Body Parts

by Jessica Kapp

  “What’s in it for him?” He plops down on the bed. “A pretty redhead?”

  I slug him in the leg. “The satisfaction of doing the right thing.”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  “Do you think he wants to live in the basement of a barn?”

  “I just have a hard time believing he’s just being friendly.” Parker’s forearm presses against my back, a little too close for friends to sit. I lean forward, but Parker notices. “What’s going on between you two?”

  “Nothing.” Immediately regretting the hole I’ve put myself in, I backtrack. “I mean, we’re getting to know each other, hanging out.”

  “I noticed you’re also holding hands. Have you kissed?”

  I rub my hands together, a reaction that probably makes me look guilty. My palms are moist. This is not how I wanted to break the news to Parker, not through an interrogation.

  “Is it hot in here?” I stand to crack the window.

  “I guess that means you have.”

  I pull the window up and let the fresh air envelop me. I need to compartmentalize my thoughts so I can talk about the pact, how silly it was to commit to something without knowing where life would take us—or whom it would bring into our lives.

  I turn and Parker is on his feet. He takes two steps and kisses me before I can get my hands up to hold him back. His lips are plump and forceful, like he’s trying to infuse me with all the memories of our time together.

  “What are you doing?” I push him away, covering my mouth.

  “I just thought—”

  Parker stops when we hear footsteps in the hallway. I lean against the windowsill. Gavin enters the room and looks from Parker to me with concern.

  “What’s wrong with your mouth?” Gavin asks.

  I drop my hand.

  “We were just reconnecting,” Parker says, keeping his back to Gavin.

  Gavin’s mouth is in a firm line, his voice sharp. “The delivery driver called in sick. If we want pizza, we have to go get it.”

  I look at Parker, who has probably been kept on a strict diet of healthy foods at the Flat House. I struggle to keep my voice steady as he stares back with a smug expression. “You’ll love pizza. It’s worth the drive.”

  “Let’s go, then,” Gavin says.

  “Why don’t you two go?” I blurt out.

  “Us?” Parker says.

  Gavin’s face tightens like he’s been slapped.

  “I need to freshen up.” I keep my head down so I don’t reveal the truth. I don’t want to be around either of them right now. Maybe if they get to know one another, it’ll be easier for Parker to understand Gavin is a good guy, and perhaps Gavin will see there’s more to Parker than anger and muscles.

  “I’m not leaving her here alone. Not when they’re after her,” Parker says. “I’ll stay here and nap while Tabitha showers.” A sly grin pulls at his lips. “You go ahead.”

  Gavin walks up to Parker, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Nah. Come with me.” He shakes him lightly, like they’re teammates on the baseball field. “It’ll be fun. Tabitha will be safe.” Gavin turns to me. “If anyone comes by, head to the lab. It locks from the inside as well. Bolt it and stay quiet.” He hesitates for a moment. I wonder if he’s going to change his mind, but he pulls Parker out the door.

  I stay in the room, pretending to busy myself by airing out the blanket. When I hear the truck pull away, I squeeze my pillow in relief. A small, red pill falls out and hits the floor. The Fireball. It must have been trapped in the corner of the pillowcase. Why would Ms. Preen need some love pill anyway? A picture of her in a scantily clad outfit with a burly man flashes in my head. It’s disturbing, and I shudder. Isn’t natural passion good enough?

  I put it in my pocket with the one pill I have left from Kenny, the one I refused to take when my instincts about him crept back to the surface. If Cherry gave me the right medication, then what did Kenny give me? Do I even have a heart condition? If not, what have I been taking for the last decade?

  I wander toward the basement, wanting to look at the book Gavin paged through when we came to test my pill. But when I reach the kitchen, a bag on the counter moves on its own. I scurry out to the living room. There has to be another medical book around here I can use.

  I find a small patch of unused space on the couch and begin to rummage through the piles.

