by Sarah Noffke
“Coming from you that means nothing.”
“Oh, I get it, you like to pretend my opinion is worthless.”
“In regards to my personal life, it is,” I say. “You love to give me your unsolicited opinion. But I think we’re close enough that I can tell you I don’t give a damn what you think.”
He smirks. “You know, that was quite the performance you gave this morning in Room 222. Think you might have even ruffled some feathers, if it makes you feel better.”
“Glad you enjoyed my raw, unfiltered emotions.”
“You got a recorder?”
“A what?” I ask.
“A voice recorder.”
“No, why?”
“Too bad, you could record what I’m about to say next. It’s the only direct compliment you may ever hear from me.”
“Well, I’ve got a memory like an elephant, so fire away.”
“You’re just like your father.”
“Is that my compliment?”
“Indeed it is,” he says, propping his red leather shoes up on his desk.
“As I said before, keep your opinions to yourself. You obviously have a skewed sense of judgment.”
“You’re a real heartbreaker, aren’t you? Why don’t you use that to tear Chase’s heart out?”
I lean forward, daring to put my face inches from Ren’s. “I have every intention of doing just that.”
He doesn’t budge, but does allow a pleased grin to unfurl. “Good girl. I knew my efforts wouldn’t be completely wasted on you. Now get out of here before your presence zaps me of the will to live.”
Chapter Thirteen
I awake from dreams unspoiled by lunatic murderers. The high degree of lucid dreaming it takes to stop dream invasion leaves me in a state of euphoria. Then I remember who I have a meeting with first thing this morning, and all bliss turns into a storm-tossed sea of bad emotions.
If my education at the Institute has taught me anything, it’s that people can act in a host of different manners which are all contrary to their sincere states. Pretense is an integral part of the fabric which holds these stainless steel walls together. I’ve hated it from the beginning. Hated the lies and secrets and all the acts. But right now I’m going to immerse myself in this culture of pretenders. I’m going to forget that I’m a person with real emotions. I’m going to pretend there isn’t a long list of feelings I want to express. For one hour I’m going to be someone else.
“I’m here,” I announce from the entrance. “As requested.”
Aiden’s back is to me. He moves his chin slightly, his peripheral vision capturing my presence. “Come in,” he nods, voice clipped.
Shoulders back, chest high I stride until I’m on the other side of the table where he’s working. He’s stacking binders and moving them to the bottom shelf. I drum my fingers on the table top casually as if I’m waiting in line at the post office.
“Is this a good time?” I say. Drum drum drum. “I can come back.” Drum drum drum.
Finally he flicks his eyes up, not to me, but to my wrist. “Give me your bracelet,” he says not in his usual tone, or even the one he uses when in Head Scientist mode. This is a new one. He’s mad. So mad he won’t look at me.
I pause, study him. “Do you have a patch? One that will block Chase?”
He bristles at the mention of his name. His nostrils flare. “No, I just need to take some diagnostics,” he says, extending his hand. “Bracelet. I need it.”
“Does no one in this place use manners?”
He finally brings his eyes to mine. Hurt, laced with pain, engulfs me. I hadn’t expected it to be so poignant. It almost breaks my fake exterior. Almost.
“Please,” I say. “That’s the word I was looking for, but whatever.” Pressing the pin, I release the silver and copper cuff off my wrist. “Here,” I say, immediately feeling naked without my charm. Putting it on the table, I push it in his direction.
Aiden regards me for a moment, not looking at the bracelet sitting between us. What he’s thinking is all too apparent in his gaze. And what he’s feeling is as clear as the glasses on his face.
“Ummm…is this going to take long?” I say, nudging the bracelet farther in his direction.
He shakes his head, a deliberate anger flares across his face. What I’m doing right now is like the trial of long knives, pressing a blade between my forearm and bicep. It’s agonizingly painful. I don’t know how Lucidites keep this act up for so long. It will surely kill me.
