He sat up. “Why are you leaving?”
“What?”
“Why are you doing this? Just transferring schools out of the blue in the middle of the year and not telling anyone?”
“I did tell people, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, after you did it. But you decided it all on your own. Why?”
I sighed, my breath shaking. What was I supposed to tell him? That the way our friends went through money and did stupid stuff like drive drunk scared the life out of me? That being Immortal and never hearing the word ‘no’ was getting to my head as well as his? That I caught him locking eyes with Elizabeth more than once when we were bowling?
“I...don’t know.”
He leaned back against the brick wall. “What are we supposed to do? You and me?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Neither have I.” Both of us stared straight ahead for awhile, then Gage finally spoke again. “You don’t want us to break up, do you?”
“What? No,” I said quickly. “But I’m about to leave and...come on Gage, we’re kids. And we’ll be two hours away from each other. You had to know this might happen.”
He rubbed his hands over his cheek. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that we put this...on hold.”
He snorted. “On hold? What are you, customer service or something?”
I didn’t laugh. “Come on Gage, it’s not that different. I’ll go back to Rochester, you stay here. I’ll still talk to you all the time. And this isn’t permanent. When you finish school or I decide to come back, if our feelings haven’t changed, we’ll just...”
“Pick up where we left off?”
I nodded. “So it really won’t be any different.”
“Then why do anything at all?”
I rested my head in my hands. I wasn’t sure what else to say, and ended up saying the worst thing possible.
“It just...isn’t going to work.”
Gage bit his lip. I looked away from him and stared at the wall behind us. Finally I saw him stand up. “Well then, I guess that’s that.”
“Gage...that’s not what I meant. I told you I didn’t want to break up!”
“Then what do you want to do Kenzie? You said yourself it isn’t working.”
“Can we just...see how it goes? See how we feel after a little while? On...hold.” I tried to smile.
He shifted his weight. “Okay,” he said. “As crazy as it sounds.”
“What else did you expect from me?” I said.
Finally, he smiled. “Let’s go back inside.” He kissed my forehead gently, but seemed a little too eager to get back in.
chapter fifteen
It was 2 am and I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know if it was the coffee I had guzzled four hours earlier or the half dozen brownies I had eaten after that, but I was wide awake. I didn’t have homework or the energy to do anything substantial, and there wouldn’t be anything good on TV. So I shuffled to the kitchen and fixed a bowl of cereal. I wasn’t even hungry; it was a habit I had gotten myself into when I moved in with Luke, and it needed to stop. Or so I had been told. Why did I need to learn healthy habits? Because I needed to worry about my health? The TNV took care of all that, and I was still taking it. When was the last time you heard of an Immortal worrying about their cholesterol or working out?
I heard footsteps in the hallway a few minutes later. Luke came shuffling into the kitchen, his too-long pajama bottoms dragging under his feet. “Can’t sleep?” I said. He nodded and I pushed the cereal box toward him. He poured himself a bowl in silence, then sat down without bothering to get any milk and spooned a bit into his mouth dry.
“Doing some research?” He looked at the book I had shoved to the edge of the counter.
“Sort of. Just thought I’d educate myself a bit.”
Luke snorted but didn’t respond. After a moment he said, “So how’s the crew?”
I scoffed.
He laughed. “Haven’t talked to them in awhile?”
“Some of them.” I hadn’t talked to Gage at all since the conversation that ended with us “on hold.” I had made a point of not talking to Elizabeth — Gage had clearly interpreted our conversation as a break up and moved on. I hadn’t spoken to Matt in awhile either. The only person I still talked to on a semi-regular basis was Jacey, and I had been so consumed with schoolwork that I had neglected to return her last two missed calls.
“Is mom still pissed that you haven’t stopped taking the grants?”
“Mom gets it. She doesn’t like it, but she gets it. I’m not going to stop taking the TNV so I’m not going to stop getting the grants.”
“But isn’t that...oh, I don’t know, cheating?”
“It’s not cheating if I might go back.”
“You might go back?”
“I don’t know.” I took a bite of cereal; it was nauseatingly soggy.
“Do you want to go back?”
“I don’t know!” I snapped. I dropped my spoon back into the cereal; it landed in the milk with a plop. “I miss it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m scared.”
“Scared of what, Kenzie? That you’ll get your heart broken again? Because that’s not part of being Immortal, it’s part of life.”
“I’m scared that grandpa was right.” I wasn’t going to eat this cereal; I got up and emptied my bowl into the sink. “When you have the world at your fingertips, it’s intense. That kind of power can change you.”
“Come on Kenzie, not everyone’s like that. Grandpa’s stories are his stories. They don’t have to be yours. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you became Immortal.”
I sighed. “No, I really don’t think I did.”
I ended up dozing on the couch watching the 4 am news. Why there was news on at 4 am or what could have possibly changed between 10 pm and 4 am that was newsworthy, I wasn’t sure. Four hours later I woke to my mother’s whispering in my ear.
