“Eth, you’re freaking out,” I said, looking down at my own body—tingling and slick with sweat. “So am I. We’re not thinking clearly.”
He laughed disingenuously. “No, the problem is I’m thinking too clearly. Now that we’ve Revised so much, I can see all the things that can go wrong.”
“And yet you’re saying we should Revise more?”
“We should’ve done it more evenly. But yeah, we can’t stop now in the middle—hanging out exposed like this, especially with Spencer and God knows who else! We’re fucking trapped, and tomorrow we’ll be more trapped, and the next day even more, unless we do something drastic to flip the board around! It’s the only way. Can’t you see that?”
I took a deep breath and slumped farther down on the bench.
“Maybe we should talk to your brother. If the police are questioning junior classmen, it might be good to get him on the same page.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
He shook his head. “He’s smart, Dorian. I know he’s not Revised, but he has some really out-there ideas and maybe . . . maybe that’s the kind of thing we need right now. You know, with where we’re at and everything.”
“I’m going to say this one time, really clearly. My brother . . . is . . . a . . . psychopath. Got it? I don’t trust him. Neither should you. I’ve already pushed my luck because I needed the cover, but I regret it and—”
“Well I think we need the cover again—”
“Shut up, Ethan! Just shut up! And fucking just drop it, okay?”
“Okay, whatever. Jesus.”
“God fucking dammit . . .” I trailed off, shaking my head as I gazed up at the sun. It looked wounded, its light only spilling through a few tiny openings in the clouds. It was the most powerful thing in the universe and still it died every day.
As if the openings were portals, I reached through and pulled out a memory of Chris, Ethan, Michael and I hanging out at the pool two summers ago, and Chris winning every one of our crazy breath-holding competitions. He was so determined that he’d always let himself nearly pass out, showing us how pointless it was to try and beat him. We’d haul him out of the water and he’d be choking and gasping, but somehow still smiling.
That all seemed so far away now. It was still high res; I could smell the chlorine and feel how perfect it was right at sunset, but it felt like it happened to someone else. Someone I didn’t know anymore. And even though I could still remember the details, it was like they belonged to someone else, too.
Chapter 24
Uneasiness wound around until the circulation of thoughts compressed to a trickle and I realized I was already at my doorstep. I couldn’t remember the drive back from school, though, or getting out of the car; I didn’t know how long I’d been standing here. The front windows seemed like furnace grates and my hand was hovering around the knob with the vague, semi-conscious fear of being scalded. Everyone had said they’d be out late and I’d expected an empty house, so my ears piqued at the notes of a distant melody vibrating through the wall.
When I touched it, the doorknob was cold. The evening chill blew in as I twisted the key and pulled, chiseling through the scent of old upholstery and secondhand clothes before it was swallowed up in ageing drywall. The glow, no longer distorted by the tint of the windows, was orange and flickering, dancing under the living room door.
I stepped forward and heard the first notes of Beethoven’s Ninth tread their familiar steps, but then they pirouetted off into a blur. Dad was the only one besides me who dabbled in classical music, but this obscure recording definitely wasn’t from his collection of the city Phil standards. There was something different about how the notes were expressed; they were more severe. More violent. Desperate. Accurate, but with none of the antiseptic gloss of an expert or the stiff self-consciousness of a student. The floorboard creaked as I removed my jacket and shoes and walked toward the glow of the living room.
Only a few minutes ago I’d been ready to fall against my pillow, but now I felt the Morse code of an irregular heartbeat. The floorboard creaked again and the recording paused, just for a second, as if it were the disturbance that had caused the player to skip. Then the notes started pouring out faster, sounding more like ivory drums than the mechanical strings of an upright, swelling, eluding the staff with angry emphasis, spiraling down in a way theory would never think to do.
I turned the corner and stepped inside the glow. There was no record in the player, but Jaden was at the piano, his whole body swaying and bobbing as though his fingers were overloaded transformers. His back went rigid and he stopped in mid-measure, the music escaping as fast as it had flooded in.
“You’re back early tonight,” he said, without looking behind him.
“You didn’t tell me you were learning piano.”
“Learned. I didn’t tell you I’d learned the piano.”
“You must’ve been working awfully hard at it,” I said, stepping closer.
“Yeah, for Mom and Dad. I had to. It broke their hearts seeing you quit everything,” he said, showing his teeth in a half-smile as he swung his legs around the bench. “And just call it a day like that.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” I asked.
“Just a guess.”
My throat tightened. “I told you I was working on something that—”
“That would help me. A project for the science fair—oh, I’m sure, though your easel is looking pretty bare and it’s not often that one hides a masterpiece. You always told me to be proactive. To not rely on other people.” And then he snarled, “So I’m not going to rely on you . . .” He paused. “A stamp addict.”
I tried to stay calm. “I stopped doing that four months ago.”
“Of course. Of course. And I believe you, in the sense that one wants to believe his family, but—”
“You can believe whatever you want, Jaden. I really don’t give a fuck.”
