I turn around. KJ’s face lies inches from mine. Familiar and unfamiliar. The person I know best in all the world and the only one I know who will never let me down. I’ve been so afraid of things changing between us, I nearly destroyed our friendship. And now everything has changed anyway.
“I’m a mess,” I say. “Everything I do turns into a disaster.”
KJ touches my cheek. “You’re not a mess. You’re the bravest person I know.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t have to do all this alone. I’ll be with you. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together.”
I let the world shrink until there is nothing in it but the two of us. The sweetness in KJ’s face eases my fears, the light in his brown eyes finally warms the chill in my chest. He leans toward me, and when we kiss, his lips block out the past and fill up the future. I taste his tongue. It’s warm and rich, like new grass growing in the spring. Like life and the chance to live it.
We cling together for a long time. With each caress, the burdens I carry grow a little bit more bearable.
KJ strokes the curve of my nose. I trace the line of his cheekbone, letting my fingers drift over the roughness of his cheeks. KJ sighs.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he whispers.
I touch his lips. KJ slides his teeth over my finger, nibbling with exquisite gentleness. My world grows a little wider, steadied by the comfort of his presence.
“What about Shannon?” I ask.
KJ lets go of my finger.
“Yeah, that.” He studies my chin. “I was stupid. I was mad at you and she was so …” He shakes his head. “I’ll tell her it’s over in the morning.”
A flare of guilt dims my pleasure and, as if the ugly emotion opened a door, other worries crowd in. I wriggle out of KJ’s embrace and sit up.
“How are we going to survive out there?” I ask. “We have nowhere to live. We don’t have IDs or money.”
KJ moves to sit beside me. “If we stay here, we won’t survive at all,” he says.
His hand slides around to the back of my neck, fingers skimming the tiny bump that lives beneath my skin.
“We’ll have to cut our trackers out,” he says.
I nod. The idea doesn’t sound so scary anymore.
“What about everyone else?” I ask. “If we can’t take them, at least we should tell them. They can stop taking Aclisote.”
“That only works until the next blood test. Besides, it’s better if Barnard doesn’t suspect that we know Aclisote is bad.”
Out of nowhere, Calvin’s face pops into my head—the cheerful, unparanoid Calvin, who used to rag on KJ about his fascination with computers, the one who loved history books and once told me that he wished he had time to learn to play the guitar. I gnaw on one of my thumbnails. The agonized moans I’d heard through the clinic walls come back to me. My jaw tightens. So many deaths, so much suffering, and all because the Norms don’t trust us with the skills we were born with.
I bite down on my thumb hard enough to pierce the skin.
“At least you have to stop taking Aclisote,” I tell KJ.
“I have a blood test first thing tomorrow morning. I won’t take any after that.”
“Ross’s plan was for me to leave at the shift change tomorrow night.” I spit a shred of thumbnail onto the floor. “He was going to cut out my tracker and throw it in the river so it looked like I killed myself. It’s not a bad idea, we can use it ourselves.”
“I’ll come up to my room at six o’clock and wait for you here.” KJ takes my hand in his. “Make sure you grab a scalpel before you leave the clinic.”
The world scalpel makes my neck tingle. I have a momentary burst of panic that we should leave now, right this minute, except I know we can’t. The doors are all locked, we have no idea where to go, and with all that’s happened today, I’m not sure how long I could hold a new freeze. I lean my head on KJ’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?”
“Sorry that Ross isn’t who you thought he was. I know how much he meant to you.”
“Yeah, well.” I look down at our clasped hands, at my bitten thumb sheltered in his palm. “Trusting him wasn’t my biggest mistake.”
“No?” KJ’s voice is soft. “What was?”
In answer, I sink my fingers into his hair and bring his face to mine. KJ pulls me close, both of us sliding back down on the bed. Time passes. I don’t think about Ross, or Shea, or Shannon.
“I should get back,” I say, eventually. “You can’t hold this freeze all night.”
“You’re right,” KJ mumbles into my neck.
Despite our best intentions, it’s another half hour before I make my way to the empty bed waiting for me in the clinic.
