by Marissa Lete
I’m not sure what I want to do about Maverick. Sure enough, when I’d checked my cell phone later on Sunday, his name was lit up across the screen in my list of contacts. I’d started typing, then erased a message to him at least four times since then, unable to figure out the right words.
I feel a strange mix of emotions, some stronger than others at times. I’m afraid: afraid of what Alice is going to do next. She could be hunting me down, trying to take me hostage again. How can I be sure that I’ll ever be safe again? I’m mad, too: mad at Maverick for getting me into this mess—and also for keeping me out of it. If he had just been honest with me, maybe we could have worked something out instead of him erasing himself from my life. Maybe I would remember how I felt about him before all of this, and maybe I’d know what it’s like to be a happy, normal teenager who could actually have a boyfriend.
As Monday creeps into Tuesday, my emotions all end up in the same place: anticipation. What’s going to happen now? How are we going to stop Alice? How are we going to save all of the other anomalies she has locked up in her laboratory? When I’d been locked up there, Alice had injected me with something that had temporarily caused me to hear echoes of the future. What else could she be doing to the other anomalies? We have to find some way to help them.
My head is starting to hurt, even as I walk into Chemistry Tuesday morning and throw my backpack down on the table. The echoes of last year’s classroom are especially annoying today, even before the bell has rung, and today’s students are in a buzz about the football game that happened Friday night. Everything is so loud.
I’m pinching the bridge of my nose when a person appears in front of me. I look up, meeting Grace’s dark eyes. She looks frustrated and worn out.
I open my mouth, trying to think of something to say, but come up short. I have a flashback of her phone call to me, just before my world exploded. She’d needed me to pick her up. But I’d never shown up.
“Before you say anything, I just want you to know that I don’t blame you,” Grace tells me.
I try to speak, but again, no words come out.
“But that was kind of a jerk move.” She throws her backpack down on the table next to mine, scooting out the chair so she can sit.
“Grace—”
“I kind of deserved it. But seriously?”
I try to figure out how to respond. How can I explain to her everything that has happened? How can we repair this fractured friendship?
Luckily, I’m spared from having to figure it out right now because the bell rings and Mrs. Andrews calls the class to attention, preventing any further conversation. For fifty-five minutes, I sit there, listening to both Mrs. Andrews’s Chemistry lesson on bonds and the echoes of Mrs. Andrews’s Biology class learning about the carbon cycle. By the time the bell rings again, I still have no idea what to say to Grace.
“I get that you don’t want to talk to me. Just… let me know when you’ve come up with a good excuse,” Grace tells me, then leaves the room before I can form a reply.
At lunch, she’s nowhere to be found. Leo, on the other hand, is sitting at the table, staring straight at me as I walk towards him.
“So I heard what happened,” he tells me.
I think of the whole Grace situation, and then I think of getting kidnapped, rescued, and my conversation with Maverick. A lot of things happened. “What’d you hear?” I ask him bitterly. I plop down at the table, exhausted.
“Grace and Andy broke up. That he and Dana are back together,” he replies.
“Officially? Really?” I ask him. He doesn’t reply, but simply nods his head towards the table we’d seen Grace and Andy sitting at together last week. I glance over and don’t need any more confirmation because Dana and Andy are sitting next to each other, mid-kiss.
“And there are rumors,” Leo adds, “about how Grace handled the situation.” I watch him clench his fists on the table. “The whole school is talking about how she started screaming at Andy, about how she supposedly tried to fight Dana. That she’s a psycho.”
“Oh, no,” I blink, sliding my hands down my face. “This is so much worse than I thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“On Friday, when everything happened, Grace called me. She told me that everyone was being mean to her, so she left the party for a minute to go calm down and when she walked back in Andy and Dana were kissing. Anyways, she asked me to pick her up—since her parents didn’t know she was out and Andy had taken her to the party—and I told her I’d be there to get her, but… I never made it.” I say the last few words slowly, hoping Leo won’t need any further explanation.
“You what?” His eyes widen.
“She’s never going to forgive me.”
“How did she get home, then?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I thought she would have called you.”
He frowns. “I guess I’m not even on the list of people to call when she’s desperate.”
“Leo—”
“No, it’s fine,” he puts a hand up. “Where even is Grace now?”
“She was in Chemistry. She didn’t seem very happy with me, so she’s probably avoiding me now.”
“Or just avoiding me.”
“Or both of us.”
Leo and I sigh simultaneously.
“I don’t know what to do. How can I convince her I’m not a terrible friend?”
“You’d better have a really good explanation for why you never showed up,” Leo eyes me questioningly.
I search for some kind of response. I was kidnapped is a pretty good reason, but would she believe that without actual evidence or a police report? And how could I explain the reason for my kidnapping?
Fortunately, Leo doesn’t press the issue when I don’t respond, so we spend the rest of lunch in silence.
✽✽✽✽✽
Grace avoids me for the rest of the week, giving me time to think about everything in my life. Every single strange, crazy thing.
