The Pretenders

by Rebecca Hanover

  Now. All you’d have to do is scoot closer. Just an inch. Or less…

  An ache starts in my chest that quickly travels to every extremity.

  “Gravelle is unpredictable. The fact is, we just don’t know what he’ll do.” Levi furrows his brow, thinking hard, and I make a mental note how sexy he is when he’s contemplating something deeply. Then I mentally smack myself: Stop it! This is definitely not the time. It’s never going to be the time.

  “Do you think they even know they’ve been replaced?” I wonder out loud.

  “Hard to say. Who knows what lies Gravelle has told them.”

  “Or what pharmas he’s given them,” I add. “They could be so brainwashed and lethargic they don’t even realize they should be trying to escape!” The thought hits me so violently, I slam my hand into the wall in anger. I instantly regret it.

  “Dammit,” I say, folding over myself and cupping my smashed right hand with my left. The tears that prick my eyes sting, and there’s no stopping them. Even once the pain subsides, which it does, quickly—thanks to my fast-healing Similar body—the tears come hot and fast, rushing out of me in a torrent, and in seconds I’m sobbing. I’m bowled over, releasing all the anger and frustration and fear that’s been welling inside me these past few months, ever since Ollie went missing. I’m ugly crying, and I know it. I’m beyond caring what I look like, or who’s watching. All I want right now is to curl up in a ball and cease to exist. Because staying alive without the people I love is too unbearable to endure.

  I feel his presence beside me, his soft breathing, before I feel his hands gently rest on my back. Then his preternaturally strong arms are folding around me, and I’m sinking into them just like I imagined. Into Levi’s warm and comforting frame, into the chest I’ve longed to sink into all these months. Every night, when I’ve been awake, unable to fall back asleep. Even those nights when I was so angry at him, I wanted to scream at the universe. Even then, I dreamed of his smell. His touch. The taste of him.

  “Like I said,” Levi breathes into my ear as he holds me and rocks me, with such a gentle touch, I almost can’t believe this is the same boy who possesses all that raw strength. “Better to never let yourself dream at all. Because last year, that’s what I did. I broke my rule. I let myself dream.”

  I look up at him, feeling lost and childlike and also like I’m home. With his thumbs, he wipes away the tears staining my cheeks. I react to him touching my face like that; it’s so intimate somehow, and electrifying, setting every nerve of my body alight.

  “What do you mean, you broke your rule?”

  “Believing that you, that you and I—” He stops short, clearing his throat. “Believing that we could ever last.”

  “But we could have,” I say, suddenly feeling defensive of us, of what we had. “It’s not our fault the universe got in our way. That Gravelle kept you on his stupid island.”

  “But it is my fault that I lied to you,” he answers simply. I see regret written in the creases of his forehead, and I long to wipe it away. “If I could go back in time…”

  “But would you?” I ask him, running a finger over his hand, tracing the lines in his palm. “Would you do anything differently? Because…” I pause for a second, gathering my thoughts. “Because I understand,” I finally say. “I understand why you did it. And I think if I’d been in your shoes, I might have done the exact same thing. If I had been the Similar to grow up on Castor Island, and I had met you, knowing you’d had this whole life beyond the micronation, I might have stayed silent to protect you. Just like you did for me.”

  “There’s still Oliver,” Levi says, and I’m caught off guard by the mention of Ollie’s name. “He’s still missing. And you still kissed him.”

  “I know.”

  Ollie. My heart pangs at the mention of him. The boy I also love. The boy I miss to an unbearable degree.

  “I would completely support you being with Ollie if that’s what you wanted,” Levi says, his voice holding steady. “But…” He stares into my eyes again, then pulls me closer. So close we’re not even a hairbreadth apart. I gasp at our proximity. I’d almost forgotten how it felt to touch him. For our planets to orbit each other like this.

  “But we could die tomorrow. Or the next day, or the day after that,” I answer him.

  “We could.”