“Kenzie? Kenzie, telephone!”
I grunted. Who on earth was calling me so early on a Saturday? Unless it was a life or death matter — not that most people I knew had much to worry about — someone was getting an earful.
“Hello?” I grunted.
“McKenzie Palmer? This is Reginald Smith from the Feed the Needy Foundation in The Necropolis. I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about our upcoming charity event. Would you consider making a guest appearance?”
I dropped my head on the arm of the couch. “No thank you, Mr. Smith, I am not interested.”
“I would encourage you to at least consider...”
“I said I am not interested.”
There was a pause on the other end. Crap. I hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like it had. But there was no way in hell I was giving a second of my time to some Necropolis charity.
“All right, I understand,” he said. “But if you change your mind, the offer still stands. The benefit is May 30th. I hope to see you there.” He gave me his contact information and hung up.
A few minutes later, mom came in with a bowl of cereal. The last news program had ended so I changed the channel and got yet another news program. It seemed like that was all there was to watch here — news, news, news. What even went on here that was interesting? At least in The Necropolis there was always something going on, even if that something was incredibly stupid.
My not so new but still expensive phone rang about twenty minutes later. It was Matt. I hesitated; even though we had parted months earlier on relatively good terms, he hadn’t made any attempts to contact me since.
I answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Hey Kenzie,” he said. “Can we talk?”
I headed back to my room. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I know it’s been awhile, but I was wondering if you got a call from someone from Feed the Needy today.”
“Yeah...how did you know?”
<
br /> “That’s my dad’s new charity. I gave the guy your name because I thought you might want to help. What did you say?”
“I turned him down. How was I supposed to know that was the one real charity that would call?”
He laughed. “It’s all right. Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay? I...I kind of miss you. You haven’t been back at all since the semester started.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy.” It wasn’t a total lie. Biology II was kicking my butt this semester — which was strange since Biology I in The Necropolis had been a breeze.
“Busy? Really?”
“Okay, there’s other stuff too. Hey Matt, um, do you know if Gage and...”
“Elizabeth.”
“Right. Are they going to be there?”
“Yeah Kenzie, they’re going to be there. Hey, you should still come though. I really want you there.”
“Okay.” I blew a lock of hair off of my forehead. “I’ll do it.”
By the time I got back to the living room, mom had the remote. Not that I minded; there was never much on on Saturday mornings, or any other time. She hadn’t even changed the channel; the same news program I had left was still going on.
The report I walked in on caught my attention when the anchorwoman mentioned The Necropolis. I had almost zoned out again when she began talking about a dead Immortal.
The scene cut to an extravagant house in a neighborhood I recognized. The dead man wasn’t anyone I knew, though; according to the report, he was in his early 30‘s and had fallen off the roof of his new house while trying to lay tiles. Most Immortals I knew would have hired someone, but apparently he had left his family when he became Immortal and spent all of the money he had already gotten in grants on a new house. The anchorwoman held a moment of sadness for the dead man, then moved on to another story.
“See there?” Mom pointed to the screen with her cereal spoon. “If that doesn’t make you want to stop being Immortal permanently, then I don’t know what would.”
“Mom,” I said, “That guy fell off his roof. That could happen to anyone. If someone had been around to give him TNV, he’d probably be fine.
She shook her head. “But they weren’t around, were they? He left his family when he became Immortal. It changes you, McKenzie. Besides, I doubt he actually fell off that roof. And if he did, it wasn’t because he lost his balance.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What are you saying? That someone pushed him? That’s crazy, mom.”
“You’re probably right. But I’m really glad you left The Necropolis. Wasn’t your friend Jacey’s house broken into a few weeks before you left? Home robberies in The Necropolis are going up. Most of them don’t even make the news anymore.”
“Because there are so many they can’t cover them all.”
“No — because the government can’t have their most prized city looking bad.”
“But mom, how do you know all this? And why is the government trying so hard to make The Necropolis look appealing?”
She shrugged. “I don’t. It’s all speculation. But McKenzie, our economy is worse now than it was in the Great Depression. And even then, they had vaudeville and a few movies. But just thirty years ago the film industry had already evolved to these enormous, three dimensional action movies. People got used to that state of the art entertainment and now nobody has any appreciation for the low budget arts anymore. But nobody has the money to make those big budget movies anymore. So there’s not a lot of good entertainment other than The Immortals. It’s cheap and insulting to everyone involved, but it keeps people interested and gives them something to strive for.”
“That sounds crazy,” I said, but it really didn’t.
She sighed. “Even in the last few years pre-collapse, most of the people who were famous were either born into rich and famous families or on a reality show. Famous for doing nothing, that’s what a lot of the news commentators said. They were usually more well known for who they were dating or what stupid stunts they pulled than for their actual talents. But at least their shows were somewhat entertaining.”
