“I’m not trying to turn my feelings off,” he said. “I tried that already and it was a waste of energy. Remember when you told me you needed some time to adjust to being unplugged? Well, you need to give me some time, too. Up until a few days ago, I never thought I’d let this happen. You’re the first person that’s ever called me out on it. And you’re right. I’ve committed my life to helping people be more human and I’m denying myself one of the core reasons that make me human. Sometimes you don’t see those things until someone wakes you up to it. But give me some time to figure this out. That’s all I ask.”
“Do your parents know anything?” I asked.
He nodded and it made me blush with embarrassment.
“Am I that obvious?”
He leaned away and looked at me. “No, it was me. My mom called me out on it the minute I told her I met you. She knows me way too well.”
“What did you tell them? That we’re dating?”
He laid his head back on the pillow. “We never really labeled this,” he said.
I nodded and tapped my fingers against his chest. “How would you label it?”
He shrugged and studied me. “I’ve never thought about defining you.”
I nodded and laid my head next to his until our foreheads touched. I stared at his long eyelashes. “I wouldn’t call you my friend,” I said.
He thought about this. “I hate the word girlfriend. It’s too generic.” He traced his fingers up the side of my waist and lightly touched his lips to mine. “Nothing really explains this scenario,” he said.
I ran my fingers through his hair and sighed. “So what are we, superfriends?”
“I like that.” He rolled to his side and propped his head up on his elbow. With his other hand he pulled me tight against him. His mouth turned up into a grin. “I hate to sound incredibly unromantic, but I’m starting to think of you as my best friend.”
I grimaced at this. “As long as you want to kiss your best friend.”
Instead of answering me he leaned in and slowly brushed his lips against mine, barely kissing me. With his lips touching mine, he muttered, “That’s why this drives me crazy,” he said, and pulled back to look at me. “I love how your mind works, and sometimes how it doesn’t work.” I rolled my eyes and he continued. “But most of all,” he said, “I love watching you wake up. It’s like you see the world with new eyes every day. I never know how you’re going to react.”
I nodded at this. He and I both. He grabbed my face in his hand and pulled me close and this time he kissed me, really kissed me, and I opened up my mouth and my heart and my soul and he flooded in.
The next morning I woke up alone and I could sense an emptiness in the house, through the walls. Something was missing. I knew he was gone. I could feel him when he was in the house. Even if he wasn’t in the same room as me. The air was charged with his proximity, as if he carried an electric current only I could feel. I stared at the ceiling and knew I should get up. I heard a faint knock at my door and Clare’s face peered in. I could see her out of the corner of my eye but I didn’t move my gaze from the ceiling.
“Maddie, you okay?” she asked. I was still in bed with my arms crossed behind my head, motionless, my drapes closed, and a dim yellow light filtering through the room. She came all the way in and stared at me, her hands crossed over her chest. “It’s almost noon.”
I blinked at the ceiling.
“Am I supposed to be somewhere?” I asked with a stale tone, as if my voice was tired from overuse.
“Maddie, get up.” She threw the covers off me but I was too dazed to move. She sat down on the edge of the bed and studied me.
“It’s not like you’re never going to see him again,” she said.
“It’s not just that,” I said. I sat up and Clare watched me with concern. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m endangering his family being here. I haven’t committed to helping anyone, so it’s not like I’m even a part of this group. Meanwhile, I’m supposed to just hang out and sit by the fire every night like I’m on vacation?”
Clare smiled apologetically. “Listen, I know this is hard. Sometimes there are phases in your life that feel like a waiting room. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re transitioning. But you’re not endangering anyone by being here, so get that thought out of your head right now. And it’s still too soon for you to be out in public, so swiping your fingerprint and catching a train is pointless. You’re stuck here until we figure out a plan. So make the most of it.”
I sighed and felt selfish. I should be grateful for everything. Why is it easier to sit around feeling sorry for yourself than it is to drag yourself out of bed and appreciate what you have? Why is it so much easier to dwell on what you lack?
“Pat and I will stay for a few weeks and keep you company.”
I nodded. “What about Noah?”
Clare’s face fell. “He’s leaving for L.A. tomorrow. He’s recording an album and after that Pat’s going to meet him to look for apartments.”
I rubbed Clare’s back and nodded. At least I wasn’t the only person feeling sorry for myself.
The next few weeks crawled by. I tried to make myself useful to Elaine and Thomas but everything I tried to do required teaching. Pat taught me how to mow the lawn, the strangest job I’ve ever experienced since I grew up my whole life on plastic grass.
Pat explained how to push the mower back and forth in even sections, and I loved everything about it, the smell of cut grass and the even paths the mower made, like I was making my mark on the earth. It was also a great way to get a suntan.
Elaine taught me how to write a grocery list as well as navigate myself through the market aisles to find foreign products like pimentos and leeks. Thomas trusted me enough to encode my fingerprint on the basement door so I could use the computers whenever I wanted. He and I spent hours going over sites and groups that had been blocked from my computer for years. He showed me how they hacked into police reports to trace for people to intercept.
