She heaves a dramatic sigh, flopping back on the bed and hiding her face under her pale forearm. Another sigh, then she peeks out at me, a wicked grin on her face. “What can I say, it’s a love-hate kind of thing.”
“You don’t hate him.” I pause, considering. “But I mean, he’s kind of gross, right?”
“Well, not like you might think. He actually cares now, since he’s hoping one day I might let him get naked. So he smells pretty good and he always wears clean socks.”
“What a Romeo,” I interject.
“Hey.” She glowers. “I’m halfway through my senior year of high school and running out of time to get the high school relationship in the bank. Make hay while the sun shines!” She pauses. “Plus, this way I have a prom date.”
I study her for a moment—the flush of her cheeks, the sparkle in her deep-blue eyes, the way she keeps biting her bottom lip to keep from smiling—and then shake my head. “Don’t give me that. We might not have been friends very long, Maya Ashley, but you can’t fool me. You like him. How in tarnation did this happen?”
My perception hits the nail on the head. It frees her from having to act as though it’s no big deal or that Peter’s just a way to pass the time or ensure all the senior year rites of passage aren’t conquered alone.
“Lord knows that boy could piss off the Pope but I do like him. I do.” Maya bounces to a sitting position, her grin escaping until it runs all over her face. “Anyway, it was the weirdest thing. One day we were the same as always—I was giving Pete a hard time about something stupid—and right in the middle of my tirade about the proper placement of yearbook photos he just grabbed me and planted a big ole kiss right on my lips!”
“And you didn’t slap him silly?”
“I know! At first I was like, I am going to kill this flamin’ horndog idiot, but then my head started spinning and my heart was pounding and my knees turned to Jell-O. Before I knew it I was kissin’ him back. And enjoying myself, too.”
“And you’ve spent actual time together and you haven’t killed him.” I shake my head, incredulous. “One day you’re barely friends, never even considered more, the next you’re kissing. I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”
“Well, first of all, let the record show I’ve considered Pete’s finer qualities, looks-wise, before now. There’s never been much dispute as far as his body. Second best in our class.” She gives me a shrewd glance. “And I refuse to believe that you, Norah Jane Crespo, have never thought about turning a hot friend into something more.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, marveling at the way she can put people on the defensive without any notice whatsoever.
“You’re friends with Shiloh, hello! He’s funny and totally adorable and obviously into you. Don’t act like you’ve only got one oar in the water, Norah. It doesn’t suit you.”
“He’s handsome, I guess,” I admit, because it’s true and also because there’s little to no point in arguing with Maya.
“You guess? He’s finer than frog’s hair, and if he were at C.A. he’d steal Pete’s second spot in the body category and give Jude a run for his money, too.”
“But he’s not into me,” I say, trying to ignore the weak protest in my voice. “You’re wrong about that.”
“Believe what you’d like.” Maya smirks. “But you’re not the only one who has spent time observing during our short friendship. I had to keep an eye on that situation since Savannah’s got the hots for him.”
“For Mo— Shiloh? Really?”
They had flirted quite a bit at the basketball game I’d brought him to, but Mole gets along so well with everyone I hadn’t let it bother me. Much. The idea of the two of them coats the back of my tongue with a bitter film, and my nose wrinkles in response.
“See! You don’t like the idea of that one bit. Maybe if he grabbed you and kissed you, you’d kiss him back, too.”
“I don’t like the idea of it because Savannah would eat him alive and you know it. Not for any other reason.” I think I mean every word coming out of my mouth, but my mind won’t stop conjuring an image of me kissing Mole. The way it might feel, the way I’d feel—whether he’d ever try it.
“Fair enough,” Maya concedes, knocking me out of that pointless loop of consideration. “Now, if you’re done grilling me about Pete, do you want a snack? Willa made her famous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies before she left for her weekend off, plus there’s pecan pie left over from Dad’s book club.”
“Sure.”
