PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Having said that, I have perfected the art of pretending not to notice other guys’ interest in her. Although, that ability is tested when Hayden Benton tugs on a strand of Olivia’s hair in order to get her attention. The annoyed expression Olivia has been holding all class slips away as she turns to face a guy most girls would go all gooey-eyed over in a second. Something to do with his dark hair and equally dark eyes, not to mention the fact that he spends more time working out than studying. I don’t get it.

  Curiosity lifts Olivia’s eyebrows as she comes face to face with Hayden’s all-too-charming smile. Somehow he makes asking to borrow a pencil a seductive encounter. Not that Olivia seems to notice. She shrugs and hands him a spare pencil before turning her attention back to being irritated at me. Hayden keeps staring at the back of her head.

  The whole encounter takes me back to the parking lot, to Olivia’s answer to Robin’s question. I guess I can understand being caught off guard when Robin abruptly asked about our relationship. She’s never had to explain that to anyone before. I slump into a sulk as I remember her answer. Brother? Kind of? Best friend?

  Are we best friends? Of course.

  But her brother?

  I am not her brother.

  The bell rings and the class files out. Olivia ignores me, and I know she will continue to ignore me until I prove I’m ready to be serious. On principle, I’m not terribly fond of serious. Today is different. I’m not just being flippant. I’m afraid. I have no desire to start up another conversation about Robin right now. We step into the hall in silence. I’m prepared to spend the next three class periods the same way. Too bad other people aren’t on the same page.

  “Hey, Olivia!” Hayden calls out. “Wait up!”

  Startled, Olivia turns around. “Yeah?”

  Hayden trots up to her with another obnoxious smile. He slips a pencil out of his pocket and offers it up. “Thanks for letting me borrow this.”

  Olivia takes the pencil back with a shrug. “Sure, no problem.”

  For a moment, I worry that Hayden is about to attempt a full out conversation. The thought of standing here listening to his inane drivel has zero appeal. There is something about his dark hair and athletic build that I find offensive. Or maybe it’s his casual ability to capture just about anyone’s attention. Although, it might be the way his hand brushes Olivia’s arm like it’s nothing as he asks her a question about the lecture we just sat through.

  Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s it.

  Not interested in hanging around for Hayden’s charm, I head for our next class. I’m surprised when I see Robin plow around a corner at breakneck speed. She catches sight of me just before knocking into a couple too busy making out as they walk to notice the collision. Their obliviousness doesn’t keep Robin from getting her feet tangled and pitching forward.

  Two quick steps brings me close enough to catch her elbow and save her from nose diving. Robin beams up at me . . . once she makes it back up to standing. “You okay?” I ask.

  Laughing off the incident, Robin says, “I’m not normally this klutzy.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “Really! It’s just first day jitters. Not to mention the fact that this school is a maze! I can’t find anything.”

  Feeling suddenly like taking a break, I lean against a row of lockers. “What exactly are you trying to find this time?”

  “Room 217? I’m supposed to be taking AP English with Mrs. Hamilton.”

  “AP?” I ask.

  Robin rolls her eyes. “Why do people always sound surprised when they find out I’m smart?”

  It’s hard not to laugh. “It might be the tripping and dropping things and bumping into people.” I shrug jokingly. “Just a guess.”

  Her huff of irritation is downplayed by her smile. “Whatever,” she says. Then she holds out a stack of books. “Can you hold this? I think my phone is buzzing at me.”

  “Uh, not to be unchivalrous, but I think the other students might find floating books to be a bit strange,” I say, holding my hands up in apology. “Your class is around the corner to the right, though.”

  The blush that spreads though Robin’s cheeks is kind of cute. “Sorry! I keep forgetting you’re an Aerling, not a human. I’m such a mess today.”

  Robin does some shifting, and snatches her phone out of a side pocket on her backpack. She mumbles something about overprotective parents as she reads the text she just got. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice that I have checked out of the conversation. What did she mean when she said I wasn’t human? She’s not serious, is she?

  I mean, it’s always been pretty obvious that I’m different, but I just figured it was some kind of genetic thing, or radiation, maybe even a super power. Not human? I never actually considered the possibility. The idea is somewhat disturbing, but at the same time, kind of cool. What if I’m like Superman?

  “Anyway,” Robin says, bursting into my thoughts, “thanks for helping me find my class. Where are you off to?”

  It only takes me a moment to decide, my curiosity getting the better of my fear again. “Actually, I thought I might check out what an AP class is like. Mind if I join you?”

  Robin beams at me again. “Not at all!”

  We file through the door and Robin finds a seat next to the wall of windows. It’s perfect because I can park myself on the sill and still be within “chatting” distance. Of course, Robin probably isn’t familiar with my version of note passing, so I take a moment to explain before the teacher gets class started.

  “If you pretend you’re taking notes, I can read whatever you write from here.”

  Robin’s eyes dart toward me for a brief second before settling forward as if I weren’t there. She neatly places two sheets of loose leaf paper on the desk. I wonder why she has two. On one she writes, Cool, I have tons of questions for you! On the other she writes the date and AP English. I stifle a laugh when I realize she’s actually taking real notes along with the fake ones. Robin is an interesting girl.

