“Even though I’m…” His wings ruffled and I smiled broader, nodding. “It’s dangerous, you know.”
“I know,” I agreed. “But why not take a risk? We’re taking several already.”
Mykail smiled and squeezed my hand. “You should go.”
“Will you be awake when I get back?”
He nodded.
I skipped to the car, trying not to appear too happy so as not to raise suspicion.
The car ride to the club was full of meaningless chatter that girls often have when in a group. Part of me was happy for the silly talk. While I had been trying to adapt to the terrifying changes in my life since entering the Commission, I had not had the will to participate in chats with my friends. It was surprisingly easy to fall back into conversation with them.
When I got to the club, something bizarre happened.
Clark was already there, and he was desperately waiting to talk to me. I was approaching the area where we would normally meet up when he walked over and grabbed my hand.
“We need to talk,” he said urgently.
Fear consumed me.
He pulled me away while everyone stared after us, concerned.
Clark led me to the dance floor, creating a path through the dancing students to the stage. He ducked behind one of the cylindrical platforms, finding a clear space for us to stand as he quickly rounded on me.
“What?”
“Have you said anything to anyone about this?” he hissed.
“Of course not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Clark, what the hell? You’re scaring me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty fucking scared, too,” he said, his eyes wide. He looked around us and I did the same. Clark reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I’ve been asking around,” he started. “Nothing direct, just feeling around with some people who I know have had doubts before. Everyone is too nervous after the announcement Dana made last week to say anything. However, at the same time, more people seem to be hesitant about saying they support Dana completely. It might be a while before I can ask anything directly.”
“Okay.”
“Yesterday, when I was at the Commission,” he started, “I was studying and Dana came to see me. He told me that he’s thinking of recalling some of the gift experiments.”
“What?!”
“He asked for my opinion, and I told him that it would upset a lot of people and that, with his announcement last week, recalling experiments is going to raise a lot of doubt and the result could be bad,” he continued. “But he just told me that he thought I would say that and then walked out.” He leaned close. “Have you broken any of the rules that Dana gave you for Mykail?”
“No.”
“Then why would he say that?”
“I don’t know,” I hissed. “Who’s to say it has anything to do with us? Maybe something else happened.”
“I asked my mom, but she says that there hasn’t been any talk of rogue or unruly gift experiments.” Clark glanced at the paper in his hand. “Then…I found this in my backpack today, with my bookmark for An Angel Without Wings.” He handed the paper over and I took it with shaking hands.
It was several small pieces of ruled paper folded together. I unfolded them carefully and looked over the first page. The letters were extremely difficult to read in the sloppy handwriting and I really had to focus in the flashing club lights to see what was on the first page.
W1- R9-335159
W2-R3-773951
W3-R1-872508
W4-R7-008523
W5-R5-162896
W6-R2-588892
W7-R6-414400
W8-R8-619372
W9-R4-700023
W10-R10-411410
WE-M.o.N.10 – ***8000-9133-375-2953-21-8-8324
After I looked over the mess of numbers and letters on the paper, I looked at Clark.
“Does this make sense to you?”
“No.” He shook his head. “The only thing I can think of is that the double-u numbers are the different wards in the Enterprise lab. Otherwise, I have no idea what this could mean. There’s more,” he nodded to the other pages. I flipped to the next page and blinked at more confusing numbers and letters, accompanying symbols that were, very basic and primitive, appearing like a math problem.
“This is ridiculous. What the hell is this?” I growled, frustrated.
“I told you, I don’t know,” Clark said sharply. “The other three pages are more of the same nonsense, continued in the same penmanship with different numbers.”
I glanced over the other pages and saw the strange code continue in a terrifying way.
“Look at the last page,” Clark hissed, his voice tight.
I nervously flipped to the final page. What I saw scribbled messily on the page made my eyes go wide and my heart stop.
There are more who can help. Be careful and we will help you through this.
Memorize this and burn it.
I blinked at Clark.
“See what I mean?” he snapped.
“I…I…” I could not find any words, my brain only processing fear and confusion. I blinked stupidly at the papers.
“Are you sure you have not broken any of Dana’s rules or told anyone about what we’re doing?”
“Of course I haven’t.” I shook my head. “If I had, don’t you think that these would have ended up in my possession first?”
Clark bit his lip, troubled. I shared the sentiment. There was something terrifying about the new development. Part of me believed that it was a good thing, and that the information would help us take down the Commission, and that there were people to help us, but I did not know how to start making sense of the equations. Nor did I believe I could trust the anonymous note.
“Do you recognize the handwriting?”
“No,” Clark said, rubbing his face with one hand. “Somehow someone who has access to my things put it there. Someone clearly knows what we’re doing.”
My heart leapt into my throat.
“You don’t think anyone would put this there to help us only to stab us in the back by going to Dana and explaining what we’re doing, do you?” I mused.