I wake before dawn, my mind already buzzing with all the worries that KJ’s caresses temporarily hid. Rain patters against the clinic’s windows. I watch the dull light slowly change the room from dark to pale gray. Where will we sleep tonight? What will we eat?
My stomach rumbles. Objectively, it’s been hours and hours since my last meal, but given that my insides feel like they’re drowning in bile, I don’t have much desire to eat. I yank the covers off and resume the pacing I started the day before, looping uselessly from locked door to barred window. The leash, reattached to my wrist, makes my head fuzzy. How many people will the Center send after us? What will Ross do when he figures out I’ve abandoned him?
The questions circle around in my head, as pointless as my pacing. By 8:00 I feel like I’ve walked ten miles. My muscles are tight and I’ve chewed all ten fingernails down to stubs. When I hear noises in the outer clinic room, I race to my door and stand there, bouncing on the tips of my toes. Maybe I can convince Yolly to give me some kind of sedative. Then I could sleep a few hours, kill half the day so I can fast forward to the part where we can leave.
Multiple voices fill the space outside the door. I put my hand on the knob, waiting for it to turn.
“Over here,” someone says.
“Watch the feet.”
The commotion is ominously familiar. My hand clenches on the metal knob. There’s a squeaking sound, the shuffle of padding shoes. The blood drains from my face.
“Yolly?” I bang on the door.
The people outside pass by me and head to the room beside mine. They’re moving fast, talking about IV drips and fresh sheets. A ball forms in my stomach, heavy as lead.
“Who’s out there?” I yell. “Amy? What’s going on?”
A door shuts. The voices grow muffled.
“Hello?” I beg. No one answers. I run to the other side of the room and press my ear against the wall that separates the two rooms. It doesn’t help. All I can hear are murmurs and the vague rustle of people moving.
I rest my cheek against cool plaster. I can’t let anyone else die. Not now. Not when I know the truth. I shut my eyes and call up the faces of my fellow spinners the last time I was in the common room. Did Shannon look drained? Had Jack mentioned a particularly bad headache? I roll my head against the wall, knowing predictions are useless, that symptoms mean nothing. The sickness doesn’t give warnings.
The door to my room opens. I spring toward it, then stop abruptly when I see who it is.
“Shannon!”
I edge away from her. Shannon’s eyes are ringed with red, her hair fuzzy where it has slipped from her braid.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Yolly sent me to tell you. She knew you’d want to hear right away.”
Shannon reaches her arms toward me. I put a hand up to stop her. I don’t want comfort, I want facts.
“Who is it?”
Shannon makes a choking sound.
“Dr. Barnard says it happened really fast,” she says. “He said he collapsed during his blood test.”
Goose bumps erupt along my skin. My hands feel like they’re encased in ice.
“Who collapsed?”
&
nbsp; “Oh, Alex.” Shannon’s eyes fill with tears. “It’s KJ.”
20
“NO,” I SAY, THE WORD MORE DENIAL THAN DOUBT. Shannon reaches to hug me again, and again I step away.
“Is it bad?” I ask.
Her lip trembles. She nods.
I clench my hands so tightly that my fingers ache. I should have woken KJ as soon as I got back and refrozen time while the front door was still open. We could have left right then, run away, gone anywhere as long as it was somewhere that Barnard couldn’t poison him. I picture KJ in the hospital bed, imagine the IV dripping Aclisote into his veins.
“Is he …,” I start. The only clear idea in my head is that I have to get KJ out of the Center. “Do you think he can walk?”
“Walk?” Fresh tears well up and trickle down Shannon’s cheeks. “He can’t even sit up. I just came from his room. He looks …” She pauses, clearly struggling to find a word terrible enough to describe how KJ looks, “like someone drained all the life from his body. He’s pale and quiet and so, so still.”
My body feels like someone reached inside and ripped out all my guts. I’m hollow, almost too weak to stand.
“I have to go to him.” I stumble toward the door.
“You can’t.” Shannon spreads her arms to block my way. “You’re not supposed to leave your room. Yolly said she’ll come see you as soon as she can. And Alex—don’t be mad at me—but after I saw KJ, I told Yolly about your chronotin levels.”
