by Trisha Leigh
He turns, sadness glinting in his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Will you come over later?” It’s not Acceptable, but after this afternoon, the thought of being alone until tomorrow morning makes my skin itch. If he’s caught sneaking over, there’s no telling what might happen. Then again, it’s not the worst infraction we’ve committed in the past several weeks. It’s not even the worst thing we’ve done today.
He doesn’t hesitate, his dimpled smile delighting me from twenty feet away. “Sure.”
The evening goes on forever, and when Mr. Morgan calls me into the living room right before the ten o’clock news I feel like it will never come to a close. He pats the couch beside him and I take a seat, shivering in soft brown pajama pants and matching camisole.
“What’s up?” I ask him.
He smiles, the quivery one. “I heard from the Other Archivist today. She’ll be in Danbury on Saturday morning to collect your mother’s family heirlooms.”
“Why? What’s an Archivist?”
“The Others store family histories, compiling information and photographs. They sent some information over the Interweb Network about protocol for when someone…for these situations. Would you mind meeting her for me?”
“But why isn’t she just coming here?” It doesn’t make sense that they would ask me to meet them in the park instead of coming into town. All of Mrs. Morgan’s things are here. The request plants a seed of suspicion in the back of my mind.
Mr. Morgan’s eyebrows scrunch together for a moment, his quizzical smile tugging at my heart. “Would you mind meeting her for me?”
He repeats the exact same question, as though my response was wrong and he’ll just keep asking until he gets the right one. I want to tell him no, but can’t summon the word. First of all, he’s my dad and he’s not really asking. Second, his smile still doesn’t reach his eyes. His shoulders slump and sadness rolls off him, and it’s my fault. I’d give him anything he asked for, even though nothing can bring her back.
“Sure, Dad.”
He kisses my cheek and tugs on my ponytail before sending me to bed. An hour later sudden paranoia attacks, so I pad back downstairs in sock-clad feet to recheck the back door, even though we never lock them. I smack into something hard and bounce back, stifling a shriek. Lucas’s whispered voice calms me before terror takes root.
“It’s me. Sheesh. I said leave the door unlocked, not tackle me when I walk in. What are you doing down here?”
“Coming to check the door.”
We pass Mr. Morgan’s room on our way up the stairs. I hold my breath the whole time, wishing we could actually be invisible. Despite my worry, we make it to my moonlit bedroom without any trouble and I lock it behind us. Mr. Morgan never comes into my room, but now’s not the time to take chances.
Lucas smiles and looks me over. “Like your pajamas. Cute.” He swipes my nose with a finger, then crosses to the window seat, climbing onto my pile of pillows.
I pull the covers back and climb into bed, sitting cross-legged and trying not to stare. Despite the cold, Lucas walked over in mesh shorts and a white T-shirt, the hard outline of his muscles showing through the thin fabric.
“Tell me your best dream.” Lucas surprises me with an offhand, not-crucial-to-survival question. I know he means the ones filled with what I call shadow people, the dreams Lucas suggests are perhaps memories of what our lives might have been like before Ko wrote the notes, before we traveled.
“It’s weird.”
“That’s okay. I still want to hear it.”
I take a deep breath and blow it out, bringing the images to the front of my mind. I’ve hidden them in the back, in a safe place, so I can still take them out and remember. “I can never see very well, and even my best one is more impressions than solid pictures. But it’s warm, like the very end of spring or maybe what summer feels like. My arms and head float on top of water, hot from the sunshine. It’s cool down deeper and there are people, a man and a woman, laughing and splashing nearby. I’m kicking in the water and they pass me between them, helping me get from one to the other and kissing my cheeks when I reach one of them.” Warmth spills through me at the memory, as it always does, of that strange and foreign sensation of love shining around me like it never has in real life. To hide how much the dream means, I shrug. “I’ve never been in any water, obviously. But that’s it.”
A glance at Lucas’s soft, enraptured expression says my shrug didn’t fool him one bit. In an effort to throw the attention off me, since I feel all exposed and naked, I ask him to return the favor.
