I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my hands against my head as another memory filled my mind. I couldn’t see anything this time, but I was struggling against that calm, medicated feeling, and complete exhaustion was overtaking me.
The voice I heard was high-pitched and tinny this time. “Congratulations. You have finally chosen. She looks to be an acceptable specimen. Have you installed her tracker and monitor?”
“Lexi?” Austin’s voice brought me back to the classroom.
My eyes blurred, and there was a lump in my throat. This wasn’t just about the mice anymore. As I looked at Micah, the feelings of fear and helplessness I’d had when I woke up this morning came back with a vengeance. I stood there heaving, trying to grasp more details of the dream I’d had. I knew it was important, and that it was the reason I was shouting at the boy with the eyes I was sure I’d seen before.
Austin jumped up and took my arm. As he led me to my seat, I realized how quiet the room was. Everyone was staring at me. It felt a lot like that other dream, the one where you’re standing there naked in front of the class.
“Are you okay?” Austin asked. The look of pity on his face brought me awfully close to crying on my first day back.
Chapter 4
I spotted Austin and Kaela sitting at our usual table at the cafeteria and sighed with relief. With the way today was going, I was looking forward to some normalcy. But as I made my way through the energy-packed room with my lunch tray, eyes darted my way, and people leaned close together to whisper. So much for normal.
Kaela waved. As soon as I sat down across from her she handed me a baby carrot, apparently not pleased with the contents of my tray. Then she stared at me with a fake grin plastered on her face. “So how has your first day back been?”
I slowly turned to Austin, who was sketching in his notebook with one hand and eating absent-mindedly with the other.
“You told her all about it, huh?”
He turned to look at me, tucking the pencil behind his ear, and grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not like she wasn’t going to find out.” I closed my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to relive that embarrassing moment.
“Let’s get down to business, then,” Kaela said, taking up her psychologist tone. “How do you feel about what happened today?”
I took a bite of my burrito, squinting my eyes as if I were digging deep within myself. “I feel like that guy Micah has some serious issues,” I mumbled.
I spotted him sitting a few tables away. Cheyenne was on one side of him, because she wasn’t the type to miss an opportunity, and a girl I’d never seen before sat on the other. She looked like she could have been Micah’s sister. Her eyes were the same blue, and she was about his height. Her hair was short and blonde like his, only it was longer in the front, and instead of drifting back it tumbled over to the side with the perfect amount of disorder.
Kaela turned her head, following my gaze. I guessed she’d caught sight of Micah when her eyes bulged. “That’s him?”
I nodded.
“Too bad I’m done with guys,” she mumbled.
I tried not to laugh.
“What? I am. At least for a month or so.” She balled up her napkin and tossed it at my face, then glanced over again. “He is hotter than humanly possible.”
“Come on, he’s just new.”
“You don’t think there’s something, I don’t know, exotic about him?”
I shrugged. I couldn’t tell Kaela that I was sure I’d seen him before, that when his eyes connected with mine I felt like I might be bonded to him for all eternity. I couldn’t tell her I’d heard his voice before, that it had haunted my dreams, and continued to haunt me. Or that I wanted to scream and throw things at him, and at the same time I needed to be close to him.
“So. Speech class,” she said, raising her brows. “You think it’s the new guy who has issues?”
I was relieved she was making a joke of it. Kaela always knew what angle to take with me, although a real conversation was probably going to have to take place eventually.
“What are you implying?” I asked. “Fine, I may have had a minor mental breakdown. But you should have heard him. He’s got some kind of superiority complex.”
She stared at him again, her lips turning up. “I wonder why.”
I bit back a smile. “Kaela! Focus. I’m troubled here, remember?”
“Right.” She only looked at me for a second before turning away again. “So where do you think he’s from, anyway? He’s definitely not Idaho stock.”
