“Yeah, long time ago. More than seventeen years,” he said with an unusual hint of nostalgia. “Time flies.”
“By the way, who did Mom work for back then?”
My dad got up from the table and started clearing the dishes before answering. “This government research lab. She wasn’t there very long.”
I tried not to react or show how stunned I was. “Mom worked as a publicist for the government? I never knew that.” It seemed inconceivable to me that my mother ever worked for the government or any kind of big bureaucracy. She was always so antiestablishment anything. “How come no one ever told me?”
“We didn’t? I figured your mother must’ve mentioned it.” My dad tried to act detached about the whole matter, as if it were no big deal.
“Nope. She never said a word,” I responded, looking right at him. But the way he wasn’t really looking at me made me suspect there was more to this story. What else didn’t I know? I got up from the table and handed him my plate to rinse off. “Why did Mom leave the job?” I stood next to him, waiting for an answer.
Finally my father’s answer came: “The government shut the place down. Budget cuts as I recall. That and your mom was pregnant with you.”
Oh my God. I stood there, unable to move, feeling like I’d been kicked in the gut. I tried not to visibly react, but the revelation shook me. My head was spinning. My mother was pregnant with me when she worked at the government facility, just like Oliver’s mother was pregnant with him when she worked there. Which meant they must’ve been pregnant when the incident occurred! And since our birthdays are only a few months apart . . .
I couldn’t help but think that if my mother and Oliver’s mother had both been affected, then maybe Jackson’s mother had been affected as well, since she had worked with my mother. What if Maya’s mother worked there and was pregnant when the incident occurred, too? This could be the missing link we’d been searching for, which might explain why we four had been affected by the pulse.
“I better go upstairs and hit the books,” I said to my dad, quickly excusing myself, wanting to get out of there and alert everyone about my shocking discovery.
“Before you go,” my dad said, “I don’t know if you heard the news about Mrs. Henderson.”
“What news?” I played dumb.
“She was in a car accident,” he stated without much emotion, like a veteran doctor. “It was fatal.”
“Oh my God, that’s terrible,” I responded sympathetically, hoping that he didn’t see through my charade.
“Yes, it’s tragic. Anyway, I thought you should know before school tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I replied, wanting this conversation to end but also anxious to know more.
“By the way, she was your guidance counselor, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah . . . she was.” I nodded, not realizing he knew that. “But I really didn’t know her all that well.”
“For some reason I thought you did.” He shot me a probing look, as though he doubted my story. How much did he know?
“Not really, other than running into her a few times in the hallway.”
“Well, she promised me she’d look out for you. Being the new kid and all. Not to mention she was fond of your mother.”
“Yeah, I remember she mentioned that once.” I wanted to know more about her “accident.” And I wanted to find out exactly what my dad knew, but I didn’t want to appear too pushy. “Do they know what happened?”
“Apparently she was out driving alone. Skidded off one of the back roads and crashed head-on into some trees.” He shook his head empathetically. “By the time they brought her into the hospital, it was too late.”
I listened dispassionately to my father’s explanation without breaking down or losing my composure. “I guess accidents happen.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “They do.” The way my father said it chilled me to the bone.
• • •
As soon as I shut the door to my bedroom, my fingers furiously tried texting Jackson and Maya, asking them to discreetly confirm that their mothers had worked at the Barrington government facility over seventeen years ago. It actually took me several attempts to get the texts right; I was trembling so badly because I was so freaked out by what my father had told me, not to mention the sketchy details about Mrs. Henderson’s “accident.”
I managed to get hold of myself long enough to also text Oliver: Mine 2!
A bit cryptic but I hoped he’d understand exactly what I meant.
Less than a minute later Oliver answered: OMG.
It was clear that he understood perfectly. In the meantime I received a text back from Jackson, which only said: Talk tomorrow. I knew he was paranoid about texting anything incriminating, as was I, so I was about to respond OK when my phone rang. It was Maya.
“Hey, girl. Missed you at the game.” She sounded super perky, but I could hear a distinct edge in her voice. It was one of concern.
“Yeah, sorry. I heard it was epic.”
“Chase was awesome. As usual. By the way, I’m in the middle of that assignment you asked me about. It’s tricky, but I think I can figure it out by morning.” She was cautiously speaking in code, clearly referring to my text about her mother working for the government.
“Excellent,” I replied. “We’ll compare notes at school tomorrow.”
“Speaking of school,” Maya interjected, “isn’t it awful about Mrs. H.?” Her tone implied that she was as suspicious as I was about the supposed accident.
“Yeah. Really awful.”
What followed was a moment of silence between us, and then we both hung up, neither of us saying another word.
• • •
The next morning Jackson arrived at my house promptly at seven thirty a.m. to drive me to school. I was relieved to find Oliver and Maya already in the backseat of his car, as I was eager to put the entire awkward kiss incident behind me. Jackson seemed to feel that way too, as he acted quite cool—like nothing weird had happened between us. Which truthfully only made me feel worse. Luckily, there were more important things to obsess about at that moment instead of how Jackson felt about me. Specifically Mrs. Henderson’s suspicious accident and exactly how our mothers were connected. And Jackson’s Mustang seemed to be the safest place for us to talk openly without drawing too much unwanted attention from fellow students, teachers, or parents.
