I was so overcome with relief that Jackson was all right that I had to stop myself from laughing. What an insane day it had been. I knew I should just leave the house immediately, but I couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Jackson’s naked body. I was an awful person, I know. A Peeping Tom. But I was also only sixteen and wildly curious. I told myself that I’d just take a quick peek and then leave. Jackson would never know I was there.
I slunk toward the bathroom door like a kitten and caught Jackson shampooing his thick mane of hair. His muscular back was facing me, so he didn’t see that I was spying on him. My eyes scanned down his body, taking in his powerful physique. If these were biblical times I would have probably been struck down by lightning or gone blind for my lustful sins.
As Jackson rinsed the suds out of his thick, lustrous hair, he turned around unexpectedly, and I suddenly saw everything. And I mean everything. He was naked. Completely exposed. I fantasized about stripping naked right there and joining him in the shower, where we’d have wild sex. But the truth was, I was so flustered and embarrassed—not to mention inexperienced—that I just stumbled back on my feet and almost fell. I prayed he didn’t hear me.
Before I could make my escape, Jackson stepped out of the shower. After wrapping a towel around his waist, he was checking himself out in the mirror while combing out his wet hair. Meanwhile I was trapped on the far side of his bedroom. There was no way I could slip past him unnoticed. He would undoubtedly spot my reflection in the mirror trying to flee.
My only option at that moment was to go stealth (aka invisible) and then get the hell out of there. This time I managed to disappear in less than three seconds. My skill had definitely improved.
Jackson exited the bathroom into his bedroom. He fished a clean pair of boxer shorts out from a dresser drawer. Then he dropped his towel. And he just stood there, naked, not putting on the boxers. I tried to regulate my breathing, slow and silent, so as to not give myself away.
But something about the way Jackson was acting made me suspect that he already knew I was there. Maybe he’d caught a glimpse of me when I wasn’t looking? Or maybe he just sensed my presence. In any case, he kept glancing around the room. It almost seemed like he didn’t mind.
I admit that I also got into the whole voyeuristic thing for a brief moment, until Jackson’s parents suddenly arrived home. As the front door slammed shut, I heard them call out for him. Jackson quickly threw on his clothes, while I used the distraction to escape. I darted down the hallway and slipped into the green-tiled bathroom, sneaking out the same window that I’d climbed in through only minutes earlier.
14. FATHERS’ DAY
* * *
I needed some serious help. Bad enough I spied on my own father. Now I was spying on my friends too—on Jackson—the boy I couldn’t stop thinking about. The boy I dreamed about every night when I went to sleep. And I enjoyed having my ability way too much. What might I be driven to do next? I was afraid to find out.
By the time I arrived back home, it was nearly dark. My father was already there, surprising me as soon as I breezed in through the front door.
“Where have you been?” he prodded, more intense than usual. “I was about to send out a search party.” I couldn’t read whether Dad was pissed at me for something or concerned.
“Sorry. I was . . . at the library working on a project,” I lied. “Just lost track of time.”
“Not to mention your books,” Dad remarked, astutely noticing that I had come home empty-handed. No bag, no books.
“Yeah. Ditched them in my locker.” I sighed. “Carrying them back and forth is such a hassle.” I didn’t know if my excuse sounded plausible or if he suspected what I’d been up to that afternoon. But I was in no mood to find out. I whisked past him, about to head up the stairs to my bedroom, wanting to avoid getting the third degree.
“Hey. Not so fast,” my dad declared, stopping me dead in my tracks. I braced myself, fully expecting the grand inquisition. Instead my dad then said, “You’ve got a visitor.” He gestured back toward the kitchen.
“I do?” Totally flustered, I glanced toward the kitchen, having no clue about who my mystery visitor might be.
I entered the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief when I found Oliver seated at the table.
“Hey, sorry to barge in like this.” He stood up, looking unusually pale. No jokes, no smile. I immediately knew something was wrong.
