by Lee Davidson
Realizing I’m in my room, I grab my head again. “How’d we get here?”
“You wouldn’t wake up,” Rigby says as if that explains everything. “No one would,” he whispers.
“How are you feeling?”
“Where’s Grant?” I demand, ignoring Jonathan’s question.
“He went back to his assignment.”
“So that’s it? Things just go back to normal?”
He nods. “Yes. That’s it.”
“And Tate?”
“Everything appears to have gone as planned.”
Well pin a rose on me. How perfect. “I feel terrible.”
Poor Rigby is desperate for something to do. “Can I get you anything?”
“I feel terrible for what I’ve done,” I whisper for clarification.
Jonathan is the picture of calmness. “You did well.”
I shake my head in anger. “I’ve ruined them. This was never about Tate. This whole time, you were fooling us all. The kid is good and you couldn’t risk losing him as one of your own.”
Jonathan stays quiet.
“Do you realize what we’ve done? We’ve destroyed them! All because you want him in your collection of Satellites.”
“Willow, he was destined—”
“No!” I scream, on my feet now, and Rigby takes a step back. “No! He was destined for her! Don’t you see that? He’s not right without her.”
“This sacrifice was necessary. Think of the lives that are to be changed. Someday I hope you will understand the necessity…”
I ignore the rest of his words while pain digs into my brain. I will never understand this.
24. The guy never looks fine
Grant
Back at Meggie’s, she and Brody are curled together on the sofa. Meggie’s puffy eyes reveal that she’s had one heck of a crying spell.
“Lawson?” I yell.
No answer.
I make a fast sweep through the place and conclude that Lawson is missing. Strange. Parking myself on the chair, I turn my attention to the uneventful evening news after catching up on my reading. It feels good to be back.
An hour later, Lawson drops from the ceiling.
“I’m back!” By his shocked reaction, my joke doesn’t fly. Maybe a different approach is in order.
“Look, I’m sorry I left you hanging. I know I shouldn’t have pushed Brody like I did. I’ll try to contain myself in the future.” My insides rebel against my statement, knowing that I’ll have a tough time standing aside if Brody tries to hurt her again.
Lawson’s mouth hangs open.
“I said I’m sorry.” Sheesh. “Being pulled from this assignment made me adjust my thinking. I have to be here with her.” Being close to Meggie drives home my decision. “So, like I said, I will try to contain myself in the future.”
Lawson finally mumbles, “Uh, so…what, I mean, where…”
I raise my eyebrow, wondering what’s wrong with him.
“What did you do while you were gone?” Lawson manages to get out.
Now that I think of it, what did I do? I can’t remember anything solid except the headache that has finally dulled. I push away the unsettling feeling, happy to be back here, and shrug my answer.
Lawson cracks his knuckles like he’s nervous.
“Where have you been?” I ask.
“Oh, ah, Jonathan needed to see me.” He shifts his focus to Meggie and Brody. “How are they today?”
I watch the couple for a few seconds, happy to see that Meggie is comfortable enough on Brody’s arm, and that Brody seems mellow enough not to punch her. “They seem better, actually.”
Lawson’s shoulders relax. “Brody’s recovery in the hospital had the added benefit of a good detox. He needed it. He’s been clean for a week.”
“A week?” I wasn’t gone that long.
Instead of answering, Lawson parks himself on the living room floor.
A week? I look back at Meggie, glad that her eyes are still dry. “Has she been OK?”
“As OK as anyone can be in her situation.”
Fair enough. “Well, like I said, I’m back. Lucky you.” I study him, wondering why I can’t get the guy to crack a smile. “What’s your problem, man?”
“You remember anyone named Tate?”
My finger runs over my T-shirt, tracing the raised scar on my chest. “Who?”
The silent tension becomes uncomfortable. “No one. Sorry, must have you mixed up with someone else.”
He’s acting even weirder, but seems stressed out enough that I decide not to press him any further.
Meggie gets up from the sofa, which is my cue. When I follow her into the bathroom, she actually fills the tub with water. This is promising! Waiting while she bathes, I think back to my follow-up meeting with the Schedulers and Jonathan. They seemed like they had forgiven me for my interference, though I was definitely not asking for forgiveness. Talk about a one-eighty. Landon seemed like he’d even call me his friend at one point while he was giving me a “quick refresher” of our rules. I kept quiet about the fact that the “handbook for dummies” was still in my backpack and let Landon carry on like I had broken the rules out of ignorance, not disregard. I still don’t believe I did anything wrong, but I wasn’t about to argue. I’m just glad to be back on my assignment.
I flex my arm muscles, which feel rested and strong. Trying to find something conclusive about where the week went, my brain keeps returning its focus to the strange headache I had.
I get up from the bed and walk to the bathroom door to peek in on Meggie when I hear her crying. Tears stream down her pretty checks and roll into the bubbles at her neck. I want to fix this poor woman so badly.
“Haze,” I say quietly when my sight is veiled in blue.
The filter never extends out from me to Meggie.
“Haze!” I yell since my quieter tone didn’t work.
As soon as the waterfall surrounds me and starts toward Meggie, my head is assaulted by a sledgehammer. I cover my ears to be sure my brain stays inside.