I follow her down to the kitchen, and we slide onto two stools on the outer edge of a giant island. The cookies are divine, and I swallow three of them as an appetizer while Maya slices two pieces of pecan pie, heats them up in the microwave, then dumps vanilla bean ice cream onto the warm plates.
“Jude’s been acting weirder than usual the past couple of days,” Maya comments around a mouthful of pie and ice cream. “Like the whole world is coming to an end. He’s not eating lunch with us. His basketball sucks.”
“I know. I saw him the other night,” I admit, then plunge ahead before she can force words from her open mouth. “I definitely agree about the acting strange.”
“It’s almost like he’s a different person. I mean, there’s always been a part of Jude that’s been off. We grew up together and I should know everything about him, but I’ve never really felt as though I do.” She shrugs. “I’m not explaining it very well. But lately it feels like the parts of him that he’s never talked about have taken over the Jude who ran naked through my backyard in second grade.”
“Huh.” I don’t know how to answer her. I don’t know Jude as well as she does, and even though I know something about the situation with his father, it sounds like whatever’s bothering him has been around far longer than a couple of months.
It brings back all my concern from the other night, along with the feeling that he’s keeping secrets locked away and that maybe they’re things I need to know.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll open up about whatever’s bugging him sooner or later. He knows y’all are his friends.”
That lifts the corners of her mouth and I congratulate myself on saying the right thing in an unfamiliar social situation.
“You’re right.”
Maya scrapes the rest of the gooey dessert off her plate and changes the subject to the C.A. dance team, then to the dreaded placement of yearbook photos, and lastly to how much she hates her father’s secretary. I commiserate on the last one, because she is truly awful and his doctor’s office is in the house. The clock on the wall makes me do a double take, then pushes me to my feet.
I’ve been gone two hours and no one knows where I went. Athena can probably track down my voice, but it’s wrong of me to leave them without a word.
“I’ve got to get going.”
Maya’s face falls. It makes my heart sad and happy at the same time to know that no matter how our friendship began, or if it was all about my notoriety at the time, she cares about me now. Maya’s my friend—the first one I’ve ever had that knows nothing about my strange mutation or the purpose for which I was created.
It sucks to leave her. But then I think about her upstairs, using her laptop to double-check some answer for her chem homework and that deadly virus getting into her head. Her not being Maya anymore. And in that moment, I find the courage to do what I came here to do.
Whatever it takes.
“Okay.” The expression her face appears pained, as though the good-bye hurts her, too. “But I’ll see you again, right?”
I force myself to roll my eyes. “Of course. Like you can get rid of me that easily.”
“Good. And I know I sound like a GIF, always repeating myself, but you can tell me anything.”
We’re at the front door now. There are sounds from the back of the house, where her father’s office is, and shuffling from the sitting room. The bubble of our afternoon together is broken, but I screw up my courage until it sticks and hope it stays that way.
&n
bsp; It has to stay that way.
“I know I can,” I reply, snagging her into a hug before she can react.
My forearm brushes the back of her neck, and one of her hands bumps into mine as we adjust to the awkwardness of our first hug. Maya’s squeak of surprise doesn’t stop her from hugging me back as I let the vision of her death wash over me.
The number 99 twinkles like it’s made out of Broadway lights at the center of the scene, then fades to a black outline as I step closer—or it feels as though I step closer—to a hospital-style bed. We’re not in a hospital, though. It doesn’t smell like antiseptic and only the slightest bit like an old person.
And there’s no arguing that the tiny, wrinkled woman in the bed is old. Ancient. But her eyes are still the lightest of blue, and the expression on her face, somehow annoyed and excited at the same time, is all Maya. It looks as though she’s just ordered a crowd of people out of the room. There are children and teenagers, middle-aged folks and several others who might be almost as old as my new friend. Once they’re gone, she sits back with a sigh and exhaustion smothers her like a too-heavy comforter on a hot summer night.
