by Jessica Kapp
Cherry grabs Gavin’s shoulder and almost purrs, “Have fun, then.”
He wiggles away, and a crease forms between his eyes. Was he expecting me to entertain Cherry with him? I’d rather busy my brain with other things. Life. Freedom. Friends. Dare I say, family? I’m not going to compete with a doll for the interest of someone who might not be interested in me at all.
Adrian waits for me in the hallway with an extra set of tools. He stutters a little at first, trying to explain how phone signals can be intercepted and how he can boost the strength with some wires and other items. Most of what he says goes over my head, either because he talks too fast or explains things far beyond lessons they taught at the Center. They didn’t want us to learn. They just wanted to strengthen our brains and eyes so they could sell them.
What I do understand is fascinating, and I try to take it all in, interrupting him when I need him to repeat or reword things. I must be his first pupil, because his face lights up when I ask questions.
“The Centers send out a signal that’s locked to prevent mainland cities from accidentally intercepting the transmission,” Adrian says.
“But you managed to break in?”
His chest puffs. “Yeah, well, electronics are kind of a hobby of mine. And it’s not just the Centers; I can tap into hospital chatter too.”
“To find out when they need a donor?”
“Or when there’s an unwanted baby.” Adrian shifts his weight uneasily. “St. Vincent’s lets the Center for Growth know there’s been a birth, and there’s a flurry of conversation after that about weight, length, gender, all that stuff.”
“Not Gladstone Memorial?”
“Sometimes, but most of the babies come from the hospital in the Junkie District. Nurses convince families to give up their kids, and PharmPerfect gives them a kickback.”
“So, the parents and nurses are making money selling babies?” It feels like someone cinched a rope around my waist. That must be where Paige, Meghan, and Parker came from.
“Sick, isn’t it?” Adrian says. “But, to be fair, the parents are told their kids will be fostered out to loving homes, not dissected.”
“Does St. Vincent’s know?”
“I’m sure there are a few who don’t mind a bonus check, if you know what I mean.”
I nod, wishing I didn’t.
“St. Vincent’s started out doing blood drives, selling extra blood to Gladstone Memorial for transfusions. Somehow, that transitioned to selling babies,” he says, his eyes serious. “And wouldn’t you know it, five years ago, S.V. built a new medical wing.”
Adrian fumbles around for a spiral notebook hidden in a drawer underneath his workstation. “I’ve been trying to keep track of how many have been sold. This year alone, I’ve counted eleven.” He flips the page. “And here are the deals the Centers made for parts.”
I look at the notebook. There are no names, but there are prices, ranging upwards of twenty thousand dollars. At the bottom of the page is a zero with a star next to it. I lean closer to try to read the details, but Adrian shuts it.
“Is it true, what Gavin said about you?” he asks. “That you weren’t sold as an infant? He said the Center for Growth took you in when you were six.”
“Yeah, it’s true.”
“But how is that possible?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just shocked they allowed you to be around other kids. Weren’t they afraid of what you’d tell them? At the Center, you’re taught health and fitness. They don’t give you ice cream or fast food. But you would have known about all that, maybe even told kids about the outside world.”
“I guess I was too little.” My voice is weak and unsure. Why don’t I remember the simple things? Have I really blocked out that much? Would the Center have gone so far as to mess with our minds? It seems unlikely since they need our brains in tip-top shape, but an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach.
I think hard, and a memory cracks open from my first few weeks at the Center. I’m sitting by myself inside a room, staring out the window. Kids are running around, playing hopscotch and tag, laughing with delight. I’m angry. My hands are wrapped in towels, and I can see blood stains where my knuckles peak. I don’t want to be there.
The memory is fuzzy, and I don’t know what it means. Of course I was angry; my parents had died. But the anger didn’t feel like it emanated from grief. It was brought on by something else. Why can’t I remember the accident? And why didn’t another family member adopt me?
The sound of heels clicking against the concrete makes my body tense.