“The notes aren’t much help if we can’t figure them out,” he groaned. “I’m worried that they might be trying to plant information on us so that Dana will catch on to what we’re doing. There’s a lot of ways this could be a trap.”
I shivered at the thought and looked around quickly, folding the papers to shove in my boot.
“I will take them to Mykail. Maybe he can make sense of them.”
Clark hesitated, but grudgingly nodded.
“As for everyone else…” he said slowly, averting his eyes to the ground. “I think we need to wait a week or two. Maybe by the end of October we will have an idea of people we can approach.”
I nodded, trusting his judgment.
“Clark?”
“What?”
I took a deep breath.
“What should I do?” I finally managed to say. “In order to get Dana’s attention? To get closer to him? Do I act like the others in the Commission and fawn over him?”
Clark looked pensive for a moment and then slowly opened his mouth to speak.
“No.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “You want to get his attention? Fight him.”
“Fight him?”
“Ignore him, make him come to you, play his game. Every time he looks at you, glare at him or look away. When he tries to call you over, don’t go. When he speaks to you, pretend not to listen. That’s when he tries harder to bring you closer.”
“That seems…”
“Play him,” Clark advised. “You’re a woman, you can do that more easily than I can. Only show interest when he talks about the experiments. Only give him attention to lead him where you want him to go.”
“You mean ignore him in all other ways so that he latches on to the one piece of att
ention I give him?” I pressed. I took a deep breath. “I think that’s a lot easier said than done when it comes to Dana…”
“Probably,” he admitted. “But your spirit has already drawn him close. I’m not sure you’ll have to try too hard. He already wants your attention.”
I lowered my head, feeling my stomach turn sickly. I was unsure of my ability to handle myself if I tried to get close to Dana and it got out of hand. I hardly knew the leader of the Commission well enough to figure out when I was getting too close. But I had to take the risk. I had to try and bring down the Commission before I was so wrapped up in it that I could not find the will to fight back.
“We should go,” Clark declared, peeking out from behind the cylindrical stage. I nodded and followed him through the crowd, starting for the balcony stairs before I stopped.
“Clark, I’ll be right up,” I said quickly, turning around and walking back to my other friends. Clark looked like he wanted to protest, but he nodded and ascended the balcony stairs while I made my way through the crowd.
Suddenly, a cold feeling swept over me and I felt the familiar rise of hair on the back of my neck.
I turned quickly and, even with the pulsing lights and dancing students, I saw the face that frightened me so horribly. I blinked and he was gone.
That frightened me even more.
I was glancing around frantically, trying to spot him again, when someone’s hand found my shoulder.
I whirled around with a yelp, which caused Jill to jump back, also startled.
“Easy now, it’s just me,” she chuckled weakly, though I could tell she was worried by my behavior. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I just…” I looked into the crowd but could not spot Dana’s face again. “Sorry, I was distracted.”
“You and Clark just ran off,” she said, taking my hand and leading me to their table. “What was that all about? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I forced myself to smile. “Just some stupid drama for the Commission.”
“Oh…” She knew better than to ask about anything further. “Well, come hang out with us for a bit. Devon misses you.”
There was ice in her voice. Feeling bolder than usual, I pulled her back, turning her to me.
“Look, Jill,” I said. “I know you like Devon.”
“What? I don’t—”
“No, hear me out,” I interrupted. “I know you like him, and I want you to know that we just danced those few times. I don’t have any interest in him like that.”
She stared at me for a few moments before laughing, acting as if the confession had nothing to do with her.
“I don’t care if you like him,” she said. “I mean, who can blame you?”
“Jill…”
“You really don’t like him?” Jill asked, her eyebrows high. “Or…do you like someone else?” A big smile spread across her face and, before I knew it, I could feel myself blushing, thinking about Mykail and his warm lips. Jill’s face lit up. I couldn’t tell if she was happy because I was interested in someone or if she was happy because that person was not Devon.
“You do!” she gasped, enthusiastically yanking me to the table. “Who is it? Someone we know?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, I don’t like anyone!” I groaned to myself, realizing that I had just become the topic of gossip for the night.
“Hey, everything alright?” Devon asked when we reached the table.
“Yeah,” I assured. “Sorry if we worried you.”
“Can you stay down here and hang with the not-so-cool kids?” Taylor teased.
“I’d love to, but I do need to go upstairs pretty soon,” I said sadly. “I just wanted to come over and say hello. I really miss hanging out with you guys.”
“We miss you, too,” Becca grinned, hugging me with one arm.
For a few minutes, I was able to sit with my friends. We talked about things we heard around the school and, though I found none of it interesting, it was good to be around people who were not part of the Commission, people who did not see me someone who was a favorite of Dana Christenson, people who did not know about the horrific acts that occurred inside the Commission.