  Gavin’s dad must be brilliant. The formulas look like hieroglyphics, and there are stacks and stacks of them. When I compare a few, I notice they’re slight variations of the same problem. A number or letter changed here or there, a few notes about diluting some chemical or changing the mixture. I wonder if this is what his father has spent his career working on.

  I notice there are a few books on top of the piano, and I gravitate toward them. My fingers are more interested in the keys at first, and I let myself play a few notes, amazed at how easily a song pours out.

  Do I know it?

  I do. My mother taught me to play.

  I sit on the bench and let my fingers stumble through a broken rendition of a nursery rhyme. Each time I strike a chord, it feels like something is cracking open inside my head, pieces of an eggshell falling away. A thick yolk of memories floods my mind. My hands tingle as if my mother’s fingers are helping me hit the right keys. Her hair smells like lavender. I close my eyes and I’m transported back to my childhood.

  She lets go of my fingers and stands to the side, beaming in her white polo and khaki shorts. Her hair hangs over her shoulder, the red tips grazing a sticker on her shirt that reads I Give. I want to stop playing so I can throw my arms around her, but I’m afraid she’ll fade if the music stops.

  When I finish the song, I look down at my fingers and see that I’m trembling. I hop up and back away from the piano, keeping my eye on it as if my mom will miraculously appear. This wasn’t a dream. This was a memory.

  Memories I haven’t had until I left the Center and ran out of pills.

  I swipe the books off the piano and run back to Gavin’s room, scouring them for information. The first one covers Alzheimer’s, a disease that deprived the elderly of memories, stripping them of their connection to loved ones. It sounds horrible, but thankfully it’s been eradicated.

  The next book is more of a medical journal with information on something called the hippocampus. It’s an overview of how the tube-shaped structure in the brain is responsible for forming and processing memories.

  The last book proves most useful. In the index, I find information on medication to help patients with mental trauma. I flip through the chapter and find a picture of a pale green pill with a line through the center. I pull the pill Kenny gave me out of my pocket and hold it up to the page.

  They’re identical.

  I read the first paragraph: Memoritum may be used to help suppress memories in patients who have undergone a traumatic, life-altering event. Taken regularly, the patient will be able to prohibit any negative memories from resurfacing so that they may maintain an adequate state of wellbeing. Patients may experience headaches if they stop taking this medication without a doctor’s supervision. Taking a pain medication in conjunction with a reduced Memoritum dosage may help alleviate migraines.

  My heart is pounding when I reach the end. This is why I have no memories. Was there even an accident? Is my mom alive? And where’s my dad? I scour the page, trying to find information on whether the memories will return. There’s nothing that says they will, but if my dreams are any indication, they might.

  I hear the truck pull up and hurry to the living room, using my finger to bookmark the page.

  Parker comes in first, kicking the door back with his heel as he carries one pizza. Gavin stops it with the box he’s holding and glares at Parker like he’s trying to burn a hole through him with his eyes.

  My idea to bring them together must have backfired, but I’m too excited to worry about that right now. “Look what I found!”

  Parker grabs the book befo
re Gavin can put his pizza box on the coffee table. “An old book?” He scowls at the pages.

  I point to the section about Memoritum. “This is what the Center made me take.”

  Gavin reads over Parker’s shoulder. “Propannalean was just a cover,” Gavin says with relief. “You don’t have a heart condition. They just wanted to wipe out your memory.”

  “Why?” Parker clutches the book, blocking Gavin from reading any further.

  “Do you remember when they brought me to the Center?” I ask Parker.

  A flirtatious grin expands across his face. “I’ll never forget it.”

  Gavin proceeds to clear the couch off as if he doesn’t want to listen, but he’s careful not to rustle papers, so I know he is.

  “You had bandages on your hands, and they kept you away from the rest of us at first. You’d watch us play, frowning the entire time. Then, one day you were ready to join in. Your hair was in pigtails and you wore a white dress, and you skipped over to me and the twins and asked if you could play. They’d given you a nametag to wear, but you had it on upside down. I had to tilt my head to read it.”