“Thanks for bringing me out here,” Cherry says as she and Gavin enter the hallway. Adrian’s eyes trace her legs and pause on her breasts before finally resting on her face. I want to sock him in the arm. Cherry smiles as if she didn’t notice, and I consider socking her too. Just because of where she works.
Gavin stops next to Adrian and me. “I’m taking Cherry back to town,” he says.
“Oh, you’re leaving so soon?” I cock my head at Cherry and smile.
Gavin’s mouth crooks, and there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. I might as well wear a sign in bold green letters that reads: I’m jealous.
“You should join us,” he says to me. Cherry’s head snaps to look at him, and a small frown grazes her lips.
“I can’t,” I blurt out. “I’m helping Adrian with—”
“I’ve got it. Go ahead.” Adrian pushes me away from the table and I step on the manicured toes peeking out of Cherry’s shoes.
“Ow!”
“Sorry!” I glare at Adrian. He’s lucky I don’t give him a fat lip.
Cherry bends down to clean her shoe, and Gavin catches my eye. I feel like I’m treading water to keep from sinking again. And I’m losing.
He claps his hands together and grins. “Then it’s settled. You’re coming with us.”
Crap.
Cherry’s mouth pops open like she wants to object, but Gavin motions for us to head out before she can. Somehow I end up first on the ladder, so pretending I’m being called back to the main room isn’t an option. Cherry scales the ladder as if she were clinging to a skyscraper, and out of impatience, I extend my hand and haul her up the last few rungs.
“My goodness, you’re as strong as a man,” she says. Gavin chuckles when he emerges, and I scowl at him.
“You would know, Cherry. You seem to have all my stats,” I shoot back.
She looks hurt, and Gavin gives a slight shake of his head behind her.
As we walk to the truck, Cherry suddenly has a surge of energy and makes it to the passenger door before me. Gavin moves to open the door for her, but before he does, he pulls out two bandanas.
“Time to put these on. Cherry, I’ll put yours on first.”
I watch as he positions it over her eyes. When he pulls the knot tight, she grimaces.
“Now her, right?” Cherry’s voice lacks the confidence it had inside.
“Yes, Tabitha’s next.” He puts his finger up to his lips and hands me the bandana. When he opens the door, he motions at the hat on the seat. I grab it and tuck my hair safely away as he helps a blind Cherry load up.
“Can you help me buckle?” she asks, lifting her arms to the roof.
I go around and squeeze into the back seat, sliding in behind Cherry. Gavin talks to us both while he drives, but he’s beaming at me. Proud of his deception and, if I’m not mistaken, glad to have me witness it.
“You know the rules. Blindfolds stay on until I tell you it’s safe to remove them.” Gavin steals looks at me every so often, and my stomach flutters.
“Are we still going to see a movie soon, Gavin?” Cherry asks.
The flutter turns to a twist.
“We’ll figure something out,” he says.
“We don’t have to see a show. You could come for dinner? My mother hasn’t seen you in a while. Maybe you can swing by this weekend?”
“We’ll see.”
&nb
sp; His answers are short, but not cold. I wish I knew what the story was between them. Her hand floats across the seat, and she reaches out to touch his arm. He doesn’t scoot away. The way her finger traces his skin, I can tell there’s history there.
I lean in and yell in the gap by the window and her seat. “So, Cherry, how’s the job going?” She jumps a little, and I swallow a laugh.
Her hand is back in her lap. Mission accomplished.
Gavin smirks.
“The job is fine, Tabitha. It breaks my heart that I can’t do more to help, but at least I’m in a position to do something.”
That felt like a dig.
“I know what you mean,” I say, gripping the back of her seat with both hands. I could stick a finger out and poke her face if I wanted to. Cherry doesn’t move. “The problem I had,” I continue, “was that the position I was in, being locked up at the Center for ten years, made it hard to do anything. But now that I’m out—thanks to you—that shouldn’t be a problem.”
