Once We Were thc-2

by Kat Zhang

  Twice, we were almost caught leaving the garage. But both times, we got away, safe and triumphant and filled with a breathless sort of glee.

  Then came the morning I walked up the attic stairs, still yawning, and Ryan turned to me.

  He said, before I could speak: “I think it’s finished.”

  It had been a while since the atmosphere in the attic was like this. Tense. Stretched. Vince lounged on the green couch, Sabine next to him. Christoph and Cordelia took up the other sofa. Ryan stood; he’d just finished explaining the workings of the contraption sitting in the middle of the rug. Addie and I leaned against the wall.

  “It’ll do the job,” Ryan said into the silence.

  “Not doubting it,” Vince said. The two shared a tense but genuine smile.

  “We’ll test it next week,” Sabine said. “We’ll drive way out to Frandmill. There’s a lot of deserted land around there. We’ll get the liquid oxygen tomorrow night, after dark but before curfew. Not all of us.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Vince said, and she nodded.

  “I’ll go, too.” I wasn’t sure whether to be gratified or insulted by the startled silence that followed my words.

  Addie said quietly.

  I said. I was being stubborn, but I couldn’t help it. Not after the look that had followed my volunteering. I needed to help out in some way. That was why Sabine had invited me to join her group in the first place, wasn’t it? To help?

  “If we’re going to go before midnight, Emalia might not be asleep yet,” Sabine said.

  I shrugged. “We’ll just say we’re going up to Henri’s for a bit. We got out fine to work in the garage. She never checks.”

  It was yet another risk, but to be honest, I was no longer particularly worried about Emalia or Sophie finding out about our trips outdoors. They seemed happily oblivious that we’d even think about sneaking out.

  Ryan glanced at me. “If four isn’t too many . . .”

  “Three is enough,” Sabine said. “We only need two to carry the tank, and then one more to stand guard.”

  “But two standing guard is better than one,” Ryan said.

  Sabine’s lips pressed into a smile that quickly faded. She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “It’ll be worst for you if we’re caught.”

  He shrugged. “It’ll be night. I won’t attract more attention than any of you.”

  Which was only true as long as we weren’t seen. But Sabine didn’t argue further, just nodded. “Tomorrow night, then. If that turns out badly, we’ll try again Friday.”

  And just like that, another chunk of the plan fell into place.

  TWENTY-THREE

  A birthday cake on a polka-dotted tablecloth

  With white frosting

  And sliced strawberries

  And five candles weeping wax, burning

  Five candles

  And two breaths

  Before they all went out.

  Addie’s old black sketchbook

  Spine cracked

  Pages lolling out

  Bloated with paint and wrinkled

  Sketches of our stuffed animals

  Of Lyle. Of Nathaniel.

  Of Mom napping on the sofa

  Hair in her face

  Exhaustion, Addie says when her art teacher asks:

  What will you name it?

  Laughter.

  Beach, sun, waves

  The feeling like a seesaw

  Like a rope swing

  Like rising and falling and rising again—

  Like falling against Ryan in the hallway

  In that morning

  With the curtains pulled tight

  In the darkness

  And suddenly, his mouth—

  And—

  I woke to the taste of someone else’s mouth.

  I woke to an arm curled around my waist. Fingers I didn’t recognize tangled in my hair. The warmth of some stranger’s body.

  I tore away. I stumbled in the semidarkness.

 

  I clamped my—our—mouth shut. A strangled cry ground through our teeth.

  “Addie?” the stranger said. But it wasn’t a stranger. It was Jackson. Jackson with his hair mussed. Jackson with his hands, and his mouth, that had been touching mine—

 

  I struggled for breath, and Jackson—Jackson laughed. He tugged at his shirt, setting it straight on his shoulders. It was too dark to read the expression on his face—I was too muddled—

  “Eva?” he said. He reached for me. I shoved his hand away.

  “Where—where am I?”

  He laughed again, but I’d recovered enough to hear how forced it sounded. “Welcome to my room. Just got in. Haven’t, you know, gotten the chance to turn on the light and stuff.” He’d been against the wall, but he circled around me—us—as he spoke, until he reached the opposite wall and the light switch. The brightness slashed across our retinas, made us squint.

  Jackson’s room was small. Messy. Decorated in shades of dark green and brown. That was all I could take in. My focus was limited to the boy. The boy who shifted on his feet, eyes never leaving ours. He kept a careful distance.

  Addie said.

  She fought for it, and maybe I should have given it to her, but I couldn’t. Everything in me screamed against it. I wrapped our arms around our body. He hung by the light switch, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

  “Addie was telling me you guys were practicing going under more and more.” He gave me a hesitant smile. “Obviously, you haven’t quite got a handle on timing yet. You’ll get it. Everybody goes through a sort of transition period. Once Katy came back right in the middle of Cordelia—”

  “Stop,” I said. Our voice was hoarse. He stopped. I finally managed to look away from him, toward the door.