Jaden tilted backwards on the bench until he was leaning up against the piano, looking as though he were contemplating something weighty and philosophical. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed—you probably haven’t—but our parents are devastated by your little tumble from grace, Mom especially, and while she’s too much of a bleeding heart to tell you, it’s been killing her. Really killing her. I’m shocked you haven’t seen it.”
“She’s over the moon about the science—”
“Oh, come on, she doesn’t believe that. She pretends to, but she’s so used to your stories by now that deep down she knows.”
I wanted to shout, “You don’t give two shits about Mom!” but something about his tone made me hesitate. He was often snotty and petulant, but his confidence tonight didn’t seem like the comical, oversized chainmail suit that he usually put on.
“I can understand your abandoning me—I’m a little monster, after all—but Mom, sweet, unassuming, selfless Mom, that’s just a little too hard to take after everything she’s done for us.” He ran his finger along the maple panel above the keys like he was tracing the edge of something sharp. “So, I’ve been picking up your slack.”
“You’re lying; even if you practiced every second of every day for the past month, there’s no way you could’ve learned to play like that.”
“The past three actually. Although unlike with Spencer and the ROTC thing, I’ve been pretty discrete, not wanting to kick sand in your face when you were down and all.”
“That’s really thoughtful.” I pondered for a second before adding, “But it just doesn’t make any sense.”
“That I could do something better than you?”
His smugness was so sickening that I couldn’t help but blurt, “No offense, Jaden but I wouldn’t be too worried about me getting jealous . . . especially not for dicking around learning a song.
His face shifted suddenly, like a hot iron had burned every crinkle of amusement straight. “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” he said flatly, the playfulness gone. His eyes
turning to fire in the candlelight.
“Well, you’re not a nice person. You’ve made progress and I’m proud of you, but . . . let’s not get carried away.”
“Carried away?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, tell me.”
I was out of options with Jaden. I’d tried everything to cajole him, but if he was going to “take things into his own hands,” whatever that meant, I couldn’t just stay in a holding pattern. I had to let him know I was serious. “You’re a brat, Jaden. You’re a conniving, self-absorbed little brat with an opinion of yourself that’s separated by such a large gulf from your abilities that it’s remarkable, really.” I laughed with resignation. “The only reason you don’t get called on it is that you’re nasty and people are afraid of you. Even our parents. They wouldn’t admit it and they probably can’t quite put their fingers on why they should be, but deep down they are. And I’m the one to blame for that. For teaching you how to blend in so there’s no real target to hit.” I shook my head. “Maybe that was a mistake.”
“You don’t—”
“But I’m not going to pull the plug. Not because you’re worth leaving on, but because it’s cheaper. Cheaper for me. Cheaper for Mom and Dad. And that’s your only saving grace really: your sentimental value to our parents, which you seem only too happy to hide behind.”
Jaden’s eyes deadened as he shifted out of the light. “You’re not making a strong case for me to keep my mouth shut.”
I couldn’t show my fear. He fed off it. He fed off holding things over people. The best way to disarm him was convincing him that there was nothing to drop. “Jaden, buddy, I couldn’t care less. I already told you I don’t need your help with Mom and Dad anymore, so the real question is whether I’m going to help you. I let a lot of your bullshit pass, but I wouldn’t be a good brother if I didn’t say something about these delusions you’re having that I’m jealous of you. Jealous of what? Your friends? Your video game skills? I mean, you’ve gotta be kidding yourself.”
“You should stop talking, Brother, for your own sake.”
“For my sake,” I repeated. “You don’t like what you hear so you threaten me? That’s pretty in character. But guess what, I’m not going to give you the option anymore. I’m done rewarding aggression. Because imagine if everyone in the world just made a threat every time they didn’t get what they wanted. They didn’t talk it out. Didn’t work through it. Just made threats. People would be at each other’s throats—the world would stop.”
“What kind of world are you living in, dude? They do reward it. They reward it every day. That’s how it works!”
“What kind of world are you living in, dude? They do reward it. They reward it every day. That’s how shit happens!”
“So, you think I should, too? Why? Tell me why. A threat isn’t a reason.”
“Because it’s not just a threat and that’s about as good a reason as you’ll ever hear!” he shouted, and knocked the lesson books and miniatures off the piano ledge. “You talk about reason like yours is the only species, but how reasonable is it to ignore the ones with the sharpest teeth who’ll tear you apart whether you believe in them or not?”
His voice was like a cold fever. And even though it scared me, the key was scaring him even more. If the police questioned him, he had to know what the consequences of saying anything about me would be. He had to know I wasn’t fucking around. “Remember that EEG brain test I gave you a few years ago?”
The flinch that followed was so fast it would’ve been unnoticeable if I hadn’t been waiting for it. He tried to feign indifference, keeping his jaw clenched and brow rigid, but I’d seen the alarm. “What?” he ventured coolly.
“Well, I held on to the results, so if there ever came a day you wished to . . . to do what you’re doing now, I’d have recourse.”
Jaden looked up at the series of grinning family holiday portraits on the wall and then back at me. “I saw you delete it,” he sneered.
“You saw me delete a copy.”