  Then our lips are meeting. They find each other like magnets, completely unable to resist the force. I’m sliding so I’m practically sitting in his lap, with his back propped up against the wall. He’s warm to the touch, and that warmth feels transferable, like if I press every part of myself to him, it’ll spread over me. So I keep kissing him hungrily, and for as long as we keep kissing, this room disappears, and the fact that Ollie and my dad might be dead is the furthest thing from my mind. And we’re just me and Levi. Two people laying everything bare. Needing the comfort of this, the certainty of this, the finality of this.

  “Do you—”

  “Yes,” I breathe, not needing him to finish that question. I’m sure. This is what I want. I grab the hem of Levi’s white T-shirt and start to pull it over his head. I feel no doubt, none at all. This isn’t some boy; it’s Levi. Levi, who carried Pru to safety from the boathouse. Levi, who loves classic novels as much as I do. Levi, who sees me for all that I am and accepts the good along with the bad. Who’s never known me as anything but complicated and broken. And who’s loved me anyway. I tug at his shirt, and he raises his arms above his head. My heart works overtime once his shirt is off and I can take in the contours of his chest. His body is next to mine, and his bareness makes me bold. I kiss him again, utterly wrapped up in Levi’s force field, and nothing short of Gravelle himself could tear us apart.

  “This is—” I gasp.

  “I know.” His words are breathy and full of longing, and something else. “Emma,” he says, tracing one hand down my arm. His bangs hang loose in his eyes, and the look on his face is something I don’t recognize. Reverence, maybe.

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t care about anything but you right now.”

  Then he kisses me with a ferocity that’s both startling and welcome. Our limbs are tangled, our breathing synced, and the next thing I know, my shirt’s coming off, and I’m vaguely aware of the fact I’ve never done this before, and it should feel momentous, but instead, it just feels uncomplicated and right.

  “I—I haven’t,” I stammer. Then I find my voice. “But I want to.”

  “Me either,” Levi murmurs. “And me too.”

  Levi seems to find some kind of confidence deep within himself. He presses me back onto the bed with a quiet strength I know is only a fraction of what’s contained there. As his muscled body covers my own, I have only one thought: I never should have doubted him, or us.

  The rest is as it should be, unfolding moment by moment. Not rushed. We may have so much uncertainty looming over us, but we take our time, because right now, tonight, time is all we have.

  Afterward, I lie the crook of Levi’s arm, his fingertips glancing my hip. He’s fast asleep, but it takes hours before I can calm my erratically thudding heart.

  Bianca

  “Is it morning?” I ask when I open my eyes.

  I’m hoping it isn’t. Not yet. If I could stay here with Levi indefinitely… But I can’t. I know that.

  It takes me a moment to readjust to my surroundings. I’m in the tiny bedroom of the apartment, and now that it’s daylight, I can appreciate its details: a simple bed, a bare-bones desk, a lamp, and a floor-to-ceiling shelf filled with books. Those details fade in comparison to the one that really matters: I’m still in Levi’s arms. His body is gently draped over mine, our legs still entwined. Every inch of my skin tingles at the memory of last night. How we memorized the landscapes of each other’s bodies, connecting in an intimate way that was so many things at once. Epic. Tender. Simple, and full of laught
er, the kind you only share with someone who appreciates and knows every inch of you. Snuggling in closer to him, I allow myself one more minute of bliss in his arms before I wake him. There’s something so peaceful about Levi’s expression right now, I can’t stand the idea of wrecking that. But today is the rally. The whole reason we’re here.

  Levi opens his eyes slowly, yawning as he does. He kisses my shoulder lightly, like this is something we do, waking up like this, together, and I involuntarily shiver.

  “Cold?” he asks, his voice low.

  “How could I be? You’re like a furnace,” I tease.

  Levi smiles. I’ve missed that smile, the creases around his eyes. I ache for it, even though it’s right in front of me. I ache because beneath that smile is an undercurrent of fear we’re both refusing to acknowledge. “You know I run hot. Another one of my fun attributes.” He shrugs, then kisses my cheek, pulling me in closer to him. I want to lose myself in the warmth of his chest, to think of nothing but the night we spent together, learning each other’s geometry, memorizing each other’s angles and curves.

  “No matter what happens,” I say to him, echoing something I told him last year, on our trip to Castor Island. “I’ll never regret this. Our night,” I say simply. “No one can take it away from us, okay?”

