Mindspeak

by Sunseri, Heather

  “Are you ready to hear this?”

  “Do I have a choice?” How could I possibly know if I was ready? “Who are you, Jack?” I spoke softly, almost a whisper. I should have asked, what are you? What was I, for that matter? Except that sounded too much like I thought we were aliens or something.

  “You know who I am. I’m the son of your dad’s ex-lab partner.”

  “From eighteen years ago. What does that have to do with me now?”

  Jack scooted closer to me and leaned in like he had a secret to tell. He rested his elbows on his knees and dangled the Mountain Dew can in front of him. “Do you know much about the history of your father’s research?”

  “The history of it? Like the fact that he and your father cloned some goat more than twenty years ago, the goat died, and the lab and all evidence of the research burned to the ground?” That was all in the papers. “Or, Jack, are you talking about the time he spent after that attempting early retirement? When that didn’t work, he returned to the lab to study stem cells, which turned out not to be good enough for my mom. So, she left soon after I was born, and Dad took off for Europe or somewhere while my grandmother raised me? To which part of this history are you referring?” I hated myself for letting my emotional family scars creep into the conversation.

  Jack’s mouth opened like he was about to speak, then closed. His stare made me shift where I sat. Finally, he said, “I’m speaking of the embryonic cloning part of the history.”

  “The stem-cell research?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that their research has something to do with the fact that you have healing powers?” I shook my head in disbelief.

  “And you, apparently, have some sort of ability to control people’s minds.”

  I stood up and continued to rub my chest, trying to ward off an impending panic attack. “Do you hear yourself? This is nuts.”

  Jack wrapped his fingers around my hand and pulled gently, urging me to sit back down. “Crazy, maybe. Not unbelievable. Hasn’t part of you wondered if there were others out there who wouldn’t find your ability unusual?”

  I looked up at the sky, then down at him. His eyes were as warm as I had seen them since meeting him. “No, I haven’t,” I lied. I was fine believing no others existed like me, and even more fine that no one knew about my ability. Some might call that naïve. I liked to think of it as safe.

  “Please sit down. I need to tell you more.”

  I didn’t know how much more I could take. I sat and pulled my hand away.

  “Did you know your father stayed with us after the dinner the other night?”

  “How did that happen? Did your father extend the invitation before or after he clocked him?” Of course I didn’t know my father had stayed with them. My father hadn’t bothered to call me.

  “After, I presume.”

  I studied Jack’s profile. He watched the guys scrimmaging on the lacrosse field. His lips did not twitch. No hint of a smile at my sarcasm. Neither the sweetness, nor the coolness of the tea helped the dryness in my mouth.

  Jack lifted a leg behind the bleacher and faced me, inching uncomfortably close. “Our fathers’ research went way beyond the cloning of a goat. They were on to something really big many years ago.”

  “What do you mean by ‘big’?”

  “Cure-for-terminal-disease-big.”

  “Yeah?” I said. “I thought curing diseases was the whole idea of medical research.”

  “Yes, but our fathers worked for a lab that didn’t mind how controversial their methods were.”

  “What are you saying? Did they break laws?” My heart tightened into a ball of rubber bands. Any minute one would snap from too much tension. Was my father in trouble?

  “Do you know if your father keeps journals of his research?”

  I narrowed my gaze. “Why do you ask that?” I thought about Dad’s request for the storage address.

  “My father has always claimed that journals of the research surrounding the cloned goat were lost in a lab fire soon after the experiment failed. But I wondered if maybe your father kept some.”

  I swallowed hard. Was Jack asking about the same journals my father hoped to get out of our storage?

  “Your hands are shaking.” He reached a hand and grabbed both of mine. My nerve endings fired up like a blowtorch.

  I started to pull away, but his fingers closed over mine. “I know you don’t trust me. But I’m here to help.”

  “Help me how? I don’t need help. Why should I trust you, Jack? I don’t even know you.”

  “Your dad’s in trouble, Lexi.”