“You’re bluffing.”
I hadn’t kept the results, but there was no way he could be sure. “I’m not Ethan.”
“I want to see it.”
“Oh, I bet you do. But you’ll have to take your chances because I’m only going to warn you once.”
“You never really loved me.” His voice cracked under the weight of the words.
It was clearly tactical, yet the weight hit me, too, and for a second I wondered. My feelings had been something like love. But Jaden was too hot to hold, and I’d drawn back every time I got too close.
“I did everything you told me to!”
“Because it was convenient. And now that it isn’t, you’re making threats and throwing a fit. It’s a two-way fucking street.”
I got up and walked out of the room.
It took me a while to calm down lying in bed. Eventually I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my pillow, holding it like it was Lena. Managing to forget about everything, I lost myself in images of us talking as we sauntered down the boardwalk—the sun glancing off the jetty, the air damp from a distant storm. In some frames we were young, barely older than we were now, and in others we were sophisticated-looking, thirty-year-old versions of ourselves. More Revised, but still recognizable. Our best selves.
As my eyelids got heavier, the setting morphed into a sleek, space-age apartment, where everything was light grey or white, tinged in a luminescent glow. There were automated stainless steel appliances that could cook anything you wanted, floating screens projecting financial data, cleaning drones, and a kitchen table where we were both sitting at, working. While it was unclear if it was on the same thing, or even if we were in the same field, it seemed important. Urgent even. I’d always imagined trying to make the world a better place when I was older in this vague kind of way, but lately I figured the best route would be to help less fortunate people Revise. It would make things fairer and less violent, and keep everyone from having to do what I was having to do. People were so much nicer to each other when they didn’t feel like they were getting fucked over.
Yeah. That’s what we were working on.
Chapter 25
The next morning the sun seemed to come out earlier than usual, braiding its way across my bedspread. The house was completely silent, like a gloved hand was muffling every sound in the world.
I dressed and made my way down the hall reluctantly, letting each foot sink deep into the carpet. Jaden was in the kitchen when I entered it, stooped over the stove, the aromas of ham and eggs and toast and the sound of a kettle boiling hitting me all at once.
“Hey,” he said, without turning around.
“Hey,” I said back. “Where’re Mom and Dad?”
“Left early. They had to take the Civic into the shop.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want some eggs?”
“I . . . I guess. Sure.” I took the plate from his hand, hesitating for a second, trying to decide whether to play along with whatever his latest game was. “What kind of poison do you have in there?”
After a lag, a smile escaped out a crack in his mouth, as if he’d processed that humor was the appropriate human response. “It would be easier if things were that simple, wouldn’t it? And you could just write me off as a villain.” He didn’t sound ironic anymore, just resigned. “But here’s the thing. I said stuff last night because . . . because it hurt so much when you said you didn’t love me and I felt like . . . like I had to get back at you, not because I thought what I was saying was true, but because . . .” He stopped and stared out the window. “You’ve had that happen to you, right? When you feel so cornered that you just want to get back at whoever’s hurting you?”
I sat down at the table, figuring I was willing to hear where this was going.
“And the thing is that when I started feeling that way, I became exactly what you said I was.”
“So, you’re saying—”
“I’m saying it was my fault. I’m the one who lost control. And I shouldn’t have because . . . because I know you’ve been trying your best and you don’t need this right now. I know you don’t.” He slid into the seat across from me. “And the truth is I really am grateful for everything. You’ve helped me so much. I’m scared to admit it because it implies I needed it, and no one wants to admit there’s something wrong with him. It’s a lot to accept.”
I nodded slowly.
“But you have to, or else you’re just going to be reacting instead of really thinking through what kind of person you want to be. It’s easier to feel like the victim because that way even if things don’t work out, it’s not your fault. But the thing about keeping an excuse like that is that you tend to reach for it whenever you’re threatened. It puts people off and really it . . . it sabotages you at every turn and you don’t know why . . . you forgot you were holding it. And if you forget about something long enough, at some point it sticks and just becomes a part of you.”
He stopped and stared out the window again, looking wistful, searching for the right words. This had to be the wisest I’d ever heard him. On one hand, it was a little too fantastic to swallow, yet it all actually sounded natural coming out and there was a tiredness in his eyes, like he’d been sitting up reflecting on things all night.
“And I don’t want it to be a part of me, Dorian. I don’t want to be that person. So while the stuff you said was hard to hear, I needed to hear it and I appreciate you telling me. Really, I do.”
“Aren’t you going to have anything?” I asked, gesturing at his empty placemat.
“I ate with Mom and Dad. And sorry I burnt the French toast on the back there; I think I was trying to do a few too many things at once. Rookie move, right?”
I still didn’t know what to think. I wanted to believe him. It would actually be easier to believe him, at least in a superficial sense, than keeping up this standoff. And while he had appeared sincere yesterday, I’d seen him use his volatility as a weapon to induce people to think it would be less trouble just to let him have his way. And that, funnily enough, was actually a comforting thought—that everything he’d said last night had been calculated just to scare me.
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