by Tess McKenna
“What should we do?” Marissa whispers.
“Give Kiaria some time and space to figure out their next move,” Kiaria says
Zoë laughs.
“No, I mean… about her.”
I can feel their eyes on me, searching and coming up empty.
“Despite Moton’s babysitting order: space… space and time,” Kiaria says. “No, Zoë… not now.”
“What?” Zoë says. “Did you—?”
“I didn’t have to. Don’t go over there. I doubt she wants to talk to anyone right now,” Kiaria says.
“What do you know?” Marissa asks.
Kiaria is silent, and that’s when it hits me: what Kiaria learned from reading Jericho’s mind is something she wouldn’t confide in anyone because she didn’t want to know it herself.
“Nothing,” Kiaria mumbles.
Liar.
“What are you girls whispering about?” Nate asks. They ignore him.
“They’re talking about you, Doc… arguing over which one is going to settle for number two while one gets to be with me,” Abraham says from the arena.
“Shut up, Abe,” Zoë says.
“Heyy. Elijah, tell your girlfriend to be nice to me!” Abraham wines.
“Abe, don’t mess with Zoë,” Elijah replies. Nickel tackles him to the ground, and then Xander pounces on both of them. They moan and laugh.
“What’s the trouble, ladies?” Lazzer asks. He and Nate roll their chairs over the girls to form a circle.
“We’re just talking,” Marissa says.
I stand up and walk toward the arena, but not where the boys are wrestling. I walk straight toward a mannequin used for boxing. I grab some tape and wrap it around my knuckles, fashioning a simple, cheap protection. I toss the tape aside and throw some practice punches at the mannequin, careful not to strike too hard and draw unnecessary attention to myself.
“One of us should talk to her,” Nate whispers. “She’s had a rough few days.”
“Few days?” Zoë says.
I pretend to be busy assailing the plastic-gum mannequin.
“I’ll talk to her,” Marissa says.
“No, just give her some space and time. We’ve all had a rough few days,” Kiaria says.
“Well, she should know that we’re here for her if she needs it.”
If I need it? No, no I don’t need it. I’ve been fine on my own for the past twenty-two months, even before that, and I certainly don’t need anyone now. The only person I’m interested in talking to is this mannequin, and I’m saying everything I need to say.
“Look, that’s a noble idea, Nate, but I don’t think she wants to talk to anyone right now. Try again tomorrow, or later,” Kiaria says.
“You okay, Kia? You seem rattled.”
I hear Kiaria roll her chair around to face them, or face away from them. I’m not sure anymore, and I’m not going to take my eyes off this mannequin to notice.
“Sunday, Dr. Nancy came to Kenyon. Yesterday a float exploded on West Third. Today, a guy just broke into my home, I had to crack into the mind of a psychopath, and those people are still out there. I’m not rattled, I’m rightfully concerned.”
“You’re not the only one,” Zoë says.
I again feel their eyes on me.
“What do you think rattled her?”
“Don’t know,” Zoë says.
I start punching the mannequin with more force and more intention. Maybe the applause of punches will drone out the conversation I’m still listening in on.
“Yeah, so she shouldn’t be so… I don’t know…”
“Rattled?”
“What do you think she’s hiding from us that Dr. Nancy wants so badly?”
“You think that’s what she’s nervous about?”
“Maybe it’s him,” Marissa says. “Do you think she still cares about Jericho?”
I strike the mannequin, and the structure cracks into two uneven pieces. The thud the pieces make when they hit the floor resonates through the entire base. Everyone is as quiet as death, and everyone is staring at me.
Great.
I take a step back from the mannequin, tear off the tape on my hands, and storm toward the elevator. I punch the button to take me to my bedroom floor and wait for the elevator to close. I see Kiaria and Nate both on their feet; Kiaria holds her hand against Nate’s chest. Zoë jogs toward the elevator, however, and squeezes into it at the very last second.
