It’s close to final exam time. And, if the actual final exam trumps the simulated one my dad gave me, I could be in trouble. I need to find a way to stack things in my favor fast.
One year prior
We spent the summer after my sophomore year of high school in a full-scale mockup of the building. The building sat atop a series of old mine tunnels, which my father used to approximate the secret canyon tunnels that lead to Headquarters. Mind you, he has never been in those tunnels but promises they exist. The tunnels will provide my only entry short of becoming a member of the Grand Council and inheriting a passkey, or getting Cleaved on my eighteenth.
My “final test” of that summer was to get from my “school residence” to the protected server bank in the Grand Council building through pitch-black tunnels, locked doors, and a half-dozen security guards. He hired some ex-military buffs to play the tunnel security goons. They reminded me of my dad’s Militant buddies—single minded and lethal. No question, my dad wanted to show me my inadequacy for the task, so I stacked the odds in my favor with a little creativity or—as some might call it—downright cheating.
The night before the test, I told my dad I was going for a run to calm my nerves, knowing he’d never deprive me the opportunity for more exercise. My eight-mile loop took me through an occupied horse farm we’d driven by upon arrival two months earlier. I circled the farm to confirm its occupants were away and then broke into a locked bin in the stables where, even better than hoped, I found injectable horse tranquilizers, a tranq gun, and what appeared to be an anesthetic.
The key would be to use my stash in moderation so as to not kill anyone, although a prison life sentence might be preferable to my dad’s plans for me. I kissed my treasure before stuffing it into the lining of my running shorts and jogging back. The four miles back home proved to be a little uncomfortable as my loot chafed some rather sensitive areas.
First up on test day was locating the entrance from my digs to the tunnels. Officials use the tunnels to check up on kids during sleeping hours, scan for illegal paraphernalia and other rule violations, restock cupboards, and the like. Invisible to most, they present a huge security hole to the enlightened. I pretended to sleep, listened for when the monitor entered and from where, and after they’d left, it took me less than twenty minutes to find and open the hidden door behind the bathroom cabinet.
Once in the tunnel, I allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness before proceeding. Light on my feet, I jogged through the hot, musty passages, and kept an ear out for guards.
The first guard was stationed at an intersection of pathways. I watched as he shifted his focus to each path every twenty seconds, giving me only twenty seconds with his back to me, and forty with his attention directed elsewhere. Dressed in black, with a dark hood obscuring my face, I inched towards him. As he turned to the passage to the right, I quickened, and by the time his back was turned to me, I pressed the horse tranq in a third of the way before removing, capping, and shoving it back in my pocket. I couldn’t use the gun for the first couple doses or I’d likely kill the guys, so close encounters were my only option.
The dude didn’t drop lightly, or quickly. He fought me for a good thirty seconds before tanking, nearly crushing my windpipe when he clipped my throat. I knew how to take hits and was able to absorb the blow by buckling backwards and rolling to the side.
After catching my breath, I launched up, slamming my head into his with massive force. Full credit had to be given to the drugs because he was moving pretty slowly by this point. His reaction time withered and within a minute he dropped.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I disrobed the guy, donned his uniform, and stuffed my tools into my new pockets. Then running full speed, I took the path to the left.
I passed three guards without incident, they having ignored me after seeing my uniform. The fifth guard required some horse tranquilizer and a good kick in the ribs. I felt bad for sharing needles between the two guys but didn’t want to waste any, not knowing for sure what lay ahead.
Number six weighed at least two-eighty, so I got out the new needle for him and gave him a half dose, and even with that he broke three of my fingers and a rib, and dislocated my left shoulder before he got woozy. I gave myself four minutes to recover and assess my wounds before proceeding. I searched my victim’s pockets. He had a passkey on him, which I used to enter the building.
My dad had purposefully kept me out of the basement area, so that I’d have to improvise and find my way up six stories to the data center. I wasted many precious moments sorting through all the crap before finding a doorway blocked by a bookcase stacked with file boxes. I unloaded the bookcase before inching open the door and climbing the staircase.
I didn’t expect much activity upstairs given the off-hour, but my dad was roaming the halls of floor five in an attempt to block my success. The anesthetic worked magic on him, and his passkey worked magic on the lock to the data center. Not knowing how long he’d be out, I quickly located what I needed—a trophy my father had hidden—and reversed my path out of the building and through the tunnels.
Carrying a large shiny metal object past the other guards gave my disguise away, so I dealt with the three remaining guards by giving a third dose of the tranquilizer to one, and quarter doses to the other two. Using the trophy as a weapon compensated for my injuries, and I was able to get back to my “house” with only a few extra cuts and bruises.
Exhausted and in extreme pain, I waited out my dad who finally arrived an hour later to give his usual verbal thrashing, but at least he popped my shoulder back into place and let me get a few hours sleep. Despite the extended lecture to the contrary, I could tell he was impressed I found, stole, and used the drugs to my advantage.
The day after, I returned to school to start my junior year, still injured. I hid the cuts, bruises, and breaks beneath a baggy hooded flannel not wanting to have to spew lies to cover for them. After that, I left the hood on and let myself go until now—my hair long and shaggy, my interactions with others less frequent, my disgust for my dad at an all time high.
