“Just you?”
“I’m the only one at Wellington, so far.”
“This is crazy, Jack.” He reached and pulled my hand closer to him, and I let him cradle it between his and rub. “Why only you so far? And why are the dean and others so hell-bent on me joining?”
“Not sure why I was the first at Wellington. Maybe it has to do with being further in my studies?”
I angled my body more toward him, leaving my hand in his.
“I’ve been homeschooled all of my life. Mom, my father, Anita, online college courses… they’ve all had a hand in making me who I am. I’m trained in advanced biology, molecular physics, and all forms of genetics. Though I don’t have the degree or the experience, I’m practically a doctor, Lexi.”
I leaned back, my eyes wide.
He continued. “Then, of course, there’s The Program.” He paused. Contemplated. “Your dad’s name came up all the time in my studies. Even more frequently once I was enrolled in The Program. I knew he was my father’s lab partner once upon a time. When I learned he had a daughter near my age… I knew I had to find you.” His eyes bored into mine.
I hadn’t even noticed the blaring fire truck siren until it had been shut off. Now, the only noise was from the chatter of girls a hundred yards away and my heart pulsing blood through my head as I processed Jack’s words. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you want to find me? I just think there has to be more. Seems to me you took a big risk by finding me. I mean, what if the wrong people learn what you can do? Can you imagine what that would mean?”
“It was a risk I was willing to take. I had to know if you had some sort of ability like I did.”
“I bet you were gravely disappointed when you discovered my ability stretched only as far as subtle mind manipulation.” Basically, I knew how to get my own way. Very impressive to Jack, I was sure.
Jack cocked his head. “Disappointed is nowhere on the list of emotions I’ve felt since I met you. As far as your ability, we don’t even know what you’re capable of yet. You’ve only tapped into a small facet of what your mind was modified to do.”
What other facet could there possibly be? “I bet your mom was not excited about this.” In fact, I know she wasn’t.
“Uh… no. That’s an understatement.”
“Why does she hate me?” I glanced toward the swarm of girls who were re-entering the dorm.
“She doesn’t hate you. It’s just… complicated with her.”
“Because of Sandra?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You know about Sandra?”
“Not really. Heard her name mentioned.”
“Where?” he asked.
“The other morning at your house. Your mom mentioned her. I don’t think she likes her.”
Jack cocked his head, considering.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Danielle wove through student traffic toward us. “Lexi, they’ve given the okay for us to go back in.”
Jack bowed his head in frustration at the sound of Danielle’s voice.
I cringed at the interruption. “You go ahead. I’ll be right there.”
Danielle gave me the thumbs up. “Okay, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She skipped off toward the dorm.
Heat rose to my cheeks with Danielle’s words.
A grin crept across Jack’s face. He brushed his fingers down my face. “Blushing again?”
I slapped his hand away. “Cut it out. No.” I shed his fleece jacket and handed it back to him. “I’m just hot, that’s all. Here.” Cover up, for crying out loud.
Amusement stretched across his cheeks. “Let’s talk about this later.” He took the fleece and slid his arms in it.
“No, please.” I pleaded, “I have to know, Jack. Who is Sandra?” Sandra was key in all of this. I was sure of it.
He sucked in a deep breath, while rubbing a thumb back and forth across my cheek. “I think I’ve told you enough for one night. You need sleep.” He dropped his hand to his side. “But I’ll make a deal with you.”
“No. No deals. I want to know right now.”
His lips twitched. He rubbed both of my arms, generating heat over the goose bumps that formed there. “Patience, Padawan. Friday night, you and me. A date.”
I raised a single brow. “Uh… That’s your deal? A date?” This was ridiculous. Was my life a game to him? “I don’t date doctor types. Or Wellington boys. Everybody knows that.”
“Make an exception.” His expression turned more serious. “Cause that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“Why do you want to take me on a date? I’m not even that fun.”
“It’s like I told you that first day we met. I’m curious about you.” He glanced over his shoulder. The last of the girls entered the dorm. The fire truck was pulling away. “And I like the feel of your lips.” To prove his point he ran a finger across my slightly parted lips, and I stopped breathing. “So, you go on a date with me, then I’ll tell you what I know about Sandra Whitmeyer.”
~~~~
I shoved reference books onto the library shelf. Danielle did yoga inches away from me. I pushed the cart forward, knocking Dani’s toes.
“Hey, watch it.” She backed up, barely breaking from her graceful pose.
I smirked but continued shelving books.
Sandra Whitmeyer. Did Jack say the last name on purpose, knowing I might recognize the name? Or was that a slip? Whitmeyer was the name of one of Gram’s neighbors in the nursing home. The same lady Wolfman spoke to before he practically attacked me the night Dad was killed. Except her name was not Sandra. It was Ilene or something.
Maybe I would have to go out on that date.
“If I wasn’t seeing it for myself, I wouldn’t believe it,” Danielle said while hooking her right foot around her left knee and raising her prayer hands over her head. She’d been going on and on about something while I was lost in thought.
Rolling my eyes at her flexibility, I slid a book about Buddhism onto the shelf and pushed the cart further down the row. This time, away from Danielle’s ranting.