“No problem,” I replied awkwardly, aware my dad might be listening from the living room.
“I could really use your help on that English paper.” Oliver tilted his head at an angle, indicating he needed to talk to me in private.
“Sure.” I nodded my understanding. “C’mon upstairs.” I turned and walked out of the kitchen with Oliver tight on my heels.
• • •
“Where have you been?” Oliver exclaimed, anxiously pacing around my bedroom like a caged puppy, as I shut the door. “I’m like totally freaking out.”
“Sorry. I was doing some reconnaissance,” I replied cryptically, turning on some music for maximum privacy. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing other than my entire life being upended in one afternoon,” proclaimed Oliver very dramatically.
Although I felt the same way about what I had discovered at the Cochran house that afternoon, I let Oliver vent first. “Care to elaborate?”
He finally stopped moving, then sat on my bed. “It’s about my dad.”
“What about him?” I knew his dad’s identity was a hot-button issue for Oliver. Despite the fact that he professed it didn’t matter to him.
“I know who he is,” Oliver announced gravely, preparing to drop a major bombshell.
“Wow.” I hadn’t seen that coming. I sat down on the bed next to Oliver, bracing myself for something big.
Oliver took a breath and then blurted out, “It’s Richard Cochran.”
“Yeah, right.” I laughed, convinced he was trying to punk me. “You almost had me there.”
“No joke, Nica.” He stared back at me, dead serious, not laughing.
“Seriously . . . ?” I said, my mind processing this stunning revelation. “Chase’s dad is your dad too?”
He nodded affirmatively. “My mom finally confessed.”
“Why? After all these years?” I probed, shocked and wondering what had compelled Oliver’s mother to spill her darkest secret. I cranked the music volume up a little louder to drown us out.
“We got into a huge fight. I demanded she tell me the truth about how my dad died.”
“What did she say?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the fact.
“She lied at first, like she always did. But I told her I knew things,” Oliver continued, still pumped up from his run-in with his mom. “That there’d been an accident at the lab seventeen years ago when she worked there. She freaked out. Told me never to mention it. It was too dangerous.”
“Then what happened?”
“I told her it was too late. That I wouldn’t stop asking questions until I knew everything about my father. Things escalated. She cried but I held my ground until she finally admitted he was still alive. And living in Barrington.”
“That must’ve been the reason why she never told you his name.”
“Yeah. Then she confessed and made me swear never to tell a soul. So of course I came here right away to tell you.” Oliver grinned in spite of being unsettled by the news, as if to show he hadn’t totally lost his sense of the absurd.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I vowed, wrapping my arm around his shoulder for solidarity. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Creepiest thing about it . . . that means Chase is my half brother.” Oliver winced at the thought.
“That is creepy,” I concurred. “Especially after I tell you what that Benedict Arnold did today.”
“I’m all ears, Mata Hari.” Oliver’s eyes widened, eager to hear the latest dirt.
“Well, I kind of followed the jerk
home after school,” I confessed to Oliver, who was now perched on the edge of the bed with anticipation.
“And I’m betting he never saw you.” Oliver raised his eyebrows, shooting me a look that said he knew I had used my power to be invisible.
“Neither did my father or Richard Cochran for that matter.” I shot Oliver a sheepish grin, as if I’d done something very naughty. And then I proceeded to fill him in about my run-in with Mr. Bluni in the library and my afternoon surveillance mission, including the very upsetting news that my dad was in cahoots with Richard Cochran.
“So all this stuff is happening to us because a random satellite exploded seventeen years ago?” Oliver asked, trying to wrap his head around the implications of what I’d found out.
“Except now Cochran has found a way to duplicate the original pulse,” I added.
“Which he’s deliberately setting off to strengthen our abilities and smoke us out into the open.” Oliver understood the ramifications and the danger we were all in.
