by Pam Eaton
His hands briefly strangle the steering wheel. “Someone saw Ania lift the guy like he was a toy. He told the cops and they found him still unconscious in the bed of his truck. Mr. Smith knew all about this before we even woke up this morning.”
Going back is all about me, then. Wonderful.
He glances at me quickly. “How are you feeling today?” he asks.
“Like crap.”
He grips the steering wheel. “How are you…dealing with everything?” he asks.
Do I tell him that I’m not really? That that’s a moment I’d rather have erased from my memory? That the idea of not being in control of my body, the one thing I should always be in control of, is terrifying? That even a hint of an idea of what he could have done to me makes me break out in cold sweat?
I settle with a simple truth. “I’ll be fine.” And I will, at some point.
And Mr. Smith definitely knows what happened, that I disregarded all of his warnings. “He’s bringing me back to teach me a lesson, isn’t he?” I ask.
He sighs deeply. “I would assume so, but let’s just see how it goes. It’s very important that you listen to him and do what he tells you to do.”
He never speaks badly about Mr. Smith and is always firm in his devotion toward him. “What’s with the unwavering loyalty to him?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Mr. Smith has been my mentor for the past ten years. He was there for me right after my parents died. I wasn’t even aware that I would have powers before then. He’s someone I trust wholeheartedly.”
“Nobody said anything?”
His body deflates a little. “My parents never told me that one day I would inherit powers. Unlike most of you guys, who had an idea, I didn’t. They might have been waiting until I got a little older, but they never had the chance.
“When I first realized that something was different, I was scared. Imagine having your parents die and then having powers appear. I thought I was going crazy, that I was a freak. It scared my grandparents, too. Mr. Smith showed up at the funeral and from then on, every summer until I was done with school was spent with Mr. Smith.”
“Are you ever going to tell me about your power?”
“Just like Tony doesn’t know what you can do, you can’t know what I can do.”
I roll my eyes. This is so ridiculous. “Seriously, that’s such a lame rule. You’re supposed to be my mentor and we’re supposed to be this team. But you get to keep all the important information to yourself?”
He breathes a heavy sigh. “Someday, Becca, you’ll know what I can do, but it’s better if you don’t know right now.”
He places a hand on my arm. “Soon,” he says.
I don’t really care whether or not it’s safe for me. I’m just tired of being treated like a child. I realize that I am only seventeen, but I’m seventeen, not five. Harping on it, though, won’t get my anywhere. And I don’t want to waste this little slice of freedom before we reach headquarters.
The rest of the ride I pester him with questions about growing up on a farm, and what it was like being so young at MIT. And for a few hours we laugh and joke, trying our hardest to reach for that normalcy we can’t get with how our lives are now. The fact that Gregory’s laugh is infectious is just an added bonus.
The more time I spend with him, the more I like him. And that’s only going to lead to heartache.
Twenty
We’re back to the sterile, hospital-like rooms, walls, and even people. We waste no time, walking to meet Mr. Smith in his office as soon as we exit the elevator. When we enter, he’s seated at his desk. It’s still cluttered with paper and folders, so I assume this is just the usual state of it. His face is hard and cold. It’s going to be an unpleasant visit.
I walk toward one of the chairs and Gregory shuts the door. Before I even have a chance to sit, Mr. Smith stands. I swear time slows as his arm raises from his side. And in his hand, a gun, pointed right at me. “Transport yourself. Right. Now,” he demands.
Time stops. The air in my lungs turns to lead. I need to run.
I stumble back into the chair, my eyes wide. He’s gone insane. Totally freaking insane.
Gregory rushes forward, his hands raised in a helpless gesture. “This is a little drastic, don’t you think?”
Drastic? This is freaking terrifying.
Without taking his eyes or the gun off of me, Mr. Smith snaps back at Gregory. “Stay out of this! Becca, I am ordering you to transport right now, or I will shoot you!”
Gregory doesn’t move from my side. My fingers grip the chair and I stare at Mr. Smith, paralyzed with fear. “I…I’m trying,” I plead.
“Not hard enough. You have until the count of five,” Mr. Smith says as he pulls back the hammer on the gun and my whole body flinches at the noise.
I try. I try so hard to focus on another place: the cabin, my grandparents’, even the room I used to sleep in here, but my heart is pounding and I feel as if there isn’t enough air in the room. Why can’t I do this? What’s wrong with me?
“One.”
I squeeze my eyes tight. Please.
“Two.”
A sob rips out of me. Come on.
“Three.” I grip the pocket of my jeans, and try to feel for the outline of the coin, but it’s not there.
The tears start pouring out of my eyes like a rushing river. “Please, I’m trying…I swear I’m trying,” I manage to get out between sobs.
“Four…” Mr. Smith says, no emotion in his voice.
My grip on the chair tightens and I pray to whoever is listening to help. Just do it. The clock ticks, its sound blaring in my eardrums. Drips of sweat slide down my temples.
“Five,” Mr. Smith says in a soft, menacing voice that’s so much worse than if he’d screamed at me.
