Overtaken

by Mark H. Kruger

  “I hope so,” he cautioned with an air of vague disapproval. Mr. Bluni had an agenda, and it didn’t include letting me run off just yet. “I expect my research assistant to be attentive and prepared at all times.”

  “Research assistant?” I had no idea what he was talking about. Had I been so zoned out in class that I missed something important?

  “For that journal article I’m writing on the human genome,” he declared.

  I racked my brain and vaguely recalled Mr. Bluni mentioning the article but not the research assistant part. And we certainly had never discussed me being his assistant.

  “Nica,” he continued, “you’re smart, insightful, and could use the challenge.”

  “Oh—” Shit . . . is what I almost blurted out, but I wisely held my tongue. His offer totally flustered me. Truth was, I had enough challenges in my life without taking on another one.

  “It’s a terrific opportunity,” he added, hoping to entice me and seal the deal. “Plus, it’ll look great on college applications.”

  “I’m sure it will,” I muttered. “And I’m honored by your offer and confidence in me, Mr. Bluni. Truly I am.” I kept blabbering, hoping to land on a good excuse. “But I’m already overwhelmed and stressed by all the work as it is. I just don’t think I’m the right person for the job. I’m really sorry.”

  “So am I,” he responded icily, body going rigid with extreme displeasure. Then he turned and walked away quite brusquely. It was unnerving.

  “Shit.” It was obvious that Bluni was really pissed at me. But I had more pressing matters to deal with than worrying about hurting my biology teacher’s feelings.

  • • •

  Jackson was impatiently waiting for me inside the cab of a truck, idling in the middle of the student parking lot. It was a loaner from his parents ever since he’d given Maya the keys to his beloved Mustang.

  “What took you so long?” Jackson snapped at me, uncharacteristically testy.

  “Pleasure to see you, too,” I snapped right back as I threw open the passenger door and hopped into the seat next to him. “I got cornered by Bluni, if you must know.”

  “Anything serious?” Jackson asked with concern, as he threw the pickup into gear and sailed out of the lot.

  Dared I tell him? It seemed so trivial. I shook my head and shrugged it off. We had more important things to talk about.

  He drove through town, not saying a word for several minutes. Neither did I. It was an awkward, uncomfortable silence and reminded me of those early days after we first met. There was so much I wanted to say to Jackson, but I clenched my jaw tight, refusing to turn all weepy and sad about the state of our relationship or non-relationship. I was determined to sound rational and grown-up. But first I had to collect my thoughts about Dana, Bar Tech, him, and us. Except there were so many conflicting thoughts bouncing through my head that it was like a traffic jam up there. Finally, I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.

  “I don’t trust her,” I declared, getting right to the point, which surprised me. Then again, skillful diplomacy was never my strong suit.

  “You don’t know Dana,” countered Jackson. “Give her a chance.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” I avoided weepy and somehow went straight to accusatory and angry. I didn’t mean to act crazy, but the words were just flying out of my mouth like unpinned grenades.

  “Nica, I’m sorry,” Jackson replied with a pained, anguished look. “Dana and I . . .”

  “Have history. You and I . . . don’t.” I honestly didn’t say it so coldly to be snarky or elicit pity or sympathy from Jackson, only to state the hard facts, which seemed to be in short supply.

  “It’s complicated. You know how I feel about you.”

  “I thought I knew,” I responded, my heart pounding and emotion welling up from the pit of my stomach as I recalled being in Jackson’s arms a few nights earlier. “I’m not so sure anymore.” My anger was subsiding, with sadness taking its place. It was an awful, empty feeling. It was all I had.

  “Give me time to figure stuff out,” he asked.

  “Time’s in short supply,” I reminded him, “in case you’ve forgotten. I’m not waiting around for Bar Tech to kidnap me or you or Oliver like they did Maya. I’ve got to do something before they find out that my—our—powers are here to stay.”

  “I’m not asking you to sit on your hands and do nothing, Nica. Just tread lightly. We don’t know who our friends are. Who to trust.”