Present
My dad wants to have a conversation, so my immediate task is to figure out a legitimate reason for visiting that beach. Perhaps if I could get Kira to ride with me, we could find an excuse to have a pretend romantic picnic there one sunset or sunrise? Any plan will require her help and even though she has forgiven me for my failure to disclose and admitted she has feelings for me, I have no freaking clue where our relationship stands or if she still has my back now that she knows my mission.
I guess I better ask.
“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”
—Edgar Allen Poe
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kira
Even though our conversation warrants completing, I march towards the gym as an obedient Recruit should do. The look on Blake’s face when I told him I imagined my whole future revolving around him…priceless. Guys don’t react well to going zero to sixty on the emotional front in a relationship. They’ll go from “hello” to “sex” in 5.5 seconds flat, but going from “you suck” to “I want to marry you and have your babies” will cause them to sprout wings and fly away at supersonic speed. Blake clearly is inexperienced in the relationship front because instead of running, he got the whole deer in the headlights expression, and for a moment I thought I might have caused an aneurysm.
Speaking of aneurysms—when I believed that I had Cleaved to Tristan, I truly did panic. Blake really did a number on me. But I out-gamed the gamer with my spectacular performance. It was going perfectly until I decided to seal the deal with a kiss, and he kissed me back—really kissed me. And in a completely turned-on kind of way that made me think he wants to drop the “fake.” Not that I would let him know I agreed the kiss was hot. After his “joke” he gets no ego stroking.
Then things got blurry really fast
the moment Blake mentioned a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed Intern named Ethan who’s here on Thera. It can’t be a coincidence given my sightings and the hearing of his voice. If he’s here, why has Blake run into him “a couple times” when he has managed to avoid me entirely? Blake said the Ethan he met was “really into a girl he met at a party.” The same longing I’ve felt for months returns in force at the thought it was my Ethan, and he might have meant me. If he liked me enough to consider marriage, kids, and old age by my side, why would he avoid me? And guys accuse girls of playing games.
“Hold on,” I hear from behind as Blake grabs my hand, caressing it until I meet his gaze.
“We’re late,” I protest.
“I know. I just have to ask you a couple things. First, is my mission really your mission now? Are we still partners, and do you still have my back?” Committing to this will put my life in danger. But my life and future are already at risk, as are Blake’s, and I’ve already decided our futures are tied, like it or not. His eyes intensify in purpose as he awaits my answer.
“Yes. I’ll cover for you while you do your whole try to take down the bad guy thing,” I respond. “I really do want off this rock.” He closes his eyes, lifts his head upward, and clasps his hands together for a moment, before staring at me again.
“Thank you. Because, I don’t know if you noticed that flare a minute ago, but that means my father has arrived and will be eagerly awaiting an update on how my mission is progressing.”
“That firecracker thing?” I vaguely remember a small blast and a light in the sky—higher than the canyon lights, yet not a star. He nods. So, his dad’s here to put on the pressure which means whatever he has got planned is a “sooner rather than later” kind of thing. Great if successful, potentially disastrous if not. “So, when will you fill me in on the plan?”
“From now on, every bit of canyon time will be devoted to it.” His look turns serious. “I have so much to tell you.”
“Yes you do have a lot of explaining left to do,” I answer. He twitches at my jab.
“My last question is…where do we stand? Are we resuming our quote-unquote ‘relationship,’ or what?” he asks. I know to complete Blake’s mission we will need the canyon time, but I’m hesitant to define our relationship given the complicated nature of my feelings towards him and the news about Ethan. It takes a couple deep breaths to be able to answer.
“For public appearances, sure. We can resume our, ‘quote-unquote relationship,’ but it’s going to remain fake.” He looks disappointed.
“What about that kiss?”
“What about it? You’re on a mission to take down the SCI. You’re not on the freaking Bachelor. We keep up the ruse, so we get our canyon time, but the PDAs are going to be kept to a minimum,” I respond.
“Surely after they observed that kiss, the powers that watch are going to expect more of the same. An escalation even,” he says, leaning into my ear. My breath hitches a smidgen, and I hope he didn’t notice my body’s betrayal.
“You guys have about two minutes to get into the gym,” Bri yells. Saved by the yell. Thank you, Bri.
I look Blake right in the eyes with my best sultry look that used to get Tristan all hot and bothered. “In. Your. Dreams.” And then I turn and run.
“You look absolutely freaking Cleavable,” Blake says as I enter the living room in full party attire. We’ve been summoned to an all night to early morning dance-a-thon on the football field, mandatory for all students freshman and up, and so I’ve squeezed into my tiny tube top and skirt to appease the powers that be. I even dusted myself with Industrial City Party Sparkles, and I look like a human disco ball. Thankfully, I’ve had a week off from clinic visits, so my abdomen is flat and firm, the swelling from my surgery gone.
“You look like a ‘70s movie extra.” He looks ridiculous in his party vest and pants. The SCI has no issue killing off a whole party full of teenagers but can’t give a single decent fashion designer a second chance? “Ready to get your groove on?”
