The Pretenders
Page 1
Also by Rebecca Hanover
The Similars
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Books. Change. Lives.
Copyright © 2020 by Rebecca Hanover
Cover and internal design © 2020 by Sourcebooks
Cover design by Nicole Hower/Sourcebooks
Cover images © Robin Macmillan/Trevillion Images; bennyb/Getty Images
Internal design by Travis Hasenour/Sourcebooks
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Published by Sourcebooks Fire, an imprint of Sourcebooks
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
sourcebooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Hanover, Rebecca, author.
Title: The pretenders / Rebecca Hanover.
Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Fire, [2020] | Sequel to: Similars | Audience: Ages 14-17 | Audience: Grades 10-12 | Summary: Still reeling from the events of last year, Emma isolates herself from her friends and Ollie, but when Gravelle’s plot is revealed, Emma realizes she must stop him before he destroys everyone she loves.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019031079 | (hardcover)
Subjects: CYAC: Cloning--Fiction. | Experiments--Fiction. | Science fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.H36425 Pr 2020 | DDC [Fic]--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019031079
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Return
The Message
The Nine
Harlowe
The Hazing
Masquerade
The Originals
Plasma
Jake
The Duplicates
Jane Ward
Tensions
The Legacy Project
Stealth Virus
Eden
Past and Future
The Case for Clones
Confrontations
Holiday
Retaliation
The Pretender
The Parents
The Replacements
The Rally
Levi
Bianca
The Legacies
The Island
Rescue
Expendable
Reset
Control
Home
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
For Winnie and Bill: the best of the best.
To: levigravelle@darkwoodacademy.edu
From: emmakchance@gmail.com
Date: August 29
Subject: Can’t
…not write you anymore. It’s been one hundred and thirty-nine days since I left the island, and you, and I told myself if I let it get to a hundred and fifty without doing something—anything… I wouldn’t.
So. Levi. I hope you’re safe.
I hope you receive this, and not Gravelle.
I hope when you eventually get off that island, I’m one of the people you want to see. Of course, you miss Maude and Ansel and Thea and Jago and Pippa so much, but—
I miss you too.
Can you figure out what I’m not saying? Because what I’m not saying is really kind of everything.
Yours,
Emma
Return
I dream about Levi every night.
I’m still an insomniac. That won’t ever change. But when I do catch a few hours of fitful sleep, Levi is the first thing I see. His face. His hair, too long and scraggly around the edges. I hear his voice and the accent that used to sound so wrong in his mouth. I see his gray eyes and his solid arms. Those arms carried Pru to safety, and I long for them. For him.
I sent him a message five days ago.
Nothing.
Nothing to let me know that the boy who made me feel all the things last year is okay. Not that this radio silence on Levi’s part is anything new. I haven’t heard from him all summer. Which is why I’ve spent the last few months running every possible scenario through my head. Is Levi okay? IsGravelle torturing him? Has Levi thought about buzzing me? Has he even tried?
Yes, I’ve considered that Levi’s silence isn’t Gravelle’s doing at all. That maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to me. Because maybe what we had—maybe we didn’t have it, after all.
I anguished over every line of that email. Wrote fifty-seven versions before I finally sent it, then instantly second-guessed every word choice. What I said, and what I didn’t.
But I don’t regret sending it.
I miss Levi with an ache that takes my breath away. It’s why he inhabits my thoughts even when I’m sleeping. I don’t dream of Oliver. No need; I have Ollie back. He’s beside me now, napping on the cool leather of the Lexus Earth that’s delivering us to our senior year at Darkwood. I look over at him—at his head propped up on his hand, on the armrest—and my heart does a familiar flip. Ollie is home. Ollie is back.
We spent the summer together, but it wasn’t the carefree reunion I’d imagined. Ollie’s been different since he returned. I don’t think he’s changed fundamentally, but I’m still struggling to work out what’s off about him on a cellular level. What’s the pharmas, and what’s him.
My father rides in front. I’ve placed myself strategically behind him in the back seat. It’s better if we can’t look at each other. Ever since I read Gravelle’s letter—the one where he revealed that I might not be me, but another girl, Eden, the replacement for the daughter my father originally loved—it’s been hard to face the man I call Dad. The gulf that already existed between us is now wider than ever. Every time I think about him, I wonder: Is this why he’s never loved me? Why he’s tolerated me, at best? Because I might not be me, but another girl? One born on a remote island. And if what Gravelle claims is really true, and my father’s kept this secret from me for all these years, how can I ever trust him again?