I bolt from the chair when nothing happens. My heart thuds and the click of the trigger echoes through the room. I wait, but there’s nothing. No pain. No loud noise. Silence.
Am I dead?
“Open your eyes, Becca.”
I do, and he waves the gun in my face. “There are no bullets in the gun,” Mr. Smith says coolly.
It takes a minute for his words to register. I storm around his desk and march up to him and get right up into his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I scream.
He barks a harsh laugh and crowds me with his body. “What is wrong with me? Nothing. You, on the other hand, could have been raped, killed, tortured, or discovered last night. You could have been taken. I think the question should be what were you thinking?”
I stare at him, dumbfounded.
“You put yourself and everyone else in jeopardy so you could have a night out. Do you know why I pointed a gun at you?”
I can’t think of anything to say to him in return. Who the heck points a gun at someone in the first place? Some psychopath, that’s who.
“I did it to prove a point. You still need a lot of training, not to mention that you’re unpredictable, non-compliant, and unreliable. I put you in a life-or-death situation and you couldn’t budge. What would have happened last night? What would you have done if he’d raped you in that truck?”
“Enough,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, my stomach churning as he says the words out loud that have already gone through my mind. I stumble back to the chair.
He swipes a hand through the air. “Do you think that when you’re out on a mission, the enemy is going to forewarn you that they’re going to kill you? Don’t you want to be able to get away if someone kidnaps you? I forget how naïve you are sometimes.”
His condescending tone makes me want to punch him, preferably in the balls.
I’ve only been at this a short time, and he already expects the world from me.
Mr. Smith turns on Gregory. “And you! You’re supposed to be working with her on this, and you’re clearly doing an awful job. I don’t care what it takes, but she needs to work through these emotions.”
Gregory drops down into the chair next
to me. “She’s getting a lot better, but she’s still new to this. We’ll work harder.”
“Good. And you’re going to be working here for the next week. I want you to see, Becca, how much of a privilege it is to be working outside of here. You could have ruined everything for a night of dancing and pool, you thoughtless girl.”
With those lovely words of encouragement, I get to my feet and storm out of his office. Gregory follows me out and once the door closes, I unload on him. “Is he psychotic? What am I saying? Of course he’s psychotic. What sane person points a gun at someone to prove a point?” I ask as I slump down the wall.
Gregory joins me on the floor. “That was a little extreme, but do you understand why he did it?”
I can’t believe he’s siding with him on this. “Well yes, but come on, he pointed a gun at me and threatened to kill me.”
“I would never have let that happen,” he says, his voice conveying his promise.
My heart is still pounding in my chest and my limbs feel weak and wobbly. “I don’t even know how I’m going to sleep tonight. My anxiety level is through the roof.”
He pulls me to my feet. “Let’s see if we can get some food into you and your mind off what just happened.”
“Fat chance of that.”
The dining hall is full of the other trainees. The presence of Gregory and me causes quite the commotion. What is normally a room full of talking and the clanking of utensils is now quiet and still. People start talking in hushed tones, sneaking quick glimpses of us. I feel like I’m back at school walking into the lunch room. I look around for Dex, but he’s not here. It would have been nice to see a friendly face.
We grab some dinner and sit at a table by ourselves. “Apparently we’re the talk of the dining room,” I say.
Gregory looks around like he hasn’t noticed yet. “Well, we did leave in the middle of the night unannounced. And all of a sudden we’re back here, but Tony and Ania are nowhere to be seen. Plus, they haven’t gotten to leave this place, so any news is big news.”
I haven’t even thought about that. I wonder what everyone thought when the four of us abruptly left. Has anyone told them what we’re doing? “What am I allowed to tell anyone if they ask questions?”
“Just tell them that we’ve been training out in the field and came back for some further instructions from Mr. Smith. That’s all they need to know.”
Well, at least we won’t be lying. As we eat, we’re approached by a girl. It takes me a minute to place her name, but I remember that it’s Sariah. She’s the one who wanted Tony. So much for that now.
Her facial expression is stern and uninviting. Gregory and I both stare at her, waiting for her to speak. “So I see you’ve returned,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Yes, we have.” I say. Would it be rude to roll my eyes? Who cares, I do it anyways.
She immediately puts her hands on her hips and gives a disapproving sigh. I guess she expected a little bit more of an explanation. “Is Tony back with you?” she asks.
“Obviously not,” I say pointing to the empty seats near us.
I don’t know why, but I feel the need to challenge her. Maybe it’s because she marched right over to us, or it could just possibly be that she’s foul. Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to feel weak like I did back in that parking lot of the bar.
Apparently, my challenging her hasn’t gone unnoticed by the other trainees. Some of them sit with their jaws hitting the floor while the others whisper to each other.
“So I guess time out of here has made you feel superior?” she asks, her voice dripping with arrogance.
“And I guess still being here has made you obnoxious?” I counter.
She does a mock laugh and tosses her head back. “You know, you might want some friends now that you’re back. So I wouldn’t try to go up against me.”