“FYI,” Maya announced as soon as I hopped into the car, “apparently, my mother worked for the government way back when.”
“Doing what?” I asked with great interest, hoping that my theory about how we were all connected would prove true.
“Maya’s mom’s a rocket scientist,” Oliver chimed back.
“Yeah, and mine’s the queen of England,” I snarked, thinking he was joking. “Seriously, what does she do?”
Maya nodded, embarrassed. “Actually, she’s like a physicist or something. Met my dad at MIT.”
“Nerds of a feather,” Oliver quipped. I have to admit I was kind of impressed.
Finally Jackson interjected: “Now they both work at Bar Tech.”
Here was yet another connection between the government facility and Bar Tech. I shot Jackson back an uneasy look, which Maya picked up on.
“Why does any of this matter?” Maya asked, looking at all of us with concern.
“Because I think we all share one special thing in common.” Then I turned to Jackson. His mother was the last piece of the puzzle. “What about your mom?” It was my first verbal communication with him since the day before.
Jackson took a beat before responding. “She claims she’s worked with my dad at the family store ever since they got married twenty years ago.”
“So much for your brilliant hypothesis,” remarked Oliver with a sympathetic shrug. That seemed to poke a major hole in my theory that all four of our mothers worked at the facility when the incident struck.
I turned to Jackson unfazed by what he said. “Your mother’s lying. She
told me she worked with my mother. My dad said they wrote press releases.”
“I know,” Jackson admitted with a validating smile.
“Big surprise. They’re all liars,” Oliver mumbled, discouraged at the prospect that he couldn’t trust his own mother.
“After my parents went to bed, I did some sleuthing,” Jackson continued. “Fortunately, Dad’s a bit OCD. Found all his financial records dating back to college. Appears my mom briefly moonlighted as a freelance writer at the facility to make extra cash because they had just opened up the store.”
“Looks like Nica wins the gold ring then,” Oliver proclaimed, suitably impressed.
“Somehow that doesn’t give me much comfort.” This was one time being right felt awful. To know your own parents lied to you was not something I wanted to celebrate.
Maya looked confused. “So all our mothers worked at the same government facility?” She was still not putting everything together.
“While they were pregnant,” Jackson added.
There was a moment of silence while Maya absorbed the implications. “That’s how we’re all connected?”
“Yeah,” I said softly, nodding. “They all worked at the facility when the original pulse occurred seventeen years ago.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Maya muttered, looking less than thrilled by all the revelations.
“Should I open a window?” Oliver asked, cringing at the thought of Maya spewing all over his pants.
“Don’t do a thing,” Jackson announced, abruptly shifting gears and slowing down. “I think we’re being followed.”
I immediately looked out the passenger side view mirror and saw a Bar Tech Security vehicle about a half block behind us. “Big deal. We’re just going to school.”
“Yeah. It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong,” Oliver agreed, peering out the rear window.
“Other than exposing murder and a major conspiracy,” Jackson countered solemnly, driving at the speed limit so as to not attract any further attention from our Bar Tech pursuers.
“As if my morning needs any more drama,” Maya groaned, finally grasping how vulnerable we all were and how we’d just uncovered the tip of a treacherous iceberg.
13. SHE CAME IN THROUGH THE BATHROOM WINDOW
* * *
Five minutes later we arrived at school with our Bar Tech escort thankfully driving on. The student parking lot was jammed with the usual morning traffic, but Jackson found a spot. Word had broken about Mrs. Henderson’s death. All around us I heard kids talking about how cool she was and also how sad it was that she was gone. The school was planning to hold a memorial after the Thanksgiving holiday break.
“What do we do now?” Maya asked apprehensively as we all got out of Jackson’s Mustang, preparing to face another day of school.
“Act normal,” Jackson responded coolly, marching on toward the entrance.
“Hmm, normal. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before,” Oliver joked, trailing right behind Jackson.
Maya turned and looked at me for support, seeming a little lost and burdened by all the secrets she had to carry. I shrugged and smiled reassuringly, indicating I felt as adrift as she did.
Try as I might, I still couldn’t shake off this nagging feeling that something bad was about to happen, particularly in the wake of Mrs. Henderson’s fatal accident. I had no idea exactly what might happen or even what I was afraid might occur. All I knew was I felt this terrible unease down to my bones.
At first I wondered if it might be some sort of spooky premonition. Or perhaps I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder because of what I’d discovered about my parents. Whatever was causing this agitation, I drifted from class to class without any memory of what I’d just sat through.
Making matters worse, I became convinced that Chase was following me around school. At first I shrugged off the coincidence that he always seemed to be appearing around a corner just as I was coming from the opposite direction. Or standing behind me on the cafeteria line. He passed by my locker just as I was heading off to English. Then he suddenly bumped into me just after I exited the restroom.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Chase razzed. “One might think you’re actually stalking me.” He flashed his twinkling smile.