“Darkwood campus in five! Four! Three!” chirps the virtual driver of our car. She’s so peppy. Why can’t bots be programmable to fit your general mood? In this case, “utter relief that your best friend is alive, with a side of total despair over the boy you love.”
I know how lucky I am. Oliver is back. And for the most part, well. He’s listening to music through his earbuds,
dozing in and out after our flight from California, a look of contentment on his face. He shouldn’t even be here right now. I spent nearly a year mourning his death. Believing he’d died by suicide. At the end of the school year, when I learned it had all been a trick, that he was alive… I fully appreciate that what I’ve been given is a precious gift: more time with the boy who befriended me in the third grade. Who knows I like to layer chips inside my sandwich and who teases me about all the right things: my sarcasm, the way I eat pizza—crust first—and never about the wrong things, like the fact that I’m always overcompensating. That my mother’s death left a permanent scar, its edges still raw. If only Ollie’s return weren’t inextricably tied to leaving Levi on Castor Island, at the hands of Gravelle.
“Emmaline,” the familiar voice of my bot, Dash, cuts through my tangled thoughts. “You have an incoming call. Do you wish to answer it?”
I look down at my plum. There’s no number listed, but it’s definitely ringing.
Could it be him? Levi?
The thought of it sends every nerve in my body tingling.
Is he okay?
That question sends fear coursing through me.
“Yes!” I whisper, frantic, as I shove my earbuds in. I don’t want to wake Ollie or tip off my father, whose head is bent over a work memo. But if there’s any chance this is Levi, there’s no way I’m not answering.
I take in a breath. “I’m ready,” I tell Dash. Then, after a click, “Um, hello?”
“Hello, Emmaline,” says a familiar voice, infiltrating the quiet space in my head. “Long time, no talk.”
I instantly bristle, feeling my skin growing clammy, my heartbeat quickening. I know that voice, would know it anywhere.
It’s the Similars’ guardian. The man who created them, and who wrote me that note back in April breaking the news that I’m a Similar.
It’s Gravelle.
In seconds, his face pops up on the screen of my plum. I shiver at the sight of his sagging skin. His thin lips. His eyes that seem to bore right into my heart, squeezing it dry.
“Yes?” I’m testy, on edge. Why is Gravelle calling me? Why now? I have nothing to say to this man, except to rail at him for all the suffering he’s caused. To demand to know why he insisted on holding Levi on that island. “What is it?” I ask, not bothering to keep the venom out of my voice.
“Emmali—rather, Eden.” His pinched lips curl into a half smile. “You did get my letter, did you not?”
“Of course I got it,” I snap at him. “Excuse me for not writing back. I didn’t think your note warranted a response. Especially since there’s a good chance you’re lying to me. You didn’t exactly provide proof that I’m a…” I don’t say the word out loud. A Similar. “So who’s to say you’re not making the whole thing up?”
“I can see I hit a nerve.” Gravelle’s lips drop the pretense of a smile. “I can understand how traumatic the contents of my note must have been to you. But that’s not the letter I’m concerned with. Not today.”
It’s not? Heart pounding in my chest like a brass band, I glance at Ollie. Thank goodness he’s still asleep and hasn’t heard a word of this conversation. My father’s wearing the noise-canceling headphones he always uses while working. Good.
“Surely you know what this is about?” Gravelle prods, bringing my focus back to his soulless face.
“Of course I don’t—”
“I intercepted a certain…email of yours. Not five days ago, I believe.”
My heart lurches to my throat. He means my email to Levi. He read it. He got it. Of course he did. How could I have ever thought he wouldn’t see it? The man sees everything. Controls everything.
“That jog your memory?” Gravelle asks, humorlessly.
“Where is he? How is he? What are you doing to him?” I choke out in a strained whisper.
“Ah yes, young love. You would want to know, wouldn’t you?”
“Tell me what you’ve done to him. Or I swear—”
“What, dear Eden? What would you, what could you possibly do?”
I don’t answer, because I have no idea. What power do I hold over Gravelle? Absolutely none at all. He holds all the cards, and he knows it.
“Don’t hurt him,” I whisper. “He’s never done anything but try to please you. If you do, I’ll tell the world what you did to us last year. Holding Pru hostage. Killing that clone of Ollie so you could traumatize the Wards. Make them believe their son had died.”
Gravelle sizes me up. “Speaking of Oliver… I don’t suppose he’d have any interest in seeing your email to Levi—would he? Because I’d happily forward it along. If you’d like.”