  “Who would?”

  “I don’t know. The universe. Anyone. Just please, promise me—”

  “I promise.”

  “You don’t even know what you’re promising yet!”

  “Sorry.” He grins impishly, and I would swat him playfully if I had a free hand.

  “Promise me it’ll stay ours, no matter what else happens. To us. Or to the people we love. Promise me this will stay transcribed in our memories forever, even if…even if…”

  “I promise,” he says, his voice full of a familiar longing I recognize because I feel it myself, all the time.

  I disentangle myself from Levi’s arms—not an easy feat, as he’s reluctant to let me go. I pull on my jeans and hoodie and carefully open the door, relieved to see a couple of my friends still asleep on the couch. Pru’s in the kitchen, brewing coffee that looks stale but better than nothing. Maude waltzes out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Neither of them lets on they know where I was last night, even though I’m sure they noticed. This is why we’re friends, because when I need them to, they let me be, and vice versa.

  “Are we ready?” I ask my friends, getting straight to business. The clock on the microwave says it’s eight thirty. We need to hustle.

  “Everyone up!” Maude shouts, rousing her friends and kicking Jago lightly with her bare foot when he covers his head with a pillow.

  “Five more minutes,” he moans.

  “Not a chance,” Maude mutters, drawing the shades on the windows and pointing to a bag on the counter. “Bagels. Eat and get dressed. I brought us these,” she continues, pulling a couple of signs out of her backpack. They say slogans like HUXLEY FOR PRESIDENT, WE’RE WITH BIANCA, and SHE’S THE ONE.

  We all stare at her. Really? We have to hold these?

  “What? We have to blend in,” she explains, then gathers them up and shoves them in her bag.

  Everyone’s scurrying around, finding clothes, locating extra socks, stuffing themselves with bagels, and getting ready to leave. When Levi emerges from the room we shared last night, I can’t help but reflexively meet his eyes. He smiles, a little, in a bashful way that feels so different from our strained rapport of the last few months. His expression right now is anything but aloof. He’s almost shy. Which sends tingles up and down my spine. What we shared last night was special, almost sacred. He feels it too.

  We’re hurrying out the door now to catch the subway. Jaeger buzzes Pru that he’ll meet us there, up front. When we arrive at Central Park, at least fifty people are already milling about, finding spots and holding signs like the ones Maude brought us. She was right; at least with the signs, we fit in. We snake our way to the makeshift stage, craning to see if Bianca’s here yet.

  “Where’s your dad?” I ask Pru.

  “He’s here,” she tells me, checking her plum. “He says we should sit tight. He’ll find us.”

  It’s hard waiting, with nothing to do but observe all these people who are here to support Bianca—and her anti-clone agenda. It’s ironic, thinking that we’re here to save her, when in reality, her politics defy our very existence. But we can’t let her be replaced. That would give Gravelle a level of control and power that’s untenable.

  Jago and Theodora leave to canvas the area and check out the red tent behind the stage that’s obviously where Bianca and her team are prepping for the event. They return ten minutes later, reporting back that three guards are stationed in front of the tent. A minute later, Jaeger pushes through the crowd and approaches us, looking worse for wear. I can’t imagine what a toll this is taking on him.

  “Quarry members are surrounding this place,” he explains. “My people haven’t let Bianca out of their sight.”

  Still, fear courses through me. “He’s going to do it when she’s most vulnerable. When your Quarry members take a break.” Someone grabs my hand and squeezes it. It’s Levi, and I feel his immediate warmth. I squeeze back.

  “I think we should talk to Bianca,” Maude says, making a decision. “Warn her even, if we have to.”

  “I’m afraid I have bad news on that front,” Jaeger cuts in. “I did warn Bianca this morning. I got so concerned about her safety, it felt wrong not to tell her everything.”

  “And?” I press as I’m jostled by a couple of rowdy folks dressed in Huxley for President hoodies.

  “And she didn’t believe me,” Jaeger says, looking somber. “She thought it was a ploy to derail her campaign. To make sure she didn’t get up on this stage today.”