Meggie’s tears ramp up, but I only know by the expression on her face, which is blurry since my eyes won’t focus. I can’t hear her over the jet engine that is rumbling in my head.
I turn away from Meggie, causing my blue sight to disappear before I can say “block.” The screaming in my head relents a little, but not to a level I’d call comfortable.
Meggie doesn’t stop crying, and I try again, which ends with another failure and even more pain centered in my skull. When I walk back to the bed and squeeze my temples, I notice Lawson, standing very still in the doorway.
“Problems blocking?” he asks.
“No. Why?” My voice is defensive even though I’m certain that my failed blocks are a fluke. Probably I’m just out of sorts from my time off.
Lawson goes back into the living room and Meggie, thankfully, calms herself down without my help. She finishes her bath, brushes her teeth, and talks Brody into going to bed early.
I change my focus, hoping for a reprieve from my throbbing head. “They’re sleeping together?” I ask Lawson when he follows Brody into the bedroom.
Lawson nods.
In the bed? This is big!
I try to make small talk with Lawson after we take our respective corners for the evening, receiving snippy, one-word answers in return. I take the hint, shut up, and spend the rest of the night convincing myself that my ability is fine. Around three, I almost ask Lawson if failed blocks are normal after having some time off, but ultimately decide against it, fearful of the answer he might give. Certainly I would have been warned about this in training.
Only the occasional roll from Meggie and Brody disturbs the quiet evening. While they sleep, I focus my energy until the blue filter clouds my vision a dozen times just to be sure it’s still there. I don’t dare say “haze” because the pain in my head has finally subdued to a dull ache.
&nbs
p; The next morning, Meggie and Brody don’t get up until well past nine. By noon, the house is full when Max, Ryan, and Nancy show up as documented. Before I have a chance to greet Whitfield and Elliott, Lawson pulls Elliott into the bedroom for some top-secret conversation.
“What’s with them?” I ask Whitfield.
She glances toward the hall that leads to the bedroom. “Who knows. You talk to Rig lately?”
I shake my head.
“He’s been acting weird. He says he’s fine, but I can tell he’s keeping something from me. You don’t think he’s into someone else, do you?”
Before I can answer, Meggie starts to cry.
“Haze,” I say out of instinct when my blue vision comes.
Ahhhhhhhhh!
Whitfield breaks the connection by jumping in front of me and grabbing my shoulders. Her lips move, but I can’t hear her.
“You all right, hon’?” her voice finally muffles in a slow, underwater kind of sound.
My eyes dart around her to Meggie, but Whitfield moves, putting her nose an inch from mine. “Grant, what’s the matter?”
I swallow. Why can’t I block?
Whitfield’s even more worried. When I find my voice, I mumble that I’m fine, but she doesn’t release my shoulders for another whole minute.
I try to rub the pain from my temples as Nancy consoles Meggie. The hug does more for Meggie than I’m able to. Nancy helps get Meggie settled into a chair at the table.
While Nancy rummages through the pantry, Meggie spins the placemat with her finger in the same way that my fingers work on my head. She closes her eyes, her finger stops moving, and she appears to be practicing some deep breathing exercise. I consider trying the same thing in hopes of lessoning my pain.
“My parents are coming down from Michigan this week. They’d love to see you,” Nancy says, turning on one of the burners while I pull my energy in again.
Meggie keeps her eyes shut, but nods when I say, “Haze.”
After another excruciating attempt, I feel Whitfield’s eyes on me.
“I’m fine,” I insist.
“You don’t look fine. Does he look fine to you?” she asks Lawson and Elliott, who have entered the kitchen.
Lawson forces a smile. “The guy never looks fine.”
“Funny,” I manage in an even tone despite the fact that I’m internally falling apart.
The rest of the day plays out around the television. Elliott has very little to say to me or anyone else and spends most of his time watching a survival show with Brody and Ryan. In the kitchen during a commercial, he has better luck blocking Ryan than I had with Meggie, meaning he actually succeeds. All I have to show for another failed attempt at blocking is a headache, and Elliott and Whitfield are both worried about me. At least Lawson wasn’t in the kitchen to see my blunder. He turns out to be the luckiest, not having to block Brody at all this day.
My calimeter frees me in the middle of the third episode, taking place in a desert instead of a forest like last time. Feeling worthless, I hitch on my backpack and adjust the straps. “See you later, man.”
Elliott nods.
I say, “Displace,” under my breath and it’s up I go.
My quick coding session doesn’t make my nerves feel as calm as I’d like, but I hope the time in the woods is enough to help me block again. On my way to training, I’m determined to talk to Jonathan about this problem, but when I step on the field, all thoughts of blocking are gone. Instead my cheeks burn from the attention everyone has decided to give me. It takes a great deal of self control not to reach down and make sure my fly is up.
As I get closer to the group, the unrelenting stares are enough to make my hand twitch toward my zipper.
“What?” I say to Evelynn because she’s the first person I reach.
Her tongue slides over her teeth, but there’s no smile or glint from her bright teeth. Instead of her usual revealing getup, her body is respectfully covered by black sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt.