He settles back into the cushion, running a pale hand through his curls. “Well, it’s snowing. I keep sinking into these huge snowdrifts all the way up to my chin, and a man pulls me out by my hands, rubbing his cold nose against mine before tossing me into another fluffy pile. Not in a mean way or anything, and I’m laughing. We both are. Then he shows me how to roll the snow into a ball, and push it and push it until it’s a bigger ball and then a bigger one. We build a man made out of three huge snowballs, and give him a face made of buttons and acorns and sticks that fall from the trees. A woman comes outside with mugs of hot cocoa, making an exaggerated fuss about giving up her scarf to the snowball man, but it’s red and it looks perfect around his white neck.” A shy smile sneaks my direction. “That’s it.”
“That sounds like almost a good enough reason to be out in the snow.”
Lucas laughs, my weak joke easing the tension borne of letting each other see into our private places. If the dreams are impressions of our memories, I cling to the possibility that the man and woman are my real parents. That at one time I did have a family, and they loved me.
But where are they now? What happened to them?
After a few moments of silence, I tell him about my unexpected outing Saturday morning, voicing my concern that it could be some kind of test or trap—like the pink drink when the Wardens first arrived. His face reflects my worry, confirming that the whole thing is suspicious at best, and Lucas suggests going along just in case.
The offer heats my cheeks. “What if we go out there to meet this Archivist and never come back?”
“We’d be together.” Our eyes meet across the room, fuse as though we’re connected. After another moment of silence, Lucas stands up too quickly. “I should go.”
He steps toward the door, pauses at the edge of the bed, and runs a hand over the top of my head. I clutch it against my cheek, my belly full of licking fire that’s so much more pleasant than the flames associated with my strange power. It spreads out until I give voice to its wants. “Will you stay until I fall asleep? I just don’t want to be alone.”
A quick intake of breath from Lucas hitches my heart, and for a moment I’m worried. Then I remember this is Lucas. The boy who loved his fish, who defended me after I pushed him away ten times, and whose touch makes me believe everything might really be okay now that we’re facing it together. I scoot backward, peeling back the bright comforter in invitation.
Lucas’s smile tightens a little, and a glinting brightness full of the same tumbling emotions doing acrobatics inside me shines in his eyes. He closes them, then takes a deep breath and slides out of his shoes. When he opens his eyes, the teasing, comfortable Lucas is back. He slides in, snuggling me against his side. As always, it takes a few minutes before our core temperatures balance out. Once they do, the bed is cozy and warm.
I think about Leah, and a sudden memory clenches my stomach. “Lucas, you can’t mess with Leah anymore. That night at the refreshing, Elij said the Prime told them to leave Leah wrong in case they could figure out who did that to her veil.”
“I’m not going to hurt her anymore,” Lucas whispers.
“Even if we can unveil the humans, what good is it? If they can’t be normal afterward, it’s useless.”
Lucas’s disagreement is evident in his silence, and when he speaks his voice holds a hesitant tremor. “What if we could do more than one at once? Like the whole
Cell, or the whole town? We might be able to get them to help us.”
“No.” My cheek rubs against the soft, threadbare material of his shirt. “First of all, I don’t think we can. Mr. Morgan was sitting in the same room when my thoughts undid Mrs. Morgan and it didn’t affect him at all. Plus, it wouldn’t do any good. Everyone would go crazy all at once and run around not knowing what the heck is going on, then the Wardens would come and take them all away. We’d be responsible for Breaking a whole town. We’ve already got at least three lives on our heads this autumn, Lucas. That’s more than enough for me.”
“So you aren’t even going to try and figure out how we could help? Even after what Ko said about it being the end of humanity?”
“I’m not giving up, Lucas. If it comes down to me and you against the Others, I’ll do whatever it takes. Playing with the humans or their minds, though…if we can’t really fix them, bring them back to an even keel, then we should leave them the way they are.”
“You think they’re better off walking around like they’re happy, like everything’s fine?”
