by Gabby Noone
Because now I know Caleb.
And I know he would never do that.
“We can keep going over your memories in the morning. Right now I need to say—”
“It’s not a memory that I want to show you,” he interrupts. “Not exactly. It’s a dream.”
WHEN WE GET to the departures counter, we find that it’s closed for the night.
“Of course,” Caleb says, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I got carried away and didn’t think of the time.”
The look of disappointment on his face gets to me. He’s had to relive so much sadness and pain today, he doesn’t deserve this obstacle to whatever his plan is, on top of everything else.
“Hold on,” I say, eyeing the empty counter.
Todd keeps the keys to the golf carts and the hangars locked in a safe underneath it. I look around the waiting room. It’s deserted, save for a few people staring blankly ahead, lost in their thoughts, and a man snoozing, his whole body spread across three seats. I walk behind the counter and kneel down once I get to the safe. It has a keypad covered in letters, not numbers.
It’s password protected.
I close my eyes and try to remember the last staff room password Todd shared with the team. At the time, I thought it was a little lazy on his part . . . that he was probably too bummed by Sadie’s departure to think of anything as over-the-top as he usually goes for. . . . It was so obvious. . . .
Frantically, I begin typing, my chest pounding and my arms vibrating:
T-o-d-d-i-s-r-e-a-l-l-y-g-o-o-d-a-t-m-a-k-i-n-g-u-p-p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d-s
I swallow hard and pull at the safe.
It gives.
I grab a pair of keys and lift my hand up in triumph.
“Quick, Caleb,” I say, jumping up. “Let’s go!”
“CLOSE YOUR EYES,” Caleb says as we sit down at the Memstractor. “Then turn on the machine.”
Normally, I’d remind him that I’m the boss in this situation, but I do as he says.
“Okay,” he breathes. “Open.”
Fluorescent light beams down into my eyes. Soft rock music fills my ears. I look around and see endless shelves, stocked neatly with boxes of all different colors.
“A supermarket?” I ask, a slow smile spreading across my face. “This is your dream?”
“Remember when you were describing how browsing the supermarket the hour before it closes is your favorite thing to do?” Caleb says, walking down the aisle full of boxes of cereal. “And you asked me if it made you sound crazy? And I said no?”
“Of course I do.”
“That’s because I’ve had this recurring dream for years that I’m stuck inside a grocery store after hours and I’m the only one shopping. Whenever I tried to describe this to anyone—my friends, my parents—they all looked at me like something was seriously wrong. They thought it sounded like a nightmare.”
We come to the back of the grocery store, where all the cuts of meat are wrapped up in shiny plastic, and turn to the next aisle, full of frozen food.
“But the thing is? I love it. It’s my favorite dream.”
I stop in my tracks.
“Whenever I’m feeling anxious, I just visualize myself roaming around an empty supermarket, and it calms me down. I don’t mean to sound like some kind of quack,” Caleb continues, “but I think it means something. That we have this in common.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“I don’t know exactly, but I think there’s a reason we both ended up here at the same time.”
He peers into my eyes. I look away and stare at my own reflection in the shiny glass doors protecting all the ice cream and frozen waffles.
There is one reason.
“Anyway,” Caleb says. “Sorry if this is weird. Or disappointing. I just thought it would be . . .”
“It’s nice,” I say, turning around. I notice a box of Hot Pockets in the freezer behind him and smile to myself. “It feels like home.”
Over the store radio, some synth-pop song that sounds like it could be on the soundtrack to a John Hughes movie starts to pick up tempo. Caleb looks toward the ceiling and raises his eyebrows.
“Do you want to dance?” he asks me.
“Um,” I say, peering around. “I don’t dance.”
“We’re the only ones here, Bea.”
“I don’t dance,” I repeat.
“What? Are you worried about looking stupid?” he asks, beginning to sway his body from side to side. “Because as the only other person here, I can assure you . . .”
He stiffly waves his arms back and forth.
“You will not be the most stupid-looking dancer present.”
I give him a hard stare and breathe out of my nose. Then I begin swaying from side to side just the tiniest bit, without moving my arms.
“See!” Caleb says, a smug grin on his face. “I knew you could dance.”
“You think you know everything,” I say with an eye roll, moving my hips a little more.
“I don’t know everything.” He takes a step closer to me. “There’s still so much I don’t know about you.”
“Oh yeah? Well, what do you know?”
Caleb draws his bottom lip between his teeth and thinks it over for a second.
“Here’s all that I know about you, Beatrice Fox,” he says, looking up and peering into my eyes.
“Your favorite color is holographic lavender, which apparently exists. You have a sister. Your favorite food is salt-and-vinegar potato chips. You went to Bible camp once, but retained absolutely nothing you learned there. You hate infinity symbols, or really, I’m guessing, anything vaguely sentimental in nature. So you’ll probably be super annoyed when I tell you that, um . . .”
He slows his dancing and takes a deep breath.