Jonathan’s voice diverts their attention from me, but I can still feel tension zinging through the air. “Now that we are all here, let’s begin, shall we? First, I’d like formally introduce our newest arrival. This is Morgan. She will be replacing Trina.” Jonathan goes on with the introductions. We all shake Morgan’s hand as he ticks off how long each of us has been an Elite. My stint as an Elite is the least impressive, with less than a year under my belt.
Morgan combs her hand through her straight, brown hair and her fingers knot into the ends just below her shoulder like she’s nervous. I can sympathize when I think about my first day, but selfishly, I’m glad the others’ attention is off of me.
“Lawson, please pair with Morgan today,” Jonathan directs after he’s given Morgan the rundown about how training works. “Evelynn, why don’t you pair with Grant? Jackson, please work with Reed. Billy, I’d like you to be our Watcher.”
Everyone divides into pairs to take their places on the lawn. Evelynn sneers, “I don’t really see the point,” to Jonathan as we walk away. Very much out of character, she doesn’t make a single flirtatious advance towards me on our way to the right side of the field.
“You look nice today,” I say to start conversation.
She huffs like she’s insulted.
“Go left?” she asks when we’ve stopped.
Go left? How out of character, not that I’m complaining. “Perfect.”
She nods and takes a few steps back, putting about fifteen feet between us. “Haze,” she says when she’s in position.
I concentrate on going left. My muscles tighten in anticipation and my vision dims with my blue filter.
Instead of stepping to my left, I run to her when she falls. On her knees she holds her head with both hands, making a half-angry, half-pained moan.
Before I can ask if she’s OK, she yells, “Again, Jonathan! I told you something was wrong!” She’s all kinds of ticked off.
Jonathan jogs over to us, followed by all the other Elites.
“I can’t block!” Oh yeah, all kinds. “What the heck is an Elite suppose to do when she can’t block? This is madness! Fix me, damn it!”
Jonathan skirts around her like he’s comforting an aggressive horse. “Calm down. Nobody can block Grant, remember?”
“It’s not just Grant!” she yells.
“She’s right. Something went wrong.” Billy’s anger is muted compared to the bar Evelynn has set.
“We cannot be certain of that,” Jonathan answers.
“Come on!” Billy throws up his hands and his temper is more in line with what I would expect from him. “How else would you explain our sudden inability to block?”
“He’s got a point,” Reed agrees as he rubs his own temples just as I was earlier.
Jonathan stands there like nothing is wrong while the others come apart around him, making similar accusations.
“What are you talking about?” I demand, unable to contain my voice any longer.
And…silence. Like, eerie, awkward, all-eyes-on-me silence. Morgan is the only person who seems as oblivious as I am.
Evelynn’s the first to speak. “Tell him.”
“Yeah, I think we should. I mean, he should know what’s going on, too. Don’t you think? Something is—”
Jonathan raises his hand and Jackson stops.
“May I have a word in private?” Jonathan asks me.
I follow him, but can hear Evelynn behind us. “Unbelievable! He’s not going to tell him!”
“Let him handle it,” is Lawson’s reply, though we’re too far for me to hear the others.
I stop and put my hands on my hips. “What aren’t you going to tell me?”
Jonathan takes a long, slow breath through his nose. “How is your head?”
“What does this have to do with my head?”
“I suspect you have been suffering from headaches?”
“What’s go
ing on?” I say instead of answering his question.
“The team of Elites seem to be having difficulty blocking. Have you noticed this with Meggie as well?”
“I don’t understand. Jonathan, tell me what’s going on.”
He’s focused on the mountains. “I will. In due time, I will.”
“No, now! I need to know what’s wrong with me.”
He has the nerve to start walking away!
“Jonathan!”
No answer.
“What the hell am I suppose to do to protect Meggie?”
Shoulders slumped, he no longer carries himself with confidence. I want to chase after him, but I’m too stunned to move. He walks past the others and says, “You’re dismissed from training for the day.”
Everyone but Morgan explodes with questions and rebuffs, following Jonathan up the hill. Jonathan continues as if he can’t hear them.
My feet finally move after them.
“Grant?” Morgan’s voice is panicked when I stalk past her. “Are you able to block?”
I stop and turn. “Are you?”
Her thin eyebrows knit together. “I haven’t been released to my new assignment, but I think so. I was able to block fine on my last assignment.” She pauses. “Lawson chose to block me first today. Jeez, I don’t know. The last time I blocked was almost week ago. Oh no. What if I can’t?”
I anxiously watch the courtyard doors as Reed and Jackson are pushing through after the others.
“Can I try blocking you?”
I have to catch up to the others. “Now’s not really a good time.”
I make the mistake of turning back to Morgan just as her eyes fill with water.
“Please,” she begs. “What if I can’t block? How am I suppose to be an Elite if I can’t block?”
My mind scrambles. I have to find out what’s happening, but Morgan is about to lose it. “Calm down.”
She pushes up her thin shirt sleeves. “I can’t calm down. I’m not cut out for this! An Elite! Why would they choose me? I don’t have what it takes to be an Elite!”
“You’ll be fine,” I say quickly, as the courtyard doors close.