My irritation spikes. He’s always so sure he’s right. “Yes. Unless we can keep them sane, I won’t do it. What do you want to do, run experiments on them? Excuse me for being a wet blanket, but that makes you no better than the Others.”
His only response is to trail his fingers up and down my arm. His touch relaxes my every muscle, making me sleepy.
“I know we’re probably not human, Lucas, but I have to believe we’re different from the Others, too. Ko said we can save the humans. I don’t want to hurt them.”
I think of the Hammonds, Val, Monica, the girls here in Danbury—even Leah. Mr. Morgan. A fierce protectiveness drops over me.
Lucas startles me with a soft response. “Okay, Althea. We’ll keep working on the hot and cold, think about talking to Deshi, and keep our eyes open. Where are you meeting the Archivist Saturday?”
“In the park, where the Wardens met us by the boundary.”
“I’ll meet you there. Mr. Crawford wants to show me some work thing after breakfast.”
The scent of him—crisp, fresh, and wintery—infuses the room. He kisses the top of my head and tucks an arm around me as he settles deeper into the blankets. “Close your eyes. I’ll stay for a while longer.”
Even though confusion and worry dig their fingers into my edges, my center relaxes at the side of this boy who knows all of my secrets but still chooses to be at my side.
CHAPTER 21.
Saturday dawns cold and wet, the gray skies spitting rain that splatters the sidewalk with polka dots. I have breakfast with Mr. Morgan and he shows me the small box of family items the Archivist requested. Inside are a few pieces of paper that look like legal documents, some photographs of Mrs. Morgan and her parents, and identification. Nothing that looks important enough for the Others to care about.
Bracing myself for the onslaught of miserable weather, I pull on rubber boots and tug the brown-and-orange striped umbrella from the back of the closet. The wind drives bullets of water underneath my protective gear on the walk to the park.
Lucas runs up, meeting me as I pass the playground equipment. His face is flushed a healthy pink. The colder the weather, the faster autumn marches toward winter, the more robust Lucas appears. More handsome, too, if that’s possible.
He kisses my cheek and crushes me in a hug, then grabs the soggy box from my arms. “I’m sorry we disagreed.”
I nod, pleasure pushing back the discomfort caused by the miserable day. “Let’s go. Mr. Morgan said the Archivist will be out by the boundary, where the Wardens met us.”
We plod through the trees, bare and spindly without their leaves, which lie in a squishy carpet under our feet. Two figures wait outside the fence, but I look past them into the forest as an ache opens up in my core. Desire to be out there again, free from the complications born of my awkward existence in this world, burns from my toes to the top of my head.
My attention snaps back to the moment when Lucas takes my hand and squeezes lightly.
Seeing the Warden surprises me; he’s one of the ten who have been constant observers of life in Danbury these past weeks. The second figure is shorter by a wide margin, and female. She stares at us, a rather pleased—albeit trembling—smile stretching her generous lips. Honey blond hair tops her tiny frame and flatters her delicate features.
She speaks at the exact same moment I realize I’ve been staring at her without even a flicker of pain. “Good morning, children.”
I blink, sure her eyes changed from black to midnight blue and back again in the space of those three words.
“You are Althea Morgan, correct?” I nod. The Warden steps forward, making me wince as he enters my field of vision. He stares hard at Lucas. “I was not advised you were being accompanied.”
“Oh, um…”
“I’m Lucas Crawford. We’re courting.”
Warmth spreads through my chest despite the uncomfortable moment. I remind myself he only said it for the Others’ sake. The Warden pulls out a handheld communicator and punches some buttons. I glance at the strange, non-Other Other, starting at the expression in her eyes. It seems oddly familiar, as though I’ve seen it somewhere before.
“I’ve no indication that the two of you have taken part in a Parental Sanction. This is a requirement of voluntary Partnering.”
Lucas steps closer to me, his scent calming my pounding heart. I’m glad we’re downwind from the Others. The rain brings out the smells. “It’s scheduled for this week.”