I don’t hear from Maverick, not that I’d really expected to. I don’t expect the strange twitch of disappointment I feel every time my phone lights up and it’s not his name, either. I know that I could just as easily open my phone and send him a text, but I’m not sure what I would even say. I’m still mad at him for erasing my memory, but as time passes, my curiosity grows, replacing the anger.
What is Maverick like? Right now, the only Maverick I’d experienced in person was the frustrated, angry, or desperate Maverick who was caught in a situation he didn’t know how to handle very well. But what was he like outside of that? I think of the echoes I’d heard, where he seemed so sweet and gentle or flirty and playful. Which one was he: the dark, serious Maverick, or the open, lighthearted one?
Perhaps he was both. Perhaps we don’t really know someone until we experience all of the different sides to them.
On Thursday night, I experience another side of Maverick.
I’m sitting at the table attempting to focus on homework when I hear an echo of the doorbell ringing. I hear my own voice, a little bit scratchy, call from the couch, “I’ll get it!”
“No, Laura. You stay right there,” Mom’s echo calls back from her office. Footsteps go to the door. “Come on in,” Mom says, then the footsteps come back, followed by another pair. “She’s in here.”
Someone walks over to the couch while Mom heads back into her office.
“Oh, you pitiful thing,” Maverick’s smooth voice says, a hint of a smile in it. This time, unlike all the other times I’d heard echoes of him, I actually have a face to picture with the voice. Two bright, hazel eyes. Dark hair, short, but long enough to hang down over his forehead a little bit. I’m still frustrated with the situation he’s put us in, but I can’t stop the heat that forms in my cheeks when I imagine him being my boyfriend. He’s definitely not hard on the eyes.
“Don’t say that,” the last two words are choked out, followed by a fit of coughing. “Okay, yeah, I’m pretty pitiful.”
“Wow, it’s not even Thanksgiving yet,” My echo chimes in.
“A cheesy romantic comedy that you can watch while you’re holed up in here.”
“And I haven’t seen that one yet!”
“And last—but certainly not least—your very own tub of cookie dough ice cream.”
“Oh. My. Gosh. You. Are. Amazing.”
“I’m what, now?” Maverick teases.
“I was talking to the ice cream. Now hand it over.” Both of our laughter fills the room, and then I hear the couch shifting again. “Woah, not too close now. Trust me, you don’t want to get this bug,” my echo warns.
“Trust me, I think it’s worth the risk,” Maverick mumbles, his voice closer to where mine was. Unexpectedly, I feel my stomach flutter as if I was there, experiencing the situation myself.
“Let’s put in the movie,” my echo says. I hear the shuffling of Maverick getting up, walking to the TV, and turning on the movie.
The sounds of the movie we’d watched start echoing back to me, and I just sit there, listening. I remember seeing this movie, but not with Maverick. In my memory, it was someone else. Grace? But perhaps that was just my mind filling in the gaps after Maverick removed the memory.
About twenty minutes into the movie, I hear the couch creaking again. Footsteps cross the room, and then the movie cuts off. They cross back, hovering by the couch.
“Good night, my love,” Maverick says, barely above a whisper. Then his footsteps leave the room.
The second I hear the door click close, I know what I need to do.
I stand, half stumbling, half running through the house, up the stairs, into my room. With trembling hands, I pull my cell phone out, scrolling through the contacts list.
On my bed, breathing hard, I touch Maverick’s name, then hit the call button.
Chapter 25
The phone only rings once, and then Maverick’s voice is on the other end.
“Laura? Is everything okay?” he asks, urgent.
“Yes,” I say, clutching the phone in my hands. I take a deep breath, building the courage to say my next words. “I want to talk. Can we meet up somewhere?”
There’s a brief pause. “Right now?”
I glance at the clock. 8:08. My curfew is ten on weeknights, which means we might have a little over an hour to talk. Not nearly enough time. “Yes.”
“Where do you want to meet?” His answer is instantaneous. No questions, no hesitations.
“Somewhere quiet.”
“A park?”
“Shorewick City Park, do you know it?”
“Yes.”
“Meet me by the bathrooms, at the first entrance.”
“I’ll be there,” Maverick assures me.
When I end the call and set down the phone, my hands are shaking the slightest bit. Hearing the echo of Maverick coming to my house and bringing me gifts when I was sick had sent me over the edge. Back then, he and I had meant something to each other, and if we’d dated for so long, then it must have been something good. I’ve never felt like I needed a boyfriend to be happy, but something about hearing his echo and knowing that he really does exist makes me want to know more about him. Obviously, we still have a long way to go in the trust department, but how can I pass by an opportunity to get to know someone that I’d already liked in the past?
It takes me ten minutes to get to Shorewick City Park and when I arrive, Maverick’s car is already parked in the lot, his dark figure standing just outside of the bathrooms. I wonder how he got here so fast if his house is so far away, but I don’t think too much about it.
I hop out of my car and walk over to him, stopping before I get within an arm’s distance. I listen to the quiet evening air, the sound of the wind rustling through the last leaves still attached to their branches. Some of the noise comes in echoes, but most of it is from right now.