  My eyes drifted from where his thumb rubbed my hand to his eyes. “What kind of trouble?” My voice barely climbed above a whisper.

  “Father didn’t arrive home with your dad the other night until two a.m. They looked tired, disheveled. I had fallen asleep playing Xbox, and I heard them come in. It was no accident that your dad was back in Kentucky. He wanted to meet with my father. Your dad called mine a week ago to let him know he’d be in town. That’s when my dad cancelled his trip.”

  “But you still haven’t told me what kind of trouble my father’s in.”

  “Jack, there you are,” Briana’s voice broke through the quiet conversation Jack and I were having.

  I winced. Jack muttered something under his breath I couldn’t make out. Briana climbed her way up the bleacher steps, her smile as big and lipstick red as a painted clown’s face. Okay, maybe not that big, but…

  I pulled my hands away and folded my arms across my chest.

  Jack stood. “Hi, Bree,” he said with a pleasant tone. Very different-sounding from the conversation we’d been having.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said.

  “And lookie here. You found him.” I screwed the cap on my iced tea bottle, stood and swung my bag over my shoulder.

  Jack’s eyes pleaded with mine. Our conversation wasn’t over. What was I supposed to do? Bree wasn’t there to see me. Besides, I wanted to make a phone call. I needed to hear Dad’s voice, his explanations. I had to ask him about these journals. About Jack.

  “I’ll catch you later?” Jack asked, his tone desperate.

  Bree stepped up beside Jack and leaned into him. “She won’t have time. She needs more practice and rest for the swim meet Saturday, don’t you, dear?”

  “Absolutely. Otherwise I might be forced to grab onto another swimmer in order to stay afloat. I would hate to accidentally drown someone.”

