studies my eyes. “You’re telling me I can stay here, in his room, and eat his food, and he’s just going to let me?” Adam’s eyes are wide, incredulous. “You still don’t understand this guy. He doesn’t operate the way you think he does, Juliette. He doesn’t think like a normal human being. He’s a freaking sociopath. And you really are insane,” he says, “if you think it’s okay to be with someone like that.”

  I flinch, stung. “Be very careful how you speak to me, Adam. I won’t tolerate your insults again.”

  “I can’t even believe you,” he says. “I can’t believe you can stand there and treat me like this.” His face is twisted into something so intensely unattractive.

  Anger.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you—”

  “Maybe you should’ve remembered that before you ran into the arms of some psycho!”

  “Calm your ass down, Kent.” I hear Kenji’s sharp warning from the corner of the room. “I thought you said you were going to be cool.”

  “I am being cool,” he says, his voice rising, eyes on fire. “I’m a freaking saint. I don’t know anyone else who would be as generous as I am right now.” He looks back at me. “You were lying to me the whole time we were together. You were cheating on me—”

  “No I wasn’t.”

  “This kind of shit doesn’t just happen overnight,” he shouts. “You don’t just fall out of love with someone like that—”

  “We’re done, Adam. I’m not doing this again. You’re welcome to stay here,” I tell him. “Especially for James’s sake. But you can’t stay here and insult me. You have no right.”

  Adam tenses his jaw. Grabs his things. And charges into the locker room.

  FORTY-TWO

  “I am going to kill you.”

  “He wasn’t like that when I went to visit,” Kenji says to me. “I swear. He was fine. He was sad.”

  “Yeah, well, obviously seeing my face isn’t bringing back happy memories for him.”

  Kenji sighs. Looks away. “I’m really sorry,” he says. “I swear. But he wasn’t lying, J. They were down to practically nothing the last time I went back there. Kent said half their supplies went bad because he didn’t realize the blast had broken some of the shelves in their storage room. Some of the jars had cracked open and there were rodents and shit eating their food. And they were all alone out there. It’s cold as all hell and you have no idea how depressing it was, seeing them like that, and James—”

  “I get it, Kenji.” I blow out a breath. Fold myself onto the floor. “I really do.”

  I look up, look around. Everyone is busying themselves with some kind of task. Running or sketching or training or lifting weights. I think we’re all exhausted by this drama. No one wants to deal with it anymore.

  Kenji sits down across from me.

  “He can’t keep treating me like that,” I finally say. “And I won’t keep having the same conversation with him.” I look up. “You brought him here. He’s your responsibility. We have three weeks before we initiate this plan, and we’re already cutting it really close. I need to be able to come down here and train every day, and I don’t want to have to worry about him freaking out on me.”

  “I know,” he says. “I know.”

  “Good.”

  “Hey, so—were you serious?” Kenji asks. “When you said Warner doesn’t care about him being here?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  Kenji raises his eyebrows. “That’s . . . weird.”

  “One day,” I say to him, “you’ll realize that Warner is not as crazy as you think he is.”

  “Yeah,” Kenji says. “Or maybe one day we’ll be able to reprogram that chip in your head.”

  “Shut up.” I laugh, shoving him a little.

  “All right. Up. Let’s go. It’s time to work.”

  FORTY-THREE

  Alia has designed me a new suit.

  We’re sitting on the mats like we always do in the evenings, and right now, Alia is showing us her designs.

  I’ve never seen her this animated before.

  She’s more confident talking about the contents of her sketchbook than she is the weather. She’s talking fast and fluid, describing the details and the dimensions, even outlining the materials we’ll need in order to make it.

  It’s built with carbon.

  Carbon fibers, to be precise. She explained that carbon fibers are so stiff and abrasive that they’ll need to be bonded with something very flexible in order to become wearable, so she’s planning on experimenting with several different materials. Something about polymers. And synthetic something. And a bunch of other words I didn’t really understand. Her sketches show how the carbon fibers are literally woven into a textile, creating a durable and lightweight material that will serve as a stronger basis for what I need.

  Her idea was inspired by the knuckle braces she made for me.