“I mean, come on. Really?” Danielle released her pose and followed before she bent over at the waist and continued stretching while I worked. “You’re at least considering going on a date with him, right? You should ask him, if he hasn’t asked you. You two look perfect together.”
Of course we look perfect, we were engineered to look perfect. But together? “Don’t you ever get tired of yoga?” I asked.
“You know, you should consider yoga. It would help your swimming.” She closed her eyes and gave her head a quick shake. “Don’t change the subject.”
“What is the subject?” I asked. I made room for a rather large book, History of Middle East Religions.
“You and Mr. Hot Stuff over there.”
I craned my neck around the shelf. Jack typed on a laptop, occasionally checking a notebook beside him. The cut above his eye was healing. The swelling had gone down, but some bruising remained on his perfect face.
I squeezed my eyes tight. These thoughts were clouding my judgment. Could I really go out on a date with him?
“Hello? Lex. Yoohoo! It’s me. Your best friend. What were you two talking about last night all cozy and close on that bench?”
I shifted back, keeping the shelf between Jack and me. “Nothing.”
She straightened. “Come on. I mean you barely had any clothes on when we found you, and when he took off his fleece…” Danielle fanned herself.
I evil-eyed her, knowing that same heat traveled through me.
“What? Has he even asked you out yet?” She gnawed on a cuticle waiting on my answer. “He did, didn’t he? That’s why your face is all wrinkled up.”
“I have a paper to finish. But yes, he asked me out.” I waved a hand in the air as I spoke, and then I pushed the empty cart back toward the circulation desk, leaving Danielle standing in the middle of the religious book section loo
king like she might faint at the idea of me going out with a guy.
I told myself that the only reason I was even considering going out on a date with Jack was to get more info about the mysterious Sandra and more information about who I was. Not because I couldn’t forget the softness of his lips. Or the warmth of his breath on my neck.
After returning the empty cart, I stretched my book satchel across my chest and stared across the library tables at Jack. I’d need to give him an answer about the date eventually. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly before I began the trek over to him.
I slid my bag on the table and sat across from him. His sandy blond hair stood up in the front and some on the sides, like he had been running his hands through it. He didn’t even look up at me when I let out a dramatic sigh.
Frowning, I pulled a notebook out of my bag and opened it to the essay I’d been trying unsuccessfully to draft. The deadline to apply to colleges for early admission was still three weeks away, the same time frame for applying to The Program. This essay was only meant for college admissions.
Pen in hand, I wrote, glancing over at Jack every few minutes. He typed, ignoring me. What was his deal?
Briana entered the library and upon spotting Jack, marched right over and sat in the chair beside him. “You ready?”
“Yeah, in just a sec.”
It was like I was invisible. And that ridiculous perfume Briana wore made me want to throw up.
“Oh, hi, Lexi,” she said. “Missed you at practice this morning.” A smirk toyed with the corners of her lips.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked with the same excitement I showed someone waxing my eyebrows. After being out half the night, I’d decided to skip practice and make it up later in the day.
“I don’t want to beat you just because you can’t seem to fit your team commitments into your busy schedule.”
Jack closed his laptop, then stowed it and his books into his backpack. Finally, he looked across the table at me with no readable expression. I, of course, put on my best happy face before glancing down at my notebook.
Did I dare ask where they were going?
“Lexi.” Kyle poked his head through the library door. “Dean Fisher wants to see you in his office. You have a visitor.”
Jack’s brows slammed together in an unspoken question. Perfect. Now he was concerned. A minute ago, I didn’t even exist.
I gathered my things, and with a melodramatic flip of my hair over my shoulder, I glided out of the library without another glance toward Briana or Jack.
~~~~
“Your father gave me this the last time I saw him.”
I took the box from the woman sitting across from me. She crossed her long legs, adjusting her pencil thin skirt to cover just below her knee. Then she uncrossed them and went the opposite way. Fidgety.
“And why did my dad give this package to you?”
“I’m not sure, really. He said he had planned on giving it to you in person, but he asked if I would hold on to it. ‘Just in case’ he said…” Her voice cracked. She covered her mouth with her manicured fingers.
“Ms. Daniels—”
“Call me Marci.”
“Marci, what exactly was your relationship with my father?” This was more than just a business relationship.
She swallowed hard, attempting to regain her composure, I guessed. “We were working on something together.”
The cardboard box in front of me was opened, but the contents were covered in white tissue paper. “What?”
She scrunched up her face like she hadn’t heard my question or didn’t understand it.
“You say you were working on something. What? You don’t look like a doctor or a research person.” I glanced down at her spiky heels, her long, wavy hair, and her perfectly painted lips.
“You’re perceptive.” She smiled. Relaxed a little, maybe. “I’m a reporter.”
“And you were doing a news story on my father?”
“A series of articles,” she said, “about his work. Your father was on the verge of rocking the world-wide medical community with some amazing research. He was a brilliant man, Lexi.”
That he was. I thought about the mysterious email I received before my father’s death. And the attached email sent to the IIA all those years ago. “Have you spoken to the police or FBI about this series of articles?”
“Yes. I have been asked to delay printing them, but I’m under no obligation.”