The door closes and the walls become opaque. Zoë stands across from me, not daring to come closer. The elevator dings, and we start escalading up through Kenyon.
“Annika—” she starts to say.
“No!” I shout. “I am fine.”
“Are you?”
“Stay out of this, Zoë.”
“Just let us help you! We’re sorry that—”
“You’re sorry?! You have nothing to be sorry for, except that you’re still trying to help me!”
“Why? These people need to be stopped, and we want to help you stop them.”
“Because they’re going to kill you, Zoë—all of you! And it’s because you’re trying to help me. You heard what Jericho said: the more you try to help me the more they will come after you!” I shout. My head is pounding as the elevator escalates faster and faster.
“What I heard him say is that there’s a way we can stop them. We’re not going to let you fight this battle on your own,” Zoë says.
“Maybe I’m the villain! Maybe I’m the one who you should be trying to stop! You’re smart, Zoë, so I know you’ve thought about it. Those eight people who died from the bomb, that assassin in your interrogation room… all of this is because of me.”
The elevator slows to a stop. A wall slides open to another elevator, but neither of us move. Zoë’s face tells it all. She has considered who the real villain is, and I’m still a viable option.
“Annika,” she says, “you are not to blame for any of this. Those men… those monsters… they did this. You are not a—”
“A monster?” I finish. I shake my head. “I can’t promise you that. I can tell you, for certain, that I’m not the good guy… and I’m sure as hell not the victim.”
I storm out of the elevator, hitting the “M” button on my way out and leaving Zoë alone in the elevator. When my bedroom door doesn’t unlock, I shoot it with a blast of nuclear energy and kick it open. I slam the broken door shut then lean against the wall and sink to the ground.
A single tear trickles down my cheek, and I know that my composure, my hope, and my time are melting away.
What was I thinking? I knew this wasn’t going to work, and now I’m running out of time. Dr. Nancy and his hunting crew are closing in, and my last hope in the Metanites is crumbling. What little faith they have in me I’m destroying with the secrets I can never tell them.
Destruction… that’s all I’ve ever been good at. But that tangible dirt. I still have that, and maybe… maybe turning it over to the Metanites could mean something good will come out of all my destruction. My own destruction is sure to come soon, but I can’t let that tangible dirt die with me. That has to survive.
XIV: Poker Face
Wednesday, March 19, 2065; 8:45 p.m.
First person
Knock! Knock! Knock! I glance up from my book and stare at my bedroom door. Maybe if I stay quiet, whoever it is will go away.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Annika, It’s dinner time. Do you want something to eat?” Zoë’s voice echoes from behind the door.
I look at the clock: 8:45 p.m. So dinner time was a few hours ago. My stomach rumbles.
“I’m not hungry, thanks,” I lie.
“Well I’m hungry, and I can’t go anywhere for food unless you come with me,” she says.
Ugh. I close the book, hop off my bed, and walk to the door. I open the door, and Zoë is standing there with two boxes of pizza in her hands. Elijah stands behind her with four more boxes. The steaming pizza floods my sinuses and
makes my knees week. Cheese and pepperoni. My stomach growls.
“Liar,” I say to Zoë. I smile.
“No one can resist Vincenza’s pizza,” she says.
“Or any pizza, for that matter,” Elijah says.
“What’s the catch?” I ask.
“Come play cards with us. Just the Metanites, some pizza, spirits, and relaxation. I can’t go if you don’t come, too,” Zoë says.
“Alright,” I say. “Let me find my shoes.”
Zoë and Elijah turn to each other and smile. I think they’re surprised I said yes. I pull my sneakers on and search for a sweater..
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Abraham, Lazzer, and Nate’s room. They’ve been cleaning it all day,” Zoë says.
I grab a sweater and follow them out into the hall. As we come closer to the room, we begin to hear voices from the other side of the wall. It sounds like… like a party or something. Something I shouldn’t be invited to. Maybe I just grab a piece of pizza and leave. But Zoë might be upset with me for that… I could stay for a little while.
