[sic]

by Scott Kelly

  Cameron was all pink lips, tan skin, red freckles. Blood at the surface, sex and summer. Emily was monochromatic in comparison, ash and coal. She stood behind Cameron, hands in the back pockets of her jeans, looking bored.

  Steven smiled back. “Just get it over with.” He held out an arm.

  Cameron put her hand on his. “Tag,” she said, all smiles.

  Steven turned back into the living room, heading for his bedroom. My stomach sank. The inevitable.

  Goodbye, Rachel.

  By the time I got there, he clutched the computer to his chest with one arm and yanked cables from the back with the other, unplugging the life support for Rachel’s ghost. Emily and Cameron piled in behind me, watching with silent interest.

  Once he’d detached the cords, he cradled the PC under one arm, staring into it as though some great truth might be revealed. Then he reached a hand into the exposed rear panel and pulled out a hard drive.

  Little metal rectangle, about the size of his hand—Rachel’s broken soul. Damaged digital creature, repeating the same messages endlessly and receiving none, masterless glimpse into her past.

  He turned to Cameron. “Take this,” he said. “Destroy it, keep it, I don’t care. I want you to have it, and I never want you to give it back to me.”

  Cameron nodded, taking the hard drive from him. I only stood numbly, watching this exchange unfold. Now, all the light in the room came from the ‘No Signal Attached’ text blinking on the monitor in carnival shades of pink, blue, yellow, and green.

  I heard sad choirs in my mind. Nothing left of Rachel in the world. He cherished what he’d shown me, and now it was gone. Eureka.

  Steven gave a look that I’ll never forget: equal parts desperation and determination. Nothing left to do but leave my friend to mourn. I motioned to the girls, bringing them out the door and to the car.

  22. Immaculate misconception

  Now

  “Well?” I ask him. “Is Eureka a terrible idea, or what?”

  “Maybe,” Mr. Aschen answers. “There must have been a better solution than getting rid of all his work.”

  “Sure, he could have quietly quit, but you’re missing the point. If Steven planned to be soft, to go easy, then he never would carry through. Eureka adds pressure; we add pressure. People aren’t very good at changing themselves, but they can be if they work together. Steven’s answer wasn’t the best possible solution—the best solution takes more than fifteen minutes. But, this is the solution that’ll actually get done.”

  Mr. Aschen only nods, expression indecipherable.

  “It happened to me, too—when I got tagged,” I say.

  *

  Senior year, December

  I stretched out my hand, fingers spread.

  Five points, five lines, five minutes until school ended for the entire Christmas break. My palm blocked out the teacher in front of me, who looked hung over again.

  I wasn’t as worried about being left out of Eureka, not with the developments between Cameron and Steven. The game working its way back into our lives was like the pressure change before a coming storm. I’d stopped smoking weed every day. Wanted to be clear and focused for whatever came; wanted to remember every second. Eureka was a jealous addiction, and wouldn’t allow for any others.

  “I’m bored. I’ve seen this episode like a billion times,” Geoff moaned beside me, referring to the day’s events. “Is this what man was born for? To sit in desks all day and accomplish nothing? We’re achievers, my friend.”

  “What has mankind ever achieved?” I leaned over and whispered to Geoff.

  “Uh…okay, I’ll play. Airplanes? Trains, cars, the moon landing? The Internet? Pornography?”

  “I think those are all complications, not advancements. What do you think life is like in the Third World?”

  “A lot more death,” Geoff replied.

  “A short meaningful life, or a long useless one? Which is better?” I asked. “I think that’s the problem with America, you know? We have everything handed to us. We don’t know what to do but grab as much as we can and keep it to ourselves.”

  Geoff spied a female student ahead of him. “I wouldn’t mind grabbing some for myself, anyway. God knows, I could use it.”

  “You don’t, though. You don’t need it, I mean. You just think you do.”

  The bell rang, and we walked together to the parking lot.

  “You sure are full of advice today,” Geoff noted.