I shrugged, acting like I hadn’t put much thought into the question, like I hadn’t thought about him nonstop since he’d walked into class. “Denmark? Norway? I don’t know. Somewhere people have fair hair and disturbingly pale eyes and perfect bodies, apparently. He doesn’t have much of an accent, but you can tell English isn’t his first language, you know?”
“And who’s the chick sitting next to him?” Austin asked.
“Chick?” Kaela asked, shortly.
I glanced at Austin, who looked slightly dazed as he stared. He squirmed, picking at his muffin when he caught me grinning at him. “Fine, young lady,” he mumbled. “Sensitive much?”
We continued staring like they were zoo exhibits. We couldn’t help it. It wasn’t every day such interesting new specimens appeared at our school.
Micah picked up a pudding cup. He poked gently at the foil lid as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Cheyenne giggled and peeled it off for him. When he stuck the spoon full of vanilla goop in his mouth his eyes lit up, like when he’d started spouting off about humanity in debate. A smile stretched across his face as the plastic spoon dangled from his mouth. It was the first time I’d seen him smile, and it made it even harder to tear my gaze away.
“Hmm,” Kaela said, “I guess they don’t have pudding cups wherever he comes from.”
I laughed, and Micah looked at me as if he’d heard. His smile faded, and his lips twitched, like there was something he wanted to say to me. The interaction didn’t escape Cheyenne. She glared at me.
I turned away quickly, my cheeks already hot. The best thing I could do was try to ignore the new guy. Today was an off day, emotionally speaking. I just needed to keep my head down and let things get back to normal.
“Hey.”
I looked up into Ethan Dixon’s green eyes.
Kaela, Austin, and I glanced at each other. Ethan, aside from being a really cute ginger, was in charge of the school newspaper. Also, he’d never stopped to chat with us before.
“Hey,” I said when it finally occurred to me to respond.
He sat down next to Kaela so he was looking at me. Then he gave me a doozy of a grin. “You cut your hair.”
“Oh,” I nervously pulled at a strand. “Yeah.”
“So I heard about that thing with the mice.”
“Everyone’s heard about the thing with the mice,” Austin said, rolling his eyes.
“And I heard about what happened in speech today,” Ethan continued.
I gave him a weak laugh. “There’s a good chance everyone’s heard about that, too.”
“I think it’s really cool,” Ethan said, pulling out a notebook. “Not everyone takes such a bold stand for something they believe in.”
“Well, I’m not planning on starting a junior PETA club or anything.”
He glanced at my PETA t-shirt, which I’d forgotten I was wearing.
I looked down, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, this was just a joke.”
“I’d like to write a story about you in the school paper.”
I noticed a few kids at the surrounding tables were watching us. An article about me probably wasn’t the fastest route to normalcy. I looked at Cheyenne, who was glaring at me again despite the fact that she had a spot next to the catch of the day. She wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t like my rebellion getting any extra attention. Principal Archibald was just leaving the lunchroom, tray in hand. He glanced back at me before dis
appearing.
“Um—”
“There are a lot of people who love what you did. I have to admit, I wasn’t looking forward to slicing one of those little guys open.” He curled up his lip in disgust.
Hank Stillman had lumbered over to our table and was standing behind Ethan. “Gross, me either. And speech class was awesome, by the way.” He laughed and raised his hand to get a high five, which I hesitantly gave him. “I thought Mrs. Martinez was going to lose it.”
More eyes were turning to the scene at our lunch table, and several heads nodded, joining in on Hank’s enthusiasm and whispering to each other. I knew it wasn’t just Hank. If you had Ethan on your side you pretty much had the rest of the school, and Ethan had just made it clear in front of everyone that my mouse-fiasco was okay, even if it had caused mass chaos a couple of weeks ago.
“So do you have any comments for the paper?” Ethan asked.
I took a deep breath, hoping I could explain without getting emotional this time. “I wasn’t trying to start some big thing. I just didn’t think those little guys needed to die so we could find out stuff we already knew. Sometimes I think we just do things because that’s the way they’ve always been done. Looking for a better way is how we really advance, you know, as people.”