A smile tugs at Gavin’s lips. Cherry won’t intimidate me, and I have no intention of sitting by idly while my friends die. We sit in silence for a few miles, and after some pretend detours where Gavin exits, makes a few turns and gets back on the same road we were on, he tells us to remove our blindfolds. Cherry glances around her seat, and I quickly rub my eyes as if I’ve been wearing the bandana the entire time.
“Did I tie it too tight?” Gavin asks me.
“A little,” I say. Gavin drums the steering wheel and kicks on some music. The musician sounds like he’s yelling to be heard over the guitar.
Cherry turns the knob until some upbeat love song comes on. A girl, slightly off key, sings about a boy she’s crazy for and the million ways she’s going to let him know. Gavin sticks his finger in his throat and pretends to gag. I laugh and Cherry hits him with a weak fist.
“I love this song, Gav.” She rubs his shoulder, as if she hurt him, then leans in with her lips inches from his ear to add, “It reminds me of our first date.”
Now it’s my turn to gag.
Luckily, I don’t have to endure Cherry much longer. We pull into a parking lot full of shiny cars with fancy hood ornaments. Cherry unbuckles and waits for Gavin to come open the door for her.
Gavin doesn’t disappoint, lifting her down as if she might twist an ankle when she plummets twelve inches. She shuts the truck door and they stand outside her car, a red convertible with the top down, showcasing the white leather seats. Jewel-encrusted cherries hang from her rearview mirror by a silver chain.
I have a clear shot of the back of Gavin’s head and a nice view of Cherry’s chest. She says something as she points to the building. A car goes by, and a large gate slides open. The hum is faint, but I recognize it immediately and my heart flips. A gray sedan passes through and curls around to the hidden enclosure.
I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
How could I be so stupid? We’re at Cherry’s work. We’re at the Center.
Gavin seems oblivious to the car that went by. Cherry hugs him close, pushing her breasts into him. She glances at the truck, and when she sees I’m watching, she kisses him on the cheek.
Why did he bring me here?
She removes a piece of paper from her glove box and hands it to Gavin before she follows a path around the side of the building, heading back to her desk.
I play with the bandana in my hand, twisting the fabric tight; thinking about how good it’s going to feel when I shut the Center down.
Chapter 12
Gavin hops in the truck and I’m grateful for the roar of the engine. He can’t hear me sigh.
“Are you going to join me up here?” He taps the vacant seat.
I’d rather be alone with my thoughts, but I unbuckle and move to the front. The seat smells like cherries. How fitting.
At least I have an open view from up here. It’s easy to lose myself in the world around me, it moves along without worry. Everything seems so organized—the way the crowds glide along the sidewalk, the flow of traffic. Plus, the colors are a nice reprieve from the drab basement I’ve been hiding in.
“Why are you so quiet?” he asks.
“You just took me back to the place that raised me for parts. How am I supposed to be?” I can tell by the way his mouth twitches that he hadn’t really considered how being near the Center would make my anxiety spike.
“I’m sorry,” he says. I turn my eyes back toward the road. “I thought you’d want to come along, it didn’t dawn on me—”
“Why did you bring me?”
“Because I wanted to take you through tomorrow’s rescue plan.” Gavin pinches his nose and takes a deep breath. “Sasha’s never wanted to go near the hospital again, and there’s no way I’d let Mary go.” He drops his hand and locks eyes with me. “I thought you’d be okay, but maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“It is! I’m fine.” He eyes me suspiciously and I shut my mouth, remembering I need to control my emotions if I’m going to prove I’m ready. But after my talk with Sasha about putting everyone at risk, maybe I’m not ready. What if something goes wrong? The air feels like it’s been sucked out of the van, and I crack the window. “I’m okay. I promise.”
“You don’t have to come—”
“I want to.”
He flicks on the blinker and changes lanes. “We could always use more eyes and ears, but…” There’s trepidation in his voice. “I’m not going to lie, it’s dangerous. The only reason our mission to save you went smoothly was because we had inside help from Kenny.”