His eyes sparkle. “Absolutely. Happy to show you my moves.” He pulls me close and grinds against me. The last couple weeks have been absolute torture as Blake seems hell bent on getting a repeat of that kiss. Sure, we’ve spent a lot of time discussing his mission in the canyon, but I’ll be darned if he hasn’t figured out how to discuss the SCI and their evil minions with bedroom eyes. But I’ve also seen him use the same look on Bailey and vice versa. So, I haven’t given him more than a couple chaste pecks to keep our cover.
“You—” I poke him on the exposed part of his chest. “—have become Testosterone’s poster boy.” He twirls me around and laughs.
“Ready to go?” he asks with a smirk. “I know how much you love parties.”
“Why? You going to drug me?”
“Despite how hard you’re trying to resist me, I know you want me, even without the drugs,” he jokes.
“Yep, I’m right behind Bailey in line.” I pull him out the door. I need some fresh air. I’m quite conflicted. Sure, I haven’t been able to forget that kiss. But after hearing from Blake that an Intern named Ethan was in the city, I can’t take things further. Blake thinks I’m playing hard to get, and Bailey thinks Blake’s playing hard to get. Though the more Bailey plays “easy,” the more he seems to be softening to her advances despite the fact he has been all over me.
I need to find Ethan and figure out what his deal is. I cornered Spud to ask whether he could get me in touch with him, but he told me that he’d do no such thing, and that I should just focus on my own assignment. He didn’t, however, refute Ethan’s existence, so I’m as curious as ever about where he’s hiding and why. And how he’s here on Thera. If he has high enough DNT to cross over, could that mean his being at that party wasn’t a coincidence? The thought sends shivers down my spine.
Spud scored Blake a scooter that’ll fit us both, so I’ve learned to close my eyes and hang onto Blake for dear life while he maneuvers us through the canyon paths at high speed. The pleasant breeze created outweighs the threat of injury since walking the dark canyon in one hundred ten degree plus temperatures only results in sweat. The ride takes less than two minutes by scooter, so we’re at the dance quickly.
Teens litter the football field, dancing to some new age crap that sounds like it belongs as the soundtrack to the canyon light show. At least it’s music, I think. When I see Tristan eyeing me in my skimpy attire and licking his lips, I pull Blake in to dance with me.
“I like you in your skimpy party swag,” Blake jokes. “You really move well in it.” I push away and do a back handspring and flip to a split that gets everyone’s attention. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He pulls me up and into a tight embrace.
We dance in a large group for an hour, rotating between slow and sweet, fast and crazy, and sheer athleticism. While Bailey pulls Blake off for a private dance that looks more like a strip-tease, I teach a line of girls several dance routines I know from cheer to tamp down my jealousy. My subjects eventually burn out and collapse into the arms of TB-enhanced boys.
“You’re losing him, frigid minute by minute,” a teebed out Bailey whispers into my ear. I turn to face her.
“He has been all over me lately, Bailey. Not all guys are into the ‘I’m so teebed that I’ll gladly spread my legs for you’ thing,” I snap.
“Little kitten Kira tries to have some bite, eh?” she says. “Well, my dear little promo for purity…what do you think has had Blake so hot and bothered these days? Surely you don’t think that one kiss you shared in the canyons did it, do you? Blake and I have had a…lot…to debate lately, and he has been so…receptive to my arguments. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Whatever, Bailey. If he wants your brand of skank, he and I aren’t meant to be anyways.” I push through the crowd to escape her. Unbelievable. But, then again, her case makes sense. Every time Blake returns to me from a conversation with Bailey, he’s more aggressive about “giving the SCI a good show” than
usual. If he’s so into her, why’s he still pursuing things with me?
I continue my brisk walk across the football field until I run straight into Blake.
“Where have you been?” he asks.
“Discussing with Bailey your imminent Cleaving to her,” I quip.
“Like that’s going to happen.” His eyes dart through the crowd, scanning for her.
I glare at him and hope he can feel the heat even if he can’t see it. “According to Bailey, the only reason you’ve been so amorous with me as of late is because she has done such a good job of getting you worked up…and you guys just haven’t had a chance to seal the deal yet.”
Blake grabs me around my waist and presses his body to mine and whispers in my ear, “I have some rather bad memories of Bailey from my time back on Earth. You have nothing to worry about.”
Bri considers his move foreplay and whispers in my ear, “Cleave, Cleave, Cleave.” She really wants me “off the market,” so that Tristan will not pursue me.
I am sick and tired of all the Cleaving pressure—from Bri and everyone else. Find some friends for the singular thought in your brain, people. I know their eighteenth birthdays are all staring at them in the face and the prospect of a lifetime with one person is huge, but they need to find better hobbies. Even if they are referring to the “lifetime commitment” instead of the “consummation,” it still makes them sound like a bunch of freaking sex-starved robots when they talk about Cleaving all day.
“Raise my bet to thirty berries that they’ll Cleave off after the dance,” Bri says to Tristan. When she says “they” she means Blake and me. Bri and Tristan have been dancing next to us as have Lucas and his new squeeze, Brooke. Bri adds, “They’ve been downright gooey since they got back together. Have you ever seen two kids more in love?”
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