  “That’s why, until I know which side Dana’s on,” I said, “I’m keeping my distance. And so should you.”

  “Please trust me,” he pressed, his normally bright blue–green eyes projecting confusion and regret. “Let me handle things my own way.”

  I had to turn away. It was too painful to see him struggling with his complicated feelings about Dana and me.

  Two minutes of silence later, he arrived at my house and pulled into the driveway. I quickly exited the pickup and slammed the door. Without saying another word, I hurried up the walkway and disappeared into my house, fighting off a wave of hurt and tears that I didn’t want Jackson to see.

  Once Jackson had pulled out of the driveway and I was safely behind the closed front door, I threw my bag across the foyer and screamed at the top of my lungs.

  “Fuck!”

  Jackson was right about not knowing whom to trust. Truth was, my emotions were all over the place. I didn’t even know if I could trust myself anymore.

  That’s when the tears came.

  • • •

  I woke up several hours later buried underneath a mountain of bedcovers, completely disoriented as to whether it was day or night. Then I heard my dad calling me downstairs for dinner and the roller-coaster ride of a day came rushing back to me in living color, along with my looming problems. One of which was the massive headache that was suddenly pounding in my head. I staggered to my feet in no condition to face anyone—least of all my father.

  I shuffled down the stairs into the kitchen, not caring that my hair looked like a Medusa fright wig.

  “What happened to you?” The expression on Dad’s face said I looked far worse than I imagined. He was dishing up delicious chicken curry and lamb tikka masala from Dhaba, the one and only Indian restaurant in Barrington.

  “Can we not talk about my day?” I grumbled.

  My dad respectfully nodded and didn’t press me to open up. Unlike Lydia, Dad respected boundaries and never tried to push me into sharing the source of my anguish. Although I sounded calm and in control, my desperation clearly shone through, because he pulled out a chair for me. I gratefully plopped into it. I didn’t stop inhaling my meal until every ounce of food was gone. At least my appetite was unaffected by all the turmoil.

  • • •

  Later that evening my dad knocked on my bedroom door.

  “Come in,” I muttered from my cozy window seat while staring out at the neighborhood. I had sequestered myself into my room after dinner, pretending to do homework when I had in fact been texting back and forth with Oliver.

  “Feeling better?” My dad opened the door and lingered in the doorway, not violating my space.

  I nodded that I was feeling better even though it wasn’t entirely true. It was obvious he had something on his mind he wanted to discuss.

  “You found out something,” I said, sitting up, hoping he’d have the answer to all my problems and make my life go back to normal. A pipe dream, I knew, but a dream I had nonetheless.

  “Cochran is planning something major. Top secret. At the highest levels.”

  “Levels above him at Bar Tech? I thought he was the one in charge.”

  “He is,” my dad acknowledged. “But Bar Tech’s tentacles reach out from the company to all sorts of places.”

  “You mean like the military?”

  “I
wouldn’t be surprised,” he admitted. “What about you? Were there any run-ins with Bar Tech Security? Anything strange happen at school or with Dana?”

  “No. Nothing. Which was weird. I didn’t see security anywhere.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’re not watching,” he said ominously, mulling over the significance of it all. He then turned to leave.

  “Dad . . .” My throat constricted, suddenly parched.

  “Yeah?” He paused and looked at me, half listening, his mind still preoccupied.

  “There’s one other thing that I probably should mention,” I confessed. “Remember how I said my power only lasts twenty-four hours after the pulse?”

  “Yes. What about it?” His attention riveted back on me.

  “This time it didn’t happen. My power didn’t go away. And I’m scared it’s permanent.”

  My father leaned back against the doorjamb. My revelation stunned him like a jab to the solar plexus.

  “The frequency of pulses must’ve caused a kind of genetic critical mass,” he said, “which permanently activated your ability. Like flicking on a light switch.”

  “Lucky me,” I scoffed. “Some girls get nose jobs when they turn sixteen. I disappear.”

  Dad stayed up until the wee hours of the morning reassuring me that other than Bar Tech already knowing about Maya, they had no way of knowing who else was affected. And Maya was safely in hiding and out of reach. All the other blood samples drawn from students at school had also been tainted by my father, effectively creating a protective firewall around my friends.