Elijah knocks on the door, and the noise stops. Abraham answers the door by cracking it open maybe three inches, and when he sees us a smile cracks across his face.
“Heeeyyyyy!” Abraham says. He opens the door further so we can see inside.
The Metanites sit on the floor around a coffee table covered with cards, Orange Fanta, and orange-tinted napkins. The Metanites smile when they see us, and they cheer when Elijah announces that the pizza has arrived. They clear the coffee table for the pizza, and Abraham reaches his arm across the room for the paper plates on his bed.
“God, I’m hungry,” Marissa says. She opens a box and starts passing out cheese pizza.
Zoë hands one to me, and I fight the urge to devour it whole. I wait for everyone to take a bite of their pizza before I do. The cheese is hot still, and the sauce makes everything taste like it melts in my mouth. Slowly… slowly… eat like a normal person.
“Oh my god, I could kiss you,” Lazzer says to Elijah. Elijah leans he face down to where Lazzer sits, and Lazzer pecks him on the cheek. I wonder if there’s more to the Orange Fanta drinks than flavored carbonation.
“Join the table, guys!” Kiaria says.
I hesitate, but Zoë nods to me and tells me to sit next to her. I sit between her and Kiaria at one end of the table.
“How are you guys?” Marissa asks.
I look at the opposite end of the table and see Marissa sitting next to Kono and Nate. She looks more dressed up now than I’ve ever seen her before. Maybe she had something else going on today… or maybe sitting next to Nate has something to do with it.
“Hi Annika,” Nate says.
I look up to see him smiling at me.
“Hi.”
“So what game are we playing?” Xander asks.
“War!” Abraham says.
“Noooo!” echoes through the room.
“How about Texas Hold ‘Em?”
“That sounds good,” Xander says.
“Do we have chips somewhere?”
“Oh yeah!” Abraham says. He stands up, walks over to their closet, and comes back with a bag of potato chips and salsa.
“Oh my god…”
“That’s disgusting.”
“I got them,” Lazzer says. He leaves to get the poker chips.
I look across the table to see how close Marissa and Nate are, but there’s at least two inches between them. Then Kono catches my gaze. She’s glaring at me while she grips the deck of cards in her hands. So she’s still not my biggest fan. I wonder if she hates me because I threaten her, but I don’t think that’s the case. If she wanted to, I bet she would beat the shit out of me, and maybe she could.
“Annika, would you like one?” Xander asks, holding an Orange Fanta to me.
“I’m good, thanks,” I say.
“Buzzkill,” he says.
“Hey—at least she’s not a drunk-fuck like you,” Abraham says, dipping a potato chip in salsa and stuffing it in his mouth.
“True,” Izzi says.
“At least I’m not a lightweight, twig,” Xander says.
“At least I don’t have a beer gut.”
Xander takes his shirt off and shows off his abs. He and Abraham go back and forth, and then Abraham tries to smear salsa on Xander’s chest. Luckily, Elijah grabs Abraham’s arm, and Nickel holds Xander back. Xander continues to taunt Abraham, but Abraham just laughs.
“Xander, you’re an embarrassment,” Izzi says.
“Thank, cuz… love you, too,” he replies.
“Are you all done?” Kono asks. The deck of cards levitates between her hands, and as she moves her fingers, the cards shuffle themselves.
“Please…”
“Wait, I have a question for Annika,” Xander says. He leans over the table toward me. “Who’s this Jericho?”
Ugh… now? If Xander is asking me while drunk, does that mean everyone has wanted to ask me about Jericho but didn’t have the guts to ask? Or perhaps they were too wise to ask.
“Xander, not now” Kiaria comes to my rescue.
I want to thank her, but her comment reminds me that she knows something about Jericho—something about me—that she has yet to share with anyone. Has she told anyone? Would the Metanites treat me differently if they all knew what Kiaria knows? Now is not the right time to ask her… but maybe another time this week. I need to know what she learned after reading Jericho’s mind. I need to stop think about Jericho.