“And then what? What does he want from us?” I asked, fighting back my fears of being turned into a caged lab rat and the overwhelming urge to run and hide under the covers.
Oliver shook his head, equally scared, having no idea what their ultimate end game was. We sat on my bed in silence, pondering the great unknown.
• • •
Later that night there was a knock at my bedroom door. My dad stood in the hallway, wanting to chat with me. And he refused to take no for an answer, lamenting that we were becoming like two ships passing in the night. He insisted that wasn’t the kind of dad he wanted to be with his only child. So I had no choice but to let him in.
“Tell me what’s going on with you,” he probed, sitting on my bed, intending to stay for a while.
“You know, the usual. Classes, friends, homework. Blah, blah, blah.” I shrugged, playing it cagey. I wasn’t sure what he was fishing for, so I kept things light. “It’s a vicious cycle.”
“Interesting . . . ,” he said, and then exposed the real agenda behind our little chat: “Because I heard there was a bit of a ruckus at school today.”
“Ruckus?” I furrowed my brow, feigning ignorance.
“Something about Maya Bartoli having a major meltdown with you in the hallway.”
Oh, shit. I should’ve known there were too many witnesses for Maya’s near explosion over Chase to go unmentioned around school and town.
“It wasn’t exactly a meltdown, Dad,” I replied, rolling my eyes and shaking my head dismissively as if it was no big deal. “More a misunderstanding between Maya and me.”
“Is that what you call yelling so loudly that windows shatter?” I couldn’t remember my father ever grilling me this intensely.
“Kids exaggerate,” I scoffed. “Glass didn’t break. Maya got upset. Voices were raised but nothing was thrown.”
“Just as long as you’re all right.” My dad gave me a hard stare. “These years can be challenging. Emotionally as well as physically.”
“Yeah, they can,” I answered, trying not to squirm or look away and betray my secret. Just trying to figure out how much my father knew about what was going on with me.
• • •
“Weapons,” proclaimed Jackson the next morning as he drove Oliver and me through town on our way to school. “Bar Tech wants to turn us into human weapons.”
“Seriously?” Although I was horrified by the thought, I also couldn’t help but laugh at the crazy idea. “We’re the cutting edge in stealth warfare?”
“Absolutely. Think about it,” Oliver chimed back, excited. “Jackson’s electrical power. Your invisibility. My physical prowess. Not to mention Maya’s telekinesis. Innocent-looking students by day. Awesome superpowers by night. Who’d ever guess? It’s genius.”
“Madness is more like it. And also a hundred billion in technology deals for Bar Tech according to Cochran,” I retorted, rolling my eyes, appalled by the prospect. “I certainly hope the security of this country never depends on me.” I glanced over at Jackson as he stopped at a red traffic light on Main Street.
“One hundred billion is a big incentive,” Jackson said as he looked back at me with a sly grin, which made me feel incredibly self-conscious. Was he just reacting to my somewhat amusing comment? Or was he letting me know that he knew I had broken into his house the day before? One thing I did know for sure—I wasn’t going to ask him why he was grinning.
“By the way,” I said, quickly changing the subject, “has anyone heard from our friend Maya?”
“Not a peep,” Jackson replied, shaking his head no.
“Me neither,” Oliver added. “I texted her last night but never heard back.”
“Same here,” I acknowledged, feeling a twinge of anxiety that none of us had heard a word from Maya. “I just assumed she was still mad at me.”
“Maybe she’s mad at all of us,” Oliver speculated, throwing off his concern with a shrug.
“Maybe . . . ,” I muttered back, not really believing that was the reason we hadn’t heard from her, yet not wanting to worry needlessly.
“Ask her at school,” Jackson said matter-of-factly, looking over at me.
Our eyes locked. I could tell Jackson was troubled as well that no one had heard anything from Maya, given what had happened yesterday at school. I knew in my gut that it just wasn’t like her to go radio silent.
Still, I wasn’t quite prepared for the major shit storm that we were about to fly into.