  “How long will it hold?” Dad heard the trepidation in my voice. He took me by the shoulders and looked me right in the eyes. Cool, calm, reassuring.

  “I’ll make sure Richard Cochran never harms you.”

  Dad planted a kiss on my forehead. It felt like his kiss could protect me from all the evil that was out in the world. For that moment I felt safe. Protected.

  Nothing could’ve been farther from the truth. But I was too self-involved and wrapped up in my own emotional turmoil to see anything else clearly. I should’ve been worrying about my father. Who was protecting him?

  Chase Cochran grabbed me in a bear hug and planted a kiss on my cheek. He was aiming for my mouth, but I had the sense to turn my head at the last moment. We were in the school quad at seven forty-five a.m., in full view of everyone, including teachers.

  “Aw, come on,” he groaned, acting like a sad Labrador puppy dog. “Don’t be like that.”

  “I’m not like anything,” I replied, gently pulling away, taken aback by his sudden appearance and quite public display of affection.

  “I’m single now,” Chase offered. “Still recovering from my coma. Take pity.”

  “You seem perfectly healthy to me,” I bantered back, my guard up. “Glad you’re okay.”

  “Awww,” he said brightly, with the kind of hopeful, excited expression one has on Christmas morning. “Nica Ashley missed me.”

  “Don’t get carried away, cowboy,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes, hoping to knock his ego down a few pegs.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He grinned, nearly blinding me with his confident, megawatt smile. Some things never changed.

  Fortunately, a steady stream of friends and wannabes swarmed around to welcome the prince back to his kingdom, so I took off while he was distracted.

  It was nothing short of amazing how quickly Chase had recuperated from his close call with the hereafter. My dad and the team of doctors at the hospital gave him a clean bill of health and discharged him only two days after he had emerged from his coma. And here he was back at school as if nothing awful had happened.

  Last time when Chase had attempted to kiss me, he was still dating Maya. For me, that cemented his status as a “never going to happen” once and for all. Besides, he was also Richard Cochran’s son and Oliver’s half brother, which made him extra toxic. Even worse, I had overheard him betraying Maya to his father. Even if I was interested in Chase Cochran, which I was definitely not, I knew for sure that I could never trust him.

  I barely made it a few steps inside the school lobby when Dana spotted me and insisted we grab a preclass latte from the cafeteria. Despite my deep mistrust of Dana, I knew it was a golden opportunity for me to get closer and bond with her. You can catch more bees with honey, my grandmother used to say. Not to mention, I was also feeling awfully draggy from sleep deprivation after my previous night’s heart-to-heart with Dad, so I took Dana up on her offer.

  “Please tell me you were just playing hard to get,” Dana remarked as she and I grabbed our large to-go cups frothy with steamy foam.

  My furrowed brow and puzzled expression made one side of Dana’s mouth turn up into a half smile.

  “I saw Chase making eyes at yours truly,” she explained with an encouraging wink.

  “More like keeping the lion at bay with my bullwhip.” My diaphragm forced up a fake laugh as cover. “I don’t think so. Not really interested in joining the horde of hormonal girls vying for his divine attention.”

  “Just don’t write him off, okay?” Dana pleaded. “I’ve known Chase since second grade. He might’ve been the jerk chugging milk for the attention of the whole cafeteria, but he’s the same one who stopped ‘Dana Pox’ from catching on in middle school.”

  “No way.” It slipped out before I could shut the gates. It was hard enough to imagine Dana on a bad hair day, let alone being made fun of by pimply adolescents.

  “I was a disaster,” she confided. “Probably could’ve sold my before and after to Proactiv. No lie. Chase is a much cooler guy than he lets on.”

  Dana’s honesty was unexpectedly refreshing, giving me a new perspective. Sure, Chase had his moments. Rarely. Occasionally. And he was sort of, maybe, a little bit—fine, absolutely—drop-dead good-looking. But Chase Cochran and me together? Not when Jackson was still deep in my heart. It would be bizarre on all fronts. Hypothetically speaking, of course. As if I’d let anything really happen.