He plucks up my protective charm and immediately drops it like it’s burning hot. A new worry stretches across his face. “What?” I say. “Is something wrong with my charm?”
He shakes his head roughly. “It’s nothing.” Slowly, as if afraid of it, he picks it up again from the table, this time holding it with a lighter grip.
“Why did you drop it?” I ask, my forehead creasing with worried concern. “Why are you holding it like that?”
“Just having a psychometric moment,” he says, placing it on another workstation table, his back to me as he examines my charm.
“Is that the thing where you sense energy on objects?”
“Yes,” he says, then nothing else.
“And…” I prompt.
“And, nothing.” His tone is spiked with frustration.
“No,” I counter. “You sensed something from my bracelet. What was it?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, that’s a big fat lie.”
Aiden sighs, pretending to work.
“Tell. Me,” I say in two giant, angry words.
He swings around, irritation blanketing his face. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”
“It’s my bracelet. I think I should be concerned.”
He peels his eyes away from me, staring at nothing.
“Tell me,” I say again.
Pinching the bridge of his nose he shakes his head. “Roya, it’s just your energy—it startled me.”
“Oh,” I say in quiet surprise. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No, it’s not bad and it’s also not something I want to discuss further.”
Aiden’s never spoken to me like this. Treated me with such heartbreaking indifference. In my mind I see myself racing up to him, untying his arms from his chest and urging him to just love me. Fantasies are stupid.
“Are you done with my charm? I don’t want to be without it long enough to give Zhuang a chance to embed my thoughts. A heart controlled by Chase and a mind controlled by Zhuang will have me on the America’s Most Wanted list in no time.”
“You’re safe from Zhuang while in my lab. It’s protected with a VDR shield, same as the rooming corridors,” he says, not the least bit amused. “And yes, I’m done.” Aiden hands me my bracelet, careful not to touch me.
“When will you have the patch ready?”
“I don’t know,” he says, leaning against his workstation, crossing his feet. “But hopefully it will be soon, then you’ll be free to feel how you want.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” I spew and immediately scold myself for it.
“No, it’s a factual statement,” Aiden says, staring at his Converse shoes. “I don’t go around making insinuations.”
“Any other factual statements you care to share with me?” My act is slipping, along with my resolve to keep my distance. I take two steps in his direction. He flicks his eyes up at me, a warning in them.
“No,” he says, and I can’t tell if it’s an answer to my question or my sudden closeness.
“Well, maybe you’ll share an opinion with me.”
He draws in a tired breath, sweeping his eyes to the right.
“Don’t I deserve to know why Chase is after me?”
“What I think in this situation is irrelevant.”
I’ve failed to be a pretentious Lucidite. And I don’t care anymore. My mask is on the floor in pieces. “How about how you feel? As a friend, don’t you feel like I deserve the truth?”
“Thanks, friend. Glad to know you have my back.”
“Err,” he says in a frustrated growl. “Since you’ve guilted me so well I’ll say this much. What you’re getting based on what you deserve isn’t enough. And I can’t invent anything on Earth that can change that. For that I’m sorry. As your friend, I wish I could help you.”
I believe him and it breaks my heart––my real one. It feels good to know even in pain my heart still works.
I hadn’t realized I was still holding my protective charm, not wearing it. The latch makes a gentle chirp when it catches. Unable to resist, I look up at Aiden, his eyes pinned on mine. There are a thousand words we’re leaving unsaid. A thousand things I want him to say and also worry I can’t stand to hear. I must be a glutton for punishment because all I want is to feel him, knowing it will haunt me later––tear the pieces of me that exist in two.
“I think we’re done here,” he says, pushing up from the table, now close enough I can reach out and touch him. “I’ll let you know if I need any other measurements.”
My eyes close with the sudden weight in my heart. I open them and he’s already moved across his lab. When I’m almost to the exit I turn around. He’s staring at me, was watching me leave. “I think for the first time I feel like life is unfair,” I say. “I’ve always thought there were reasons that justified everything, but right now I’m not sure what I believe.”