  Mrs. Hamilton launches right into her lecture, not even bothering to take notice that she has a new student in her room. Robin doesn’t seem put out. Instead, she turns her attention back to her papers. For me, she writes, Do you remember how you came here?

  I shake my head. There wasn’t any coming here. I’ve always been here. Robin sighs, clearly frustrated.

  Why is that the one thing Aerlings can never remember? They remember everything else.

  Her comment piques my interest. I do have a very good memory, eidetic even, but I can’t remember everything. There are big sections of my early childhood that are nothing more than fragments, fragments that I don’t really like to think about. Even now, I shy away from the bits of memory that try to surface. The flash of pain, the terror of a hand clamping down around my arm.

  A nudge from Robin send images like that back into the recesses of my mind. I glance down at her notebook, eager for a new question. What she writes surprises me.

  Tell me about your name.

  If she were asking Olivia that same question, she would get a pretty basic answer, something like how Olivia comes from olive tree which is a symbol of peace in Latin, or that she was named after her maternal grandmother. I was surprised when I realized naming a child didn’t hold the same significance in most families as it did in mine. In my first family, that is.

  “When I was named, everyone in the family was gathered around me. Everyone placed one hand on me, and I remember feeling strange in this new place, but it was okay because I knew how much everyone loved me. I remember seeing my mom smiling at me. My dad was crying. It was the only time I ever saw him cry, except . . . ”

  My hands ball into fists as I try to ward off the image of his face contorted in pain. Robin has been staring at the board, listening both to me and the teacher, but after a few minutes she glances over at me in concern. Afraid she’ll start asking questions, I force myself to continue.

  “My mom said each of my names would mean somet
hing. Each one was special, and would help me remember who I am,” I say slowly, still trying to shake off the pain talking about this sparks. “My first name, Mason, meant I would be strong, physically and mentally, but more importantly, I would be the kind of person people could rely on. Someone who would stand up for what I knew was right.”

  Wow, Robin writes, that’s a lot to live up to.

  I laugh. “And that’s only my first name!”

  Robin smiles, barely stopping herself from giggling. Tell me about the other two.

  Shaking my head, I say, “Maybe later. My turn.”

  I watch as Robin sits up straighter with her pencil poised to answer. She’s an interesting girl.

  “How do you know so much about Aerlings?”

  Robin looks over at me with an expression that clearly says I’m completely nuts. She starts scratching out a hurried answer. I had one of my own, of course! My family has been Caretakers for generations. Hasn’t Olivia’s family?

  Part of me wants to explain how Olivia found me, tell her about my other family. Maybe she could help me make sense of everything. But if she knows how this is all supposed to work, she’ll realize that somehow my life got screwed up. What if she tries to change things, or take me away from Olivia? I make a snap decision, not willing to risk losing Olivia, not even for answers that have plagued me my entire life.

  “Yeah, of course they have,” I lie. “It’s just that we’ve never met anyone else who is, uh, a Caretaker. I didn’t want to assume.”

  Robin nods as if that makes perfect sense. Okay, my turn again. When did you realize you were an Aerling? Or did your parents tell you right away?

  This question brings back another round of painful memories as well. One of the few clear memories I have before meeting Olivia is of wandering around the city crying and begging for help, confused why no one would look at me, let alone help me.

  “No,” I say, “they didn’t tell me. I figured it out when I was five.”

  Robin shakes her head. I don’t understand why Caretakers don’t tell Aerlings who they are. It only hurts them later to realize they’ve been lied to. I mean, I get that they don’t want to make them feel like they’re different, but it’s the truth.

  “Yeah, I’m with you on that one.” Maybe if they had told me, I would have known what to do. Instead, I was alone and terrified.

  Chapter 3

  Sentinel

  (Olivia)

  I don’t know where Mason has been, but when he pops up near the cafeteria, I latch onto his arm and refuse to let go. “Where have you been all morning?”

  “Getting to know our new friend,” Mason says.

  “What?”

  Mason shrugs, as if my question barely fazes him, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.

  “I decided to go to class with Robin.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Mason asks. “Because she can see me and talk to me. That’s reason enough.”

  I can certainly understand the appeal, but I’m still miffed. “You could have at least told me where you were going. I turned around and you were gone.”

  Mason rolls his eyes. “And interrupt your fascinating conversation with Hayden Benton?”

  “Fascinating?” What on earth is he talking about? Hayden returned my pencil and asked me if I knew when our next test was.

  I shake off Mason’s weirdness and say, “Look, I know you’re excited that someone other than me can see and hear you, but we know nothing about this Robin chick. What if she uses something you tell her against you?”

  “What’s she going to do? Tell people you have an invisible guy living at your house? I’m sure that will go over well.”

  “Would you please be serious about this for five seconds?” I snap.

  Mason’s body bristles. He takes a step away from me and turns the corner. Knowing the drill, I follow him to the abandoned drinking fountains and pull out my phone. I hold it to my ear, so if anyone walks by they’ll assume I’m arguing with whoever is on the other end of the call and not that I’m totally insane, yelling at a wall.