“Why not?” Xander asks.
“Because we’re trying to have a nice evening, and you’re big fat mouth is ruining it,” Marissa says.
“You could go hang out with Jericho right now, if you’re so curious,” I say to him.
The Metanites chuckle, and Xander has no reply. Kono passes two cards and twenty chips to everyone with the wave of her hand. I glance at my cards: Two of hearts and Five of diamonds… how stellar. Well, maybe it will be over faster if I lose quickly.
“Wait, I thought we were playing War,” Abraham says.
“War is stupid,” Lazzer says.
“You’re stupid.”
“Whatever, are we ready?” Nate asks.
Zoë leans close to my ear and whispers, “I’m sorry we’re so obnoxious. Let me know if you want to leave though.”
I turn back to her and tell her that I’m good. It’s not a lie. This is awkward but it’s better than sitting in my room all night and thinking about Jeric—the past. Maybe a drink would help. Zoë grabs a cup and splits her Orange Fanta with me. I take a sip and taste the Triple Sec more than I can taste the soda… this could be an interesting night.
“Alright, Kono. Give Nate the worst hand possible so we can all share the chips,” Lazzer says.
Nate has half of all the chips after winning a large bet against Xander and Zoë. Nate smiles at Lazzer then blows him a kiss from across the table.
Kono shuffles the cards, then passes two to each person still remaining.
“Oh, come on!” Elijah yells. He slams his cards face down on the table.
I look at my hand: Ace and Jack of Clubs. Good enough. Nate starts the betting, and three people immediately drop out.
The flop: Queen and Ten of clubs and Four of hearts.
“Any bets?” Nate asks.
“Only you,” Marissa says with a smile.
Nate responds by adding five more chips to the pile. One more person folds. I watch Marissa study her cards, but she is thinking of something else. Her eyes keep glancing up to Nate, longing to say something. I then look at Nate. That crease between his eyes reappears while he decides what to do next. His pupils are dilated, and his fists are red and sweaty: he’s bluffing.
The turn: King of spades.
So close!
Marissa puts her hand down and smiles; she raises the bet.
“Uggggghhh. I fold,” Abraham says. He lays his cards in his lap and finishes his drink.
That leav
es Marissa, Nate, and me.
“You sure you want to stay in, Nate?” Marissa asks.
“Of course,” he responds. “Why, should I not?”
“Oh no, you can. Just make sure to count your chips at the end of this round.”
“I plan on it,” he says. He grabs a handful of chips and throws them in the middle of the table. Marissa and I toss our chips in to match his bet.
“Wheewwwwww! Look at that table-talk,” Elijah says.
“Someone’s going to eat their words.”
“Are you guys going to talk, or do you want the river?” Kono asks.
Please, please; give me the King.
Everyone fidgits in their seats and watches as Kono reveals the last card.
The river: King of clubs.
Wow.
“Fuuuuuuuuuucking shit!” Abraham shouts. He throws his cards at Elijah and leans back until his head touches the floor.
“Well I’m all in,” Nate says.
“You’re mad!” Izzi says.
“I am not! I said I’m all in!”
“I can’t believe you!”
“Are you completely out of your mind?” Marissa says. “If either Annika or I beat you—game over!”
“You’re not going to beat me,” Nate says, smiling.
“Reilly; not even cool!” Abraham yells, with his head still on the floor.
“I’m in,” says a soft voice from the opposite end of the table. Everyone turns and stares in total amazement. Abraham sits up and stares. The words I was thinking had actually come out, and I had just challenged the best player in the game.
“What?” Nate asks.
I regain my composure. “I’m in,” I repeat.
I push all my chips to the middle of the table. Nate’s face blushes, that crease on his forehead returns, and his eyes quiver. Then he catches himself, accepts the challenge, and brings part of his focus back to the game.
“Are you sure about that,” he asks. His eyes beg me to take it back.