Clare distracted me with long walks on the beach and Pat entertained us at night by teaching me card games, and we watched movies and sometimes we walked into town and listened to live music and got coffee. But my life lacked an energy that only one person could fill.
Three weeks after Justin left, I sat with Elaine next to the fire. Clare and Pat were inside watching one of Noah’s concerts on the wall screen with Thomas. For some reason being in the basement made me feel queasy. All of the sterile wall screens and digital images depressed me. I found myself constantly craving the outdoors, where I felt less isolated by the living, growing life that surrounded me. Or maybe it just reminded me of someone. The fresh air became my sanctuary and I slept with my window open every night, even if I woke up freezing from the cold ocean breeze.
I stared into the fire, thinking about Justin, and I frowned at the flickers of blue, gold, and orange flames. He hadn’t tried to contact me once since he left. Even to check in. Three weeks feels like three years when you spend all your time missing someone.
“What’s on your mind, Maddie?”
I looked over at Elaine. Even when I studied her, I mostly saw Justin, in her eyes and skin and thoughtful expressions. I stared back at the flames.
“I just feel useless here. Justin’s out there, risking his life every day. Saving hundreds of people. And I’m learning how to mow the lawn. Water plants. Boil pasta noodles.”
Elaine nodded slowly. Her voice was light. “Change happens slowly. And it only happens one person at a time, one day at a time. Everyone who accepts this way of life has to start over, just like you are. You’re learning a brand-new culture.”
I nodded and tried to believe that in a small way I was moving forward.
“You need to be content with small steps. That’s all life is. Small steps that you take every day so when you look back down the road it all adds up and you know you covered some distance. It took me a long time to accept that, but it’s true
. You need to have patience.”
I stared at the flames. “I just miss him.”
“Of course you do,” Elaine said. “So do I. You can feel distance. It carries a weight that’s heavier than anything.”
I rubbed the space over my heart like it was a sore muscle. “It hurts,” I admitted. “It feels like something’s cracked.”
“But you need to be able to fill that space on your own, Maddie,” she warned me. “You should never have to rely on another person to make you feel whole. That life is dangerous.”
I frowned at Elaine. “You mean I’m not supposed to care about your son?” I asked.
She shook her head and her eyes were kind. “Of course you should care. But you shouldn’t need him. You need to feel complete first, with living in your own skin. Maybe take some time to get to know who you are and what you want to do before you worry too much about Justin.”
I stared into the fire. “He’s determined to be alone and that’s what bothers me. It isn’t healthy to be such a loner. Shouldn’t there be a balance?”
Elaine watched me curiously. Then, something lightened in her eyes and the youthful grin I’d grown to love about her grew on her face.
“That’s interesting. I wonder if you would have felt that way a year ago?” She looked back at the fire. “You’re a confident woman. I think that’s what Justin loves most about you.”
I blinked at the fire and shook my head. “My dad always says I’m naive.”
She smiled. “That’s just what grownups like to call young confidence. Sometimes adults want you to see it as a weakness, when really, it’s a gift. Justin sees it in you.” Her eyes focused on mine. “It’s a very attractive trait, Maddie, don’t lose it. If you have confidence, if you believe in yourself, you can go anywhere. And you’ll be fine.”
She stood up and rubbed a hand on my shoulder before she left me alone next to the fire. I stared into the orange blaze and felt a smile creep on my face. She was testing me tonight. And I passed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I was in the kitchen trying to make a grilled cheese sandwich without much luck. I charcoaled one side black and the cheese inside hadn’t even melted. I turned down the heat on the stove and suddenly Clare flew through the kitchen door, scaring me. I screamed and dropped the spatula out of my hand.
“Madeline, quick, come downstairs.” Her face was white and her eyes were tense with panic. I turned the burner off and followed Clare down the steps. Elaine and Thomas were already there, sitting in front of a wall screen, their faces tight with concern.
I turned the corner and saw Scott and Molly looking back at me from the screen. There was a silence hovering through the room and I knew it was something serious.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Your father’s in Portland holding a press conference,” Elaine said to me. “And thousands of people are there supporting DS.” She flipped on another wall screen to show news coverage of the outdoor event. A camera panned a crowd of wild DS supporters standing in front of the stage where my father was scheduled to speak. They waved signs and cheered at the cameras.
I stared at the scene with confusion. Supporters never attended press conferences. People who supported DS stayed quiet and safe and invisible behind their computers at home. They didn’t leave their homes. As if Molly read my mind, she spoke up.
“We’ve never seen anything like this before,” she said. “The only people that show up to these kinds of events are protesters.”
The crowd covered the pavilion square, and the grounds were packed with people young and old chanting in support of DS. It made a chill run up my back.
“Where are all the protesters?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Scott said flatly. “That’s the problem. There should be hundreds of them there.”
“Last we heard from Justin things were getting out of hand, but that was hours ago.”
“Justin’s there?” I asked, and felt goose bumps rise up on my arms.