  Usually we can manage to talk without anyone else noticing, thanks to the crowds and noise. Pulling a stunt like this means if we continue this conversation, people will notice. I don’t like these kinds of conversations.

  Locking eyes with Mason, I ask, “What is going on?”

  For a moment, Mason doesn’t respond. He seems to be considering his words very carefully. That’s never a good sign, either.

  “Robin knows stuff,” Mason says slowly.

  “Like what kind of stuff?”

  After a minute of shuffling, Mason responds. “Stuff like naming ceremonies, Caretakers, how good my memory is.”

  “What do you mean? How much does she know?” Everything he’s saying is only making me more anxious.

  “Well, she knew enough to ask me questions about my name, for starters. She knew what a big deal it was to my family, and she acted like that was totally normal.”

  I can feel my nose crinkle. Evie tells me every time she sees me doing it that I’m wrecking my skin with all the scrunching and I’ll end up with wrinkles like cat whiskers. I’m not vain, or at least I don’t think I am, but that does concern me a little. I try to unwrinkle my nose and think.

  “Okay, so what does that mean?” This time my forehead wrinkles. “When she called you an Aerling and acted like it was no big deal, I guess I figured that meant there are more people like you out there somewhere. How does she know this stuff?”

  Mason fidgets again, folding his arms across his chest. “She said something about Caretakers, people who watch over Aerlings. She said her and her ancestors have been Caretakers for a long time, and get this . . . she used to have an Aerling.”

  “She used to have one? That sounds like she’s talking about a toy car. What is a Caretaker, anyway? Like some kind of foster family?”

  “I guess,” Mason says with a shrug. Now he really starts getting antsy. His feet shuffle and eyes go to his shoes. I know that look as well.

  Sighing, I ask, “What did you tell her?”

  “I may have told her that you and your family are Caretakers, too,” he admits. Mason looks up, searching my expression for a reaction. He seems shocked when he gets one.

  “What?” I demand. “Why would you do that? What if she asks me some kind of Caretaker question, or wants to compare notes, or has some kind of secret handshake?”

  Mason snorts, only maddening me even more. “Really? A secret handshake?” His laugh is incredibly annoying.

  “Well, it isn’t any weirder than living with an invisible person!” I defend.

  His head shakes back and forth. “What else did you expect me to tell her? Was I supposed to admit that my real family . . . ”

  Suddenly, Mason looks away. When I realize his hands are balled into fists and his jaw is quivering, I reach out to him. I can hardly stand here hugging a bunch of thin air, but I slide my hand around one of his fists. I know thinking about his family is never easy. His reaction right now is more intense than usual, though. Worry that Robin dredged up memories he’d rather forget makes me edge away from concern about her and toward dislike.

  It takes another minute before Mason continues. “I couldn’t explain all of that to her.”

  “I know.” My hand tightens around his. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  Mason shakes off my apology. “It’s more than that, too. She obviously knows what’s supposed to happen with Aerlings. If I tell her what really happened, what would she do? Maybe there’s some kind of Aerling Child Services, or something. What if she told someone and they tried to take me away from you?”

  “Mason, Mom and Dad would never let anyone take you from us. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

  “Who knows what people might be involved, or what they’re capable of?” Mason says.

  The worry that has been niggling at my mind worsens. Mason has never shared the exact details of what happened to his
real family, but I know enough to understand it was bad. It had to be for a five year old to end up wandering the streets alone. If that wasn’t proof enough, Mason’s nightmares are more than enough to convince me.

  The first night he stayed with me, we were huddled together on my bed, sleeping after a full afternoon of playing in the backyard. It was the shaking that woke me first. I tried to ask him what was happening, but he wouldn’t wake up. Then he started screaming. I was so freaked out that I ran into my parents’ room crying, begging them to help me. They thought I was the one having bad dreams, because, of course, they thought Mason was imaginary, but it did the trick. Mom took me back to my room and sang songs to me while I held Mason’s hand. I wouldn’t let her leave until he stopped crying.

  “Mason, what if what happened to your family . . . ” I pause as his hand cinches around mine. “What if Robin has something to do with them?”

  “I don’t know, Olivia. I know we just met her, but she seems so genuine. She’s pretty stoked about finding me. Whatever she knows, I don’t think she, herself, is dangerous,” he says, “but if she tells people about me, and word gets back to the wrong people, it could be bad.”

  No kidding, I think, as I turn and lean against the wall. I can admit that I have always been curious about Mason’s past. If it means risking his safety or not having him in my life, I will happily leave those questions unanswered forever. I push away from the wall and meet his eyes. My seriousness is hard for him to dodge. He straightens up as well.

  “So, how do we handle this?” I ask.

  Mason shrugs. “We go to lunch, I guess.”

  Okay, so maybe he isn’t going to be serious. My narrowing eyes have no effect on him. “Mason,” I growl. “We need a plan.”

  “I already told you my plan. You pretend you’re my Caretaker and we find out as much as we can from Robin at lunch.”

  “Your plan sucks,” I grouch. Even still, my shoulders slouch because I don’t have a better one. “Fine. Let’s go to lunch.”