“Free speech and all?”
She nodded and reached a finger to swipe the moisture under her eyes. “Except that they’re starting to throw around laws and big words with regard to national security, so who knows if the articles will ever see the light of day.” She paused, twirling a sapphire ring round and round on her finger. “Lexi, I admired your father very much. He and I grew… close over the last year.”
Close, huh?
“The last time I interviewed him, he spoke of you. Said you were planning to attend medical school. He was very proud of you.”
Proud of me because I was going to attend medical school, or just proud of me? I wondered.
“What are the articles about?” I asked. “Exactly?”
Her expression went blank. Her eyes wandered out the conference room window to the front lawn. I followed her line of vision. Students busied themselves with various activities—lacrosse, reading, a yoga class. Sometimes, students at Wellington appeared to have normal lives. On the outside, they laughed, excelled in school, and participated in sports, but on the inside? They missed their parents, wished to live in a suburban house, or attend a normal high school, one in which they could come and go as they pleased.
“Lexi, I’m afraid for you because of who your father was and for me because of what he shared with me. I’ve been getting threatening messages at work. I think the less you know at this point, the better.”
“Why is it adults think they are protecting children by keeping them in the dark? When really the risk and the danger only multiplies the more the lies and the secrets build.”
“I know honey, but—”
“And before you know it, the deceit has increased in size and pressure and… boom!” I slammed my fist down on the table. Marci jumped. “An explosion of monstrous and fatal proportions. But that is a recurring theme these days—keeping things from poor little Lexi.”
“Lexi, I’m sorry.” She grabbed my hand. The gesture was maternal, but she appeared barely old enough to be my big sister. “I’m sorry about your father. I know that he loved you.” She paused. Retracted her hand. “I promise I’ll come back and tell you what’s in the articles before they go to print. I can do that. I owe Peter that.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, a little sorry for my outburst. “Thank you for bringing this to me. I’m surprised Dean Fisher let you.”
Marci squirmed under my scrutiny. “I didn’t tell anyone about this box. I promised your dad I wouldn’t.”
She stood to leave, but turned when she reached the door. “Hang on to this,” she said, handing me a business card. “If you need anything or ever want to talk, please call me. My cell number and my personal email address are written on the back.”
After a brief pause, she added, “Be careful, okay. Your father felt you were protected within the walls of this school, but evil often finds a way.”
Chapter Fourteen
A hard swim did not erase Marci Daniels’ words from my mind. She had worn her fear on the sleeves of her Dolce & Gabanna silk suit. And that fear was contagious.
I made my way through the line for dinner, faking a huge smile at Mrs. Sanders—The Best Food Services Technician Ever—for my dinner-to-go container. At the dessert table, I was tempted by the rich smell of warm chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, but grabbed a banana instead. My stomach protested with a large growl.
The intention was to grab food and escape to my room, probably not something Dean Fisher or Ms. Jones approved of, but I had attended boarding school long e
nough to know how to work around the system.
Students talked and laughed louder than usual tonight. Or maybe my headache made it seem that way. Kyle sat with members of the swim team. Danielle had squeezed into the middle of the group, kind of like a mascot.
My eyes scanned the length of the table, my hair still dripping down the front of my sweatshirt from the swim. Brianna sat across from Jack at the other end. They both had notebooks out, and Bree waved her hands in the air as she spoke.
Why did he spend so much time with her? I just didn’t get it.
Jack looked up from their conversation and turned his head toward me, his face expressionless. I hadn’t thought of him as moody before, but the cold shoulder in the library, and now…
I tucked my banana inside the side pocket of my satchel and headed for the door.
Some doctor-wannabe was the last thing I needed in my life. And I had no desire to compete further with a nosy redhead.
Ten minutes later, I slammed the door to my dorm room and sat criss-crossed on my bed, wishing I had grabbed the chocolate chip cookies.
On the floor beside my bed was the box delivered by Marci Daniels, reporter-extraordinaire. Thanks to Coach Williams, I hadn’t had even a single moment to open it before the make-up practice.
I placed the cardboard box in front of me and began pulling at the tissue paper. Inside was another box. A trinket box. Very similar to other jewelry boxes and puzzle boxes my father had sent me throughout my life.
I traced the edges and grooves of the box with my fingers. A starfish. Made of smooth wood. Cherry maybe. Or mahogany. I lifted a small lid that covered one portion of the box. Inside was a silver necklace. A starfish charm and a key were attached. The metal hung from my fingers as I admired the details of the starfish—made of sterling silver with the front painted a deep green.
Tucked further in the box, I found a small note in Dad’s handwriting.
I hope to explain everything to you someday, but just in case I don’t get that chance, I want you to know you have all the tools necessary to discover the truth. Love, Dad.
Just in case… Been hearing that a lot lately.
I stared at Dad’s words and at the necklace draped across my fingers. Tears stung my cheeks. Dad once called me “his little sailfish,” which I balked at. He told me the sailfish was the fastest fish in the ocean, like me in the pool. “Who wants to be known as that ugly fish?” I had asked him. “Surely, you can think of something cuter than a sailfish.” I smiled at the memory.
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