“Hi,” I say, my breath forming clouds of mist in the air. A chill runs through my body; I’d forgotten how cold it was starting to get at night and in my rush to get here, I hadn’t put on a coat.
“Laura,” Maverick regards me, watching my movements. “You’re freezing.” Immediately, he starts to shrug out of his coat.
I put a hand up to stop him, “I’m fine,” I say, but he doesn’t listen. He gets the coat off, revealing another, thinner coat underneath.
“I don’t need it,” he tells me, holding it out to me. I hesitate, then cautiously step towards him. I reach my hand out, plucking the coat from his fingers, careful not to make contact with his skin.
I pull the thick, soft material around myself, taking in the leftover warmth from Maverick’s body heat and the sweet, musky scent buried deep in the jacket. “Thanks.”
We stand there for a moment, staring at each other across the cold air, the moonlight glowing around us. “Is everything okay? Do you need anything?” Maverick finally asks.
“I need the truth,” I reply.
His eyebrows furrow. “I’ve told you the truth—”
“I know,” I cut him off. “I believe what you’ve told me. But I want more. I want to know everything.”
“Everything?” Maverick blinks in surprise. “Everything about what?”
“About you. About me. About all of this,” I wave my hand aimlessly through the air. “Like how long we were…together. Like what your plans are to stop Alice. Like why you live in a mansion when last year you lived just across the street from me.” I meet Maverick’s eyes as I say the last statement and he winces. “I just need to know. I’m so confused because I don’t know who you are when you obviously know me pretty well. I don’t know if I can even trust you, but I feel like I should be able to. I need answers.” Maverick just stands there as I spill the words out into the night, eyeing me thoughtfully.
He nods. “I understand. All you have to do is ask, Laura, and I promise I’ll be honest with you about whatever you want to know.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, hoping his words are true. “Then tell me. Tell me all of it.”
Maverick nods again. “Shall we walk?” he asks, gesturing into the park. I look down the dimly lit path and hesitate, wondering if it’s safe to be out here alone with him. Then I think of Maverick pulling his car in front of the Suburban to allow me to escape, fighting off the men sent to kidnap me, then dragging me through Alice’s laboratory, into the woods, and out of her reach. Everything he had done so far, he had done to protect me. Even though some of his methods were questionable.
“Yes,” I reply, then start down the path, careful to keep a few feet of distance between us.
We walk in silence for a minute, then Maverick clears his throat. “We dated from October until June,” he says.
I count the months off in my head. “Nine months?”
“Technically more like eight, since our first date was in mid-October, and then mid-June was when…” he trails off.
“When you made me forget,” I finish for him.
His face twitches. “Yeah—that.”
“I’m mad about that. But I’m trying to understand,” I admit. It’s hard, though. It’s easy to just be angry and spiteful about something someone did to you, to hold onto a grudge. It’s harder to accept things, to forgive, and to move on.
“You don’t know how much I appreciate that,” Maverick tells me, his hazel eyes cutting through the dark.
A few beats of silence pass before I ask another question. “Where did we go on our first date? I heard an echo of us leaving, but the location was a surprise, so I didn’t know where we had gone, and I kind of have to be in the same place as the echoes to hear them.”
Maverick looks over at me curiously. “I took you for ice cream, first.”
>
“At Coffee and Cream?” I ask, remembering how I’d been there. But I hadn’t heard any echoes. Had I just barely missed them?
“No, no. It was another ice cream place, somewhere off of Brooks Street, I think? We didn’t start going to Coffee and Cream until, I wanna say, December? On our first date, we went to the other place, and you ordered a double scoop of cookie dough ice cream.”
“Well, it certainly sounds like me,” I tell him.
Maverick laughs under his breath, a low, clipped sound that’s somehow the same, yet somehow different from his echoes. Colder. “We tried a few different ice cream shops, but one day we stumbled into Coffee and Cream and you said it was the best cookie dough ice cream you’d ever had. You vowed to never eat another brand again.”
We both laugh, and I try to imagine the moment. I remember going to Coffee and Cream a few times now, and all three of them I’d been impressed by the cookie dough ice cream. Perhaps it was the best I’d ever had.
“On our first date, after we had ice cream, we had dinner at this little cafe, and then we wrapped it up with a stroll through the park. This park, actually.”
I look around us, the moonlight glowing softly through the trees. It’s such a strange thought, that I was with him, right here, over a year ago. That I’m with him, right now, under these unbelievable circumstances. To think that all of this happened without me knowing about any of it scares me.
A cold chill runs through me. “I want to know about your house,” I say suddenly. “The one you have now.”
The warm, lightness of the air between us goes cold and heavy in an instant. Maverick stiffens, his movements growing rigid as we walk through the dark. He doesn’t respond for a few minutes.
“Did you…” I pause, trying to judge his body language, “take it from someone?”
Maverick’s eyes flash at me. “You think I used my ability to get it?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what to think.”
He lets out a long, steady breath. “I didn’t,” he says, to my relief. “I inherited it from my father.”