“That I think you’re really beautiful.”
Slowly, he leans forward.
My heart pounds in my chest.
Our lips are about to touch when his body becomes pixelated against mine.
Because this isn’t real.
It’s just an illusion.
31
After staring down at her phone for what felt like the longest minute of my life, Emmy slammed the bathroom stall door in my face.
“Em, please!” I cried out. “I can explain. I swear.”
I heard her take several deep breaths, then step from the toilet to the door. She unlocked it and opened it halfway just to glare at me.
“I think I know who sent the pic,” I said. “It was Taylor Fields.”
Emmy squinted and cocked her head to the side.
“How would she have even gotten that picture? Or taken it?”
“I think sometimes she protests or something outside . . .” I glanced up, noticing another girl enter the bathroom. “. . . the place . . . you went to. For religious reasons or whatever,” I finished, rolling my eyes.
“She probably recognized you and took your picture, but then didn’t do anything with it because she had no reason to, until now,” I said, shaking my head. “What an evil bitch.”
“I don’t understand. Why would Taylor Fields want to expose me like that?” Emmy said, finally letting me inside the stall. “I don’t even know her.”
She sat down on the toilet seat and put her hands near her temples.
“You don’t know her, but I do. And she hates me and wanted to get back at me for something I did to her.”
“What did you do?” Emmy asked.
I looked around the walls of the bathroom stall for a moment, searching as if somewhere among all the illicit graffiti and hearts around couples’ names there would be a better answer than the one I was about to deliver.
“We got into an argument today that involved me insulting her by saying she can’t even hold down a job at Chili’s. B
ut, also, I am sort of the reason she got fired from her job at Chili’s,” I mumbled. The words felt so deeply and profoundly stupid as they fell out of my mouth.
Emmy looked up at me and her whole body froze.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because Taylor had some really insensitive views on birth control in health class.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were just, like, totally ignorant and harmful.”
Emmy started to speak and stopped several times, like her body was malfunctioning.
“So . . . you got her fired from Chili’s for . . . being pro-life?” she finally sputtered.
“No. I mean, that was my intention, but it’s not really a fireable offense, so, um, I tried to see if she said anything similarly ignorant, but fireable, like, you know, racist or something. But she didn’t, so ultimately . . . I got her fired from Chili’s because she tweeted about hating Chili’s. Like, several times. I mean, I was really doing them a big favor.”
Emmy’s face became more and more clouded with sadness with each part of my pathetic explanation.
“You don’t actually care about changing the things you get so upset at people about,” she said finally.
“What do you mean?”
“Inequality, all the school rules you call ‘fascist,’ racism, sexism . . . all of it. You don’t actually do anything to stop these things or help anyone they affect. You just love getting mad at people you see as morally inferior to you and ruining their lives to prove a point, but I don’t know what your point is.”
“I mean . . . that’s . . . not . . .”
My stomach dropped. I couldn’t be that superficial. Or so I thought.
“Maybe it’s that you think you’re smarter than everyone and that you can outsmart everyone? You think no one can ever get back at you, but there’s collateral damage now, Bea. Skyler knows my secret and I’m going to have to clean up the mess and explain myself. You took my chance to tell him one day on my own terms.”
“Well, technically, Taylor took your chance. Regardless, Emmy, you shouldn’t be ashamed of—”
“There’s no way Skyler will want to still be with me after this. I made one stupid mistake and I figured everyone makes stupid mistakes, but now this one will haunt me forever. All of the plans Skyler and I had . . . our future together . . . It’s just over. My life is over and it’s all your fault, Bea! But you’ll never just apologize, will you?”
“What do you mean your ‘future together’?” I asked, squinting.
“We were going to go to college together and then get married and maybe even grow up to have a wonderful, normal family!”
“You guys are only sixteen. It’s fine. You were probably going to break up at some point anyway. Your life is most certainly not ‘over.’ You can’t blame me for what happened. Skyler would’ve probably found out eventually. You know, good relationships shouldn’t be built on lies. Or so I’ve heard.”
Emmy shook her head at me.
“I’m hurting right now and you can’t even apologize. All you can do is blame everything on everyone else.”
She twisted her mouth up like she had more to say but was trying desperately to keep it in.
“You know, Bea, you’re a heartless bitch,” she gasped at last.
“What?”
Her words didn’t sound so much like an attack, but a realization. These were the kind of laughable insults that would usually roll right off my back, but coming from Emmy, they made me feel like someone had pulled out the ground beneath me. She was never one to curse or say anything bad about anyone, so when she did, I knew she meant it. And she had every right to mean it.
“You don’t understand what it’s like to love someone,” she said. “You’ve built too many walls around yourself and you never let anyone in.”
“That’s not true,” I mumbled, the first inklings of tears forming in the corners of my eyes. The first tears I’d cried in what must have been years.
“All you do is focus on yourself and being better than everyone else all the time,” she continued, her voice cracking. “But one day you’re going to be alone. I’m not going to be around to be your only friend just because I’m your sister.”