“I could say the same thing about you,” I sniped back, walking around him, in no mood to talk—especially to him.
He trailed alongside me, refusing to leave me alone. “You missed an awesome game yesterday.”
“Did I?” I shrugged, not giving him props for his big win because he was annoying the hell out of me.
“Yeah. I was a little hurt you weren’t there,” he replied. “To help me celebrate.” He had this downcast expression.
I shot him a dubious look, not buying his sad-boy routine for one second. “I’m sure you had plenty of adoring fans cheering you on to victory. Not to mention Maya.” His arrogance and self-importance made me angry.
“I guess we can celebrate when you come over for dinner,” he grinned.
“Who told you I was coming over for dinner?” I flashed a dismissive look.
“My old man,” Chase replied. “You made quite an impression on him. And that’s not easy.”
“Yeah, right,” I responded mockingly, even though I was more unnerved by the mention of his dad.
“So have you reconsidered my proposition?” he brazenly said with a smug smile, suddenly cornering me. “We’d be really hot together.” He was insistent and overbearing. “You can’t fight the inevitable.”
“You’re dreaming.” I clenched my jaw, overcome with rage and an overwhelming urge to kick him in the balls. Before I could do or say anything I might regret, I realized that my left hand was starting to disappear!
OH MY GOD! Why the hell is this happening to me now?
Chase continued chattering, but I never heard a word he said, because my mind was racing. Could there have been a pulse the night before that I didn’t know about? That none of us knew about? I hadn’t seen anything. And Oliver, Maya, and Jackson had never mentioned anything on the ride to school. I quickly shoved my disappearing hand behind my back so that Chase wouldn’t see what was happening to me.
Chase pressed in closer, oblivious to my turmoil. “Don’t tell me you’re not into me. I see the way you’re always checking me out.”
I was panicking, trying not to totally flip out. Kids streamed by, whispering and definitely noticing us together. They must’ve been wondering what was going on between Chase and me. Meanwhile that warm tingling sensation was shooting up from my hand to my elbow. I knew if I didn’t get away from Chase immediately, he’d see that something was seriously wrong with me when I completely disappeared before his eyes.
“Get lost,” I barked, plowing past Chase, racing down the hallway as my left arm was vanishing.
I cut gym and made it safely into the school library and hid among the nonfiction stacks. Regaining command of my mind and body, I managed to calm myself enough so that my left hand and arm slowly returned to their normal state. Then I texted Jackson, Oliver, and Maya, alerting them how we were vulnerable because the pulse must’ve happened overnight. This set off a flurry of anxious coded texts speculating how it happened without our knowledge, ending with Jackson ordering everyone to meet during lunch.
Once I finished texting, I noticed that I’d taken refuge in the science section. The irony wasn’t lost on me. One fat volume on genetics caught my eye. I pulled it out and thumbed through the dense text, wondering if I might find some answers about my own strange predicament. As I tried to decipher some complicated scientific mumbo jumbo about genetic mutations that occurred after conception, I became aware that someone was standing behind me. Watching me. Before I could make sure that all my limbs were still visible and intact, I heard my biology teacher, Mr. Bluni, speak to me.
“Somatic mutations? That’s pretty advanced stuff,” he remarked in his usual snide tone as he snooped at what I was re
ading.
“Yeah, way over my head,” I answered as I closed the book and slid it back onto the shelf, desperate to get away from him.
“Don’t undersell yourself,” he replied. “You’re a smart kid. I could explain it if you weren’t always running off somewhere.” Mr. Bluni stared me down and blocked the aisle so I couldn’t leave. “Nica Ashley, mystery girl. So many secrets.”
“Not really.” Despite my unease, I tried to think on my feet and not panic too much. “Just thinking about a cool topic for my bio term paper.”
Mr. Bluni seemed to perk up with that tiny bit of ego stroking. “Well, a somatic mutation is also called an acquired mutation, which occurs in utero.”
“Acquired?” I asked, not sure I followed.
“Meaning it was acquired after conception and wasn’t inherited from a parent,” he explained.
“And how does someone or something acquire these mutations?” I knew I was taking a big risk talking to my biology teacher. However, I sensed I had a window of opportunity to find out how I might have been affected when my mother was pregnant with me.
“Some are spontaneous,” he elaborated, “a random error. Others appear to be the result of exposure to toxins or radiation.”
“Radiation?” Now I was the one who perked up. So it was possible and very likely that the first pulse had affected my genetic code.
“Yes. It interferes with cell division and genetic structure.” He then gave me one of his intimidating stares, which made me uneasy. “Is that why you and Oliver were reading all about bioelectrical energy and electromagnetic radiation?”
“Yes,” I muttered, realizing he’d made the connection. How much did he know or even suspect about Oliver and me? I hadn’t a clue, but I felt like I was skating on thin ice.
The bell rang.
“I should go,” I said, feeling my heart thumping like crazy as I gestured toward the door. “Spanish.”
Mr. Bluni just stared. “To be continued.”
“Thanks.” Then I got the hell out of the library as fast as I could, leaving Mr. Bluni behind in the stacks.
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