  She said she originally wanted the suit to be made of thousands of pieces of gunmetal, but then she realized she’d never have the tools to make the pieces as thin as she’d like them, and therefore, the suit would be too heavy. But this is sounding just as amazing.

  “It’ll complement and enhance your strength,” she’s saying to me. “The carbon fibers will give you an added level of protection; they won’t damage easily, so you’ll be able to move more freely through different terrains. And when you’re in a dangerous environment, you must remember to maintain a state of electricum at all times; that way your body will become virtually indestructible,” she says.

  “What do you mean . . . ?” I look from her to Castle for clarification. “How can that be possible?”

  “Because,” Alia explains. “In the same way that you can break through concrete without hurting yourself, you should also be able to sustain an attack—from a bullet, for example—without harm.” She smiles. “Your powers make you functionally invincible.”

  Wow.

  “This suit is a precaution more than anything else,” she goes on. “We’ve seen in the past that you can, in fact, damage your skin if you’re not wholly in control of your power. When you broke the ground in the research rooms,” she says, “we thought it was the enormity of the act that injured you. But after examining the situation and your abilities more thoroughly, Castle and I found this deduction to be inaccurate.”

  “Our energies are never inconsistent,” Castle jumps in, nodding at Alia. “They follow a pattern—an almost mathematical precision. If you cannot injure yourself while breaking through a concrete wall, it does not then follow that you should be able to injure yourself by breaking the ground, only to remain uninjured after breaking the ground a second time.” He looks at me. “Your injuries have to do with your hold on your ability. If you ever slip out of electricum—if you dial it back for even a moment—you will be vulnerable. Remember to be on, at all times. If you do, you cannot be defeated.”

  “I hate you so hard right now,” Kenji mutters under his breath. “Functionally invincible my ass.”

  “Jealous?” I grin at him.

  “I can’t even look at you.”

  “You shouldn’t be surprised.” Warner has just walked in. I spin around to find he’s heading toward our group, smiling a brittle smile at no one in particular. He sits down across from me. Meets my eyes as he says, “I always knew your powers, once harnessed, would be unmatched.”

  I try to breathe.

  Warner finally breaks eye contact with me to glance around the room. “Good evening, everyone,” he says. He nods at Castle. A special sort of acknowledgment.

  Adam has a special sort of acknowledgment of his own.

  He’s staring at Warner with an intense, unmasked hatred, looking as though he truly wants to murder Warner, and I’m suddenly more anxious than I’ve been all day. I’m looking from Adam to Warner and back again and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if something is about to happen and I’m so desperate for things to be civil that I—

  “Hi,” James
says, so loudly it startles all of us. He’s looking at Warner. “What are you doing here?”

  Warner raises an eyebrow. “I live here.”

  “This is your house?” James asks.

  Strange. I wonder what Adam and Kenji told him about where they were going.

  Warner nods. “In some capacity, yes,” he says. “It serves as my home. I live upstairs.”

  “That’s so cool,” James says, grinning. “This whole place is so cool.” He frowns. “Hey I thought we were supposed to hate you, though.”

  “James,” Adam says, shooting his brother a warning glance.

  “What?” James asks.

  “You are free to hate me,” Warner says. “If you want to. I don’t mind.”

  “Well you should mind,” James says, surprised. “I’d be really upset if someone hated me.”

  “You are young.”

  “I’m almost twelve,” James says to him.

  “I was told you were ten.”

  “I said almost twelve.” James rolls his eyes. “How old are you?”

  Everyone is watching. Listening. Too fascinated to look away.

  Warner studies James. Takes his time answering. “I’m nineteen years old.”

  James’s eyes go wide. “You’re only a year older than Adam,” he says. “How do you have so many nice things if you’re only a year older than Adam? I don’t know anyone your age who has nice things.”

  Warner looks over at me. Looks back at James. Looks at me again. “Is there nothing you want to add to this conversation, love?”

  I shake my head. Smiling.

  “Why do you call her ‘love’?” James asks. “I’ve heard you say that before, too. A lot. Are you in love with her? I think Adam’s in love with her. Kenji’s not in love with her, though. I already asked him.”

  Warner blinks at him.

  “Well?” James asks.

  “Well what?”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  “What?” James blushes. “No. She’s like a million years older than me.”