“I can do this. Trust me.”
He looks in his rearview mirror as if he can still see the Center. “Just so you know, Cherry connected us with Kenny. That’s the only reason I keep in touch with her.” He gives me a sideways smile.
When we reach the hospital, Gavin points out the surgical floors from the car. “That’s where they take the kids as soon as they’re sedated—we think they’re given something to knock them out once they get here.”
“Caramels,” I say under my breath.
“Candy?”
“That’s what they gave me.”
“Candy.” Gavin shakes his head and turns down the next street. “So the sick bastards use sugar to knock kids out before sedating them for surgery.”
“Wait. Their organs are harvested while they’re alive?”
He shifts in his seat, his eyes on the road when he answers. “Well, yeah. They want the organs to be as fresh as possible.”
“Unbelievable.” My stomach twists. I tap him on the shoulder when I feel like I’m about to throw up. “Get me out of here.”
Gavin reaches over and grabs my hand.
“We’ve built a good team,” he says. “We got you out, didn’t we?” He keeps glancing over, like he can’t relax unless he knows I believe him.
I squeeze his fingers and nod. But the thought of heading into the hospital to rescue someone makes my heart speed up like I’ve stepped onto the track. We’re racing to save a life, and there’s no second chance if we fail.
Gavin pulls his hand away and turns down a street. “We’re going to take a detour. A real detour.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “But this time I want you to close your eyes.”
I hold up the bandana. “Do you want me to put this on?”
“No. I trust you.”
My ears warm, and I cover my face.
He drives slowly, turning a few times, which makes my stomach swish without a horizon to focus on. Then the truck stops, and Gavin kills the engine.
I can smell the salt and sand before I open my eyes. We’re at the waterfront. Without a gate. Without any walls. It’s the first time I’ve seen the ocean up close without a chain-link fence in the way.
And it’s incredible.
I fumble with the door handle, but Gavin is outside my window before I can get my hand to cooperate with the lever. He opens the door and helps me out. A few cars are scattered in the parking lot. They
’re much older than the ones at the Center, with bumper stickers and fender dings.
Gavin convinces me to leave my shoes and socks in the truck. I’m giddy with excitement, and he has to run after me when I hurry down the path that leads to the beach.
I stop when I hit the sand, my feet sinking into the warm grains. It’s soft, but gritty, and tickles when I curl my toes.
“This is amazing,” I say when he catches up. I take a step toward the water, marveling at how the sand molds itself to my foot. I let the waves roll over the tops of my feet and suck in a breath when the cold courses through my body. When my toes are numb, I wade up to my calves, but it’s like someone is vacuuming the sand out from under me.
“Undertow,” Gavin says, as if he knows what I’m about to ask.
“Are you coming in?”
“Maybe in a minute.” He grins from the safety of the shore and I kick water at him, missing his shorts, but not by much. His legs are well defined, but a shade lighter than his arms.
I block the sun with my hand. “I’m going to break out in freckles after today.”
“Good.” He comes a little closer, his hands in his pockets. “I like your freckles.”
My cheeks feel flushed, and I look down the shoreline.
“It goes on for miles,” he says, following my gaze. “Let’s take a walk.” When he removes his hands from his pockets our fingers brush, and there’s a flutter in my chest. Then he slips his hand into mine.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I say.
“I figured you needed something like this.”
“It’s exactly what I needed.”
A woman running along the beach smiles as she passes us and a couple tossing a Frisbee says hello. No one stares at me like I don’t fit in. I’m just a person enjoying life. Like I belong in this world.
“You don’t like the water?” I ask, watching him sidestep any waves that try to kiss his feet.
“Not seawater.” He cringes, and I wait for him to explain. “My grandpa and I used to fish a lot. He was always talking about omega oils and how great fish were for the body, so we’d stay out all day trying to catch our fill. My dad even made him fish oil vitamins to take in the winter.”