The news was ending and some old TV show was coming on. “Oh, I used to love this show when I was a kid,” mom said. “My parents didn’t like me watching it. They said it was too raunchy. But I snuck down at night sometimes to watch it anyway.”
I stayed in the living room because there was nowhere else to go. I had to admit that the show was actually pretty entertaining, and soon I had forgotten all about The Necropolis and people who were famous for doing nothing.
The week before the Feed the Needy benefit, Luke got sick. It was only a cold, but he seemed to think his days were numbered. Typical guy behavior, I guess. His car was in the shop and mom was working all day, so I had the dubious honor of driving him to the doctor. When he wasn’t coughing and hacking up phlegm, he played with the air conditioner, turning it up a little more each time, even though it was still cool outside.
“Luke, stop it,” I said, whacking his hand away when he attempted to touch it for the billionth time.
“It’s hot,” he protested. “I probably have a temperature of one hundred and thirty just from sitting in this car.”
“If you keep turning it up, I’m going to be the one with the cold.”
“Oh big freaking deal,” he mumbled. “Nothing a quick shot can’t cure.”
We went to a free clinic which meant we had to sit in a cramped waiting room already full of people for nearly an hour. Some of the younger children played with blocks or one of the old games lying around the room. Most of them screamed or cried or yapped the entire time. I’ve always wanted to get married and have children, but now I was starting to question that decision. Luke read a book for awhile, but quickly abandoned it and dozed in his chair with his head resting in his hand.
Finally, a nurse called Luke’s name and we were led down a cramped hallway with a bright blue rug. She led us into a room and told us the doctor would be with us shortly. I hadn’t been to a doctor in well over a year — I wasn’t even sure had come back here with Luke. But everything was immediately memorable — the thin, crinkly paper on the table, the large glass bowl full of tongue depressors, even the faint smell of alcohol. I would probably have to get used to it again when I became a doctor. I sat in the cold leather chair and Luke hopped on the table, swinging his feet like a little boy.
We sat there for almost ten minutes. Every now and then the cry of yet another child would drift inside from down the hall. Luke coughed and coughed.
Finally, I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I grabbed his arm and said, “Get down.”
“What? Where are we going?”
“I’m going to help you,” I said. “Now get down.”
Nobody paid us any attention as we walked back down the hall, out of the waiting room and into the parking lot. As soon as we were out of sight of, I reached into my purse and pulled out a syringe filled with TNV. “Hold out your arm,” I said. He hesitated but obeyed. I stuck the needle into his forearm, pushing the TNV into his veins. He would be fine in less than 48 hours.
chapter sixteen
Jacey and I met up at the convention center on the morning of the 30th. I was hoping to catch up with her since I hadn’t talked to her in several weeks, but she seemed distracted by a paper in her hand.
“Is that the schedule?” I asked.
She nodded. “Matt is seventh and then you. Guess I’ll zone out until then.”
“I’m sure biology class gave you decent amount of practice.”
She laughed halfheartedly. “I don’t know how many poems he’s reading. He tends to drone on sometimes so don’t get too eager once he comes on.”
“I like Matt’s poetry,” I said.
“I do too. But, you know, he doesn’t always know when to quit.”
“So what else has been going on around here?”
She looked up from fiddling with her nails. “You mean you don’t know?”
“K
now what? What happened?”
“Well...a lot. Haven’t you talked to anyone here?’
“Just you. How is everyone?”
She looked bewildered. “Fine, I guess. Not much around here has changed.”
“You all lead such boring lives.” I snickered. “Hey, did I tell you what I found in my dad’s stuff a few weeks ago?” For some reason I had been carrying that old letter portion in my pocket, even though I wasn’t sure why it was important to me.
“Uh-oh. Kenzie, please don’t tell me you found your dad’s old porn.”
“What? No...I think it’s a letter or something. It’s really weird.” I pulled out the laminated paper.
“That’s just a bookmark,” Jacey said.
“But it has writing on it. Look.”
She took the paper and read. After she finished, she shrugged and handed it back. “It looks like one of those inspirational bookmarks they sell in grocery stores. Only it’s handwritten.”
“It’s from Dr. Cooper, you know,” I said. “At least I’m pretty sure it is. He basically admitted it to me when I talked to him on New Year’s Eve. And why would someone hand write a bookmark? Why would someone hand write anything anymore?”
“No idea, Kenzie. But it’s probably nothing. He just got a letter he liked and wanted to save part of it. Hell, I probably would too. Besides, think about it: If you really thought in your subconscious it was this important, why didn’t you mention it to me on New Year’s Eve?” Gage walked by and she excused herself. He looked even better than he had the last time I had seen him. He had gotten a haircut and, unless it was my imagination, a little bit more muscle definition. He was newly tanned which was surprising in New York at the end of May, but it looked good so I didn’t question it.
“Hey,” I said.
The Immortals Page 9