He nods, agreement written on his face. “There’s something I wish I could tell you right now to make things better. To ease the pain created by all this confusion.”
“Go ahead,” I almost beg.
He gives a remorseful smile. Swallows. “You asked me not to do that anymore. I respect you enough to honor that request. Even if it tortures me.”
Pressing my lips into a firm line I nod, disappointed. “Right.”
“Mind shutting the door behind you?” he says, putting his back to me.
“Sure,” I say, hitting the button once in the hallway. The stainless steel door, which hardly ever closes Aiden’s lab off from the rest of the Institute, slides shut. If not saying how I feel makes me a Lucidite then I don’t want to be one. Feelings were meant to be expressed. My fingers brush the cold steel door in front of me. “I love you,” I declare, wishing I had the courage to say it one minute earlier. Wishing I had the nerve to erase boundaries and obstacles and everything else we’ve self-imposed on ourselves and our happiness. But people like Aiden and me don’t live happily ever after. Our pride would never allow it.
Chapter Fourteen
Joseph has already eaten half a slice of pizza by the time I sidle up next to him in the main hall. Squeezing his shoulders I say, “Hey, you’re going to be my dream travel buddy tonight since I obviously need supervision.”
He laughs. “What if I don’t want to be the one stopping you from making out with Chase?”
“Too bad, you owe me big,” I say, tossing a plate of field greens and lentils on the table. It looks as appetizing right now as pig’s head. “You’ll remember that I was supposed to break your nose and I spared you.” At our birthday party I told Joseph that if what he was secretly working on wasn’t brilliant then I was going to punch him in the face.
“That’s cold, even for you, Stark,” he half laughs, tossing the rest of the pizza back onto the plate.
“Yeah, well, I hear I take after dear old Dad,” I say. “Thinking of calling him DOD for short. Thoughts?”
“I’m not really ready for jokes on either of those subjects just yet,” Joseph says, looking resentful.
I know he’s feeling sentimental on the whole Trey situation. Actually I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s going to great lengths to consider the possibility of building an actual relationship with the guy. The whole idea makes my stomach turn.
“Well, actually, tonight Trent and I were planning on––”
“Going to Iceland,” I interrupt. “Yeah, my Joseph-radar is finally working so watch out.” I see and sense the cringe that follows my words. Joseph has much to hide and I’m just a thought away from unearthing some secrets. The worried concern on his face makes me certain he knows it too. “I’m tagging along. Is that all right?”
“The more the merrier,” Joseph sings without enthusiasm. “Hey George,” Joseph calls over to him. “You wanna go to Iceland with us tonight?”
“Sure,” he says without a moment of deliberation.
“It’s getting merrier,” Joseph says like he’s playing a game. “Hey, Samara?” She stops, beside our table. I suspect she was trying to sneak by, intent on sitting somewhere else. I also sense she isn’t really over her breakup with Joseph or to terms with killing Pearl, but at least she’s brushing her hair and wearing something besides yoga pants.
“Yes?” She halts, looking at him with surprised anticipation.
“Wanna go to Iceland tonight?”
Her face breaks into a relieved smile, her lighthouse eyes flashing with a new energy. “Yes,” she says, taking the seat next to me.
“We’re all going,” Joseph says, circling his arm around the table.
“Sure,” Samara says again, disappointment edging into her voice.
“What are we doing?” George asks, buttering a roll.
“Snipe hunting,” Joseph says. “Be sure to bring a bat and bag. It will be the time of your life.”
♦
I dream travel to the dewy meadow. Sadly I’m early. This is my curse. I’m always overly punctual, to a fault. Half expecting Chase to be standing behind me I fling around, scanning the area. All I see is a brilliant green field dotted every so often with small mounds of rocks. A smell of salt and dirt wafts through the air. I didn’t bring a bag and bat as Joseph requested because I’m not going to be made a fool.