However, I could not avoid the balcony forever. I saw many Commish Kids dancing, doing their rounds in the crowd, and every time I saw them, I felt the pinch of the folded papers in my boot.
I bid goodnight to my friends, agreeing to go to Becca’s house on Sunday, and walked to the balcony.
As I was reaching the top of the stairs, I was blocked by Brian, Freddie, and Will, glaring daggers at me as I looked at my feet, fear curling in my belly.
“What the hell did you tell Mr. Christenson?”
“I didn’t tell him anything,” I defended, trying to move past them, keeping my head low. Will reached out an arm to stop me from advancing further.
“Really?” Freddie growled. “Because let me tell you about the things he did to us.”
“I don’t care,” I snarled, once again trying to push past them.
“You should,” Brian snapped. “You told him everything and not only us, but even our parents are getting the blame for what happened.”
“I didn’t need to tell him anything,” I reminded them, mustering up my courage to glare. “He was there.”
“What is it about you that he likes so much?” Will asked, his eyes sharp. “You really must be something if he so willing to protect you like that.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I could feel their eyes trail over my skin. I growled and tried, yet again, to push past Will. When he did not move, I punched him—admittedly not very hard—in the stomach, causing him to recoil enough to allow me onto the balcony.
I immediately went to Clark.
“Are you alright?” he asked when he saw me angrily approaching.
“I really hate some of the kids here,” I huffed, sitting opposite of him and crossing my arms over my chest.
“You are preaching to the choir…”
For some reason, the night dragged on and it seemed like I had been in the club for days before the announcement came that the buses were leaving. Clark and I had not really spoken to one another. Every now and then we would share glances that showed how worried we were about our new plans to overthrow the Commission and the odd notes we had received. Otherwise, we did not communicate.
When the club lights came on and everyone had left, the meeting for the Commish Kids started.
Clark conducted the meeting. I zoned out through most of it, my mind too busy on other things. I was working myself up pretty intensely when the topic finally arose.
“So,” Felicity started, raising her hand when we were asked about other topics of discussion, “I think we need to discuss what Mr. Christenson said last week about the kids in the Commission who attacked someone.”
“What about it?” Clark prompted, tensing.
“First of all, I think we need to know what caused him to announce something like that,” she continued, getting a round of agreements. I looked at Clark nervously, trying to tell him with my eyes that we should not talk about the attack.
“Look,” Melissa started, “who cares? Mr. Christenson said that we needed to be more diligent and not get stupid. Isn’t that enough?”
“What it is, is stupid,” Lance snapped.
“No kidding,” Gracie scoffed. “I mean, why should we be punished like this when we didn’t even do anything?”
“Something did happen,” Clark assured. “Mr. Christenson has already taken care of the situation and we should leave it at that.”
“You know what happened, don’t you Clark?” Lance pressed.
“I only know what Mr. Christenson told everyone at the meeting,” Clark said cagily. “We have more important things to talk about.”
“Like what?” Felicity snapped. “I would much rather talk about how we were all threatened to be taken into the back of the Commission and we don’t even know what w
e did wrong!”
Clark cast a glance around the teens, silent.
“Is anyone unhappy with Mr. Christenson right now?” he asked, his voice cold.
Everyone turned away and looked at the floor, knowing they could not answer truthfully if they did have doubts about the leader of the Commission.
“I would say that, if you have a complaint about what he said last week at the meeting, you take it up directly with him,” Clark said. “We can sit here and complain all we want, but it won’t change anything. You have a problem? Talk to Mr. Christenson.”
I silently applauded Clark. For being as nervous and awkward as he often seemed, when he needed to, he could command everyone’s attention as he wished.
“Is there anything else we need to talk about?”
No one said anything for a long time until Sarah raised her hand.
“Actually, I have a question,” she started. “There have been rumors going around about Miranda Jacobs.”
The others whispered to one another.
Clark nodded.
“I have heard,” he said. “And I am sorry to say, but this has also been brought to the attention of the Commission. The Commission is running a thorough search to test the validity of these rumors. We should know soon what they find.”
“It’s not true,” Felicity said strongly.
“If it’s not true, then where is she?” Sarah hissed. “She’s been gone for nearly a week…”
No one could answer.
* *** *
When I got home, I rushed up stairs were Mykail was waiting for me.
“Hey,” he said. “How did it go?”
“Let me change really quick.”
I slipped into my room and changed into my pajamas, throwing my dress and boots haphazardly in the corner after retrieving the notes.
I opened my door and listened carefully to the noise downstairs. My mother had been awake when I got home, but she was dressed for bed, which meant that she had been waiting for me.
I heard her moving around, turning off lights. I crept to Mykail’s door, unlocking it as gently as I could. He helped me open it slowly so as not to make any noise, a process with which we had become extremely skilled.
“How was Archangel?” he asked again as we sat on his bed.
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