Horror freezes my feeble efforts to get past her. “You told Yolly?”
“I couldn’t let you get sick, too! Don’t worry,” she adds, placing her hand on mine, “it will be OK. Dr. Barnard says he’ll change your Aclisote dosage right away.”
“Dr. Barnard.” I repeat the words like an automaton. Shannon gives my hand a gentle stroke.
“Yes. Dr. Barnard will make sure you’re all right.”
The walls of the room seem to be closing in around me. It doesn’t matter how sick KJ is. I have to get us both out of here right now.
I duck around Shannon and shove open the door, ignoring her oh of surprise. My heart thuds like it wants to leap from my chest and get to KJ first. It’s two steps to reach the second sickroom. I nearly yank the door from its hinges in my rush to rip it open.
KJ lies on his back with the sheets pulled up to his chin. I’m at his side with no memory of crossing the room.
“KJ?”
Dried spit forms an uneven line on his lips. The hair I’d run my hands through just a few hours ago flops on the pillow. An IV drips fluid into his arm from a plastic bag mounted over his bed. My vision blurs. How much Aclisote has Barnard given him to make him this sick, this fast?
Footsteps patter behind me.
“I’m so sorry.” Despite the short distance, Shannon is panting. “I tried to stop her.”
I raise my head, my panic lifting enough to register the other occupants of the room. Yolly stands on the far side of the bed, her face tight with anxiety. The night guard, Julio, is in one corner folding up a portable wheelchair. On my side of the bed, inches from me, stands Dr. Barnard.
“That’s all right.” Barnard slides neatly behind Shannon and closes the door. “We were just coming to get her.”
Yolly clasps her hands against her chest.
“We heard about your chronotin levels,” she says. “We’re so worried about you.”
My cheeks prickle as all the blood rushes from my face. How could I have been so stupid as to rush in here without a plan? Now I’m wedged in a corner between the bed and the wall, wearing a leash, surrounded by people who think I’m sick. I put a hand on KJ’s shoulder. Even though the sheets, I can tell he’s burning with fever.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I say.
Yolly sighs. “I can take a blood sample now, if you’d like,” she tells Barnard.
“No.” Barnard settles himself against the door. My grip on KJ tightens.
“If they’re as high as Shannon reports,” Barnard says, “I have to take Alexandra to the Central Office.”
My insides turn liquid. “What?”
“You may not realize it, but you’re a very sick girl.” Barnard pushes his glasses higher on his nose. No one else in the room moves. Yolly is blinking a lot, the way little kids do when they’re trying not to cry.
“I feel fine,” I say.
Barnard shakes his head. “We can’t keep you here in this condition. You might hurt yourself again.”
The metal rails around KJ’s bed are digging into my spine. I focus on the pain to keep from screaming. Yolly and Shannon are both looking at me with a mixture of pity and fear. Barnard’s eyes are cold.
“You know that’s not true,” I tell him.
Barnard’s eyes narrow and any doubt I might have had disappears. He knows exactly what I’m capable of doing. In desperation, I reach out for time. The leash blocks me like a locked door. I turn to Yolly.
“Can’t we wait until KJ wakes up? I’ll go back to my room. You can keep me leashed. I just …” My voice cracks. “I just want to make sure he’s OK.”
Yolly gives an audible sniff. “Surely you can put it off one day,” she says to Barnard.
“No,” he snaps. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous for who?” My voice is rising.
Yolly lowers her chin. Shannon slips around the bed to stand beside her, blond head resting against Yolly’s dark one. Julio starts pretending the wheelchair needs his focused attention.
Barnard moves in my direction and a burst of sheer hatred blasts through me. This is the man who decides our fates, and his decision for me is clear: Barnard has no intention of letting me live past tonight. At the Central Office, no one will ask any awkward questions.
I wait until he’s almost reached me, then dive for the door. Barnard moves just as quickly. When my hand closes on the knob, he slams me against it.