  My heart expands as he retells the story, sharing details I don’t even recall. Parker has always had a way of making me feel important enough not to forget.

  Somewhere in the midst of Parker’s story, Gavin disappeared. “Dinner’s ready,” he says, coming back from the kitchen with paper plates.

  I sit next to Gavin, smelling the pepperoni longer than necessary. Parker sits across from us in a lounge chair and seems at odds with the cheese that stretches between his mouth and the slice before snapping. But when he bites down, his face lights up like the moon on a clear night.

  “This is incredible.”

  “Glad you like it,” Gavin responds. They share a smile, and my body relaxes.

  “I’m starting to remember my past,” I say to Parker. “I saw my hands in bandages, like you described, and dreamed my mom was kidnapped. Only it wasn’t a dream. I got away and a woman brought me to a building where they started giving me pills. That must be how I ended up at the Center.”

  “Did they ever tell you anything about Tabitha?” Gavin asks.

  Parker looks annoyed he has to stop chewing in order to answer. “They told us she had some head trauma from the car accident her parents died in. We were told not to ask her about it because it might make her cry.” Parker shifts uncomfortably. “Every morning at breakfast they’d give her a little pill, and someone would stand next to her to make sure she took it.” Parker squeezes in another bite. “Until it became routine, and she took it on her own.”

  We chew in silence while the cloud of uncertainty hangs over us. Parker finishes four slices and wipes his hands on his shorts. “Mind if I shower?”

  Gavin grabs him a towel from the hall closet, and when the bathroom door opens, I crane my neck to peek in. It’s the one room I haven’t actually seen, and it’s clean. It must not be the one his father uses.

  Parker shuts the door and Gavin flashes me a dubious grin.

  “I thought you needed to freshen up earlier?”

  “I did,” I lie.

  “Then how come nothing’s been touched, not even the hand towel?”

  I shrug. “Did you get to know each other on the drive?”

  “Parker’s a good guy. I can see that. You don’t need to force us into a friendship.”

  He sits next to me on the couch and I snuggle close. His arm slips around me as he talks into my hair. “Parker’s in love with you.” My heart kicks into a nervous speed. “You can’t expect him to like me. And I can’t expect you to forget any feelings you might have for him.”

  I look at Gavin and his expression makes my chest ache. I know I’m holding back because I don’t want to get hurt. Parker is familiar, someone I can trust. I care about them both. It’s not fair to either of them.

  Gavin kisses my forehead then whispers in my ear, “He’s not the only one in love with you.”

  My heart feels like it doubles in size, but I don’t answer. Instead, I let myself melt into him, enjoying the few minutes we have where I can be in his arms without hurting anyone.

  Chapter 23

  Gavin’s bedroom seems to trap the heat of three bodies as we lie, listening to each other breathe. My lids are heavy, and I’m drifting off to sleep when someone pokes my arm. I look down from the bed and Gavin has a finger to his mouth, signaling me to keep quiet.

  I glance across the room at Parker. His image is dark in the moonlight that bleeds through the curtains. I can’t tell if he’s asleep, but Gavin speaks so softly I can barely hear him, which means Parker can’t unless he took an ultrasonic hearing pill.

  “I’ve been thinking about where we could go to keep you safe, and I keep coming back to the same answer. We can’t stay in Gladstone.”

  “I can’t just leave,” I whisper. “What about my friends? Not just Paige and Parker, but the ones still at the Center—the ones who will die if we don’t get them out.”

  “Even if we stay there’s not much we can do. Hospital security has been beefed up and we’ve lost our inside guy. There’s no way we’re getting anyone else out without help.” Gavin reaches for my hand. “We can either keep hiding and spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, or find someone who can help.”

  I shake my head. “Who’s going to believe us?”

  “Not the local cops, that’s for sure.” His fingers trace my skin, sending a tingle down my arm. “I imagine PharmPerfect could slip them enough drugs or money to buy their silence. We’ll need to go higher up, find some Feds.”

  “Some what?”

  “Government investigators.”