  “I’ve been noticing things lately, is all.”

  Someone was leaning up against my car. Couldn’t tell who, from this distance. Geoff kept talking; I ignored him and tried to work out the details. Was that a dress?

  “Are you listening?” he asked. “I’m dropping knowledge, here. This is how the world works.”

  “What?” I asked, squinting, searching for a face.

  “Once a month, the fire department gets together and picks one fireman to sneak around the city starting fires. You know? They elect the best fireman. You win, you set the fires now. They should, anyway. Makes sense,” Geoff said.

  “Hilarious,” I murmured. It was Emily. She leaned against the blue aluminum of my car, smoking a cigarette.

  “I should be king,” he commented. “Shit like that will take us to the top.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Because of the hot girl on your car?” Geoff asked, pointing at her.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re my ride. I can’t get a ride home because of that girl? What kind of friend are you?”

  “Eureka,” I mumbled. She dropped the cigarette onto the ground and rubbed it with the toe of a treacherously high-heeled shoe, then stepped toward us. “I’m his sister, Moira,” Emily lied. “And you are?”

  “I’m Geoff,” he said. “Fan-freaking-tastic to meet you. Jacob never mentioned a sister.”

  “Figures,” Emily said. “He’s so shy about his personal life.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Our vacation, stupid,” Emily said, grinning behind giant sunglasses. Praying mantis.

  “Right,” I said quietly. “Vacation. I remember now.”

  I had no idea what Emily planned, but I couldn’t refuse. Not after the last time she kidnapped me.

  “Where are you two going?” Geoff asked, sliding over to Emily.

  “I’m about to find out,” I told him. “Family only, buddy. Moira, let’s go.”

  “What the hell?” I asked once we’d pulled away from the school parking lot. “He’s going to think we’re actually related, you know. Jesus, Emily, what’s wrong with you?”

  Secretly, I was thrilled. Couldn’t let Emily know that, though.

  “We are related, at least for the foreseeable future. And you’re not going to call me ‘Emily,’ either.”

  “All right. Lay it on me, then—what’s the story?”

  “Eureka happened. For now, I’m Moira, and I’m twenty-five. See?” Emily reached into a large black and white polka-dotted purse and pulled out a driver’s license. The girl in the picture was named Moira Blocker and looked vaguely like Emily, save Moira’s sunken eyes, long nose, and eight years of additional aging. Behind the sunglasses, they might pass for each other. “I’m your sister. I’m vacationing from England, where I moved when I was ten to study ballet—that’s why I don’t have an accent, you see. You and your dad grew up in the trailer because all your money went to funding my dance classes. I was a star all over Europe, at least until I broke my ankle on the biggest day of my biggest competition, ending my future as an international dance sensation. Now I’m bitter and lost, so I came back to my roots to find myself.”

  “So me and Dad grew up poor for you, and you still let us down? Even in your fantasies, you’re screwing up my life. Where’d you get the ID?”

  “I found it,” Emily grinned, nodding toward the polka-dot purse.

  “You found it,” I repeated, deadpan.

  She grinned. “In that purse, whic
h I most certainly stole.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. Well, spur of the fifteen minutes, anyway. And if we play Eureka, we can’t have anything, right? So what’s the problem with borrowing what you need? I’m going to give it back eventually, whenever I’m done with Moira.”

  “And then you’ll carefully return the ID and…” I stopped talking and sighed instead, not really caring about the purse, only wanting to argue with Emily. “Where are we going?”

  “North,” she said. “We’ll work out the rest when we get to ‘north.’”

  “Where will we stay? What will we eat?”

  “We’ll have to make do,” my temptress replied. “We’ll forage. We’ll be survivalists, Jacob—urban survivalists.” Alabaster skin framed thick red lips I couldn’t help but imagine wrapped around me. Like our first time together was designed to give her an unholy power over every other interaction we had.

  I shrugged. “My dad’s going to kill me for disappearing like this.”

  “Then don’t go home,” Emily said. “Ever.”