Seconds later I sense someone behind me. I turn, feeling reactionary. My defenses lower as soon as I face a meek-looking Samara. “Hey there.”
“Hey,” I manage back at her.
“You forgot your gear,” she says, holding up a burlap sack and a small bat.
“Oh well, I guess I’ll be the referee,” I say.
“There’s no need for referees in snipe hunting,” Joseph says at my shoulder.
“Well, I guess I’ll just sit out.” I stick my tongue out at him. His blond hair is brighter in the Icelandic sunlight.
A slapping sound behind me arrests my attention. I turn to find Trent smacking his bat into his outstretched hand. “Let’s get this party started already!” A dreadlock falls into his face as he holds up both his arms victoriously. “I’m ready to beat all you fools.”
“Nice spirit, T,” Joseph hoots, looking around. “We’re just waiting on Captain Emotions and we can get started.”
George materializes beside me, bringing with him a soft smile. “I prefer Mr. Emotions,” he says, glancing down at me.
“Noted,” Joseph says, scrutinizing George with an irritated look. “Here’s the game. Y’all will be catching snipes, which are notorious for inhabitin’ this area. They respond to sound and vibrations. Additionally they live in the ground. Here’s what you gonna do: take your bat and beat it on the ground. I suggest doing it rapidly as that usually gets a better result. You’ll wanna keep your eyes low to the ground and peeled on the earth because if you’ve been successful a small, cuddly little creature will come tearin’ out of the ground looking for shelter. These are snipes. They won’t hurt you one bit. Once you spy them, though, you’ll wanna make haste and catch and put ’em in your bag. The person who catches the most snipes will win tonight’s games. How does that sound for fun?!”
“Man, I’m going to school you peeps!” Trent shouts, pointing his bat at Samara and George, who look less than enthusiastic.
“I think I’ll let you,” George says, adjusting the mail bag lying across his chest. “I’ll watch the first round.”
“There will be no watchin’, Anders,
” Joseph says, heat in his tone. “Stark is the only one allowed to watch and that’s only because she’s lousy at following directions.”
“And besides, if you aren’t playing, I’m not either,” Samara says, pushing the burlap sack further into the back pocket of her jeans. “Trent is scaring me. I don’t want to be alone with him out there.”
“It’s called zest,” Trent says. “It’s a key ingredient in my irresistible charm.”
“Why exactly do we want to catch these innocent creatures?” Samara asks.
“They’re not innocent,” Joseph says, suddenly offended. “They’ve overpopulated this area and are killing the natural vegetation. You mess with that and it affects the temperatures which in turn affects the icebergs, et cetera, et cetera. What you’re doin’ is saving Iceland. And we’re not going to hurt them. I have a buddy in Georgia that runs a snipe ranch. He’s taking them in…if you all ever get your asses out there and catch them, that is.”
“All right,” Samara says, timidly. “I’ll do it if George does.”
George glances at me and then to Joseph. “Sure,” he says with a shrug.
“Good! This is a prime snipe hour, so let’s not waste it,” Joseph says. “The first round will be one hour long and starts now!”
The three of them scatter across the rock-filled meadow. Trent wastes no time, sliding down onto his knees and wildly beating the bat against the soft earth. It looks like he’s trying to kill a million fire ants. He stops every thirty hits and hunches down lower, checking for snipes.
Samara bangs the ground softly with her bat only every other second and looks around, bewildered. Only once she catches Joseph gazing at her does she put a bit more effort into the game. George ran so far down the meadow that it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s doing. His movements are rhythmic so I guess he’s following Joseph’s instructions, but definitely not with the same gusto as Trent.
“You’re evil,” I say, allowing the smile I’d been suppressing to unfold.
“Oh, Stark, you have no idea.” Joseph gives a fake evil laugh as he puts his arm around my shoulder. “Did you get the inside scoop on snipe hunting by spying on my thoughts?” he asks.