  The coldness of Bree’s glare froze my spine vertebrae by vertebrae as I turned my back to them and stepped down the bleachers.

  ~~~~

  I ended the call after leaving another voicemail for Dad and headed toward the library. I’d check my email again. Maybe Dad had replied to the message I sent him with the storage address.

  The library was quiet. I ducked my head and refused to look over at the circulation desk. I didn’t need or want to get stuck in a conversation of idle chit-chat with whoever was working today.

  I took the stairs to the upper level two at a time and went straight to the computer lab. I had left my laptop in my dorm room that morning. Since Wellington didn’t have Wi-Fi in the dorms the computer lab was quite convenient. The lab was empty except for one team of computer geniuses in the back. Probably only one was working the computer lab, and the others showed up for moral support or something.

  I logged onto my email account. No message from Dad. I had a message from Danielle with a link to a big sale at Anthropologie. Plus, another message from an address I didn’t recognize.

  The subject line read: Sarah Alexandra Roslin... Someone knew my real name.

  My pointer hovered over the email. My hand shook. Finally, I opened it and continued reading.

  Hi, Lexi.

  As you can see, I know the name you’re hiding under and the email address you use. How long do you think it will take me to learn your whereabouts?
/>
  The little hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. My eyes darted around the room as if the person who wrote the email was hiding under the desk across from me.

  Someone had found me. How? More importantly, why?

  The only other female in the room climbed into the lap of one of the boys and proceeded to type on the computer in front of them. “Here, let me,” she said and started typing furiously. They all laughed.

  I forced my attention back to the computer and the email that had my leg bobbing up and down.

  Don’t worry. Your physical location isn’t important, yet. What is important if you want your father to remain out of prison (or worse) with his reputation intact is the location of the journals your father kept of his research when he worked for Wellington Labs. Locate them ASAP and I won’t expose you for the lab rat you are or your father for working with an International Intelligence Agency director on a secret medical and scientific program. Do you know what your Dad did to you before you were born, Sarah? I’ll be in touch.

  Otherwise, the attached document and others get sent to WikiLeaks.

  I double clicked the attachment. A PDF of an email popped up on the screen, dated June 5, 1995.

  The email was from S. Whitmeyer to Ruth.Daniel@InternationalIntelligence.com. And cc: P. Roslin and J. DeWeese.

  Dear Dr. Daniel:

  Embyros altered – A SUCCESS! Success rate 2%. Embryos lost – 351. Will be in touch.

  SW

  Wellington Labs, Inc.

  The words blurred on the screen. Embryos altered? I rubbed circles over my heart. What did that mean? Like designer babies? The computer geeks’ muffled conversation sounded like it was traveling through a tunnel. The room began to spin, and the walls started to close in.

  “Think, Lexi. Think.” I drilled two fingers into my temple and replayed the conversation with Jack. “Eighteen years ago,” I whispered. Dad’s lab burned down eighteen years ago. He and Jack’s father stopped working together eighteen years ago. John DeWeese hadn’t seen my father in eighteen years—since before I was born.

  International Intelligence Agency? Dad had received threats before. I’d heard him talk about it. Still, this email was different. Not only did this email suggest that Dad was involved in something with Jack’s father and the IIA, it suggested that I was a “lab rat.” What did that mean?

  Furthermore, Dad had cut ties with Dr. DeWeese. Why?

  Did Dad trust Dr. DeWeese now? Could I trust Jack?

  I pulled out my phone and dialed Dad’s number. Straight to voicemail. I hung up.

  I took deep breaths. In and out. “Dad, what did you do?” Why was someone targeting me? I’d never even seen the journals. I raised my head. My eyes circled the room for the millionth time that evening.

  Reaching for the mouse, I printed both emails and then logged out of my account.

  After I grabbed the paper off the printer, I lifted my bag over my shoulder and slipped out of the room.

  I was going to be late to dinner, and tonight was the night I would introduce the enigmatic Jack DeWeese to Wellington.

  Chapter Six

  I followed behind Kyle in the dinner line. After every inch forward, I glanced at the phone positioned carefully on my tray.

  I couldn’t get the email out of my mind. I was starting to worry that something had happened to Dad. Why else wouldn’t he have called me?

  “Oh, Miss Sanders, you are the sweetest lady at this school,” Kyle said when one of the ladies served him way more than his share of spaghetti noodles and sauce. Then Mrs. Flowers gave him extra bread.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re going to sink to the bottom of the swimming pool.”

  “Are you kidding? Pasta creates energy. I’m going to win big in every race on Saturday.”

  “Arrogant, much?” I glanced backwards again.

  “Why are you so jumpy? You keep looking over your shoulder and at your phone. Who are you expecting a call from?” Kyle asked, impatient.

  “No one,” I said and picked up my tray. “You lead, but if you sit anywhere near Bree, I won’t give you my dessert.”

  Kyle chuckled. “Something new happen between the two of you?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  The cafeteria bustled at full speed. Kyle led the way. I didn’t bother to pay attention to which table he set his tray until it was too late. He was settling in across from Jack. I either followed suit, or appeared rude and drew unnecessary attention to Jack and me. It wasn’t like I could ask Jack right in front of Kyle over spaghetti and garlic bread, Hey, by the way, were our embryos altered before we were even placed in our mothers’ wombs? Were we like designer babies or something? Did your mom prefer to only have blue-eyed babies with a predisposition to a perfectly-sculpted pectoral region?