  I looked into the rearview mirror; Kingwood faded fast on the horizon.

  “You’ve been missing David’s lectures—he gave me this idea. Well, not in so many words, but he inspired it,” she said.

  “What do you mean? Lectures?”

  “You should see it; we come out to his trailer, some nights. He gets a couple shots of liquor into him and just starts preaching, basically. Good stuff.”

  “How could no one tell me you’ve been hanging out at David’s? I want to go.”

  “Well, where have you been?” Emily picked at a nail as she spoke.

  “Locked away in some shitty warehouse for lazy kids. What do you think?”

  “David says,” she said, “there is no such thing as ‘home.’ He says that concept is no good for us, and we have to come to see wherever we are at any given moment as being home.” His words, her mouth. Reminded me of all the other ways David got to have Emily.

  “What does that even mean?” I asked.

  “It’s pretty simple.”

  That meant I couldn’t question it. The conversation ended; I focused on driving, on Texas as twilight overtook us. I focused on the flat, arid landscape as it slowly grew hillier—each slope rising over the next, as we grew closer to the source of whatever geological disaster made central Texas into hill country.

  I leaned back, resting one hand on the wheel. “I miss you sometimes,” I said.

  As the words left my mouth, I braced myself for impact: I knew she’d have some clever quip, some way of telling me to be a man. Some way of comparing me to David.

  “I missed you, too,” she said.

  As night began to wrap around our little metal box, I pulled into a small, sleazy motel in a town somewhere in North Texas. I’d been further north before, with Dad, but I’d been a kid then and didn’t remember my way around the state. Emily had fallen asleep and was stretched out over the passenger seat, legs splayed lewdly on the dash, leaving me to drive in silence.

  I’d dreamed of running away, of exploring the world, of course. And here was Emily with me, my partner in crime. Liberating—but there was this bit of despair tugging at my chest, too. Was I homesick already?

  Emily stirred as I pulled to a stop. “Where are we?”

  “I think we’re in Rusk, wherever that is. Population 1,021, the sign said.”

  “So, why are we stopped?”

  “It’s late. I’m hungry and tired. We’re at a motel.”

  “I could drive.” Emily yawned, mouth pulled wide. She stretched, breasts jutting skyward, such perfect circles you might use their curve to do your geometry homework. “I’m all rested up, now.”

  I imagined Emily drove like she lived.

  “No thanks. I think we should both get some rest. Besides, where do you want to drive to? We have no idea where we are now, right?”

  “True,” Emily said. “I guess we’re far enough away. All right. Let’s get a room.”

  “How?” A question of logistics—I’d never paid for a motel room, and I didn’t have any money.

  “You are such a kid,” she answered in disgust, reaching into Moira’s purse and applying fresh makeup, lips smacked together to smear the crimson clay around the delicate curves of her mouth.

  I followed her swaying hips out of the car and into the motel office, where a tired looking old man leaned back in an office chair and watched a small television.

  He ignored us. Emily tapped a bell, which clanked uselessly, then cleared her throat. “We need a room.” The little impostor seemed cool, like she’d done this dozens of times. A deft hand slipped a small green wallet out of the purse, flipping it open. She handed him a credit card and Moira’s license.

  I was hit with that same wave of fear, just like breaking into the school’s office. What if we get caught? Will this guy turn us in?

  “I’m her brother,” I said shakily, as though that explained something. The clerk stared at me for a moment as Emily leaned backward on my foot with her heel. I winced and shut up.

  He spent a long time looking at the ID, then back at Emily’s face. She stood with her chin tilted slightly upward, as though daring this man to question her.

  “When’s your birthday?” the clerk asked.

  My voice caught in my throat. He was onto us. We were screwed. I’d have to call my dad from jail.

  “July 6, 1986,” she said without hesitation.

  The man shrugged, apparently satisfied. He ran the card then handed the plastic rectangle back to Emily.