Ethan was furiously scribbling in a notepad. “I guess I had some time to think about why I did what I did,” I added. “That’s the whole idea behind suspension, isn’t it?” I winced. “Sorry. Too much?”
“No,” Ethan said, “that’s really deep. Animal cruelty is not cool.”
Hank, who I hadn’t realized was paying attention, suddenly plucked a half-eaten hot dog from the tray of someone walking by. “Animal cruelty is not cool!” He tossed the hotdog at another football player at the next table.
“Not cool,” the other guy shouted, chucking a piece of jerky at Hank’s head.
Hank roared with laughter as he looked for more ammunition.
Ethan shook his head. “Neanderthals.” He pointed at my half-eaten burrito. “May I?”
“Uh—Sure.”
He stood up, grabbing the burrito, and chucked it across the cafeteria. It splatted on the side of someone’s head. “Say no to animal cruelty!”
“That was actually just a bean—” I mumbled, but it didn’t matter anymore. Food of all varieties was now being tossed around the cafeteria.
I glanced at Micah. His eyes lit up again, like a child discovering a brand new game, and he dumped the remaining pudding out of his cup and onto Cheyenne’s head. I clamped my hand over my mouth, but it was too late. Cheyenne saw me laughing. She peeled a banana, smashed it in her hands like a snowball, and threw it at me.
It hit my shirt with a squishy thud. Kaela’s eyes widened, and she hurried to wipe it off with a napkin that was far too small for the job.
I stood up. “That’s it.” Before I could think, I grabbed my half-empty carton of milk and threw it at Cheyenne. She squealed and lunged for a napkin as milk dripped down her sweater.
Austin grabbed my arm. “Let’s go. You can’t go down for this.”
I grabbed my tray, dumping the rest of the tortilla chips, and held it up as a shield as I followed him.
“What were you thinking?” Kaela asked, leaning in behind my tray as we hurried toward the tray return.
“I wasn’t thinking.” I was already worried about what my suspension would do to my grades, and my chance at getting a scholarship, which might well be my only chance at going to college. Of course I had to fill my first day back with stupid.
I waved my friends away as I waited behind a cluster of people to dump my tray. No need for either of them to remain in the splat zone. As I reached the big metal window, with my tray still raised to block one side of my face just in case, I ran right into someone.
I jumped back. “Sor—”
I was looking up into Micah’s face. He stood rigidly, holding a hand out.
“I should have shaken your hand after our debate,” he said. “That was ... exhilarating.”
My mouth hung open as people pushed around us, and he just stood there with his hand out. Finally, I took it. I felt like molded gelatin at the moment, but I couldn’t forget what my dad had told me, back when he’d given more practical advice than how to get off the grid. Always give a firm handshake.
My fingers wrapped around his hand as I looked him directly in the eyes. I wasn’t surprised when daring to look at him and touch him at the same time resulted in a flash from my dream, but the intensity of it made me gasp. I saw Micah in a white coat, leaning over me, his expression anguished. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be you,” he said.
With an urgent breath of air, like coming up out of deep water, I was back in the cafeteria. Micah was still staring at me, in jeans and a long-sleeved tee again, his brows creased in concern. Or maybe it was guilt. I blinked, trying to dislodge the conviction that this boy had done something to me.
“What is it?” he asked, his eyes gleaming. I couldn’t tell if it was the look of someone who cared, or the interest of a scientist conducting an experiment.
I steeled myself enough to finish the handshake, giving two firm shakes. Then I willed myself to let go. Why was that difficult?
“It’s nothing,” I said quietly, my lips tight. I glanced at the door, but my feet didn’t move.
Micah’s brow furrowed, as if my answer was inadequate. He looked like he was about to press me, but I was determined to plough through his attempts.