I can’t believe she just said that to me. Have I walked into Mean Girls? “I thought you’d already graduated high school. Maybe I was wrong.”
She sneers at me and walks away to her little band of followers. “What was that?” Gregory asks.
I forgot he was even sitting next to me for a minute. I rub at my forehead. “I don’t know. I’m not myself right now. I don’t tolerate bullies, but I’m not usually this defensive. The thing with Mr. Smith has me all screwed up right now. I should probably apologize to her, but I think she’d just turn her nose up at it.” This isn’t me.
“Well, this should be a fun visit back,” he says in a sarcastic tone.
I look at him and laugh. “I might only be training with you, because I doubt anyone is going to volunteer to be my partner now.”
“I don’t know, I think Sariah might want to be your sparring partner.”
“Very funny. Maybe you should partner with her.” I flick some mashed potatoes at him and leave him chuckling at the table.
Twenty-One
So I guess I have the plague. Or I’m invisible. Either way, the other recruits ignore me as we assemble for group exercises the next morning after breakfast. Maybe Sariah has a point about me being superior. I do feel different coming back. It’s like when you return to see your elementary school teachers—that feeling of being older, even a little wiser. I also doubt that Mr. Smith has pulled a gun on any of them. I wish Ania were here, because she always seems to know what to say.
We begin routines of cardio and weight training. Even though I’ve been constantly working out at the cabin, I see how much I’ve been missing by not having this equipment. I know I can outrun anyone in the room, but as far as brute strength goes, I’m sorely lacking. It appears that I’m not the only one who notices it, because I can feel her eyes on me the whole time.
Sariah watches me intently. It almost seems like she’s keeping score of what areas I can beat her in and in what area she’ll wipe the floor with me. We’re the only two in the room who realize this, though, because she’s surrounded by other trainees who seem to hang on her every word. There has to be something about her that I just don’t see. She’s pretty, but her physical build is small and skinny. Half of the other trainees could snap her like a twig over their knees. She seems to be silently in charge, though, because when she moves, the rest of them move.
Man, I’m super judgy right now, but she just rubs me the wrong way. I usually just ignore people like this, but apparently she’s the exception to this rule.
Gregory walks up behind me. “I see you’re being sized up,” he tilts his head toward Sariah.
“Yeah, but she and I both know what’s really going on. It’s strange, really, how she’s already placed herself as queen bee.”
He looks her over. “I don’t think it’s that strange. Put all of these trainees in the same area for a while and cliques, leaders, and followers are bound to emerge.”
“I guess, but everyone here has powers. Everyone should be a leader.”
“True, everyone should lead, but that’s not how the world works. Out on missions, there will be times when you’ll lead, but there are times when you need to follow. It’s vital to learn how to follow someone else. It can mean life and death.”
Sometimes I forget that Gregory is my mentor, and then a moment like this happens. He’s only a few years older than me, but his maturity level is that of a forty-year-old man at times.
“Secrecy about what you can do is still important, so you and I are going to break off from the group and train alone.”
We go into another room with mats on the floor. He tosses me a pair of boxing gloves and ear protection. “I think Mr. Smith’s tactics were a little rash yesterday. I suppose I could keep putting you in terrifying situations until you finally learn to transport yourself, but that won’t work for long term. I think that if we can build your confidence and give you better fighting skills, your powers will be more manageable.”
I don’t know if he’s right or not, but I need something to take me out of my thoughts. I’m annoyed with Sariah and completely furious wi
th Mr. Smith. Yesterday proved that even when my life is on the line, I can’t focus.
I start punching at Gregory’s hands, but my heart isn’t in it. My mind is too frazzled and my self-respect is at an all-time low. He puts his arms down. “This isn’t working, is it?” he asks.
I bite my lower lip and look down at the floor. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to succeed at this mission when I can’t even save myself. It would be like a suicide mission, because there is no guarantee that I’m going to be leaving alive. I don’t want to disappoint everyone. I don’t want to get anyone killed.”
He takes my gloves off and sits on the floor, patting the space next to him. He rubs his face with his hands and seems to be racking his brain for an answer. “Does working with Ania help?”
I plop down onto the floor next to him. “I’ve built a great relationship with her over the last few weeks. We talk while we do yoga, stretch, run. Any time we’re together, actually, we have a good conversation.”
“Why don’t we take this time to just talk, and maybe you can become more comfortable with me.”
If only I could be more comfortable with him, but at times he makes me sweat and my heart race. “What do you want to talk about?” I ask.
“Anything. Go ahead and ask me some questions.”
What do I want to ask him? There’s still so much I don’t know. He has told me some. When Tony asked him what he looked for in a woman, he was annoyed at the question. He seems like such a private person. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask, and as soon as the question leaves my mouth I feel like an idiot.
He squints his eyes and tilts his head. “Of all the things to ask me, that’s the question you pick?”
I shrug. “I was on the spot and couldn’t think of anything else to ask.”
He shakes his head at my response. “I don’t. I would probably make an awful boyfriend right now, considering I’m gone for months and living in a cabin with two other women.”