It’s not, but the Warden doesn’t know that.
The Warden says nothing further, backing up and giving control to the Archivist. Something is so familiar about that woman.
“I’ll just get this boundary open and take that box from you. If you’ll walk this way with me, Althea, I’ll ask you the necessary questions.” She cocks her head to the right and begins to walk along the fence.
I hesitate, torn between gnawing curiosity about the woman and reluctance to leave Lucas. She glances back and smiles again with that look in her eyes. She seems nice. Genuine, even. The anti-Other.
I follow her along the boundary about fifty steps. Not far enough to be out of earshot or view. She digs under the leaves on her side of the fence and uncovers a small black box buried in the ground. A red button sits in the center of the top, like on the communicators. She pushes it, and back where Lucas and the Warden stand the fence opens up, exactly like where we went through in the rider the night Mrs. Morgan Broke.
The woman catches my eye and hers shift color again, filling with water. She blinks it away in a flash, smiling. “You know, I’m rather enjoying my stay nearby. The collection center is only about an hour-long walk, straight into the afternoon sun.”
Before I can respond, she spins around and tromps back toward the men. I follow, glancing into the trees to catch a glimpse of the birds and squirrels. She never asks me any questions, but it’s obvious she knows something.
Relief colors Lucas’s face when I stand next to him again. The woman holds out her hands in a silent request and he hands over the cardboard container. She passes it to the Warden without checking the contents. “Thank you for your cooperation. You’ve saved me some time, since my placement here expires in three days.”
Without another word she and the Warden move back outside the boundary. They leave, stepping on the red button to close the fence on their way by. Lucas and I don’t move as the edges of the fence slide silently toward each other, fastening into place with the faintest of clicks. The mystery surrounding the woman bothers me.
“Well, that wasn’t as exciting as I thought it might be,” Lucas observes.
“Hmm.”
“Althea.” Lucas shakes my arm, grasping my attention.
“What?”
“We’d better talk to Mr. Morgan about a Sanction since we told the Warden about it.”
“Okay, sure. We can go now.”
Since he brok
e my concentration, the freezing, soaking day reclaims my attention and I’m more than ready to get inside.
Halfway back to the Morgans’, Lucas pulls me to a stop and makes me face him. “Okay, Althea. What’s on your mind?”
“Did anything seem weird to you about the Archivist?”
“You mean, besides the fact she’s a female Other? Like what?”
Frustration surges at my inability to pinpoint it. “Well, it didn’t hurt to look at her. Her eyes changed color. And she reminded me of someone.”
“Yeah, she reminds me of Others,” he mutters.
It’ll come to me. It’s there, hiding in the recesses of my stubborn mind.
***
Mr. Morgan comes into the foyer when we enter and call out to him.
“Ah, Lucas, right? I was wondering if I might see you again.” He turns to me with a stern look. “You two know the rules. We should have scheduled a Sanction before now.”
His statement surprises me; I wasn’t aware he’d heard the courtship rumors. Then again, Lucas did take me to the Autumn Mixer.
“I…well, I…” Come on, words. Form a thought.
Lucas breaks in, his voice higher than normal. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about, sir. We were hoping Tuesday evening might work for you.”
Mr. Morgan chuckles. “No need to be nervous. I’ll send your parents a message and check with them, but Tuesday’s fine with me.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll see you then.”
Lucas squeezes my hand and escapes. Mr. Morgan chuckles again, then we return to our Saturday routine. We watch the movie on television for family time. It makes my skin crawl to know that up and down this street, on every street in town, in every town on Earth, everyone is doing the exact same thing. Two houses away, Lucas and the Crawfords are laughing at the same moments we are. Like mindless goons.
Afterward I burrow under the heavy covers in my bed, hoping to warm up, and thumb through Lucas’s booklet of words again. I toss it aside after a while and stare up at the ceiling, willing whatever it is about the Archivist to the forefront. She’s not from my memory dreams, though the caring look in her eyes mirrors the feelings they give me. Almost like she loves me.