 

  “I’ve got to go,” I said.

  “Right, okay.” Jackson hesitated, as if he might say more, but finally just shut his mouth and gestured to the door as if I couldn’t see it.

  There was another, enormous wrench for control, so strong I froze midstep, trapped in Addie’s screaming.

  I said.

  I shoved her aside. I hardly had to think about it—I couldn’t think about it. All I knew was I had to get out. Had to get away from this room, this apartment, this building. This boy.

  Our legs started moving again. I didn’t look back, and Jackson didn’t speak again. Everything from his bedroom door to the building lobby was a blur.

  Addie said. My name had never been spoken so caustically.

  My voice squeaked.

  she said. I flinched.

 

  <—which I happen to know you and Ryan aren’t exactly unfamiliar with—>

  I shouted.

  Her voice turned deathly cold.

  I faltered.

  I felt so many of Addie’s other emotions, didn’t I? I knew when she was angry or sad or happy or frustrated or frightened. I would know it if she loved or even just especially liked Jackson, and she didn’t.

  She didn’t.

  Addie laughed.

 

  Her voice had gone shrill. Her entire presence next to me was so tight and sharp and hard I didn’t dare go anywhere near her. Christoph to think you’re so amazing. You’ve been so wrapped up in trying to get what you want—> She shuddered.

  I protested.

  Somehow, I’d made it out onto the street. I could hardly remember how I’d gotten there. It was evening. Warm and darkening quickly. Cars zoomed past. Where was I? Right. Jackson’s apartment. Where was that?

  Addie said.

  In the very last second, I scrambled to reach out for her. I tried to grab on to her—

  But she cut away from me. The nothingness dropped, sharp and sudden and painful as a guillotine.

  I was left stumbling on the sidewalk, on a street I didn’t recognize, in front of an apartment building I didn’t remember entering, in a city that suddenly felt incredibly hostile and empty and vast.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I had to ask for directions to get home. There was no way I was going back to Jackson, and it took several minutes to dredge up the nerve to approach someone else—several more to find the right words to say.

  Finally, I picked a middle-aged woman with a kind face. My voice was surprisingly steady. I tried to smile when she finished explaining.

  She’d moved on half a block before I realized I hadn’t taken in a single word.

  I picked another person, a young man. I managed to follow his instructions this time.

  It didn’t take very long to make it back to Emalia’s apartment building. I lingered in the ground-floor lobby.

  I whispered.

  Of course, she didn’t respond. She was gone, lost in dreams.

  Was what she’d said right?

  I took a sharp breath, pressed the heels of our—my—hands to my forehead. Had I been ignoring what Addie wanted? I hadn’t.

  Had I?

  Maybe I had.

  But she should have told me about Jackson. It was my body, too. I deserved to know. I had to know, or it wasn’t right, was it? It was too confusing—and hurt too much—to think about. I kept feeling phantom hands on me. Kept tasting Jackson. Kept feeling—

  The front door opened, ramming into me from behind. I cried out.

  “Addie!” Dr. Lyanne said. Surprise bleached the usual dignity from her body. But the shock only lasted a few seconds. She shut the front door behind her. “What’s wrong? What were you doing outside?”

  Her eyes swept over me. I didn’t even know what to hide—how to hide. I tried to school my expression into something blander, but I couldn’t.

  Addie. Addie, Addie.

  “Come on.” Dr. Lyanne grabbed my arm and swept me up the stairs. I didn’t resist. I had Emalia’s spare key in my pocket, but I let Dr. Lyanne knock on our door. Kitty answered with round eyes.

  “I just went outside for a walk,” I said before Dr. Lyanne could ask again. “I got tired of being inside and I went out. Nothing happened. The sun didn’t explode.”

  “Just going outside wouldn’t leave you a mess like this.” Dr. Lyanne tried to steer me toward the dining-room table. Like how she’d steered me back at Nornand. But that girl in Nornand’s blue uniform felt like a different person. A child who could be directed and handled and frightened into obeying.

  I was suddenly furious. Being angry was so much easier than being confused, or scared, or guilty. I let it fill me up, occupying the space where Addie should have been, shoving away everything I didn’t want to think about, didn’t want to feel.

  “I’m a mess,” I snapped, “because I can’t remember where my own body was for the last few hours. I can’t remember because I wasn’t there. And now Addie’s gone, and I think she hates me, and I have no idea when she’s coming back, or what we’ll do then. Have you ever been in a fight with someone in your own head?”

  Dr. Lyanne was silent, but only for a second. When she spoke again, her voice was sharp, her words blunt. “Eva, tell me what’s going on.”

  But I couldn’t.

  I spun around. Ran out the front door. I slammed it against Dr. Lyanne’s voice, the call of my name. I ran for the stairs—not up, but down, toward the street. Up, and she could corner me. Down, I could be free, if only for a few more hours.