  “She believes you’d lie to her like that?” I ask. “About something so important?” Bianca and Jaeger go way back. I’ve heard they were even an item once, before they married other people. It’s hard to believe Bianca wouldn’t listen to Jaeger about something life and death.

  “What exactly did she say?” Pru presses.

  “She said that even if there were a threat, she’s hired top-notch security. And with the Quarry as an extra layer of protection, she has nothing to worry about.” Jaeger explains. “She’s right. My people won’t let anything happen to her.”

  But as I’m elbowed once again by the crowd—so thick now, it’s hard to even see through it to the stage—I get a very bad feeling. I can’t explain it or put my finger on it.

  “Maude,” I say quietly. “Check his wrists.” I don’t know why, but a sickening feeling is spreading over me. My gut is telling me something’s wrong. Very wrong.

  She looks at me. “Okay, but—”

  “I think we should be sure. Don’t you?”

  She nods in agreement, then pulls out the infrared light, grabs one of Jaeger’s wrists, and shines the light on it.

  I don’t know why I’m so shocked that my instincts were right. There it is, crystal clear, in the bright morning light. The time stamp.

  We don’t stop to think about what this means. We already know.

  We rally.

  “The red tent,” I bark at my friends. “That’s where she’s being prepped?” I address Jago and Theodora.

  “I’m certain of it,” Jago responds.

  Jago, Theodora, and Ansel take the lead while the rest of us squeeze through the increasingly dense crowd. I have to punch a sign out of my way and end up stepping on more than one foot to burrow through the crowd. Sweat’s settling on my brow. As Levi makes an opening for me to pass through, I hear him tell me not to panic. Maybe we aren’t too late.

  But Jaeger. We’re too late to save him. He’s already been replaced.

  In minutes we make it to the red tent. Maude has switched on her best version of a Texas accent
and is acting offended that the guards don’t know who she is—Madison Huxley.

  “You’d better let me in to see my mom,” she lilts. “It’s an emergency. I don’t want to have to tell her you got in the way of official campaign business.”

  “Sorry, kid. No ID, no entry,” the guard answers.

  Maude knees him in the groin. Theodora, Pippa, Ansel, and Jago surprise elbow the other two guards, knocking them sideways so they can enter the tent. Levi, Pru, and I follow.

  When we get inside, several more guards instantly grab us, holding us by our wrists, even as we struggle to get away.

  But that’s not the worst of it. There, across the room, shackled to a chair, is Jaeger—our Jaeger. The real one. His mouth is bound with duct tape. His eyes reach mine, pleading.

  Next to him is Bianca, also bound to a chair, her mouth muzzled.

  A second Bianca—Duplicate Bianca—sits on a high stool as a hair and makeup crew put the finishing touches on her look. She studies the note cards she’ll refer to in her speech.

  I shout to one of the stylists. “You’ve got it all wrong. She’s not Bianca!”

  “Of course she is,” the stylist answers, running a flat iron through Duplicate Bianca’s hair. “That other one’s the imposter,” she tuts.

  I bite the hand of the guard holding me by the neck, wondering if that stylist’s been paid off by Gravelle. The guard yelps but doesn’t let go.

  “I’m ready,” Duplicate Bianca tells her prep team. She hands them the note cards. “You can take these. I don’t need them. My message to the world is simple, really. I am the best candidate to run this country. A vote for Bianca is a vote for humanity. For decency. For America’s core values.” She checks herself in the mirror, smiles at her reflection, and steps down from the stool she’d been sitting on.

  It’s a frenzied scene. I’m wriggling to get out of the guard’s grasp. He’s even angrier now that I put teeth marks in his skin. Levi has wrenched his guard’s arm backward in its socket, causing him to squeal in pain. He involuntarily releases Levi, who runs up to Jaeger and rips the tape off his mouth. My other friends are similarly trying to fight off the guards. Theodora manages to swiftly kick one in the mouth and grab his Taser. She holds it out in front of him, threatening to use it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a guard who has Pru in his grasp. He holds a gun to her head and warns us that he won’t hesitate to shoot, if we don’t fall in line. Jaeger’s eyes widen in fear.