  Strolling down the hallway sipping my latte, I listened politely while Dana rattled off Chase’s many stellar qualities (loyalty, generosity, hunky body, to mention a few) when I spotted Mr. Bluni in one of the Biology labs behind closed doors. Through the door’s narrow vertical window I could see that he was locked in a heated discussion—argument, actually—with none other than Richard Cochran. I was so flustered to see them alone together that I stumbled and nearly tripped over my own feet, recovering my balance at the last second before making a fool of myself.

  “Nice save,” Dana said approvingly. Flashing a suggestive look, she added: “What was that about?”

  Though Dana was insinuating that my head-in-the-clouds wobble had something to do with Chase, I was mulling the same question about an entirely different matter.

  What secret business was Bluni and Cochran arguing about behind closed doors?

  My curiosity and suspicion were definitely stoked by my all-too-wild imagination, weaving evil plots worthy of a James Bond villain. It must be more than random coincidence that they were together. Knowing Cochran even in the limited way that I did, I wasn’t surprised that he might have hooks into a biology teacher like Mr. Bluni, whose interests ran to genetics.

  Which then left me to wonder: Was my paranoia making connections and inventing conspiracies that weren’t really there? Or had I truly discovered something beyond what I—or even my father—already knew? There was only one way to find out. And it required me eating a major slice of humble pie.

  • • •

  “So you’ve had a change of heart, Nica,” Mr. Bluni said brusquely as he strode down the hallway without stopping, barely giving me more than a passing glance.

  I’d been hovering by the cafeteria entrance during lunch, waiting for Bluni to make his routine walk by on his way to brown-bagging it in the teachers’ lounge. As soon as
he appeared, I scurried after him like a needy, slobbering puppy.

  “You were totally right,” I admitted with unbridled enthusiasm. “I just had a lot on my mind and wasn’t thinking clearly when I turned you down.” I flashed a sweet smile so broad and unnaturally taut that my cheeks began to ache from overstretching my facial muscles. “Assisting you would be an amazing opportunity.” I was willing to kiss a lot of ass to convince him.

  “I know,” Bluni snapped back, continuing on ahead, never breaking stride. “Which is why I’ve offered it to someone else.”

  “Who?” Spirit unbowed, I trotted after him, not prepared to concede defeat so easily. I had to convince him to give me another shot.

  “Lacey Dane,” he announced.

  “Seriously?” Though the girl was in my biology class, I barely knew her and had to think fast about what to do. “She said yes?” The insinuating inflection in my voice suggested that something was amiss with her.

  Lacey Dane always reeked of a sinister bouquet of Listerine strips mixed with some pop music monstrosity’s signature fragrance. Apparently all in a vain attempt to cover up her oh-so-rebellious but really gross habit of smoking in the bathroom between classes. The heavy-handed aroma that wafted around her designer-clad body was toxically sweet. I could always smell when Lacey Dane was approaching or had just left the area. Odorous excessiveness aside, I had nothing against her.

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Bluni stopped and stared at me with a sharp, suspicious eye. Head tilting, arms crossed expectantly, foot tapping impatiently. He demanded an answer.

  “No reason . . .” I shrugged noncommittally, hesitating a half second before continuing. “I guess she’s fine.” Vague but pointed. “Forget I ever mentioned it.”

  And then I hustled off, leaving behind a concerned and somewhat bewildered Mr. Bluni scratching his head in the middle of the corridor.

  As I disappeared around the corner, I winced and gritted my teeth, fighting off a nasty bout of self-loathing. Had I actually resorted to playing a twisted game of mind-fuck the teacher? Even worse, trashing a nice-enough girl who had never done anything unkind to me? Deep in my heart I prayed for forgiveness and hoped that I wouldn’t be struck down by lightning for being such an awful, hateful person, but I had to snag that assistant job if I wanted to find out more about Cochran’s plans. Whether Mr. Bluni swallowed the bait remained to be seen.