“That’s not true,” I repeated. “We’re not just friends because you’re my sister. We’re friends because we love each oth—”
“I wish that one day were right now. If we didn’t have to live in the same house and share a stupid bunk bed, I would never see you again.”
32
I reach my hand out and turn off the machine, bringing Caleb and me back to reality.
We’re not dancing in his dream, about to kiss.
We’re sitting two feet apart in an ugly, empty airplane hangar.
Caleb’s face is completely red, then in an instant loses all color.
“I should . . . go,” he mumbles, pushing his helmet off and limply waving a hand goodbye without making eye contact with me.
I don’t even bother asking him if he wants a ride back to the airport.
I sit in the hangar for a few more minutes, replaying what just happened over and over in my head.
Here’s the thing: I’m smiling.
I’m giggling alone like someone who’s lost control of themselves.
Honestly, I think I have.
Kissing Caleb—well, almost kissing Caleb—felt nice. And fun. Two simple things I haven’t felt in what seems like forever.
I want to run back to my room to wake Jenna and tell her all about it. But even though opening up to her is all she’s ever wanted from me, I know she’ll also remind me that I actually failed in my mission to come clean. That I’ve only made a bigger mess out of things by almost kissing Caleb instead of apologizing to him.
I slump against the Memstractor and put my head in my hands. My high from the night wears off immediately. I collect my train case, lock up the hangar, and drive back toward the airport.
When I get inside, the waiting room is empty except for three people standing in a group in front of the departures counter.
Todd.
A tall Asian guy in a suit who I’ve never seen before.
And Caleb.
His back is to me, but the guy in the suit looks up. We lock eyes, and Todd and Caleb turn their heads.
“Beatrice!” Todd calls, cupping his hands around his mouth as if I wouldn’t be able to hear him from this distance. “Come over here for a minute.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, locking eyes with Caleb. He scratches the back of his neck and gives me a sheepish look.
“This is Wayne,” Todd says.
“A pleasure to meet you,” the man says, giving me intense, direct eye contact. Everything from his outfit to his complexion to his haircut is almost unsettlingly flawless.
“Uh . . .” Todd begins, sliding his hands into the pockets of his orange vest. “Wayne is a member of the Disciplinary Council and, technically, my boss.”
“Cool,” I say, my face betraying nothing, even though this revelation makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
“Yes,” Wayne says with a crooked smile. “Very cool indeed. We were just talking to Caleb here. You two know each other? Is that correct?”
“Sure,” I say without looking at him. “He’s my assignment right now.”
“Well, it seems he’s gone rogue,” Wayne says with a humorless laugh. “See, when someone opens the doors leading onto the tarmac after the departures counter has closed for the day, an alarm sounds up in the control tower. So I came down here to check with Todd and see what was going on and then we ran into him.”
“I tried to sneak out,” Caleb says, looking at me. “I’m sorry for going behind your back, Bea. I just wanted to get a look at my memories . . . alone.”
“Which is a punishable offense,” Wayne interje
cts.
“Yeah!” Todd chirps. “No one is allowed outside without the assistance of an agent.”
I stare between him and Wayne. If I thought Todd was a joke of a boss before, he looks even more so now, with his rumpled uniform and grease-covered glasses.
“We’re going to have to take you before the council, Caleb,” Wayne says. “Beatrice, you will be reassigned a new soul tomorrow morning.”
Caleb stares at the ground while Wayne places his perfect, veinless hand on his back, forcing him away.
A week ago I couldn’t have imagined a better outcome.
But now?
“Wait!” I cry out. “He didn’t do anything.”
Wayne pauses and turns to look at me.
“It was my idea. I forced him to come out into the hangar with me. I wanted us to make some extra progress so he could move on as soon as possible and I could get to my next soul.”
He considers this.
“But he turned around and ran back to the airport when he realized we were breaking the rules,” I continue. “He’s just being nice because he doesn’t want me to get in trouble. He’s a good person. I’ve seen it for myself.”
“Fascinating,” Wayne mumbles. “Is that true, Caleb?”
Caleb stares at me for a second then nods once.
“Don’t punish him,” I say. “Punish me.”
“Well,” Wayne says. “I must admit I do admire your commitment to your duty here, Beatrice. But the most important part of your duty is a commitment to the rules.”
He removes his hand from Caleb’s back.
“Consider this a warning: you are under watch. Never let something like this happen again.”
WHEN I GET back to my room, the lights are out and Jenna is sound asleep. I quietly shut the door behind me, go to the bathroom, change into my pajamas, and throw cold water on my face. I rub at the permanent remnants of makeup even though I know they’ll never budge. I slide into bed, but I can’t turn my brain off.
Have I made things with Caleb better or worse? I had the chance to get rid of my problem. To get assigned to someone else and have Caleb taken out of the lottery. And I didn’t take it.