“It was a good debate,” I said. “Even though I’m pretty sure we both failed as soon as we started arguing each other’s positions. Why’d you choose con anyway? From what I heard in there you seem to be all for using those helpless little creatures for the benefit of—what did you call it—the higher species? Weird choice of words, come to think of it.”
“In theory, yes. That doesn’t mean I don’t regret their having to suffer. As for why I did it ... I have heard about you.”
“So you thought you’d mess with me? You don’t even know me.” My voice was rising again.
“Challenge you. You are passionate. And rebellious?”
I blew out a gust of air as I dodged a flying apple. “I’m not rebellious—well, not most of the time. I just ... had a moment ... again.”
“A moment?”
“You know, one of those times when you know you need to do something and it’s almost like you don’t have a choice, like you’re not even in there anymore and you’re just a powerless spectator to the crazy thing your body is doing?”
Too much again. I rolled my eyes, wishing I’d just shaken his hand and left.
“I have experienced the feeling of powerlessness,” he said, leaning in closer. “But I am unfamiliar with what you described. I am always in total control of my actions.”
I rolled my eyes. What did he want me to say? That’s great for you? But when I studied his face, I realized it wasn’t a judgment. It was a real conversation. It reminded me of when he’d given the definition of debate to the class. He hadn’t realized his behavior was odd. It was just ... some kind of cultural difference.
His eyes searched mine, as if I had answers he was desperately searching for. The intensity made me look away. “Isn’t one always accountable for one’s actions?” he asked. “And don’t we always have a choice?” When I looked at him again, his expression had darkened. “I have never asked that question,” he said. “Now that I think about it, I have always assumed that what was chosen for me was the correct course. That if I did not meet those expectations it was a failing in me.”
“I’m sorry.” The conversation had taken a heavy turn for a school lunchroom, and I didn’t like the sadness in his eyes. “So why did you choose to dump pudding on Cheyenne’s head?” I asked, a smile spreading over my face.
“I was eager to participate in a new cultural experience,” he said. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Depends on who you ask. I guess you’re right, though,” I said, bit
ing my lip as I remembered chucking milk at Cheyenne. Even though I tended to respond without thinking sometimes, I couldn’t deny that I had a choice. This time I’d made the wrong one. I couldn’t regret what I’d done with the mice, but what had I accomplished by making Cheyenne hate me even more?
A muffin flew toward Micah’s head. I raised my tray, saving his perfect hair. He moved toward me slightly, and for a moment we were two people in the trenches, too close, sharing breath as we hid behind the pale green shield.
“I just think there are times when you can’t fall in line,” I murmured, avoiding his eyes now that he was so close.
“What does that mean, fall in line?”
“It means, like, doing everything you’re told. Sometimes something’s just wrong. I’d rather make some authority figure or even a bunch of trolls on the internet mad than not be able to live with myself.”
“Trolls?”
“Never mind.”
“But don’t you trust in those who came before you, those who are your leaders and instructors, and have gained knowledge and experience that you have not? What would happen to society if everyone did what they wanted, and lost respect for those with greater knowledge? The consequences of minor rebellions could add up to a lot, especially if you are in a position of influence.”
His words made him sound like some kind of know it all, but that wasn’t what I saw in his face. His pale eyes looked lost, and his tone was full of frustration. I kind of felt for him.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said, although I was no longer sure what we were talking about. I wasn’t in a position of influence—at least I didn’t think I was. I mean, I hadn’t started the food fight. And I hadn’t really thought about what setting a few mice loose would do to the free world.
“I thought your unwillingness to sacrifice the mice for the pursuit of knowledge was weakness,” he said.
I glared, ready for the next argument.
He held a hand out quickly, as if to hold me off. It brushed my arm and he backed away, looking flustered. “But I wonder now if your determination to defend them was a kind of strength.” His eyes held that searching look again, and he paused as if he were thinking it over. “I overheard what you said,” he continued. “You think people advance by questioning and searching for a better way. That is worth consideration.”
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