  “Room 26,” he said, handing her a key. The older man sighed and leaned back into his chair, refocusing on the television.

  “What the hell?” I asked Emily as we walked through the cool night to our room.

  “What? That went pretty well, I think.”

  “You’re stealing.”

  “Wait a minute, Mr. Holier-than-thou. Don’t you do drugs?” She slid the room key into the door. A green light pinged.

  I stopped. That was buying weed from a friend at school for twenty bucks, not snatching a purse and using the credit cards. This seemed different, more dangerous somehow. “Aren’t you worried we’ll get caught?”

  She pushed open the door, reached in and turned on the light. “No. Where do you think I got these clothes? No one ever gets caught for this stuff.”

  I doubted that, but didn’t argue. The door to the room opened. The little chamber was three times the size of my room at home. Hard, stained carpet and a noisy air conditioning unit next to the window. Looked like luxury, to me.

  Emily jumped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, stretching her arms and legs across the mattress. The strap of her dress drooped from her left shoulder, revealing a black bra. She sighed contentedly.

  I wanted on the bed with her. As I approached, a palpable force pushed back. Nervous tension so real it made me weak. Still, I pushed through, into her personal space.

  I sat on the sheets, far away as possible, perched on the edge. Felt like I was introducing myself to an animal at the zoo, stepping into the cage.

  She leaned up and stared at me, bottom lip between her teeth.

  This was it. Which Emily was I getting? Would this trip be romantic, or not?

  There’s a ten second pause; I know because I’m counting every breath. “What are you doing?” she asks.

  “I thought, y’know. There’s only one bed. Plus, we’re on this adventure together, and…”

  “You want to have sex again,” she said flatly.

  Do I? She used me last time.

  I liked it, though.

  True. “Yes.”

  Emily turned, dress hiked up around her thighs, and leaned across the mattress. Her hand extended, slowly, slender fingers pointing toward my shoulder.

  Yes.

  She pushed me. I fell two feet off the side of the bed, landing with a thud on my side.

  No. />
  Giggling erupted from the bed.

  Red-faced, I settled with taking the cushions off two chairs and using them as a makeshift mattress on the floor, which wasn’t much less comfortable than my bed in the trailer.

  Too embarrassed to talk. I turned the TV on instead. We watched it together; me on the floor at the foot of the bed and her sprawled out across it, until at last Emily decided she was tired. I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythmic creaking of the ceiling fan over my head.

  Just as I drifted into unconsciousness, Emily spoke: “Oh, and by the way. I talked to your principal. They’re willing to let you back into KHS. ‘Night, Jacob.”

  Blink, blink. Miles from sleep. Toss, turn, repeat.

  23. Diva

  By nine, when Emily groaned her way awake, I’d probably gotten an hour of sleep.

  I could go back to KHS. Nora was there, and I’d have the chance to see her again. Then again, here I was with Emily, riding the wind, doing something I’d daydreamed about. Exploring.

  Yet in every practical way, Emily—as a person, at least—was a bad choice. Except, she was so damn exciting. Washed the boring right away.

  “You’ve gotta be starving,” I intoned, staring up at the ceiling from my spot on the floor.

  “I’m a little hungry, yeah,” Emily said, “but I need a shower more.” She yawned and stretched her arms out, black dress mangled from the night’s sleep.

  “There’s a Dairy Queen across the street. I can go get us something while you’re getting cleaned up,” I said. “I don’t think you want me here while you shower anyway, right?”

  “Why? You’re not a peeping Tom, are you?” she asked, grinning.

  I stared blankly ahead. Any answer would set me up for a sucker punch. If I said I wanted to see her naked, she’d disappear. Opposite answer, and she’d tease me until I did, then disappear.

  She stood and stared for a few seconds, chewing a fingernail. “All right, all right. Do whatever you want. Get me something with eggs in it.”

  As I turned to leave the room, I got one more look at her. Emily admired her own reflection, running fingers gently through her hair. She began lifting the dress from her body just as the door slammed behind me.