  “What makes you think they’ll listen?” My eyes are starting to adjust and I can see a wry smile on Gavin’s face.

  “Because unlike the others, you had a life before the Center. You had a family, a birth certificate, and a past. They can test your DNA and confirm you never died in a car accident. That’s a place to start, a way to pique their interest.”

  “But how? I can’t just walk onto the ferry. Sasha told me no one leaves without ID.”

  Gavin moves his hand to my cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Let me worry about that.” He sits up and kisses me. I can’t help but look at Parker when Gavin pulls away. Even in the dark, I can see the confidence fade from Gavin’s face. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  I read through his words: Are you sure about us?

  “Of course I’m sure.” I lean forward and kiss him again.

  “Then all you need to worry about is picking a new hair color.” He lies back and puts his hands behind his head like he’s gazing up at the stars. “Since Kenny may have tipped them off about the brown, what do you think about dyeing it black?”

  I flip my pillow to feel the cool fabric against my cheek and whisper, “I’ll be any color but blonde.”

  • • •

  My dreams are vivid, a replay of all of the past dreams merged into one. I sit up with a headache, but the throbbing is duller than it used to be. Perhaps knowing they’re real makes the pain manageable. Parker is standing, fidgeting by the closet. I can sense he’s about to burst if he doesn’t get out of the room. He keeps lifting his knees, stretching like he’s preparing for a run. I remember that feeling, the need to expel energy when I first left the Center. Gavin looks relaxed in his position on the floor until we hear a car slow outside. In a flash, Gavin and I are on our feet, all of us glancing at each other in trepidation.

  “How did they find me?” I ask.

  “They didn’t,” Gavin says when he peeks through the curtain. “It’s my dad. Stay quiet.”

  Parker and I don’t have time to ask questions. Gavin leaves the room, shutting us in with the lights off.

  “Why are we hiding?” Parker asks.

  “I’m not sure. I had to hide last time too.”

  “That’s a little suspicious, don’t you think?”

  I remind myself that
Parker isn’t being objective. He has ulterior motives. A pact that needs to be addressed.

  “We need to talk.” I pull him toward the only place to sit in the room—the bed. Not ideal, but my options are limited. I put a foot of space between us. Parker’s shoulders are so broad it seems pointless to distance myself. “Were you always this big?” I ask in a whisper.

  “I worked a little harder after you got out.” Parker puts a hand on my thigh. “I had to keep my mind busy.”

  I go to lift his hand, but he moves it quickly, trapping mine underneath. A tight ball forms in my stomach.

  “Parker…I need you to know how much I care about you.”

  “I care about you too, Tabitha.” His voice is soft and sultry, not the right tone for where I’m going. He leans forward and I pull back.

  “I know we’ve been friends for a long time, that we had a pact, but everything has been a whirlwind since I got out. Gavin and I are…together.” I feel my fingers being squeezed as Parker struggles to keep his smile. “I know we agreed to try dating on the outside, but I didn’t know when you’d get out. I didn’t plan on falling for Gavin.”

  He retracts his arm like I’ve bitten him, and the muscles in his jaw work overtime. “Oh. I get it,” he finally says. “He’s got you brainwashed into trusting him.” He waves his hand flippantly over his head. “Funny how you think he’s genuine yet he can’t even introduce you to his dad.”

  “His dad’s a scientist at PharmPerfect, so they aren’t on the best terms. I’m sure Gavin’s just trying to keep me safe. I know what I’m doing, Parker. I can think for myself.” Parker’s scowl tells me he’s not convinced. He’s lucky I’m trying to consider his feelings; otherwise I’d wallop him right now. “I care about him, and Gavin cares about me.”

  “He doesn’t know anything about you.” Parker stands abruptly, poking at the trophies and pendants around the room. “Ten years, Tabitha. That’s a long time to get to know someone.” He folds his hands behind his back while he paces from wall to wall. “I bet he doesn’t know your favorite color, what your dream house looks like, or what kind of wedding dress you want to wear.”