“Let me go!” I shout. His secrets are my only remaining weapons. I hurl them at him, each small burst of knowledge a thrust I hope will find a home.
“You’re killing me. You’re killing all of us!”
Barnard pushes me into the door so hard my face smashes into the wood, cutting off my words. I squirm beneath the pressure. One flailing arm catches his jacket, and I dig my fingers into the rough cotton, ripping, tearing.
“Give me something to restrain her,” Barnard barks.
“Don’t hurt her,” Yolly moans. “It’s not her fault. She’s sick.”
I hear someone rummaging in a cupboard. Barnard is leaning his shoulder into my ribs so hard I can only breathe in shallow gasps.
“Here,” Julio says from behind me.
Barnard gives a grunt of acknowledgment. The two work together to pull my arms behind my back, tying them together with some kind of thin rope. Only when I am secured does Barnard lift his weight from me. I fall forward, inhaling gulps of air. My nose feels like it’s listing sideways.
Barnard keeps a tight grip on my arm. “I’ll drive her out there now.”
I try to pull away. Barnard grips me harder. Think, I scream at myself.
“Yolanda,” Barnard says, “keep an eye on KJ. When Amy gets in, tell her to test his blood twice a day. If his chronotin levels go above 125, raise his dosage.”
“125?!” I shriek. Barnard, his ear inches from my mouth, recoils.
“Please.” I bend my knees, pulling down on the monster holding me, trying to keep him from taking me away. “You’ll kill him.”
Shannon puts a hand over her mouth. Tears are pouring down her cheeks. “Don’t worry,” she tells me. “I’ll take care of him.”
Barnard yanks me to my feet, his fingers pinching the thin skin of my upper arm.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
“Liar!” I writhe under his grip.
“Aclisote is dangerous,” I shout at Yolly and Shannon. “We should have high chronotin levels.”
Ba
rnard opens the door. Julio takes my other arm, and together they start to drag me outside. I twist frantically, gripping the doorframe in my bound hands.
“Please,” I beg Yolly, “listen to me. We’re not meant to have chronotin readings that low. Suppressing it that much will kill him.”
“That’s enough!” Barnard pulls so hard I think my arms might pop from the sockets. “Don’t listen to her, Yolanda. You can see what the chronotin is doing to her. She’s getting irrational.”
“No!” I’m sobbing now, fighting Barnard’s grip like a person possessed.
“Alex.” Yolly reaches toward me even though she is too far away to touch me. I fight harder. If only I can make her understand, Yolly will help me. Yolly will—
“Do you want me to give her a sedative, doctor?”
Hope leaks out of me and I sag in my captors’ arms. The lies about spinner madness have been around for too long. They’re so ingrained that no one will believe me. Barnard adjusts his grip.
“No,” he says. “I can manage.”
Barnard and Julio propel me through the door. I stop struggling. Fighting them is useless, and I might as well save my strength. We are halfway down the hall when I hear the pad of Yolly’s soft-soled shoes running after us.
“Wait,” she said. “Let her have this. It’s raining out there.”
Barnard waits while Yolly wraps a raincoat around my shoulders. The cheap nylon flutters like a cape over my bound hands. I keep my head lowered. The small kindness offers no relief from my despair.
Barnard’s car is parked on the street. Charlie buzzes us out the front door, and he and Julio watch the two of us leave. News of my transfer will be all over the Center within the hour.
Outside, the soft rain has turned into torrents. Barnard splashes down the Center’s steps, dragging me with him. Water drenches my hair almost immediately, drops seeping down the neck of my clothes and soaking the mesh of my sneakers. The rush of cold focuses my thoughts on a single point: the leash. I have to find a way to overcome the leash.
Barnard clicks his key fob to unlock a beige sedan. He opens the door and maneuvers me into the front passenger seat. My clasped hands make sitting awkward. I perch on the edge, back arched, mind concentrating on the flow of time. It taunts me from the other side of the leash’s block, a river of freedom completely out of my reach. Barnard leans over me, trying to wrap a seat belt around my body. The wet jacket slips from my shoulders and tangles in the belt’s buckle.
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