I freeze. Forward that note to Ollie? I sneak another look at him, my pulse thudding. No, no, no. He can’t see what I wrote. I haven’t told Ollie about Levi, except to say we were friends. All summer I struggled with how to explain that Levi’s arrival at Darkwood rewrote my entire narrative. It’s impossible, and it would only hurt him.
“No. Don’t send him that.”
“I didn’t think so,” Gravelle answers silkily.
“Put Levi on the phone,” I demand.
“That’s impossible.”
I feel my stomach lurch. Sweat forms on the back of my neck, and I feel faint. Impossible? Why—because Levi’s hurt? Or worse, dead?
“What have you done to him?”
“Always so dramatic. It’s not what I’ve done. It’s Levi. He’s asked me to tell you not to contact him again. I know this won’t be easy to hear. Such is life… He doesn’t want to see you. Now, or ever.”
“I don’t believe you,” I snarl.
“Levi’s made it clear he’ll be quite content finishing up his senior year here, with me. Darkwood never was a good fit for him. He felt he was always in Oliver’s shadow.”
“But…but…” I stammer.
“But what about you?” Those narrow lips curl up into the first full smile I’ve seen on his face since he called me. “Must I spell it out? You were never a good fit for him, Eden. And if you need a reminder that contacting him is not in your best interests, or his—check your email. Until next time.” He grins at me, and his face vanishes from my plum screen. The call cuts off.
Hands trembling, heart in my throat, I’m about to ask Dash to open Gravelle’s email when I hear voices outside the car. I look up from my plum, past the leaves and branches that brush against my window on our journey up the hill to school. We should be pulling into the circular drive right now. Why are we stopped?
I press my face to the glass. A cluster of students blocks the entrance to the driveway. Eight, maybe ten kids stand in our way, holding up signs: CLONING IS A CRIME, AND SO ARE CLONES.
The Message
The shouts from the protesting students grow louder, and I unbuckle my seat belt, craning to get a better view. SAY NO TO CLONES, reads a second sign. NO SIMILARS HERE, reads a third. One girl seems to be leading the charge. She’s petite, with silver hair and a nose ring. I’ve never seen her before.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Ollie?” I reach out and nudge him with my toe, then scramble to slip on my flip-flops. “Wake up. We’re here.”
He opens his eyes, furrowing his brow like he’s reaching for a memory.
“There were tacos. Thousands of them, as far as the eye could see.” He rubs sleep out of his eyes, then takes in the trees surrounding us. “And now, thanks to you, I’ll never know the sweet euphoria of slathering them with salsa and stuffing my face until the end of time.”
“Look.” I point out the window, ignoring his joke. I love that his sense of humor’s intact, but now’s not the time. Ollie follows my gaze, then opens his window so we can get a better view of what’s happening.
The chant hits our ears almost immediately.
“Say no to clones. Say no to clones.
Say no to clones!”
It’s Madison Huxley’s rallying cry. But she graduated last year. I’d hoped she’d taken her bigoted anti-cloning views with her. I feel heat rising up my body, fury building within me at the sight of these students raising their signs higher in the air and joining together in unison in this offensive display.
I scan the grounds for a teacher. A parent. Someone to put a stop to this. But no one’s doing anything.
“I’m afraid we’re gridlocked,” our virtual driver tells us.
“You think?” I snap.
My father turns to reprimand me. “You don’t have to antagonize her, Emma.”
Great. He heard that interaction. So much for his noise-canceling headphones. But the admonishment dies on his lips when he notices the protest unfolding outside our car. His eyes widen, and his mouth settles into a thin line. “I’m calling the Darkwood board this afternoon. I’ve stayed silent for too long.”
“Do you think it will matter?” I counter. “Headmaster Ransom allowed rallies like this to go on all last year. What’s different now? Nothing, except for all the new laws banning clones from citizenship. Stripping them of their rights! And anyway, no one’s even stopping this… Let us out here,” I instruct our driver, cutting my dad off before he can respond. “I’m not going to sit and watch this,” I explain. “Ollie?”
“I’m right behind you,” he answers. He’s already exiting the car and grabbing our bags from the trunk.
“I love you, Dad,” I say quickly before he can react. I open the door and climb out. He follows me.
“Emmaline—”
“What?” I feel myself losing patience, fast. Gravelle’s call has set me on edge. And now this…
I let my father pull me into a stiff hug.
“Be careful, Emma. Please. And if you feel the need to run off to another secluded island without telling me,” he adds, without a trace of humor in his voice, “don’t.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Chance. Sir,” Oliver chimes in, right at my side. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on her.”
“I’m counting on it, Oliver,” my dad answers before returning to the Lexus and zipping his window closed, his nose already buried in work buzzes.