Then a noise sounds from outside the door, another old voice greeting some of the departed crowd, and Maya perks up. I don’t think she feels any better, or any less tired, but true to form, she’s putting on a brave face.
The person who walks through the door is me. Even though I’m ancient and wrinkled and my boobs are being held up by a belt around my rib cage, I recognize myself. I sit next to the bed, take Maya’s hand.
“I thought you were going to make it to one hundred,” Future Norah says, her lips twitchy.
“You never listen, you old crone. I said I’m not living until one hundred. That is far too much work.” Maya’s tired smile slips. “Now that you’re here, I want to say thank you for everything, even though those two words don’t come close to encompassing everything you’ve done for me since we met.”
“Oh, heavens to Betsy, you’re all sentimental. Did someone up your morphine again?”
“Trust you to be as annoying on the day I die as any other.”
“Maya, you’re not going to die today. You can’t boss around Death the way you do everyone else.”
“I am going to die today. I’ve been waiting to see your face and that’s it.”
“Because my face is enough to kill you?”
“Your face is dear to me, Norah. I can’t wait until I see it again.”
I hold my breath, wondering what old me will say when faced with chatter about the afterlife, but she simply smiles and lays her head down on Maya’s hand.
“Fine. I’m tired, too. I’ll just sit here with you until you fall asleep.”
“Fine.” There’s a knowing smile on Maya’s face as her head drops back to the pillow, and all the emotions that have pranced across her features over the past couple of minutes melt away. There’s nothing there, just peace, and it’s not thirty seconds later that her breathing slows.
Stops.
Future Norah raises her head, her eyes full of tears, and gives an incredulous shake. “I guess even Death takes orders from Maya Ashley. Safe travels, dearest.”
“Norah, lawsy be, it’s not that I’m not excited about this new physical aspect of our relationship, but this hug is getting creepy long.”
“What?” I open my eyes, then have to blink away the salty blur. I let her disentangle and ignore the curious look she gives me. “Oh, sorry. I guess it’s harder leaving this time.”
“You mean since you’re actually facing it? Yeah, funny how that happens.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“That better be the truth.”
I smile and leave, waving over my shoulder without turning around. For the first time since I met Maya, I feel like I’m not lying.
Touching Maya was a test. Proof that I can handle the unsavory consequences of my mutation, and lucky for me, the universe rewarded my courage. I’m not going to die young. Neither is Maya.
And we’re going to be friends for a long time.
The idea that what I see could change by either my hand or simple chance, by the random interference of an unexpected stranger, tries to dampen my spirits as much as it lifts them.
I don’t let it.
We’re about to embark on our first mission for the CIA. If we succeed, we’re going to stop bad people from doing bad things to our friends and family, and other people’s friends and families. I believe it’s the right thing to do, even if the government has some kind of ulterior motive, and now I’ve come to terms with my part in it. It will be interesting, in a twisted sort of way, to keep tabs on Savannah if we stop the virus.
Will she still die while she’s still seventeen? Or will our interruption change everything?
I swallow deep breaths of wintery air on the quick walk back to my father’s house, nodding at people I pass along the way. They return my nods and smiles with some of their own, a few hellos and good evenings thrown into the mix. I try my best to memorize every cobblestone, every wrought-iron fence, the way every headstone sits sideways or sunken on the grounds of a church because there’s no way to know when I’ll lay eyes on it again.
The vision of Maya tells me I’ll be back, though, because someone would have to pry that girl out of her city like a crowbar. It’s in her blood the way it’s in mine, and all of Charleston’s stories, all her nooks and crannies and dirty secrets, won’t let either one of us go.
The house on Water Street is quiet when I push open the door to the laundry room. I find the twins in the kitchen, and brace for a reprimand. They give me small smiles, ones that say they understand whatever I decide and aren’t mad.
Maybe we don’t have time to get mad.
“There’s pizza in the oven. Keeping it warm for you,” Goose says.