“We can’t reach him,” Thomas said. “Pat’s with him and we can’t get a hold of Pat. Everyone we’re trying to contact is cut off. Something isn’t right.”
“We’re assuming it was a mass arrest,” Scott said. “It’s the only thing that would explain how we’re suddenly cut off from everyone.”
“We need to get him out of there,” Elaine whispered.
“How much time do we have before the speech starts?” Thomas asked Scott.
“An hour, tops,” Scott said, and looked straight at me. “Maybe you can convince your dad to let him go. Hand yourself over and take his place.”
Thomas shook his head. “No. Justin would want himself arrested before we lose Maddie. She can do more for us.”
I stared back at his father. But he’s your son.
Molly rolled her eyes. “She can, hypothetically. She’s done nothing at this point except be a risk to all of us.” Her icy brown eyes flickered over to me. “And we’re not going to waste time while she writes a pro and con list about whether or not to join our side while people that are actually fighting to make a difference are going to jail.”
I narrowed my eyes at her and stood up.
“Then let’s stop wasting time,” I said. “I’ve been to some of these conferences. I might be able to help.”
We quickly arranged for Clare and me to catch a plane to Portland. Minutes later we were in the car speeding to a private airport outside of town where Scott chartered a jet. During the drive we watched the press coverage of the event but it still seemed unbelievable.
Thomas scanned an ID card to open the airport entrance gates and we pulled up to the Jetway. He handed me a backpack with a flipscreen and phone inside. His eyes held mine for a moment before I got out of the car. A world of thought traveled in his expression and I nodded as I grabbed the backpack and sprinted after Clare.
When we sat down in the plane, Clare took something out of her pocket and handed it to me. It looked like a tube of lipstick.
I frowned at her. “Is this really the time to swap makeup?” I asked.
She grinned. “It’s a hand taser. My parents make me carry one.” She took the cap off and pointed to the metal edge. “If someone attacks you, you press the tip against their skin and it shoots out a charge.”
I looked down at it. “Does it last long?”
She shook her head. “It’s pretty harmless. Noah and Pat used to play taser tag around the house when I was growing up. It freezes people for about a minute, long enough to run away.”
She told me it might come in handy. I thanked her and stuffed the tube in my jeans pocket.
We landed in Portland at another private airport and a black van was waiting for us, parked at the edge of the runway.
“Why don’t we take a ZipShuttle?” I asked as we ran toward the car. “Wouldn’t it be faster?”
Clare pulled me along. “Yes, but you can’t use your fingerprint right now. The police are still looking for you. The second your fingerprint is scanned anywhere, you’ll hear sirens.”
I groaned as we got in the car. “Maybe I should have stayed behind,” I said. “I’m more of a risk than anything right now.”
Clare shook her head. “No, you’re helping to bring back Justin. We all would risk anything for him.”
Riley was in the driver’s seat and told us my dad had just started his speech. The digital screen inside the car was on so we could watch the press conference.
“Has anyone heard from Justin yet?” I asked. Riley shook his head and said there wasn’t a single protester there.
We crossed over Freemont Bridge toward the sky-rises of downtown Portland. I stared out the window, looking for a mob of supporters, but the city looked placid and still. The van twisted and turned, speeding past trains and ZipShuttles. We approached the historic downtown and sped down a street bordering the Willamette River. We slowed when we approached Waterfront Park, a wide green expanse along the river’s edge and encircled by a borde
r of synthetic shrubs and trees. In the distance I could see a stage and the unmistakable cluster of reporters and photographers that followed my dad around like a shadow.
Onstage, surrounded by the event security, my father made his presence. He stood behind a podium stacked high with microphones. About a hundred yards behind the stage was a cluster of people crammed together like cattle in a confined, rectangular space.
“So that’s what happened to the protesters,” Clare said. She flipped the channel on the screen in the car until Scott and Molly appeared, sitting in Scott’s living room.
“It looks like an electric fence is holding them in,” she said. “Have you ever seen anything like that?” She pointed the camera lens of her phone out the window so Scott could see it.
I stared out at the park but I didn’t see the crowd of supporters.
“This couldn’t be the right conference,” I said to Riley. “Where are all the people?” I looked back at the screen. “Scott, what are you seeing?” He turned and looked at a screen behind him. From his viewpoint, there were thousands of people screaming and holding signs, cheering on my father’s speech. I stared back at the stage. The park, except for the media and the contained protesters, was completely empty.
Riley pulled off to a side street and we all jumped out of the car. Clare still had Scott’s image on her phone.
“There’s no one here, Scott. What’s going on?”
“That’s impossible,” he said. We headed down the street while we watched the news coverage on Riley’s phone screen, still showing hordes of people. Clare scanned the area of the conference in front of us so Scott could see the reality. Not one single supporter.
Scott swore into the phone.
“I can’t believe it,” he said. “They’re projecting an image of fans using a hologram. It’s all a media hoax.”
“They would never do that,” I said, but after we cleared a row of trees, we noticed the wide blue screen stretching along the opposite side of the stage. When the cameras panned the empty screen, the rest of the country saw a crowd.
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