As soon as Jackson pulled into the school parking lot, I knew something major was going down. First of all, the place was more crowded and chaotic than was usual for early morning. Kids, looking dazed and confused, were getting corralled into the quad by Bar Tech Security. The campus was crawling with guards. More than I’d ever seen before. They were stationed everywhere I looked—throughout the quad, at all the entrances, even on the school roof—swarming like ants at a summer picnic.
“Maybe coming in today wasn’t the best idea,” Oliver remarked with concern as Jackson parked the Mustang.
“Nothing we can do about that now,” Jackson responded. “Without drawing unwanted eyeballs.” He was referring to Bar Tech Security.
“What do you think’s going on?” I asked Jackson as I exited the car.
“I’ve got a feeling we’re about to find out,” muttered Jackson forebodingly as he locked the Mustang and scanned the parking lot.
I took a deep breath, then started walking toward the main entrance with Oliver at my side. Jackson ambled behind us on full alert. I kept glancing over my shoulder and noticed that his eyes never stopped scanning the school grounds. He seemed to be clocking the position of every security guard. Was he cataloging this information for future reference? Or was he calculating an emergency escape route?
As soon as Oliver, Jackson, and I strode through the main doors into the lobby, we were immediately herded into the school auditorium along with rest of our fellow students. The hall was jam-packed. More than I’d ever seen it. I looked around at people’s faces. They appeared to be as bewildered and panicked as I felt. Rumors were running rampant. I overheard snippets of conversations as I proceeded down the aisle, scanning about for seats: “. . . searching for drugs?” “. . . someone died . . .” Truth was, none of us had a clue why we were sitting there or what was going on.
The only thing I knew for certain: Fear was in the air.
I spotted three seats together toward the back. Jackson and Oliver followed me as I made my way into the middle of the row and sat down. Jackson took the seat to my left, Oliver to my right. We barely had time to settle into our chairs when the entire faculty filed into the auditorium. They looked like a funeral processional, except it wasn’t for Mrs. Henderson. There was a great deal of whispering among the audience as the teachers silently filled up the first two rows of seats. They barely acknowledged our presence, except for Mr. Bluni, who spotted me sitting with Jackson and Oliver. The entire scene seemed surreal to me, like a strange drea
m.
“Who died?” Oliver quipped, referring to the teachers’ somber expressions.
Jackson shot Oliver a harsh look, which made him clam up and contritely sink back into his seat. Oliver realized it was too soon after Mrs. Henderson’s accident to make such a flippant remark.
“Anyone seen Maya?” I asked, scanning up and down each row, searching for her.
“Maybe she took a sick day?” Oliver suggested, clearly wishing he’d done the same.
Before Jackson could weigh in on Maya’s whereabouts, the auditorium suddenly got quiet. Principal Hellinger strode up the steps to the main stage and approached the podium. He adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat, then gazed out at the audience before speaking.
“Good morning,” he said without any of his usual cheerfulness. “You all must be wondering why you’ve been assembled here so early in the morning.”
I sat there and didn’t utter a sound. And neither did Oliver or Jackson or anyone else in the audience for that matter. Everyone just wanted Hellinger to get to the point. Enough suspense. Was an asteroid about to collide with the earth? Or was all this drama being orchestrated for some other reason?
“Unfortunately, I have some bad news,” Hellinger announced. “There’s been an accident. One of your classmates is in the hospital in a coma.”
A murmur swept through the crowd like a forest fire. “What happened?” “Who was it?” “Will they be okay?” Hellinger raised his hands to quiet the assembly. After the audience settled down, our principal dropped the biggest bombshell of all.
“It’s Chase Cochran.”
Loud cries and incredulous gasps erupted throughout the hall. I glanced over at Oliver and then at Jackson in shock. We now knew the “who” in this mystery. The major unanswered question still remaining was: What had put Chase in a coma? I had my suspicions.
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