I widen my eyes in mock surprise. “You mean there’s still food in the house after you two ate?”
“Mole forced us to save you two pieces.” Athena smacks his lips.
“The smallest ones,” Goose grins. “He couldn’t tell.”
“Y’all are terrible,” I say, shaking my head. It’s not a real admonition because Mole would have made the same joke. Growing up with someone blind in your life kind of numbs you to the idea that he’s really all that different.
Especially when it’s Mole.
“Thanks.” I grab the two pieces of pepperoni pizza and stuff a huge bite in my mouth, despite the dessert at Maya’s, and head into the living room to find Mole and Geoff still staring blankly at the news. “Has that thing scrambled your brains yet? Sheesh.”
I wince at the poor choice of words, given that people’s brains are actually being scrambled, but neither of the boys comments. Or seems to notice.
“Hey, you’re back!” Mole turns his head my direction and smiles, but it’s hesitant. Worried.
“I’m back. Where are the girls?”
“They went up to your room with the laptops,” Geoff supplies, tearing his eyes away from the television as though he’s been waiting for the distraction for half his life.
“What about Madeline?” I glance around but the Older doesn’t pop out of any corners.
“Back porch. She’s pretty delighted about your dad’s collection of legal texts for some reason.” Geoff points, as though I might be confused about the way to the back porch.
“I’m going to go talk to her. Can you get Haint and Pollyanna and wait for me in here?”
They nod, their faces bright with curiosity. I don’t say anything more, trading the warmth of the interior of the house for the frosty screened-in porch. Madeline’s there, curled up on a cushioned bench under a thick blanket, a heavy text open in her lap. A cup of coffee or tea steams on the rattan and glass table to her left, and the sweeping landscaping of the backyard frames the scene into something worthy of Southern Living.
She looks up, and where the others were surprised or excited to see me back at the house, Madeline seems to have ex
pected me. She sits up straighter, closing the book and setting it next to her mug. “Hey. Want to join me?”
I nod, happy that her confrontational attitude from earlier has fled, and that she’s not going to make me beg for this conversation. After a glance over my shoulder to make sure no one else has sneaked out to listen, I take her up on her offer and fold myself into the chair.
“You want to know what I think about your ability to change the things that you see.” Madeline’s green eyes never waver from my face, but she’s not searching for a reaction. She knows she’s right.
Whether or not it’s because she saw it in the future or she is simply that perceptive, it’s hard to know.
“Yes.” Sucking air into my lungs, blowing it out, steadies the tremble in my limbs. “You said the future is elastic. That what you see could change based on the tiniest of influences. Do you really think that could be true of the numbers I see, as well?”
“You see more than numbers, don’t you, Norah?”
I only hesitate for a split second before nodding. “I see the whole scene now. How it happens. The way they feel, what it smells like. All of it.”
“Hmm. I figured as much. My talent began as something less than impressive as well, but developed into a fairly accurate telling of what will come after several months on the GRH-18. Yours might continue to morph, maybe into something similar, the longer you’re on it.”
“What does that have to do with being able to change it?”
She shrugs, but the spark of hope in her eyes gives her away. Madeline wants to believe what she says, that the things we see don’t always have to come to pass, but she must struggle with it, too.
I have the advantage of knowing that what I see will always come to pass in one way or another. We all have to die. I only want to know if the time and circumstances might be avoided. Pushed back. Delayed.
“I have seen things happen that never occurred. I have seen things happen that did occur, but in a slightly different manner. And yes, sometimes they take place exactly as I see them.” She frowns, wrapping her delicate hands around the steaming mug, huddling as though it can keep her entire body safe from winter. “I’ve never been able to figure out why some of them change and why others don’t, but my ability is different from yours. I don’t see when things will happen, and often times the where of it is hard to discern if there are not enough clues. But if you and I work together, we may be able to have enough information to change the future at will.”
Alliance Page 18