  What did I care about appearances? “I’ll catch you later, Kyle,” I said, not giving him time to react, and continued on to a table by the window in the back. I still had to prepare some sort of introduction for Jack anyway.

  Maybe I could fake a stomach bug. At that moment, I wasn’t sure how far an upset stomach was from the truth. When the smell of garlic and oregano hit my nose again, I pushed the plate of spaghetti away, then looked down at my phone. “Call, Dad.” Too bad my mind tricks didn’t work from far distances.

  Deciding there was no way I was escaping Jack’s big introduction, I grabbed the folded emails and a pen from my bag. One page of the printed emails was mostly blank paper. I tucked the actual emails under my phone and began making notes on the other piece of paper.

  “Why hello, Miss Matthews.”

  Jack stood beside the table. Close. I followed the line of his hips up past the tight curves of his chest, hidden only slightly by the navy polo, until I landed on those blue eyes I was beginning to suspect were created custom. He pulled out a chair beside me and sat down.

  I tucked my hands under the table and began massaging my pressure points. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to Jack again until I spoke with Dad. Although, if Dad kept avoiding me, I’d have no choice. “Where’s Bree tonight?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” He paused a couple of beats, opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again. “There’s nothing going on between Bree and me.”

  “Does she know that?” I asked, fighting back a smirk. I’m not sure why I cared. “It would seem you and she have gotten pretty tight since you arrived here.”

  Maybe I could get Bree to introduce Jack.

  “I’m not at this school to meet girls. Just to get to know one.” The corners of his lips tipped up as he reached for the garlic bread on my plate. “You going to eat this?”

  I shook my head, and swallowed the urge to throw up on Jack. Was he flirting with me? Then, before I could stop myself, I did throw up… words. “Did our fathers alter our embryos before we were conceived? Are we what they call designer babies?” It sounded stupid saying it out loud now. And arrogant to think we were born to parents who cared about our eye color, or how tall we would grow to be.

  Jack shot a quick glance over each shoulder, then took a bite of garlic bread. A line formed between his eyes. My words hung in the air like the elephant in the room that they represented—the secret kept from poor, little, weak Lexi her whole life. “Not exactly,” he finally said.

  “Then what? Shit, Jack.” I placed my face in my hands. I couldn’t suppress the quiver from my voice. “Did Dad think I was too weak to handle the truth?”

  He tossed the rest of the bread back on the plate. “Look, I’m sorry. I want to tell you everything. The thing is, I simply don’t know it all. I’m trying to piece it together myself.” He took a heavy breath in and let it out slowly while staring out the window.

  “What are you not telling me?”

  “Oh, there’s a ton I’m not telling you. So much of it doesn’t make sense. And when I realized you were speaking to those peoples’ minds and then to Briana’s earlier, I knew.”

  “You knew what?�
��

  “That we were alike. We both were keeping a secret so big.”

  “But you knew me before you even arrived.”

  Jack ran a hand through his hair. Silence followed.

  “Jack. Tell me. Are we some sort of scientific experiment?” Of course we were. I was such an idiot. When he didn’t answer, I lifted my head and glanced again at my phone and the piece of paper underneath.

  “Couldn’t get a hold of him?”

  I shook my head. Then, without thinking anymore about it, I reached and yanked the printed email from under my phone and handed it to Jack before I changed my mind.

  He unfolded the piece of paper and started reading. Meanwhile, Dean Fisher stood on the stage at the front of the dining hall and asked for all those who were making introductions of new students to make their way to the podium.

  I started to stand, but Jack grabbed my arm. His eyes wide with fear. “Where did this come from?”

  I pointed to the email address at the top of the page. “That’s all I know.” I pulled my arm from his grasp. “I have to go. Everyone is staring.”

  “Lexi,” he said. My gaze met his. “Try to act normal. You don’t know who knows what around here.”

  Right… Normal.

  I made my way to the front of the dining hall, wringing my hands as I skirted around tables. It was Thursday night. Many of the teachers stayed and ate at the staff table near the front, as they often did when introductions were made.

  Danielle waved. “Where’ve you been?” she mouthed as I passed by her.

  I shrugged and forced a smile.

  Next to her, Bree pretended to scratch her temple with a completely inappropriate finger.

  Most of the introductions were from the newest seventh grade class entering Wellington. There were only a few from each of the classes after that and just one senior—Jack.

  I stepped up to the podium, reminding myself that these intros were supposed to be light and fun. My legs felt barely strong enough to hold me. Swallowing the lump in the back of my throat, I said, “I’m here to introduce Jack DeWeese, who joins our senior class. He’s standing there, in the back of the room.” I pointed to Jack. He waved. “He’s another one of those ridiculously smart kids.” I rolled my eyes. “You know the type… The kind that breaks any possibility of a curve on the tests. He’s aiming to get accepted to a pre-med program on early admission. So, if you’re looking for him this semester, you’ll find him in the library.”