  My feet slipped on the last flight of stairs—I grabbed for the railing but slammed onto my tailbone anyway, so hard I bit back a scream. I slid down the remaining stairs, coming to a painful stop at the bottom.

  “Eva!” Vince shouted. He’d just entered the building. He darted toward me. “You all right?”

  I nodded, brushing aside his hands as he tried to help me up. It had always been Addie who hated being touched. But right now, the disgust at the feel of someone else’s skin was mine alone.

  Vince was smiling. It contrasted so sharply with what I felt that I just stared at him, like my mind couldn’t comprehend how we could feel such different emotions at the same time, in almost the same space. “I was coming to get you,” he said. “It’s now. It’s happening now.”

  “What is? What’s happening now?”

  His voice dropped to a whisper. “We’re going to the hospital. To get the liquid oxygen, remember? You said you wanted to come.”

  To the hospital to get the liquid oxygen. To steal the liquid oxygen.

  “Ryan—” I said.

  Vince’s smile dimmed. He reached out again, and this time I didn’t shy away. “Look, I know he said he wanted to go, and I get he wants to help. But it’s going to be dangerous enough for the rest of us, let alone him. Think about what happens if he gets caught, Eva.”

  There were footsteps on the stairs above us. The click of heels. It might not be Dr. Lyanne, but I wasn’t going to stay and find out.

  Vince was right about it being worse for Ryan if he was seen. If we went and we were caught, I’d never forgive myself for having put him in danger. Not when I could have kept him safe.

  “You ready?” Vince’s expression was so open, his eyebrows raised.

  Don’t do this, a part of me whispered. Don’t go. Stop. Just stop. Go back upstairs.

  Next to me, Addie was a great black hole.

  I straightened and tried to ignore the pain shooting up my spine.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Vince and I melted easily into the evening crowd. When Ryan and I walked through the streets, people tended to pay attention. People shot us looks—some covertly, some not. It was a lot better than it had been in Lupside, at least. Ryan always ignored them, and I’d grown used to doing the same. Walking with Vince, there was no need to pretend no one was staring, because no one was. Eventually, I even stopped checking over my shoulder for Dr. Lyanne.

  “What?” I said, when I caught Vince watching me.

  He gave a one-sided shrug. He was so much taller than me that it felt awkward to crane my neck up when we stood side by side. “Look, about what happened back at my place—”

  I flinched and almost stopped walking. “You were there?”

  “No, no, of course not. Jackson told me, though, after. Before he, you know, vanished.” He grinned. “I think you freaked him out a bit with the screaming.”

  “I didn’t scream.” My eyes cut away from his, searching for something to feign interest in.

  “Hey, I’m just kidding,” Vince said. We stopped, waiting for the walk signal at an intersection, and he bent down a little, lowering his voice. “You’re all right, though, aren’t you?”

  I met his gaze. He looked uncharacteristically serious, and I nodded.

  “Good.” The stoplight changed. He took hold of my arm and said, with cheeky aplomb, “Come on, then. Let’s go commit a crime.”

  Josie met Vince and me at the photography shop. She’d gathered her hair up in a tight ponytail, emphasizing the blunt cut of her bangs. Her jacket was dark, almost black. She looked harsher than I’d ever seen her before.

/>   I wished it were Sabine in control. Sabine’s confidence meant a lot, I was coming to realize. It came through in the steadiness of her gaze, the grace of her walk. And it bled into everyone around her—made them confident, too.

  Sunset came slow and late here, even in fall, but darkness cloaked the city by the time Josie pulled into a parking lot near Benoll Hospital.

  We crossed the street, Josie whispering directions as we walked. “Vince, I need you over the fence with me. Stay close behind. We don’t want to give the security camera any footage. Eva, stand watch for us.”

  On the far end of the hospital’s back lot, encircled by a tall chain-link fence, loomed the dark shadows of the oxygen tanks: one big cylinder a couple feet in diameter and twice as tall, several smaller ones about waist height. Some kind of rack stood inside the fence, too, with what I guessed to be the smallest tanks. The area was thankfully unlit.

  “I have a pretty good idea where the camera’s blind spots are, but just in case one of us does get in its line of sight . . .” Josie pulled three makeshift masks from her bag. Ski masks, with eye and mouth holes cut out. Like the ones criminals wore in movies. Laughter gurgled, sickly sweet, in the back of my throat.

  “Really?” I whispered.

  “This way, at least they can’t get a shot of your face.” Josie tossed a mask at me, then pulled on hers. “Come on.”

  The wool was hot and itchy against my skin. I grimaced and pulled at it, trying to make it more comfortable. With their faces covered up, Josie and Vince were strange, dark figures. What did I look like? Purposeful, menacing, like them? Or just some stupid girl wearing a ski hat over her face?

  Josie motioned for me to stop walking when we were a dozen or so yards from the fence. She shoved a tiny flashlight into my hands. “Stand here. If anything happens, flash this in our direction, okay?”